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Rhodos Mods ([personal profile] rhodosmods) wrote in [community profile] rhodos_meme2022-08-10 10:12 am
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TDM #1

TDM #1: AUGUST
I. ARRIVAL
Upon arrival, characters awaken in one of the main plazas of the town, lying on the paving stones around a central fountain. It is a bright sunny day and very hot, so you'll quickly want to find some shade. A light breeze brings the scent of the sea, but there are no cries of sea birds to be heard.

The buildings of the plaza are all medieval stone construction, but they all have modern awnings and glass fronts. Tables out front display tourist wares: little plastic statuettes, postcards, t-shirts. Among these, it's easy to identify Greek lettering, Greek gods, photos of Athens and Crete. Predominant among the souvenirs are items marked with the name Rhodos.

But there are no vendors selling their wares. Even if characters wander into the shops, they are all empty as if their owners just stepped away for a moment. Lights are on, and some of the larger and nicer shops even have the whirr of air conditioning. Food stands waft the aroma of freshly grilled kebabs, and a gelato cart is cold to the touch and the ice cream inside is frosty and delicious.

The plaza where you arrive is set on a slope, and the direction of the sea breeze and the faint sound of waves against a shore indicates pretty strongly that down-slope is the direction of the sea. But looking down the slope from the main plaza, you can see an open archway in a tall stone wall, and beyond it is nothing but mist. Despite the clear sunny day in the plaza, the mist is a dense fog with barely three feet of visibility. If you enter it, you can see your own arms in front of you, but nothing beyond that. The breeze has gone still and the waves no longer sound so much like waves--the sound is warped through the mist so that it almost sounds like sobbing. After about five minutes of determined walking across what feels like flat ground with no other landmarks, you find yourself back at the archway.

Housing can easily be scavenged. Doors are unlocked and the interiors are clean and welcoming, beds freshly made, as if it is a hotel that's been prepared for you rather than anyone's personal residence. And yet, once you've settled upon a place to live, you start to find little signs that you have lived here all along. The photographs on the wall (which weren't there when you first arrived) depict you and your family and friends, even if you came from a world without photography. Upon arrival, you have only the clothing you are wearing, but within a day the closet begins to fill with familiar outfits from home, and within the first week you may find up to five of your own possessions around your new residence.

Note: Wardrobe is limited to what you can reasonably fit inside a non-walk-in apartment closet, what your character would reasonably wear and possess in canon, or what can be scavenged around town. There are two very small clothing boutiques where you can find most basics and a few cute outfits. For starting possessions two may be weapons or magical items, but you may have an additional three mundane items. All other personal items can only be obtained through regains or events.
II. SOUND AND LIGHT
The first few days in your new home are relatively uneventful. The days are hot and sunny and the nights are warm beneath a dazzling starry sky.

After not quite a week, the noises of a spectacle will lead characters to a small gate in one of the outer walls with steps leading down into the outer moat. The fog surrounding the city walls has drawn back for just this one little area, revealing an open air theater butting up against the castle wall. A path leads away from the theater on either side, but if you walk into the mist on either side you will promptly find yourself walking out of the mist on the opposite side, as if you'd circumnavigated the entire moat in just a few steps. Behind the theater is another high stone wall. Centuries of weathering has added rough footholds and handholds, but it would be a dangerous climb without equipment. Trees grow from the top of the wall, sticking limbs out of the wall of mist and clawing roots into the stones at the top, loosening them so that they're ready to slip at a touch.

The play that is projected onto the wall features shadow puppets, colored lights, and canned soundtrack special effects like the clop of horses hooves or the burst of trumpets. There is no dialogue or narration, so the story can only be roughly pieced together: there is a king and a queen, then a betrayal that leads to the king's murder. Later, the king and the queen appear again, participating in a ritual which seems to involve human sacrifice, a war and a triumphal procession, and then another betrayal and the king is murdered again.

The story repeats three times every night before shutting itself off. The first performance starts at twilight, and each repetition lasts about twenty minutes. Characters who watch it repeatedly will get the sense that it's slightly different each time, but the whole thing is complicated and confusing without any narration or dialogue to provide context, so characters will struggle to pin down how it's different. A slide projector is set up at the top of the amphitheater, with a pair of old speakers on either side of it. If slides are removed from the projector, they show only blank, uncolored plastic. If something is placed in front of the projector light, the scene is projected onto that object. The projector can be turned off, unplugged, or smashed. No matter what is done to it, as soon as no one is actively watching it, it is restored to an undamaged status and resumes playing.

