the_isle | You're From The Isle If Anybody Asks

First Awareness

Those used to this by now probably knew what it meant when they felt their magic return for a moment. For the rest, suddenly their powers were back. Just for a few minutes, but a lot could be done in a few minutes. If the person even noticed their powers were back, that is.

Of course those on the shore might have seen the hazy indistinct shape through the barrier coming closer, might have seen the moment the hole in the barrier opened. Might have seen King Ben leading people down a gangplank through the barrier with crates of supplies....

Unions, Re And Otherwise

Once the supplies were unloaded, the barrier was sealed up again. King Ben seemed to be in charge during the unloading, Once the barrier was closed again, by the green magic streaming from the Queen's finger, it was Mal who seemed to be in charge.

"Alright, listen up. We have 2 hours and the clock is ticking. I'm not FG but we're keeping to a deadline anyway. If you want to come to Auradon or know someone you want us to bring back, you have 2 hours to convince us. You and everyone else, sharing the same 2 hours. Along with anyone who has a supply request for our next visit, or updates. Those of you bringing supplies to the school, time to get cracking. Two hours passes faster than midnight at the ball."

Those Who Left

(Please TL Here for boat and Auradon Shenanigans. TY)

Those What Remain

Once those going back to Auradon had left and the barrier was back in place, it was for those who remained on the Isle to sort the supplies and figure out how to get done everything that needed to be done with the people that remained.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Alagan.... tombstones? And... maybe I'll just... stay in my room the whole time I'm here and just ask you to watch my stuff when I use the.... there is a bathroom here, right?"

Someone was absolutely having second thoughts.

"Tomestones," he said, emphasizing the first part of the word a bit. "Palm-sized, rectangular devices that store information. In my world they are odd relics of an ancient empire, but as they're as good as coin to certain trading houses, some adventurers collect them to exchange for rare goods. And those things in the courtyard that appear to be gravestones are not; they're called 'doom-stones' and have ridiculous 'evil' sayings written on them. I'd advise you to simply ignore them beyond what is required not to trip over them; we'll likely be repurposing some of them as garden markers once we can be assured of not having an overnight frost."

"But yes, there are bathrooms, at least. Thank the gods for small mercies."

"Hard drives? One of the teachers is addicted to... external hard drives?" Ian was so lost at how weird this place was...

"I... don't know," Foulques said. "I know what the devices look like, but never asked what they were called here; it was never especially relevant. Do those 'hard drives' have a sort of... window on one side that lights up when the device is provided with power so that you can read the information it contains?"

"Wait... Cellphones? You're telling me phones aren't ubiquitous here?"

"The vain wench seems to do little else besides stare at one, or else a mirror, but otherwise? Not to my knowledge," he said. "I've heard the term being mentioned, so I presume the Isle's natural inhabitants know about them, as do a few others, but in my world, or Chell's, or Zukos, they're entirely unknown."

"And in any case, when one's primary concern is survival, putting food in everyone's bellies and making sure they're safe and as warm as can be managed, what good is it worrying about such things? Tis only relatively recently that I've had leave to turn my thoughts to small luxuries like toys for the youngest among us, or books. I only had time to put together the chess set due to being snowed under, and even then, we had to dig our way to she shore before too long if we didn't wish to go hungry. Our young King is more generous than most, but even with what help we receive from the mainland, life here is harsh at best."

Wait... what? No, come back to that later. "What good it is... is the whole reason I am here. To set up a network so you can communicate with Auradon. That's the point. So you can tell them when you run out of something, someone new shows up, there is some emergency. Just cause one person can't get off her selfie screen doesn't mean the tech is worthless."

Foulques frowned, though again it was thoughtful rather than angry. "So they're not simply ways of storing information, then?", he said. "They sound more like linkpearls- or perhaps linkshells- than tomestones in function then. Linkpearls are small magitech devices that are worn like an ear cuff and allow two people to speak to each other over long distances. Linkshells are similar, but are somewhat bulkier and more powerful, allowing for multiple people to communicate at once. I never felt the need to acquire one of either in my own world, but they are reasonably common there. I can't speak for anyone else's worlds, however."

