networkinthenight | @parker

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@parker — text.

I haven't met everyone, so for those of you I haven't met: hey, my name's Peter, wish circumstances were better etc, and I'm going to admit I don't really do this a lot, so you'll have to bear with me.

I know we've just had a meeting to discuss how we can be more prepared in the future and how we can try and limit repeats of the Lighthouse expedition and the party, but that was before Robin and the Doc shared with the class what they know about the World Eaters. New and old, we're all roughly on the same page as far as that's concerned.

Saying it'll be worth putting our heads together at some point to work out how we're going to deal with that threat is an understatement, but... It'll be worth it. Apparently the quickest way to send us all on a one-way trip to definitively not existing is by not working together, and I'll be honest and admit I'm pretty keen on avoiding that.

(That doesn't mean now, for the record, but we've got a time limit and this doesn't look like it's one of those situations where you can cram all night with a jugful of coffee and hope for the best at 8am, day off.)

(And while we're here, can we all agree that murder is bad? Yes? Great.)

I haven't had the (questionable) luck of coming across anyone from my version of Earth here, but we can basically sum it up with: stuff happens. Invading aliens, not-so-invading aliens, pod people, body snatchers, you name it, it's probably happened. I don't want to assume that's the case for everyone here, but I've spoken to enough of you that I feel pretty comfortable going out on a limb and saying that most of us have had experiences that kind of stretch the definition of 'normal'.

Which also means we've got enough experience between us all to make some kind of headway.

(That's the long way of saying "okay, so", by the way.)

There's been a lot of encouragement about exploring Beacon and pulling together whatever we find into something cohesive to be able to figure out a survival plan, and that's great but it's not without its risks.

In life, I had a tech company. At the moment, I've just got it on my tablet, but I've been messing around with something I came up with back home. Think of it like GPS, but with fewer (read: no) satellites.

Radius isn't unlimited and it's not totally foolproof, but if anyone's heading out into the forest and they've got any concerns or reservations about ending up separated from whoever they're with, or unable to find their way back to town, let me know.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

donttalktome and

beaconkeeper if you're looking at sliding into their DMs.

And okay, right. So that filter you've put into place, on a scale of 1-10, how confident would you say you are in it?

On this thing? Not at all. I used to get strange programs on my phone all the time? And spam emails. A lot.

It's a good thing invasive pop-up advertisements apparently aren't a thing in Beacon.

Circling back round to the ice cream because I got distracted: yes and yes.

But the other thing to note about the spirits: they're pretty protective of the lighthouse and by extension, the lighthouse keeper.

Yet. I really didn't think they'd be such a thing back home. But wow, was I wrong.

Is it good ice cream? I haven't had any in. So long. I didn't really have time. Before I got here and the last one I did have was [served with the dying blood of an innocent and it was only a lick. Which was bad enough, thank you] not good.

Okay, so they're mostly out there maybe?

I have so many questions based on that answer.

The flavors can be a bit wild, but at the same time, if you've been to Williamsburg at all in the last 10 years... not so wild.

No, they're definitely everywhere, but that wasn't really what I was getting at. All I'm trying to say is: be careful. There's still a lot of unanswered questions about Beacon, about why we're here, how we're here. Even these tablets, all we really know about how they work is 'something something magic'. (I hate that, by the way).

[ like DO YOU WANT to say on the network on an encryption that you don't trust that you want to tag a (potentially violent) spirit with a tracker?? ]

I might have been? Either when I was young with my dad or later, when I was. Not young? I think I'd like to try the ice cream here though. See for myself, you know? Maybe I'll go there. Soon.

You hate magic? You're not like some sort of witch hunter, are you?

[No, he does not! And is very badly trying to invite Peter to the ice cream stand in town so they can talk in person! Quentin needs emojis.]

[ "or later, when I was. not young." W O W and peter thought he was awkward. ]

You might have been...? Trust me, you'd know. There's this very specific ratio of edginess : overpriced coffee shops that like separates Williamsburg from the rest of Brooklyn.

It's in the village, by the way. The ice cream stand.

But ... witch hunter?

That's a firm no.

I'm a scientist (or I was.) I just hate magic on principal.

(I mean... hate's a strong word. I don't like it.)

There's nothing wrong with magic as long as it's used responsibly. Some of my best friends are magicians. Well, that's not true. They all are.

In the village? Where, because right now I'm somewhere close to the disgusting pool that's close to the cabins.

I'll take your word on that. It's really not my area.

[ because haha if magic is involved he just goes knocking on doc strange's door. ]

It's by the entrance to the park. As soon as you see the glove balloons, you're there.

Glove balloons, got it. Because that's not creepy at all in the dark.

[Since Peter does not seem to pick up on the hint to come! Quentin is just going to go and try to talk to the crab with the ice cream.]

[ YEAH he is not the best with hints, soz quentin. ]

I don't know, he's doing his best with what he's got. The spirit of entrepreneurship has to be commended if nothing else.