After watching an entire repetition of the performance, some characters may be overcome by a fit of weeping. Tears roll down your cheeks and you can't seem to catch your breath. Despair clutches at your heart, colored by your own personal sorrows, and the weeping can only be stopped by receiving an embrace.

Others may find that the performance inspires them to reminisce. No matter how secretive you might normally be, you find yourself turning to whoever is sitting near you and telling them a story from your past, something that makes you nostalgic or regretful.
III. INTO THE FOG
CONTENT WARNING: Cruelty and violence against (monster) dogs

After the characters have been in Rhodos for about three weeks, a heavy fog rolls into town. Unlike the mist that surrounds the city, the fog smells of smoke. Visibility is reduced to a mere ten or fifteen feet.

The electricity goes out, and shops are no longer replenished. Food may still be scavenged, but the food in shops and restaurants will slowly rot and may run out. Battery operated items will continue to work as long as the batteries still have a charge. Running water inside the houses continues to work, but it is sluggish and smells stale, leaving an unpleasant film on the skin.

While out on the streets of the town, characters will begin to encounter the monster dogs of Rhodos. The sound of a dragging chain precedes them, and then the hazy outline of a dog comes into view. It's walking oddly, however, with a sort of staggering limp, and the sound of the chain is underlaid by a low, feral growl. Furless gray skin peels away in patches to reveal bloody muscle. The heavy iron collar around the neck is studded with long black screws, the ends of which pierce the skin of the neck. Hazy eyes are clouded with decomposition, and yet that doesn't seem to prevent the dog from making its way straight toward you.

The dogs are not very fast, nor very smart. They can be outpaced at a brisk walk, and they will lose track of any character who gets more than twenty feet away or behind a closed door. But they are vicious. If you get within a few feet, they will lunge at you and attempt to bite. If two or three of them manage to corner you in a blind alley, you could be in real trouble.

In addition to the dogs, characters will begin to catch glimpses of Manifestations, both their own or those of others. At first you might just catch a glimpse of them through a break in the fog, but after a day or two they can be spotted standing outside of apartment windows and staring in. In either case, they will not approach or attack characters unless you're foolish enough to get within six feet of them. Then, they will attack, and they will pursue at a fast walk until they lose track of you in the fog.
IV. WAKING UP TO A NIGHTMARE
CONTENT WARNING: Blood imagery

On the 28th, characters are awakened by the sound of their front doors being smashed in. It's your own smashing door that awakens you, but you can hear more distant sounds of destruction from the other apartments nearby.

As you scramble out of your bed, you find that the homey, quilted bedding has been soaked through with blood, and it's sagging in the middle with the outline of a human body. But before you have a chance to properly react to that horror, your Manifestation is coming through your bedroom door — more than one of them, if you were sharing that bed with anyone.

You will have to fight or dodge in order to get out of the room. Your Manifestation is out for your blood. You can do damage to it, creating deep wounds and heavy bruises, causing it to stagger and slow for a moment, but no matter how much damage you do it keeps coming for you. Sooner or later, you will need to run.

When you make it out into the streets, you'll find that the entire world has changed. Heavy darkness fills the city, and no stars are visible in the sky. A few lights glow despite the lack of electricity, but they only provide a sickly, red-tinted light. Streets are slick with something that looks like blood, and the stone walls in many places have been transformed into metal or grate. Through the grate, you can catch glimpses of black metal hooks and gory, dripping meat that looks human in origin.

There is no palatable food or water. Anything you have saved has rotted or changed unnaturally into what looks like rotting flesh or lumps of bile. Liquid has turned into blood or black water. The only mercy is that symptoms of hunger, thirst and fatigue stabilize after 24 hours and don't get any worse. Don't worry, it won't be the dehydration that kills you here.

Your Manifestation pursues you tirelessly, and the monster dogs are faster, smarter, and moving in packs. Your home is no longer safe, and staying on the streets is deadly.
V. THE BONFIRE
CONTENT WARNING: Body horror, immolation

Sooner or later, you find your way to the bonfire in the middle of the fountain square. There is no longer water in the fountain. Instead, the whole thing towers with flame, fueled by a viscous black substance in the basin.