Edited Date: 2025-04-21 05:57 am (UTC)

"Sounds like the pearls are kind of like earbuds, except that earbuds pair with a phone to make them more portable rather than being the phone themselves, though there is a company in Japan working on a new jawline tech that I am on a short list for beta testing. Well I was, but it conflicted with my NDA so I was told to take myself off the list. Which makes sense." But if all went to plan, Ben and Sam would be back before it ever became an issue and Ian would no longer be under NDA at all...

"But yes, phones have lots of features these days. Communicate one on one over text voice or video, or with a group with the same options. Create and store data. Transfer data. Cameras of all different specialities, playing music and movies, watching TV if there is a connection. Games. Lots of games. And Social media. but hopefully for everyone's sake that doesn't catch on here. this place is bleak enough without doomscrolling."

Foulques didn't quite understand all the terms Ian used, but he thought he got the gist of it at least. "An 'NDA' is a... labor contract of some sort, correct?", he said. "And this company wished you to lend your expertise to testing their new product before sending it to market." Which the NDA would conflict with somehow apparently. Perhaps they'd taken a position with a rival firm?

"And I don't expect I'll need most of those features, assuming you manage to get the network functioning again. 'Doomscrolling' in particular sounds unpleasant. Linkpearls and linkshells are only for communication, and so long as these phones do the same, that will likely be sufficient for my needs, though Chara might well enjoy the games. The mammet I mentioned might as well, but his hands are somewhat bulky and may be ill suited to working with such a small device."

"NDA is a nondisclosure agreement. Basically a signed oath that I won't share certain information that I am privy to and that I won't let it be found out through negligence either. So a new tech device used for communication is not allowed where it might accidentally record or transmit."

"We'll see what features we can get working and what we can't. I can't say anyone actually enjoys doomscrolling. It is kind of like wearing something that is slowly getting tighter and tighter until you can't breathe, but it happened so slowly and subtly you didn't notice until it was almost too late. But I don't think we have enough people here to even make that sort of content viable."

Foulques nodded his understanding. "Yes, I can see how a device meant specifically to share information might cause problems for someone who's sworn not to do so," he said. "Rest assured that I won't attempt to force you to violate your oath, even if whatever information it's protecting would likely be irrelevant to most here."

They passed through the small courtyard and approached- what one might call if they were being extremely charitable- the school building. Foulques paused a moment before going in, indicating the odd flowers growing by one of the doomstones; being the only real plant life about aside from the brambles and a few sad clumps of still brown weeds, they stood out. "Have care not to touch those flowers if you come outside," he said. "They're poisonous. Thus far they've resisted all attempts at removal, so I intend to ask if any in your group have knowledge of plants that may be helpful in rooting them out."

"Good luck with that. I haven't ever seen flowers like that." They shrugged. "Hopefully someone will have an answer though."

Foulques nodded, then led the way inside. The hallways were as covered in graffiti as they'd always been- some of it genuinely artistic, but most of it a series of overlapping crudely scrawled words and pictures that turned the walls into a colorful jumble-, but were at least free of trash, thanks to Sun. So they had no trouble making their way through the hallways, passing the room Foulques shared with Chara and Sun, until Foulques came to a halt in front of a room a few doors down on the opposite side.

"This room will likely serve as well as any, and better than some," he said. Upon looking inside, Ian would see that it had likely been an office of some sort, though whose was impossible to tell at a glance. A battered leather chaise took up about half of one wall, and somewhat rickety-looking desk and one-armed office chair took up a decent chunk of the floorspace. A battered filing cabinet in the corner might give them an idea of who the office normally belonged to, but otherwise the room was remarkably uncluttered. Whether that was its normal state or whether anything small enough to be easily carried off had been taken by one of the remaining 'teachers' or tidied away by Sun was impossible to tell.

What its relatively spartan state revealed though, was several visible electrical outlets. Foulques set his load down inside on the floor. "Not much of a room, but it does have more places to plug in charging cords or the like than most in this poor excuse for a school," he said. "Which, given all your equipment, will likely be needed."

"Yeah, the outlets will absolutely help. I do have some extension cords but... I am wishing I had brought some extra bedding, even if the colours absolutely do not work well together." Ian offered a small head shake. "Well, if nothing else I will be very motivated to work swiftly and get done as soon as possible."

Which didn't mean no gaming. Just... less gaming.

