Arc II, Chapter 84: The Loft

Arc II, Chapter 84: The Loft

Even as we stood there in shock at what had just happened, Carousel started to come back to life all around us. Silas Dyrkon's Sound Stage was disappearing.

I could hear that the Centennial Celebration, the modern one, was starting up in the distance. Every time I closed my eyes, it was like I was closer and closer to leaving the story world behind.

The cries and screams in the distance turned to laughs as NPCs rode the rides and played the carnival games.

The Ferris wheel was starting back up again. I could hear it, but I couldn’t see it. The Die Cast had knocked it down in the storyline.

I was turning as I heard things brightening up around me until suddenly, in a blink that I didn’t remember blinking, we weren’t in the “original” Centennial anymore.

We were in the present. It must have been Carousel Proper. Everything was alive in a way I had never seen before.

I saw people walking around in modern clothes with smartphones, and I heard music that might have played back on Earth or some version of it.

We stood there and didn’t speak as we took it in.

Well, most of us didn’t speak.

“You guys realize,” Isaac said, “That the Centennial and the founding were not one hundred years apart in that story, and none of us questioned it.”

We had questioned it, but with the help of some mental manipulation, we had dismissed it. Still, I couldn’t help but laugh.

I wasn’t the only one.

Somehow, the stress and overwhelming dread were easing. A weight was lifted off of us, leaving us hopped up on happy chemicals. I had read the same thing happened to people who went through near-death experiences.

We just stood there and laughed in the midst of the celebration. People stared at us. Was that something that would have happened in Silas’ Throughline? Did people react properly? I couldn’t remember.

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?” Antoine asked.

“Nope,” Isaac said, as if he had actually known what was going on from the beginning.

It felt like we were in a different place, and I hoped we actually were.

We still had one thing left to do.

“Congratulations,” Silas the Mechanical Showman said, “You won a ticket.”

“And you guys are just going to push that button after what just happened,” Isaac said. “When that’s the very thing that got us—”

Antoine held up an arm

“Don’t push your luck,” he said with a smile. “If I have to press the button, so do you.”

Antoine pressed the button. He retrieved his tickets and money.

“But we don’t know what happens if you don’t press the button,” Isaac said. “Maybe Carousel loses power over us, and we get to go home.”

“I bet that’s it. I bet nobody's ever tried that.” I said as I pressed the button. Jackpot. Tickets, money, and... something else.

I unfolded it.

“Writ of Habitation,” I said aloud.

We had read about Writs of Habitation in the Atlas. They kept you safe from Omens. They were an essential part of building a base of operations in Carousel. Camp Dyer had been one.

The rest of us hit the button except for Isaac, who still wasn’t ready.

Kimberly got a writ. So did Bobby and Ramona for some reason.

I had to unfold it to read it.

The City of Carousel

Writ of Habitation

By the decrees of the City of Carousel and under the authority of the Office of the Mayor, this document certifies that:

Bearer: Riley Lawrence

Is granted the right and authority to claim the modern estate known as:

The Cantor House

1405 Helm Street

Lower Carousel Heights, Carousel

Under the provisions of this Writ, the following conditions apply:

1. Extensive Boundaries: The bearer is granted dominion over The Cantor House and the surrounding land, including the front and back yards, located at 1405 Helm Street, Carousel Heights, Carousel City.

2. Protection from Omens: The Cantor House and its immediate vicinity are safeguarded from the activation of any Omen by accident, ensuring the bearer's safety and those within their party from unforeseen malevolence.

3. Guarantee Against Encumbrances and Hostility: The described property shall remain free from lairs, nests, or havens of any adversarial entities. All hostile presences nearby will immediately vacate the vicinity and abstain from combative behavior.

4. Amenity Assurance: The Cantor House is equipped with essential amenities, suitable for habitation and guest reception. This includes drinkable water and basic sustenance, though the luxury level of these provisions may vary.

