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IC INBOX: STORYTELLER

IC INBOX: THE STORYTELLER

The Storyteller's temple on the central island of Ensō is, unsurprisingly, where your local deity can most often be found. Those seeking to strike up a conversation or pursue the Storyteller for answers are not guaranteed an immediate answer, but they can certainly try. If one waits for long enough after posing a question, their expectation for a response from the deity in question may very well prompt them to happen along...eventually.

If you're looking to request an item, this is not the place to do it. Our Item Requests page is where you ought to pose those inquiries!

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A little garbage never hurt anyone and she can think of many odds and ends that could fit on tiny monkey antlers. That's all. It's fashion. It's fine. She's looking forward to the day when her terrible dreams can become reality, that's all.

"You're always very good," Which is her subjective judgement on the matter, even if they're throwing some star shade that makes her silently stare at them for a drawn out, long ass moment. They aren't super bright or blinking in their monkey form. J'accuse, Storyteller. "Lup can feel your heart too, so if she says it's okay, then you can have a hint."

Which means she has to do some mental acrobatics around this fake heart talk to figure one out and she looks all too proud of herself when one comes to mind. "The hint is-it's something."

Yeah. It's something. Figure that out, starteller.

Their wild claims to star-hood earn an incredulous look from Lup as well, eyebrow raised and one ear cocked, obviously amused. Honestly the longer she's known them the more she's come to enjoy their moments of smugness and cheek, a hint of some playfulness, some sense of humor under all that seriousness and inscrutability. With any luck she'll be seeing more of that today.

And then their mood drops and Lup's left with a bit more uncertainty than Ren, who doesn't even miss a beat laying down more unshakable judgments. Oof, is this still-- still about the caves? Or about more recent horrors, Ai'tuoh and Ziziphus? They don't gotta-- they weren't responsible for that. Like she'd told them, as long they're giving everybody a choice, the responsibility for whatever happens doesn't rest on them alone. Maybe she should offer another talk, or something--

But not right now. Because Ren just gave the hint of the goddamn century and Lup bursts out laughing, bouncing the god on her shoulder with her delight. "Oh that's-- that's very good. It's super something! Maybe even like, a bunch of somethings." She snorts. "Hey, you wanna use your godly intuition and guess?" What's your insight stat, fool.

The sequelae of that sort of judgment may be more difficult to trace than is primarily evident, but it's fair to say that a large part of it - perhaps the largest part - has to do with that which everyone still remembers and plenty still chafe over.

Some part of them may have been banking on the more subjective opinions of those who cannot call themselves divine as a sort of reference point.

"It's something," says the Storyteller, their monkey's tail arching up high into an elegant curlicue. It's faint, but it's fondness that bends their tone, somewhat archly: "Well, now you've given the whole mystery away."

The morale boosting god talk can come after they sort out this mess because their something and super something was too good of a hint. Their god figured it out in record time and she looks at them-concerned, worried and then-

"I have to tell a secret to Lup, so you can't listen." Her free hand shoots up to form some kind of barrier between the god's face and their own-they're a little monkey and this will work. It's fine. Don't peek over her fingers, just stay right there. It's honor code time, Storyteller. Turn off your ears. She needs to have a sidebar with her aunt, which she does, in like, the smallest whisper. As if the creature on Lup's shoulder somehow can't hear them talk despite their close proximity. Shut up.

"Lup, you have to say 'it's not super something'-that's what you do," Guess what time it is? It's Lie Time. They can still call this a success if they take back their hint and offer another. A worse one, if possible. She lowers the hand barrier between them to address the Storyteller. "There's still a 'mystery'-it's not something, it's nothing. A lot of nothings. That's the hint."

The hint is a lie now, but whatever. The important part is the surprise remains intact.

Lup already knows it's gonna be something buckwild when Ren blocks? the god's face?? to tell her a secret??? But she could never be prepared for what follows.

Because-- Oh no. Oh beans. Poor literal-minded Ren mistook their quip and her genius goblin solution is to just fuckin lie about it. Holy shit. Is. Is this bad aunting? Should she be, like, should she do something about this? Lup is conflicted over the moral implications of lying to a god for about five seconds, which is a lot and she's not into it.

The answer, as always, is to roll with the shenanigan, duh. Lup does her best not to lose her entire shit here, obediently sealing the deal. "Yeah it's, uhm, I misspoke? Earlier? It's actually not super something?" Her voice is just climbing a couple distressed octaves for no reason, it's fine, this is fine.

"It's-- it's nothing you've seen before." Fucking nailed it. The real mystery is actually how long the Storyteller can handle this.

Now, who could possibly say "no" to a face like that? The Storyteller could, in principle, overhear if they would like - but they do not. Honor code time, indeed. They simply let their tale sway to and fro with idle contemplation, as they pretend to study the obsidian shine to their dark simian nails, and that they cannot overhear the whispers occurring not two feet away from them.

"I see." A blink. Another. "If that is the case, I won't inquire further. What use is there in dissecting and discussing nothings and somethings if one has never seen either the nothing or the something, or much of anything else besides, hm?"

You forget that they are the Storyteller.

Wordplay is kind of their thing.

Victory belongs to Team Base, or so it seems-actually, Ren has no idea and their wild statement causes her to stare at them in absolute silence because, okay. They've never nothing somethinged anything around the something nothing or anything one thing. This is for Lup to decipher, not her. They lied their way back into the good graces of whatever invisible Surprise God there is out there and her job is done.

"Yeah, that's how it is," She's like 50% sure this is the correct response here. "Somethings and nothings will make you happy."

Adorable crisis averted, Lup gives the monkey on her shoulder a pleased look. Not that she's getting much more out of their ever inscrutable word salad than Ren does, but it sounds like they're playing along? Which is the main thing. Here's hoping that Ren is right and they're headed for Happy-Storyteller Town.