Foulques would be the first to hear the animatronic jester's approach: he was singing something softly to himself in a way that others might call under his breath, at least if he'd had any breath. He wasn't bothering with lyrics, just amusing himself with the tune as he went about his business, ducking into another room nearby to set something somewhere... and then paused in the hall again, quiet as Ian spoke.

The bells on his hands and feet jingled only softly as he stepped up into the doorway, pausing only for a second to look the two over. Foulques, he already knew. But this other person....

"Oh! Hi there, new friend!" It took him two steps to cover what most humans would travel in three or four, putting him right between the door and Ian....

"It's nice to meet you! I'm Sun! Or Sun, or Sun, or Sunny, or Sun, or Sunshine, or something like that!" Ah, so he still hadn't caught on yet that the translation magic made his attempts to offer up his name in other languages... not quite work as intended.

And situational awareness, and realizing that his huge grinning mask-like faceplate might not be what they wanted to see? HAH. Nope. Not this bot!

"There may be a spare blanket among those that were sent to us," he said to Ian. "I'll have a look once everything is settled."

He might have said more, but it was about then that he picked up the sounds of Sun's approach. Well, this made things easier. He actually stepped aside slightly to allow Sun to enter the room, trying not to look too amused at what he suspected was about to happen. Hopefully the fact that he was at least calm would be helpful to Ian. Maybe.

"This is, as he said, Sun," he said to Ian. "He's the mammet I mentioned to you. While he can be a bit... odd, he's quite harmless as he is now, I assure you."

What was that sound? Ian pushed it from their mind as they started putting stuff aside. Probably just someone passing by. Until the voice addressed them. Ian turned, expecting someone else of more or less human height. So being loomed over suddenly by the large animatronic...

Ian jumped back, tripping over their own feet and falling to land hard on the floor up against the desk. "What the Cuphead?!" They exclaimed, shocked, panting, eyes wide. But the friendly words were at least starting to cut through and help a little... A little.

Mammet sounded like a small cute furry creature not a giant looming animatronic out of some nightmare Disney dark ride!

"Oh, is this floor still a little slippery? Sorry about that! I can try getting it again...." He crouched, looming closer in doing so, and extended a big hand... maybe Ian would like a bit of help back to standing?

Foulques had the courtesy not to laugh, but he did give an amused smirk. Most mammets in the lancer's own world were very similar to what Ian was thinking, but Sun was nothing if not unique. And no other mammet he'd seen had half as much personality, for better or worse. He wasn't sure which of those this qualified as, but it was definitively funnier for it.

"The floor is just fine, Sun," Foulques said. "I believe Ian was simply... surprised at your appearance."

"Not to sound like Roger or anything but... you look familiar." In perhaps the worst possible way. Creepy as anything but not in a Dark Souls or Elden Ring way but then... wait... why was their mind fixated on video games? Help from the subconscious?

Maybe it was a creepypasta story! Could've been creepypasta, right? .....Right?

"Oh! Do you have small kids, maybe?" He tilted his head, spinning it just a few degrees in place. Why would a creepypasta robot be asking about little kids? That couldn't be good, right?

"Because if you've ever been to the Pizzaplex...."

Now, now, Sun and the other bots could hardly be held responsible for their creator's sense of design aesthetics. Or lack thereof, depending on your point of view.

But regardless one's personal taste, Ian claiming Sun looked familiar caught Foulques' interest. Perhaps they were from the same world? "Sun and a number of his fellow mammets lived and worked at the establishment he mentioned. Judging from what I saw in the visions some time back and what Sun has described to me, it's a sort of indoor carnival, with all manner of games, music, shops, and amusements, all bright lights and gaudy colors. Sun in particular worked in the daycare, looking after some of the Pizzaplex's youngest guests. And doing so quite well, by all accounts, though no thanks to the useless louts who were meant to be working with him."

Edited Date: 2025-04-29 12:22 am (UTC)

"Pizza...plex.... Oh no. Please tell me you're not from a Five Nights at Freddie's game..." Ian said, a little pale. What a time to learn they had wasted their time on things like work when it turned out playing more indie games could have saved their life....

"No, I'm from the Daycare. And I haven't heard of any games anywhere in the whole Pizzaplex that last past half an hour, let alone five nights." He paused slightly. "Or... days? Wouldn't that have to be days? The place isn't open to the public at night." He was still confused, rays sinking a little bit back into his head.