5. Duration of Habitation: This Writ grants the bearer habitation rights for a period of three months starting when the Lower Carousel Heights’ fall season begins and the leaves fall from the trees, ensuring short-term security and ownership.

6. Maintenance and Enhancement: While The Cantor House is provided in a state ready for habitation, the bearer has the full right to further enhance, renovate, or expand the structure and surrounding areas as they see fit.

7. Act of God Clause: The Office of the Mayor and the City of Carousel shall not be held liable for any damages or threats arising due to unforeseeable acts of nature or occurrences beyond the City's apparent control.

8. Violations: Breach of any conditions mentioned herein may result in discussions and negotiations rather than immediate revocation.

She opened the door and gasped.

“I swear it was nicer than this when I lived here,” she said.

“We can renovate,” Antoine assured her.

“With booby traps,” I said.

Antoine laughed, at least.

We stepped into the loft carefully.

It was a large, open-concept kitchen with an assortment of windows overlooking the street below. There was a meager dining set with a table and some mismatched chairs. A few rugs were strewn about, and dust was everywhere. A large telescope pointed down at the street next to one of the windows.

As I stared at it, I saw something on the red wallpaper. Antoine noticed it at the same time I did.

“Does that telescope have a trope?” he asked.

I nodded in amazement. We had seen objects with tropes before, though they were usually extensions of enemy tropes. This one wasn’t.

Portent Paranoia

Type: Insight

Archetype: Conspiracy Theorist

Aspect: --

Stat Used: Savvy

The Conspiracy Theorist believes in taking a step back and seeing the bigger picture. With a pair of binoculars and monk-like patience, maybe they can.

Using a pair of binoculars, a camera with a zoom lens, or similar equipment, the user can spot traps, ambushes, and Omens at a distance.

If you are half as suspicious of your surroundings as you look with those binoculars, nothing will get past you.

As we approached the telescope, we pulled rugs out of the way before stepping on them, just in case. We tread carefully. A writ declaring our safety meant nothing to us. We would take every precaution.

“Does this mean that a Conspiracy Theorist could use this telescope, or... could anyone?” I asked.

“That’s what I’m asking,” Antoine said.

If it was true that the telescope itself had that trope, then suddenly, everyone in the room could see Omens heading our way. We might be able to feel safe even when I was asleep.

“Who’s going to look through it?” Bobby asked from behind us.

The others were staring at us from a distance.

Antoine and I looked at each other.

“I could unequip my Omen scouting trope—” I started to suggest.

Before I could complete the thought, Antoine said, “I got it.”

He put his eye up to the telescope and started training it on passersby.

I got closer to the window and used my own ability.

“You see the older lady in the alley across the way?” I asked. “She’s wearing a sorority sweater and leggings.”

“The Legacy Pledge,” Antoine said as he adjusted the scope on her. That was the name of the storyline. “Triggered by... school spirit?”

He seemed confused at the trigger.

I nodded my head.

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Triggered by wearing the University of Carousel branded clothing near her.”

My Omen scouting trope, I don’t like it here..., and Portent Paranoia both ran off of Savvy. My Savvy was higher, so I got a better description. Still, it was great that he could use it.

“Objects equipped with tropes,” Antoine said.

“That anyone can use,” I added.

That wasn’t mentioned anywhere in the Atlas, not like this.

We sat and spotted a few other Omens—a nun wearing high heels under her frock, a baby carriage rolling down the street on its own, and a man with a toothy smile hitting on a businesswoman in the open-air bar across the street.

The eight of us stood there and silently contemplated our lives.

This was our new home. We had a year-long lease.

There was a nervous excitement in the air, an optimism that felt a lot like sickly nihilism.

“I don’t care what Narrators out there want us to do,” I said. “I say we just serve ourselves. Carousel, Dyrkon, the rest... they can wait. We all have people to save. I say we start.”

The others nodded.

We broke away so that everyone could go claim their rooms

I looked out the window at Carousel Proper. I felt like I was seeing Carousel for the first time.

And I was excited.