A tall man stands by the fountain, gazing into the flames as if he is supervising. His suit is true black, fathomless black, while his skin is a dark red-black like the newly formed crust upon a lava flow. His eyes are black pools reflecting the flames. He takes no interest in any approaching characters, and will not respond to any questions. The only thing that will draw his attention to you is an attempted attack. If you try it, your blow lands, but he doesn't seem to take any damage. His head turns toward you and he considers you for a moment, as if he finds it intriguing that you would attempt such a thing. Then he returns his attention to the fire.

The dogs and the Manifestations will not pursue you into the circle of light cast by the bonfire. You can find a sort of respite here.

Time passes. It feels like days, though there is no way to mark the passage of time. The Dark Figure continues to supervise the bonfire.

At last, your attention is drawn to a sort of commotion approaching down one of the main streets that feeds into the plaza. You hear a rattling of metal, and a sort of gibbering moan. The bonfire illuminates first upon a pale, faceless figure which seems to writhe as it approaches, hovering above the paving stones. As it grows closer, you see that the figure is lashed to a square metal frame and bound with strips of barbed wire. Veiled figures on either side bear it forward, and the Dark Figure turns to watch it approach.

The figure upon the frame has no face and no mouth with which to make its agonized moans, but it continues nonetheless. It has limbs but no hands or feet, each limb ending in smooth stumps.

If no one interferes, the Handmaidens carry the frame forward and place it upon the fire.

The Handmaidens can be attacked, and hurt. They cry out indignantly at any attack, and recoil. They will not fight back, but they also will not be discouraged from their task by anything less than persistent violence.

If the pale figure on the frame is rescued by the player characters, it flails and gibbers helplessly, continuing to moan. If the pale figure is consigned to the flames, it begins to scream, and continues screaming for several minutes until the flame finally overcomes it.

In either situation, you begin to cough. Blood spills from your mouth, dribbling down your chin and spattering upon your clothing. But then the droplets begin to slither into letters, forming words that spell out your deepest guilt, in the words you yourself would use to describe it. No attempt to wipe the words away or cover them will prevent their legibility. The blood shines through whatever covers it, catching the firelight so that those around you can clearly read the words.

The Dark Figure and his Handmaidens made their exit while you were coughing. You are left alone with the other Tourists around you, your guilt, and whatever remains of the pale figure upon the frame.
SUMMARY
Arrival: August 1
Sound and Light: August 5-20
Into the Fog: August 21-27
Waking Up to a Nightmare: August 28-30
The Bonfire: August 31

Welcome to Rhodos! Going forward, events will take place in two parts. The Normal World part of the event posted on the 5th of each month, and it will be a lighter event both in terms of length and thematic content. TDMs will be bi-monthly and will feature an event element or elements for the Normal World which in-game characters may also play with on their own log posts. The sections on Fog and Nightmare worlds for the TDM will generally be the same every month, allowing players to test drive those elements if they'd like, but not including spoilers for the second part of that month's event. The second part of the event will be posted on the 20th of each month, covering events occurring through both the Fog and Nightmare cycles.

Test drive memes are considered game canon.

This won't always be the case, but for the nerds among you who are enjoying this sometimes-accurate tour of Rhodes, all location images in this TDM and housing are accurate to Rhodes.

Lastly, we are in need of mods! We're most in need of help for processing apps and activity. If we aren't able to get some additional mods, we will have to place a cap on applications, and we're hoping we won't have to do that. If you're interested, please send us a message over on the mod contact page. We've gotten the mod volunteers we needed so we should be all clear to proceed without an applications cap. Thank you to everyone who showed interest!
lapses: (001)

fog—

[personal profile] lapses 2022-08-13 04:33 am (UTC)(link)
[ with beasts scouring the streets for prey, vincent has found perch atop a roof as he observes them roaming freely below. content to leave them to their own devices, he has little interest in dealing with them, unless they target one of the residents in the area.

the distinct sound of bells draws his attention away from the canines, his eyes searching for the source through the thick fog.

he hears a voice long before he sees the figure emerge from the mist, brazenly announcing his presence. the dogs readily beckon to his call, the four which were loitering nearby zeroing in on fresh prey. their chains rattle against the ground as they stagger towards the man.

for a moment, vincent ponders on whether he should interfere. the stranger clearly has confidence that he can handle them.

he decides to observe a while longer.
]
distastes: (pic#15831850)

[personal profile] distastes 2022-08-13 05:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ knowing that it was likely the sequential story of the ruler's demise that caused her tears, bu chonghua tries not to call too much attention to them. the reason why is still the mystery, and he has a thought or two about that; they are difficult to string together and weave to cohesion though, and even more difficult to pull taught enough to not let the details fall through. his attention is on her but it's a diffused sensation, even as he considers the journal she holds before answering. ]

You mean that the sorrow is your own, correct? [ he leans forward on his elbows, folding his fingers loosely between his knees. ] Watching the King be slain elicits an emotional response, but what causes you to cry is something that comes from your own consciousness. Whether it be feelings you have, memories you think of...

