Flight Rising Discussion

Day 4 lore, i'm just poster, Bystander is still the writer of this masterpiece [center][b]Day 4[/b][/center][br] “I had a long queue of things to melt that night, and I was working--I usually work through the nights, actually, because having too many dragons around can make the cauldron unstable, and it’s been especially bad this fest, for some reason, especially around the afternoon. So I’ve been brewing from moonrise through sunrise, and sleeping through the day,” Eirlys starts, seeming to settle into the chair. You roll your shoulders back, glancing at the fox next to you. It seems to have gotten inky pawprints across over half of the roll of parchment, which is a good sign. You’re glad you have such a dedicated scribe, and you hope you’re good enough at remembering things to do the scribe justice. Eirlys also looks at the fox, and smiles at it. You feel a bit ashamed for having allowed yourself to get so distracted by the adorableness, and look back at Eirlys, hoping she understands. She’s still smiling, which is probably a good sign. “Doesn’t that get dark?” you ask, for lack of a better thought, before realizing that it’s a valid question. Pearlcatchers, you know, are generally daytime creatures, originally hailing from the Sunbeam Ruins, and they don’t tend to have very good night vision. “Well, since we’re inside, and so far south, yeah. Usually it’s not too big of a deal, because the cauldron’s outside in the nightlight, and I have the moon and the stars helping me out, but down here, we barely get any moonlight at all with the cloud cover, and inside the Fortress it gets scary dark fast. But it’s usually okay until moonset, and then after moonset I light the two sconces near the cauldron until sunrise. “But last night, at moonset, I went to light the sconces and they were out of oil, so I had to go get more. It was very dark, and I tripped down the stairs after I was leaving the room with the cauldron that I’ve been using.” “Hold on,” you interrupt, “how did you know where the oil was?” Eirlys looks at you weirdly. “I have to refill the sconces every night before I start brewing, so they let me keep a barrel of lamp oil near the entrance to the west wing. So I got a jug full of oil, and carried it back up the stairs, and then lit the sconces and kept brewing.” “How did you carry the oil?” you interrupt again. Eirlys grins, shoving her face forward. “In my mouth,” she boasts. “So, the weird thing is that about two hours after I refilled the lamps, I pulled a few things out of my cauldron that I’m pretty sure I never put in--of course, I’ve been working almost nonstop for weeks, so I could have just forgotten them, but I don’t think so. “The first one was a silver pocketwatch, with the hands stuck at 12 and 4, and then there was the dog, which ran away as soon as I pulled it out. You could probably find it if you looked hard enough. “And then this thing came out,” she says, gesturing dismissively to the smiling blob sitting next to her. You’d thought better than to comment on it when she had come in, and had in fact assumed it was her familiar. You say as much. “No, it’s just following me around. I have no idea why it’s here,” she responds, and you nod understandingly. You were under the impression that that’s just what familiars did (that’s what happened with the fox, after all), but you could be very wrong. Eirlys seems knowledgeable and worldly, so you’re going to trust that she knows what she’s talking about. Eirlys pulls a pocketwatch out of the satchel at her side, and leaves it on the table between the two of you. “After that, I finished up my nightly brewing, and then I was going to my tent to sleep when I was told to come here to be interviewed,” she says. She does look tired. You grimace at her sympathetically. “You didn’t notice the commotion?” you ask. Just because she’s nice doesn’t mean she’s not a suspect, and not noticing the commotion in the Fortress that morning was very suspicious. “It’s a fest,” Eirlys says, as if that explains everything. When you keep looking at her, she rolls her eyes, which is the first truly negative response she’s had the entire time. “Fests are always crazy; you get used to it. Now, I’m going to go sleep--you can find me if you have any more questions.” You nod, and Eirlys leaves the room. The still-smiling familiar trails after her, leaving a trail of slime in its wake. You have a few questions--if Eirlys refills the sconces every night, how did they get empty? Was her tripping the crash that Ehr had heard? Where did the things that came out of her cauldron come from? And, most worryingly, if the cauldron was so near the sealed corridor, did the thieves melt the crown? You scratch your head, but know that you’re going to have to see a lot of things for yourself before drawing any conclusions. After all, the detectives you’ve read about always go back to the scene of the crime to look for clues. [center][item=silver pocketwatch][/center] lore pings are signupable via the oof hub pinglist form on page 1, on this list and want to be removed, just pm me @Tafficat, @MerlinMausi, @sockmonkeygerald, @Katsuokai, @LadyCora, @Spinoride, @Brighteningskies, @Prester, @Sciencer, @crowvidae, @retrace, @Finlandia, @Welgan, @DriftingClouds, @venusambassador, @ScaretavaJad, @TheAwesoMew, @qwigoqwaga, @RisenWolf, @minervamaga, @betty, @ghostlyplants, @Watercolour, @WanderingTurtle, @shoujo, @Starwindrider, @harmonywish, @NlCKname, @Sidegrinder, @Scryzze, @mrgbmommy, @Aradan, @Sinjin, @Amezrou, @tigressRising, @MandragoraAutumn, @SensitivePigeon