But first of all, they're headed for camp. It's a short trek through the jungle, on a secret path that nobody is really trying all that hard to keep hidden anymore. The wind chime traps and half finished stake pits are still around, anyway, so it's fine. When they reach the dumb sign for assholes right where the trees recede into a small clearing dominated by a large tent, Lup lets go of Ren's hand to gesture expansively, like this is Door Number Three and they just won a trip to the fantasy Caribbeans.

"Welcome to camp, our most humble home. Which we, I guess, built on your home? Kind of?" Whatever, still better than crashing in the temple like the twins used to do. Somewhere on a low-hanging branch, Hot Boi calls out a greeting chirp to Lup, but it looks like everybody else is out for the day. Excellent. "Ren, why don't you show our friend around for a bit, before the real surprise starts?"

"Well, it is as they say. My home is yours, and all. It is the least I can do, due to your displacement to this land."

Not suspicious at all, this talk of surprises and the like. Something is more predisposed to be of interest than nothing - for who wants to deal with great quantities of nothing, all at once? Nobody, that's who. Nobody would appreciate nothing, after all.

The monkey leaps nimbly to the ground, recognizing a tacit dismissal for what it is.

"Very well, then."

Welcome to gremlin tours, where everything's made up, but she sounds happy so that's all that matters. And thus begins the incredible tour of the tent, where she points out corners and blankets The Storyteller can sleep on if they're lonely. She shows them the cat, who doesn't seem entirely interested in what's going on, the perched phoenix, the lobster who likes to sing.

She points out little corners that are good places to tell stories and this is a good place to hug gods and then it's back to the lobster because it's just That Valid. It knows escape plans. It has blueprints for jailbreaking. Their local deity needs this information and intel on the shed, which can hide your treasures. We'll keep them safe and Taako's hammock which he might twist you up in it, but you can sleep there when he's running the store-I won't tell and-

All this is gonna continue until Lup gives the okay and summons them back over. Save this poor God, Lup.

There is no saving this god, mainly because Gremlin Tours (tm) is totally part of the surprise. Bet they weren't expecting that! And Lup will absolutely just be sitting here and watching this all go down with her chin propped up on her hands, only pausing to get the campfire going. This is better than literally any other form of entertainment on the island? Of course it is, because Ren's doing it.

And if Ren's complete devotion and adorable ass exposition doesn't cheer up the Storyteller, this mission's just gonna be shit outta luck. They're already-- there's a distinct possibility they've peaked and this is already the best part of the surprise, whoops.

Not like that's gonna stop her from trying to top it, though. They got options, here. Eventually Lup throws Ren a thumbs up, a sign that says both great job! and to maybe wrap it up. Once they wander back over to the fire, she tips an ear at the god.

"So, what'd you think? Pretty cozy, right?"

The Storyteller weathers this meandering tour quite well, all things considered. They appear to listen with rapt attention, or as rapt as it's possible to be, with the air of a parent whose child has been busily and emphatically baking a cake all day and then insists they close their eyes prior to the dramatic unveiling of the surprise. Only in this case the cake is, shall we say, a tad more nebulous.

They don't comment much on proceedings, except to politely acknowledge and interject when needed, until such a time that Lup signals them over.

"You've made quite a place for yourself," they say, which doesn't really suggest judgment one way or the other, "I would say."

"You can spend the night here if you get lonely. It can be a place for you too. We'll make you a special bed in the tent and tell you nice stories." Because it's cozy. It's home. Maybe not as incredibly ornate as a temple, but it's dope. ESP would probably like to snuggle with a god too, but she has a feeling they won't take her up on the offer.

Which is fine, because they can team up to drag them out again. For now, she simple kneels by the fire, scooting closer and closer, patting the ground next to her for the tiny monkey to follow suit. Get up here, because they're gonna need to be nearby for the next part.

Kinda really noncommittal there, buddy. But that's fine, Lup knows they're not really good at getting involved, understanding things like that. Maybe they'll need to tell a cool story about camp some time for them to get it.

Ren goes ahead and offers them a standing invitation, which? Is a really good idea, actually. She smiles down at the lil monkey. "Yeah, you're welcome here." Like Ren, she's pretty sure they're not gonna put on lil monkey pajamas and stay for a sleepover, but it doesn't hurt to say it.

Anyway, the point! Let's get to it. "So, quick question - what's your favorite food? Or like, what's something you've always wanted to try, from hearing about it in stories or whatever?"

The monkey complies, albeit slowly. The firelight reflects against the beady black of their eyes, like droplets of ink. The invitation goes unanswered, unacknowledged but for the way they shift slightly in the dirt, scraping at the ground with their paws. It suggests uncertainty. But they, of course, say none of that aloud.
You really are getting too close.
"I always did like the sound of...mm, candy," says the Storyteller, after a considerate pause. "It seems like the sort of universal language of friendship, doesn't it?"

After all, who does not like candy?

That's a nice sentiment and while she doesn't know if candy is a universal language for anything, the suggestion clearly sits well with her. Lup speaks a lot of languages, animal or otherwise, and can probably confirm if that's how friendship works. All she can do is offer her own answer and the way she happily taps her fingers against her knees shows her agreement well enough. Hell yes, Storyteller. 10/10 she is on board with this.

"Okay, then you'll make candy with us." Spoken with all the confidence of someone who doesn't understand baking prep in the slightest. She believes in Lup though. Somehow her aunt will make it happen. What's candy? Sugar? Push come to shove, they could eat a handful of that, if it's lying around. "You can sit on my head and help. You can do the fun parts."

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IC INBOX: STORYTELLER

IC INBOX: THE STORYTELLER

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