[ in a general sense, he means, but he's prone to dissecting the facts of a situation if he's able. he does have an interest in what clues her notes might reveal, but first thing's first. ]

My own experiences here seem to come from memory.

[ one corner of his mouth quirks, modest and critical of himself. ]

I've cried three times in my life, and I thought about all of them. I'm starting to wonder if it might be a diversion tactic.

[ and still he's left with: why? ]
distastes: (pic#15854263)

[personal profile] distastes 2022-08-13 05:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ no last name... he tucks that away, but with the allowance of a name, bu chonghua eases from where he's poised like an animal ready to lunge. not by much, but he gets the feeling that even that much won't go unnoticed. he rights himself, steadying an aching palm against the warm cobblestone. he swallows, tasting iron. ]

A criminal investigation unit. [ with a cursory slide of his gaze around, he sighs. ] I'm a police officer.

[ which likely carries more weight at home, making him have the dull, dawning thought that he's no where near china. which begs the question: ]

Where are we?
distastes: (pic#15854172)

[personal profile] distastes 2022-08-13 05:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ the absolute face that bu chonghua pulls when his newfound company (that he invited. that is important.) just barehandedly picks up the fish is a sight. if one were to give off the very specific air of knowing what overly expensive silverware was used for what straight from the womb, it would be him. however, he says nothing to deter the other man from eating as he pleases. laying his fork down on his place with a quiet clink, he leans back and crosses his arms, spine curved contemplatively in his seat. ]

No? That's a shame. [ not that his most recent memory of water is a good one. ] We're close to an ocean, but no matter where I look, I can't find it.

[ it smells like brine. there are waves crashing somewhere in the distance. he's a quiet a moment. ]

And the crying?
whomthebelltolls: (And make me wonder why I'm even here)

[personal profile] whomthebelltolls 2022-08-13 06:05 am (UTC)(link)
Mmm. I fear you may be right, as much as I would hope for only dogs. [To her, they're a minor threat at best - perhaps deadly in a large enough group, but she's only seen a handful of them around... and eliminated them viciously every time she got the chance.

Still, her head inclines slightly in greeting.] I am Maria. I also think it to be a good idea to move from this place before the scent of dead dog brings other hungry mouths to this place. Unless you wish to stay and fight more?

[She motions into the fog. She is also a bit turned around in it, but they should be able to find a landmark soon enough. It's not as though Rhodos, and the castle they currently occupy, are particularly large areas.]
keenely: (n214)

nancy wheeler . stranger things . s4 spoilers everywhere

[personal profile] keenely 2022-08-13 06:06 am (UTC)(link)
arrival
[ "four chimes."

"max."

no, no, no, no, nonono-! it's the kind of dread and shock and grief that hits her so suddenly, it feels less like a gut-punch and more like someone dropped a cinderblock on her chest. the thought of max going through the same torture vecna inflicted on all of his victims, that they failed her... she hasn't felt this way in a really, really long time. not this intensely, at least. but she has less than five seconds to process exactly what happened, and what that means for them ( and all of hawkins ), before the floor suddenly jolts beneath their feet as another earthquake rocks the upside down. it's happened a dozen times since they got down there, but it still manages to catch her by surprise, and she lurches backward with the force of it, scrambling to get a hold of something to steady herself with her free hand while the other clutches her rifle. robin and steve crowd in close to do the same, the creel house shaking apart all around them, and then-! she's-!

here.

somehow.

she jolts awake with a heavy gasp, already covered in sweat from running around the hellscape she just came from, but also rocking a healthy mix of dirt and grime all over her clothes as well. her clothes that are... maybe a little intense, yeah. she's definitely overdressed for the weather, and she looks properly offended by the beaming sunlight coming from all sides, flinching and shielding her face with an outstretched hand as she sits up and tries to get her bearings. what the hell? what the hell.

