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A Close Reading of the Text | |
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Category | Story Event |
Type | Story |
Data ID | 281818 |
A Close Reading of the Text is a Sunless Skies Story Event.
Story description[]
"The Illuminated Archivist is all smiles as you discourse on the readings he has given you. A Questioning of Belief(First)"
Trigger conditions[]
Area: Limbo
Frequency: Always (100%)
Interactions[]
Actions | Requirements | Effects | Notes | |||||
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Offer your opinion
You have listened and read and learned. What do you think?
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Not quite a test
The Illuminated Archivist nods encouragingly. "Before we go further, I'd know what you thought so far. So many acolytes fail at this hurdle," he says brightly.
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You understand
It is a text of London as was and will be.
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The Illuminated Archivist smiles. "Yes! Exactly so." He extends a hand daubed black and green: the colours of Old London smog.
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You do not understand
It refers to places that cannot be and things that never were.
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The Illuminated Archivist frowns. He does not appreciate the insinuation.
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Nothing
Nothing has changed. It is possible to be here and have lost nothing at all.
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The Illuminated Archivist grins and turns his ear to you. It is encircled with a tattoo of a vast spired creature, carapaced and tentacled. He winks.
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So much
You are not as you were. No one is.
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The Illuminated Archivist rolls his eyes, revealing little tattoos of velocipedes racing down a gaslit street. He was apparently less than thrilled by this response.
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The trials and travails of any Old Londoner
The Masters, the Neddy Men, the things in the marshes and the things in the zee, scandal and prison and the light of the sun.
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The Illuminated Archivist nods solemnly. "Such is our lot, we who might live so long in the dark. All liberties come with a cost. But we have chosen our price."
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The fears of any sky-captain
Of cold in the night and fuel running low, of nightmares stalking the engine, of crew dying in droves and a final stop far from home.
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Could his lips get any thinner? Apparently so. He lets out a long sigh, like the whistle of steam escaping a bust boiler. "You're rather missing the point," he hisses.
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Tea!
Stewed and sanguine, a tonic for the nerves, a restorative for the soul.
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Refreshment
The Illuminated Archivist pours you both a cup, in broken china saucers several decades out of fashion. "I found these down in the drift—" He pauses and shakes his head. "I found these in Flowerdene Market. I find them daringly modish." The tea he brews is strong and he does not wait for you to finish your cup before pouring you another.
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An oozing sky horror
What finer gift! What better proof of life beyond Old London and the Gate?
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Entirely unimpressed
The Illuminated Archivist jumps to his feet and fetches a broom to bat at the creature. "You. Are. Spoiling. Everything." He hisses, through clenched teeth. Eventually the creature wanders away, though not before the Archivist has ruined his finest Murgatroyd's tea-towels cleaning up the ooze.
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"I am home." | Nostalgia?
You speak of Old London and its gaslit streets, of the false-stars above, and the zee waiting below. You speak of the Masters and their Bazaar, of Tomb-Colonists and Rubbery Men and the sprawling, teeming life of it all.
At last, you realise the Illuminated Archivist is speaking with you, word for word, chasing them along the slim, severe lines of his body. He stops at a final tattoo of a gate in the nape of his neck.
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"I am in the sky." | A high viewpoint
You state your position. Your time in the Wilderness, your life as a skyfarer. The whistle of your engine, the sound of the horn and the thunder of your wheels through the Horizon. You speak of New Winchester and new London, and the life you lead here.
The Illuminated Archivist lets out a moan of anguish.
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Finish your education
The Illuminated Archivist regards you with something approaching delight.
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Quiet pride
"I have been entirely thrilled by your progress. You understand what it is to meditate on a better world, to contemplate a time when things were better." He smiles, displaying the new tattoo over his heart. "I've never had a better pupil. Take my lessons with you when you leave here. I know you will."
Is that something in his eye? "Just ink. It runs sometimes. Be away with you, captain."
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Finish your education
The Illuminated Archivist regards you balefully.
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A sharp frown
"I... I mean you've read all I have to show, so I suppose in that sense you've finished. But do you take me for an idiot?"
He regards your expression and decides not to wait for a response. "Of course we know this is all so much make-believe! We've been trapped out here for years, no way back. We glean what we can from our scavenging and play out our lives as if we had never come here." He smiles sadly. "I'm sure you meant well. But this is the only real lesson I have to teach."
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Return to the Flotilla
Your education can wait.
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Links[]
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