It's Time For The Opening Act!!

[Ada Wong]

The carapacian wanders in the general direction of her chosen destination, the digits of her porcelain feet clacking audibly against the ground. Her step is measured and precise, like the drilling of a sharp-billed woodpecker accompanied by the rustling of her clothing. Memories of a few good friends swirl in her mind, soft and feather-light.

Occasionally, the Peregrine Mendicant believes that she has caught sight of some other living being in the distance, but they are fleeting apparitions and are quick to fade away into empty space in shimmering swells of light. It is almost as if they are all traveling across the open surface of an endless, opaque ocean, which threatens to swallow them up if they remain stationary for long. When she glances towards from whence she came, she sees the forms of Autumn and Lubbock gradually winding down until there is nothing left to be seen.

It is certainly regrettable that she has had to leave her new friends behind, for she was endlessly curious about their origins and intricately woven stories, but standing around and babbling at one another all day simply isn’t her style. She is a carapace of action! There are letters to be delivered, quests to be carried out, objects to fetch… there are just too many things to describe that any Parcel Mistress worth her salt would do.

PM considers herself to be worth quite a few grains of salt— an entire ocean’s contents, possibly. This isn’t arrogance, not at all; she merely holds herself to a standard that most would consider a tad excessive. This is the honest truth. Soon enough, once she has reached that exciting little speck in the distance, she will prance over the proverbial sunset and be the best darn mailwoman that she can be.

If the Omniverse even has a mail service, that is.

Peregrine stumbles a bit, internal and external balance thrown clumsily off-kilter. Now this might be a problem that would put a hitch in her plans! What if where she is destined to go does not have proper mail couriers, or has private messaging that is confined to some abstract or technological sphere that she cannot access? That could certainly devastate all of her current aspirations.

But no! PM is resolute. She will find a way, or die trying. Well, maybe she isn’t going to go that far to deliver a silly old letter— not that conveying mail is silly, oh no, it is very serious work, but she would like to think that she is rather dedicated to her trade.

Or— well, what used to be her trade. She isn’t so sure about what she is now. Perhaps she could attend to her Prospitian Monarch duties on the side as well as her mail carrier ones? It would be a difficult undertaking, for sure, without the light of Skaia guiding her or any golden towers in immediate sight, but she lives for challenges.

With that determined thought in mind, PM balls up her fists and marches with her head held high for about twenty-two minutes before once again slowing to a more sedentary pace. Being hard-boiled and professional takes a lot out of you, and she has already been walking for at least an hour. She will have to conserve her energy for the long journey that is undoubtedly impending.

Speaking of undoubtedly impending things, she is almost right in front of the speck that she had set her sights upon earlier. Only, this speck isn’t much of a speck anymore— it is a swirling portal, tinged with strange energies that PM finds indescribable and which causes her shell to tremble most peculiarly. Metaphysical. Magnificent.

The Peregrine Mendicant takes a few steps backwards to further assess this portal. The stark blankness of the Nexus, seemingly inescapable for that long time that she had been walking, is interrupted by a nice stone crest rising up from the ground. It is terribly dilapidated, its poor state manifested in sandy rock and crumbling grit. She scratches idly at one doll-like wrist, a slight grating noise marking the impulsive act.

Hm, the carapacian remarks to herself, scrutinizing the portal with narrowed eyes which glint like shiny black beetles. Does she really want to enter a strange portal, in a strange new universe with a strange new rulebook, possibly at the cost of her life?

The answer, of course, is a resounding yes. While PM might be… apprehensive about venturing into this portal, hardly no one ever finds a precious pearl in an oyster that has been delivered to them on a silver platter. She will have to dive for one.

Taking a running leap, PM barrels headlong into an enormous sandbox.

FINALLY.