eventually she's up on her feet though, shucking her jacket off and tying it around her waist. if she looks a little edgy as she wanders around, taking it all in, it's because she's feeling very much on edge, yeah. but she also looks exhausted?? and filthy. god. she still smells like dust and miscellaneous grime, so you might catch her snagging about five napkins at a time, trying to wipe off her face. probably not looking the most approachable, but she looks like she might need somebody to help her snap out of it. or like, maybe grab a snack since she looks like she's abbout to topple over. either one.
]

into the fog
[ sooo, since her arrival, nancy's experience with the town hasn't been great. well, no. to be fair, it's more that she's exasperated by the fact that she's here at all than by the actual place itself. because she has too many questions that have no chance of being answered, and hawkins is- hawkins might not even exist anymore? but she has literally no way of knowing for sure. and this place doesn't feel real, because the stores don't have people running them, but they're always fully stocked, and her stuff keeps showing up in the ( adorable ) bedroom she's holed herself up in since she got here, and it's always so sunny and perfect but she's yet to meet a single person local to rhodos, and she hasn't been able to find a single bit of information in the way of how and why and where. which is all made worse by the fact that she was still trying to process how vecna had gotten into her head in a way that felt completely real when he made her see all of those horrible things-! so!

she hasn't been doing so great, no.

which is why, once the fog rolls around, she actually... feels a little better? almost? because it's the first thing, as far as she's concerned, that's made perfect sense about all this. of course there's ominous fog. of course things are turning grim. of course. if this is vecna messing around with her mind again, he fucked up, because she totally saw this coming. and when she decides to go out to have a look around, she's totally prepared for whatever he wants to throw at her this time.

well, sort of.

admittedly, it probably wasn't a great idea to tuck her flashlight away just because she was closer to the storefronts now, because of course there would be other people around here doing the same, but she did. and in the quiet fog, the heels of her boots manage to sound a whole lot louder than they usually do, but there's really nothing she can do about that now. and the third thing she probably should have accounted for was someone mistaking her for a threat, so when she hears a muffled whisper, she goes as still as she can, even as her thumb moves to flick the safety off on her revolver. and it's seriously lucky that she's such a stickler for rules, because it means her finger isn't on the trigger once that flashlight beam is suddenly pointed directly at her, revealing the barrel of her gun pointing right back.
]

Shit! [ and quickly followed by a- ] Shit! [ she draws her gun back sharply, pointing it straight up and holding it up near her shoulder, easy to see. her other hand shields her eyes from the flashlight, but the way it's making the fog glow all around her is still making it impossible to see anything ] Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, but I can't- see, can you please turn that off-?
time for a gelato break
[ so, to recap - nancy's in a really weird place, mentally, just in that she's still pretty sure this must be some trap or mind game orchestrated by the evil asshole that's currently terrorizing her hometown by killing teenagers in an attempt to destroy said hometown. but all that being said.

it's literally impossible for her to resist the dark chocolate raspberry gelato that's been calling her name since she got here.

so she grabs the biggest bowl she can find, a waffle cone to crush in her fist and then dump into the bottom of it, and then shovels an absurd amount of that frozen treat on top. there's no rush to the way she eats it, one heaping spoonful at a time, and she seems perfectly content with the spot she picked to settle down on the beach, the long skirt of her sun dress tucked underneath her in lieu of a beach towel.

because if this really is some sort of mind game, it's been long enough now that she's comfortable just- getting comfortable here. kudos to vecna, honestly, because the sea-scented air smells perfect, and this gelato tastes perfect, and- actually, she cannot stress enough how good the gelato is. damn. she might even be humming a bit as she eats it. but yeah, she's slowly learning to shed the paranoia she's been carrying around with her since she arrived. which means when she catches someone looking her away, she gives them a smile and a wave, the smile small but actually reaching her eyes.
]

'Lo!
wildcard.
[ gimme whatcha got! or reach out and let me know if you'd like to plot something out real quick so i can write up a closed starter. i'm on plurk on [plurk.com profile] sexbang ]
Edited 2022-08-13 23:11 (UTC)
whomthebelltolls: (Inside my head)

[personal profile] whomthebelltolls 2022-08-13 06:46 am (UTC)(link)
[Maria frowns, thoughtfully, eyes going a bit distant as she recalls, before finally admitting, albeit a bit slowly,] I trained with the knights, long ago, before I became a Hunter. But they were in service to the Queen of Cainhurst Castle, not a... necromancer.