Yeah. I can see that?

Maybe.

Also. Come have ice cream with me, Parker.

[This is his I-can't-even face. And it's just for you, Peter! God, asking for a date is easier than this.]

[ AFTER LIKE FIVE MINUTES....

("oh, right.") ]

Peter.

Parker's what my former boss calls me and trust me, you don't want that association. -- Not unless you too have a questionable moustache and a hatred of a fair wage.

Ten minutes?

[ fifteen. good timekeeping is also not in his wheelhouse. ]

I don't have a mustache? And. Yeah, I'm just going to call you Peter and get my ice cream. Now. See you?

[The stand looks deserted in the faint light from his lantern and Quentin is about to just go stand somewhere else to wait for this Peter-not-Parker, when the tiny hatch opens and a crab pokes its head out. The surgical glove hat all perky on its little head and it waves a pincer at him and probably at the sign with flavors on it.

Putting his light all the way up to see, he picks the Coffee flavored one and waits while the crab goes about making him one in a slightly tilting cone.]

[ peter doesn't bother replying to the last message from quentin (it's given a cursory glance and nothing more) before grabbing his rucksack and making his way towards the village.

logically, he knows he should conserve webfluid given they don't know when something like last month could happen again, but swinging to the village manages to be both faster and more relaxing than walking would be; and rastus (or robin — peter's not entirely sure on the details after her network post), apparently, is more than capable of getting his (or her) hands on the relevant ingredients.

a little past the river separating the square from the village, peter does opt to walk, breaking out into a slight jog once he sees the familiar boundary of the park and ice cream stand. there's only one other person there — 'suprnerd', peter assumes — and he's struck almost immediately by the thought that he didn't get his name.

(smooth.)

there's a momentary silence then, as peter holds his lantern up and the corners of his lips quirk upwards into a quick, almost apologetic smile. ] —I'm going to assume 'Super Nerd' isn't actually your name?

[The ice cream isn't bad, but it is... interesting. The pale yellow swirls a tart experience against the espresso flavor and while is doesn't make him want to put it down, it's also not something that makes Quentin love it. But since there's nothing better to do, and it really has been a long time since his last, good, ice cream, he eats it slowly and watches for people strolling by.

The ice cream is all done away with by the time someone comes along. Peter looks-- older than he would have expected, but maybe that's just what New York does to you. Quentin tucks his hands in to his pockets and rolls his eyes.]

It's Quentin. Super nerd is-- [he shrugs] a thing? Hello.

[ peter's been here a couple of times — once or twice by himself, the first time in the suit, before the bridge had been repaired. he'd opted for a flavour at random and only slightly regretted it afterwards. he'd taken a somewhat sad balloon ("balloon") as well, and — well, the spirit had seemed pleased with that, if nothing else. since then, he's been once or twice with other people — which mostly just means he's getting pretty good at choosing flavours.

today, he opts for prickly pear, and his attention shifts back away from the ice cream and back to quentin when he answers — "super nerd is a thing" earns a short laugh, and he hums a noise of vague acknowledgement in between bites of ice cream before adding: ]

Please, when I taught high school, even my students called me a nerd. [ which, actually? was fine, it was just being called old that he took exception to. ] So if anything, you've got competition for the title. [ the reply's punctuated by a short pause, then— ] Look, I don't want to sound rude, but did you just want ice cream, or was this a— [ vague handwave. ] 'let's continue offline' kinda thing?

[Oh a fellow nerd and Quentin is already trying to find a way to slip Fillory and fantasy books in to the conversation, when Peter manages to snap him out of it, and he blinks a few times, mouth working soundlessly.

Flushing just a little, he bristles and squares his shoulders before snapping back:]

You said the network wasn't safe. This isn't just-- I didn't ask you on a date or anything. It's, uhm, not? But I wanted to talk about the trackers you offered and, yes, that. Because this might be safer?

[Or at least they might be able to see anyone close enough to overhear them, when they're out here. It's not like this place is overrun with visitors and it's really just the two of them and the bobbing balloons on the ice cream stand. And whichever spirits might be lurking behind the treeline.]

No one knows where they go. Or why. Your tracker might help with some of those questions.

[ peter's expression flickers a little at the date comment — surprise first, then sheepishness, and he half-holds up a hand in an expression of surrender. he hadn't thought that at all, and he opens his mouth to say as much, but quentin gets there first, explaining exactly what he wanted to talk to peter about.

he huffs a breath that's not quite a sigh, one shoulder lifting in a light shrug. ]

I don't know that it's not safe, but— [ peter drops his rucksack to the ground, squatting briefly to reach in and pull out his tablet. the edges are a little scuffed and dented, as if it's been jostled around (and quite possibly dropped) a few times over the last couple of months, but it works and as far as peter's concerned, that's the important thing.

he stands back up, holding the tablet out in front of himself. ] These shouldn't even work. [ punctuated by a breath of a pause (give him a moment, he's just going to have another bite of ice cream) and then he waves the hand with the tablet loosely. ] This world doesn't have satellites, there's nothing that resembles the internet, and they don't even need charging. That doesn't strike you as weird? [ beat. ] You mentioned magic, there's a— [ loose handwave ], kid by the name of Elden. He's a — healer, but he can also detect magic, I don't really get how that works, but I'm running with it, and apparently each and every one of these gives off a magical aura. I don't know what that means, but I do know I'm not about to run the risk of someone taking a comment of tracking the spirits the wrong way. When the spirits attacked last month, there was a sound — a foghorn — just before. Robin says she meant to stop the spirits, but all we've got is her word on that.