@Gramarye you're boutta get sum dergs

hi, i'm just poster, lore credit still to Bystander [center][b]DAY 5[/b] [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=56999489] [img]https://flightrising.com/rendern/350/569995/56999489_350.png[/img] [/url][/center] With a new goal in mind, you make your way to the door, intent on analyzing the crime scenes, when you bump into a small tundra. She doesn’t notice you, and continues towards the seat in front of the window. Oh! This must be the next dragon you need to interview. You make a mental note to go investigate the crime scene later, and make your way back to your seat. You set out a new scroll for the scribe, the last one already fully covered in ink pawprints and smudge marks, and wiggle a little as you sit back down. You’ve been sitting down for a while, and it’s starting to ache a little. “Hello!” you say brightly, hoping that the tundra didn’t catch the displeasure on your face. “Could you please introduce yourself to the scribe?” The tundra blinks her large, blue eyes at you, and you stop shifting your leg. “I’m Sedna,” she says, and you smile at her. She smiles back, and you feel oddly warm and fuzzy on the inside. You think you quite like it. “Hi, Sedna. Would you mind going over everything that happened last night?” You try to keep your voice steady, and hope it works. Sedna seems like a very happy dragon, and you’d hate to mess that up. But at the question, Sedna’s face crumples, and she starts breathing loudly. You curse under your breath. You’d been trying so hard to be kind--where had you messed up? You’re not sure if she’d prefer to be comforted or if she’d rather you pretend you weren’t watching her break down, and in your indecision, you inadvertently make the choice not to comfort her. So you sit there and awkwardly look away as she tries to pull herself together. The third time the hiccuping breaths start making their way to sobs, you decide that no matter how awkward the conversation will be, there’s no way you can leave someone feeling like that. You get up to sit beside her, rubbing at the joint of her wing with yours like your clan used to when you were a hatchie. It seems to calm her down, and her breathing eventually slows to a manageable pace. She blinks up at you, still seeming slightly unbalanced, and you try to smile as nonthreateningly as you can. “Did something I say offend you, Sedna?” you ask, hoping to resolve the issue. She blinks at you. “Do I know you?” she asks, and you stare at her. This was... odd, truly. “You introduced yourself not ten minutes ago. I’m interviewing you about the theft?” At that, Sedna jolts slightly. Good, she’s remembered, which means-- “There was a theft? What was stolen?” she asks, confused, and you stare at her in abject confusion and horror. “We went over this when you all were gathered in the foyer, Sedna,” you explain as patiently as you can. The entire situation is immensely frustrating, and if you find that Sedna’s playing a trick on you, you’re going to be very upset. This ordeal is already stressful enough--you have to launch a career off of this case, and this is no time for uncooperative witnesses or memory problems or any such literary stumbling blocks that would be present in a detective novel to either provide comedic relief or increase dramatic tension. “We... Oh, dear, I’ve done it again, haven’t I?” Sedna mutters, then slumps down in her seat, looking forlorn. You’re torn between wanting to console the obviously distressed tundra and wanting to shake her for impeding your investigation. You settle on neither, instead returning to your seat across from her. “It?” you ask, raising one eyebrow. Just one, of course. You’d practiced this in the mirror while the witnesses were being gathered--it seemed like a very detectively facial expression to make, and you’d wanted to perfect it before your debut. “Forgotten,” Sedna says, sighing after the word. You look at her, waiting for her to elaborate. “I don’t remember much of anything, like most dragons of my species. I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about the dragons that raised me, or about where I grew up, what cliff I jumped off of for my first flight, anything like that. “But I know a few things that are constant. I had a family, and I want to find them again someday. I can get around the Fortress without getting lost most of the time these days. And I know that I have an unusually awful memory. “Very few things stick in my memory, so I guess always knowing that I have an awful memory is a blessing in disguise,” Sedna finishes, nodding at you. You smile gently at her. She smiles in the same way she had when she walked in, and your hopes start to deflate. She really can’t remember, can she? “Hi, Sedna,” you say, gently. “Hello, it’s very nice to meet you,” Sedna responds, and you try not to let your frustration show on your face. After all, you have an incredibly complex mystery to solve, and a butler seeing you lose your temper could get you fired. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” you respond automatically, taking a breath through your teeth. You can already tell that this will be painstaking. “Now, Sedna,” you say, leaning forward slightly in your chair. “What can you tell me about what happened last night?” pings are below (form to be added to pinglist is on page 1 of this thread, feel free to pm me to be removed from pinglist) @Tafficat, @MerlinMausi, @sockmonkeygerald, @Katsuokai, @LadyCora, @Spinoride, @Brighteningskies, @Prester, @Sciencer, @crowvidae, @retrace, @Finlandia, @Welgan, @DriftingClouds, @venusambassador, @ScaretavaJad, @TheAwesoMew, @qwigoqwaga, @RisenWolf, @minervamaga, @betty, @ghostlyplants, @Watercolour, @WanderingTurtle, @shoujo, @Starwindrider, @harmonywish, @NlCKname, @Sidegrinder, @Scryzze, @mrgbmommy, @Aradan, @Sinjin, @Amezrou, @tigressRising, @MandragoraAutumn, @SensitivePigeon, @Corvvuscorax

I read "crime scene" as "Crim scene" at first. Crim stole the crowns for her hoard confirmed.

Sleep-deprived misreads and goofs aside, this is a really neat story and mad props to Bystander for writing it!