[She can't say that sounds a bit fantastical, even for her world, because it doesn't, really. Especially after her stint in the Hunter's Nightmare. Even still, such a thing was the purview mostly of the Great Ones, not the humans. She never really served any of those. At least not directly, and willingly.]

These seem weak, though. Hardly a threat, unless one has no martial prowess or access to a sturdy stick or a handful of rocks. Unless the goal was widespread damage, no matter the amount.

[Mm... possible, but still, she has her doubts. Slavering dogs brought in by the fog; her mind still mulls over the possibility they simply are hungry and like to hunt under cover of low visibility to offset their otherwise weak abilities. If they are brought in by another, then it isn't someone who seems to have a lot of power.

Unless they're testing the waters. That could make some sense. A light scouting before something more... valuable descends.

With that revelation, Maria stands upright, lifting her nose slightly.
] Though the smell of smoke makes my nose burn, I am sure these rotting corpses will attract more attention eventually. I am hardly impatient for a further fight at the moment, so I believe I will seek at least some semblance of shelter.

[There's a sort of trailed-off, implied, if you would like to join me in there somewhere, but she doesn't quite verbally extend the invitation.}
unwilt: (🥀 071.)

[personal profile] unwilt 2022-08-13 07:41 am (UTC)(link)
To say the very least.

[ His voice is grim, though he's made an effort to take out the bite behind his words. Thomas has never been an especially friendly man, but that doesn't mean he should treat the others trapped in this place as if he expects never to see them again. ]

There may be some escape out there in all that mist. It would be foolish to ignore the possibility.
unwilt: (🥀 084.)

[personal profile] unwilt 2022-08-13 07:50 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's most certainly not dressed properly – in fact, it's barely dressed at all, just wrapped in a long scrap of fabric and ignored. It's almost shameful to look at the haphazard job he'd done of it, but then at the time he hadn't been thinking about long-term care. ]

Thomas.

[ At first it seems like that's all he's going to say, as he tips his head back and shuts his eyes, letting a woozy spell wash over him. But then he clears his throat. ]

Your normal abilities?
distastes: (pic#15854248)

semi-arrival semi-wildcard

[personal profile] distastes 2022-08-13 07:55 am (UTC)(link)
[ for bu chonghua, there is a certain ache and a certain aggravation that comes from not knowing. that persistence of his had been branded into him since he was very young, since he was nine, since the night he learned what blood, fire, and fate looked like. if there is something he seeks, there is no staying him while he pursues it. dedication, some had called it. others might call it an obsession, if they were to see it in motion. those thoughts lie cyclical at the bottom of his mind, its acuity unaffected by the deep exhaustion weighing against his bones.

memory presses down on those sedimentary thoughts like watery beams of light, frustratingly obscured. heavy. there is a bigger mystery at hand but its edges are blurred. he sits in this apartment that is not his own in this place that is not his home and there is the deathly chill of something waiting at this strange precipice.

yet he cannot concentrate on it.

bu chonghua sits on one side of the empty bed, gaze unfocused on his own hands. one thumb pushes against the shimmering platinum of the ring on his finger, turning it over and over against his own skin just like the words keep replaying in his mind. "I will love him, cherish him, and be loyal to him..."

"Forever."


exhaling, his chest tightens and he clasps his hands together, pressing them to his creased brow and willing clarity to this unfamiliar helplessness. is this really the edge of forever? this abandoned town with the scent of blood seeping from its every brick, cradled by the sounds of sobbing? every memory of those last moments with wu yu drips into the growing chasm where his gut should be. the pain, the blood, the exhaustion, the turbulent waters full of debris. yet what he remembers most is wu yu's hand clamped to the back of his neck as if he held there anything that was keeping him alive, the melted temperature of his body as it leaked out into that abyss, what little warmth either of them had left in whatever kisses the oxygen left would afford. when he swallows, it feels like lead slides down the back of his throat.

where is wu yu?