Wait. Just-- hold on for a second.

[That's. A lot of information in a short amount of time and the part of Quentin that isn't furiously trying to make sense of it, is pretty impressed by the fact that Peter said any of that at all given how people usually react to magic being real, that he expects the Afterlife to adhere to the same rules as life did and that the Lighthouse Keeper might be able to call the spirits like an attack squad.

Frowning at the tablet as if he doesn't have one exactly like it in his pocket, Quentin rubs his hands together and bends his fingers.]

I can detect magic? I mean, I know a spell? But, uhm, magic isn't-- It has rules? Like physics, only with magic? And it can't break those rules. Doing spells, working magic is. It's like, we can move it, to do what we want. It's not just waving a wand around and then things happen. It's a lot more complex than that? I could try and explain it, well, I mean, my discipline is Physical magic but we still had to take classes on Knowledge magic and spell design? If you want. Later. But-- so the tablets are magical. Why not. It's the Afterlife, you can't really expect things to be. Uhm, like they used to be?

Oh, you think someone is tracking all of us by magic? On the tablets we all carry around?

[Or the lanterns, because they had to carry those, didn't they? He looks towards the shore of the lake and where the lighthouse must be in the pitch dark. How far could you see from there? With binoculars. Could you see every little light? With the right spell, it wouldn't even matter.]

You're not the first person to mention that trusting people could be a mistake. Are things really that bad here?

—No, [ he answers, quickly and emphatically. he pauses and runs a hand through his hair, before repeating a little more softly— ] No, but I can see why you'd think that. [ that things are 'that bad', and that peter was trying to say that trusting people, plural, could be a mistake. it's definitively not good, but as far as these things go, peter's more or less attached to the idea that it ( one ), could be worse, and ( two ), will get better.

(and then there's the overhanging question of whether that are dead, the question to which peter hasn't really settled on an answer for. it's possible — plausible, even, but he's dealt with enough capital-w Weird that it's as equally possible that this really is just the work of someone with a skillset a la arcade, or mysterio, or even hypno-hustler—.

optimism, then.) ] It wasn't quite what I meant.

Things are— I'm not going to say they're fine, because they're not: last month, half of the population either died or disappeared after the expedition to the lighthouse, and I'm not going to pretend that that's anywhere near okay, but things aren't going to get better if we spend all of our time focusing on — how bad it can get. There are a lot of good people here and for any misgivings I have about Robin, I don't get the feeling she's deliberately malicious. She's a kid. [ beat; amendment. ] Or she was, and she's been stuck here, in darkness, for twenty five years. I can only begin to imagine what that'd do to a person.

I believe she believes she's acting in our and her best interests, I just don't think that judgement is always going to be right. [ he falls silent for one second, then two, before: ]

I don't think we're being tracked, not like that — but I'm not going to assume that private conversations on these are going to stay that way. [ he pauses briefly, expression scrunching up in consideration, then— ] And yes, I know how that sounds, and I hate myself a little bit for it.

[ quentin's comments about magic and this being the afterlife, though? don't think he won't come back to those, because he will. before that— ] But speaking of tracking: can't you do that with magic?

Uhm, first off -- you're only the second person to mention Robin, the mysterious Lighthouse Keeper, but everyone I talk to except that metal-guy, is very much against trust. Which, let's face it, is pretty ironic and not in the Alanis Morissette kind of way? Because I'm a stranger? I could literally be anyone.

[Snapping his head up, Quentin's hair falls in to his face in ratty tendrils, and he huffs.] That's not what I was getting at, though. It's just. Something I thought about? But. Okay, so Robin can maybe not be trusted. Or, the tablets or the network can't. Sure, fine, why not? Let's go with that?
. That still leaves the question - who is trustworthy, then? You? Dude, I don't know you. I mean, you seem nice and all. But. Shit, I talked to a guy who was more in favor of a dictator than people taking a vote. I've been reading on the tablet and didn't this place get reset once already because everyone was fighting? Killing each other?

But. Can I borrow a tracker from you? To see where the forest spirits go? Because, yeah magic? It's harder here and I'm not-- I'm not that good at those kinds of spells? I mean, Eliot-- uhm, he's. We're. We're both magicians? He might be able to, but I can't. I've tried, but it's as if there's some kind of dampening field on it or something.

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1/2

2/3 actually, soz

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1/2 again I AM SORRY

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