Where are you? — that singular thought pounds through him with a strength so profound it makes his muscles hurt. it's that singular thought that draws him to stand, to put on his shoes that he hadn't remembered being in this apartment before to head out into the narrow cobblestone alley leading back towards the plaza. the cream brick and emerald vegetation have been tinted blue by twilight, but even if darkness were to engulf this place, the mounting urgency of go right now consumes any misgivings he might have. he refuses to accept that he has gone somewhere wu yu can't follow and if he has to turn every stone over to prove it...

he would, but his footsteps slow at the mouth to the plaza, the brick still warm with residual daylight. a familiar silhouette plays against it, sharp and dark and so imprinted on his soul that he realizes it wasn't just a hunch, or a chance.

bu chonghua came here knowing who he would find.

and despite how he would chase him to the edge of his earth if he needed to, something in him makes him reach his left hand out instead, voice tight as it carries with a startled, commanding, desperate clarity.
]

Wu Yu. Come here.
seaboard: (⌜𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-08-13 07:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ Something twists in the corner of her mouth, grief more than of frustration and fear. ]

... It does not lead anywhere but save back here.

[ How she had tried to follow the sound of the sea back. Yet, again and again, to this place, she had returned, growing more distraught each time. ]
stations: (25)

SOUND AND LIGHT

[personal profile] stations 2022-08-13 07:57 am (UTC)(link)
( So, if they're being completely honest here, this is not the weirdest place Jack's ever been. It's probably not even in his top three — if all those different variations of the Bedside Manor simulation count as separate.

It's still pretty fucking weird, though. Everything about it is giving him Creepy Overtones, including this projected story thing. Especially this projected story thing. It's the second night he's watching it, and he can't say what exactly draws him back again despite having already seen it once. Just instinct, just that weird... feeling that it's significant, and that he's supposed to be here, that it's a clue.

Something about this theater, something about these plays, is important.

Something's-
)

Different.

( He says at the same time as a voice a few yards to his right.

Oh, shit.

A familiar voice.

Oh, shit.

He looks over.

A familiar face.

Oh, shit!
)

Oh look, it's a rerun, haha, I've seen this, guess I'll just get going-

( TIME TO GO TIME TO GO TIME TO GO )
distastes: (pic#15854245)

sound and light

[personal profile] distastes 2022-08-13 08:16 am (UTC)(link)
[ what comes is not a touch but a quiet and evenly paced set of footsteps, slightly gravely against the amphitheater's decaying seats. there is a rustle of clothing, a lean and a careful stretch — a water bottle (with a pithy I ♥ RHODOS printed on the side) is set next to yuuta. ]

Drink some water. You'll feel better.

[ while the voice that drifts over the sounds of crying isn't exactly nurturing, it is genuine in its concern. bu chonghua comes here night after night to try and decipher the meaning behind the way the shadows dance against the rock between them and the sea, but it's so rarely ever just that. so many make it to the end of the show just to end up like this. should he accept his offering, he also has a towel waiting in the wings for him to clean his face with. ]

Your feelings are being unfairly pulled out of you.
spencerfuckingmiddleton: (139)

[personal profile] spencerfuckingmiddleton 2022-08-13 08:18 am (UTC)(link)
[ Oh, he heard that voice.

He fucking recognized that voice.

His head snaps in Jack's direction. If he had been facing the complete opposite direction, his head would have spun all the way around with how hard he turned. ]


JACK!

[ Spencer shoots up from his seat and speeds on over— ]

Heya, Jack — not gonna come say hi?!

[ Don't you run from him you BITCH. ]
stations: (160)

[personal profile] stations 2022-08-13 08:22 am (UTC)(link)
( Things that would not at all surprise him: Spencer Fucking Middleton's head turning all the way around 360 degrees like an owl, or a Chucky doll.

Oh, this bitch is running, alright. It's just a matter of wobbling up to his feet without running straight out of his fucking prosthetic first, and then vaulting over a bench like a baby gazelle on steroids.
)

Hi!

( He calls out over his shoulder. )

Sorry, gotta go! No time to catch up!

( fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck )
spencerfuckingmiddleton: (117)

[personal profile] spencerfuckingmiddleton 2022-08-13 08:44 am (UTC)(link)
[ He could probably do it with enough practice.

Spencer, fueled entirely by hatred and spite and hatred, takes off after him like a rocket.

Despite being pissed off, there's something that warms his little black heart in the way Jack flees, which forces a wide and maybe slightly unhinged smile to spread across his face. ]


Just wanna talk, Jack!

[ You bet your ass as soon as he gets close enough he's going to reach out and try to grab him with his — oh fuck that hand is missing — with the hand NOT missing! ]
unwilt: (🥀 046.)

saw that you prefer prose so i am switching, hope that's ok!!

[personal profile] unwilt 2022-08-13 08:45 am (UTC)(link)
Truth be told, Thomas would like to see his sister again. The last he saw of her was the back of her head as she'd rushed away to freedom. It's a selfish want, to wish her such ill as to want her here in such a strange and confusing place, and not home, safe and unafraid, but he finds himself wanting it anyway.

She's better off elsewhere, he reminds himself. Wherever that may be.

He has no right, really, to commiserate about the zealous and ignorant masses as if he hadn't once been one of their number himself. But there's something in the air, perhaps, making him speak where he would usually have held his tongue.

"Ignorance is a powerful addiction." And he should know. "It's easier for most to live and die in it than recognise they were ever wrong."
unwilt: (🥀 019.)

[personal profile] unwilt 2022-08-13 08:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ Thomas turns to look at her properly at that, his brow furrowing as an unpleasant sinking feeling twists his gut. ]

In what manner? That there is nothing out there at all, and you were forced to return, or...

[ The alternative, he doesn't want to say, so he lets his question trail. ]
stations: (050)

[personal profile] stations 2022-08-13 08:55 am (UTC)(link)
No thank you! I'm good!

( Oh fuck, he's catching up, isn't he? Of course he is, Jack wasn't exactly a world-class athlete before he lost the leg, he's sure as hell not outrunning him now.

For a second, for just a second, it seems like he might get away.

And then he skids to a wobbly, precarious, super abrupt stop right in the middle of the street. Nearly topples over with the sudden punctuation in his momentum, and only barely recovers in time to stay on his feet.

There are... dogs.

Which hey, normally he'd take dogs over Spencer Middleton any day of the week, but these are not... normal dogs. These are fucking hellhounds or something, three of them, each growling low and feral behind rotting jowls.

He's distantly aware that Spencer's still right there, so he finds himself asking the stupidest possible question:
)

Uh.... are these... yours...?

( I mean, if he were gonna have a pet anything, these would probably be it. )
midsommaring: (dyed my hair blue)

[personal profile] midsommaring 2022-08-13 09:43 am (UTC)(link)
Dani slowly turns her head to look at the woman a few feet away from her. She, too, had arrived with only the clothes on her back, though her May Queen crown she now holds in her hand. She'd shed the flower cloak and left it in the fountain, feeling strangled by it.

She takes a quick, odd breath. A quick exhale and sharp inhale. ho-ah. And then she shakes her head.

"I've never been here before. It doesn't look..." She speaks slowly, her tone quietly confused. Still in shock. "This isn't Sweden."
songmother: <user name="inkcharm"> (118 and i never felt the same)

[personal profile] songmother 2022-08-13 09:46 am (UTC)(link)
Sarah would be a lot happier to fight - gleeful and in her element even - if her trusted Scourge was at its full power and if she had any indication of the magical prowess she once did. But not here, not yet, apparently. This place was briefly paradise under the wrong conditions and quickly proved itself nightmare after nightmare. Was this a test? Was she dead and unaware.

Grateful for the sudden appearance of an apparent warrior with a sword, Sarah spins and whips the second dog, flipping it onto its back by its feet and immediately beheading it with her sickle.

She looks over at the swordsman, grateful. "Thank you. We should...keep moving."

Better not to go alone.
isola: 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵: 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 (stardust bound - i)

will graham » nbc's hannibal

[personal profile] isola 2022-08-13 10:10 am (UTC)(link)
general warnings that come with hannibalesque horror.
yes, the pretentious art film from the 80s vibes is a thing.


( arrival ) » — a blood red sea;
{ Pressure is the thrum of a heart accelerating, pulse ready to leap from his throat. It’s the bundle of nervousness as he tries to grasp what is going on, panic diluting senses to their bare usage. Coiled and sharp, regardless of the situation, Will has to be alert. The makings of nearly dying have left him riddled with paranoia. Despite the training he received at Quantico, he failed his tests on a level that shouldn't have been approved on the field.

His instinct may be what has kept him going, one he struggles to embrace even after now having a taste of it. It's a faded memory, as if coming to Rhodos has reset him, and he's not sure how to feel about it. He should be elated, despite the circumstances at hand.

For a moment, Will has to wonder if he's finally dead. The sea has no natural wind direction, and the tangy air he’s grown to find comfort within is nowhere to be found. It is silence on a roulette with one bullet and not knowing when the trigger will be pulled. Will arrived with an itching sense of relief he didn't think he deserved. Then it was yanked away by the fuzzy haze of a strange new world, all too reminiscent of when he'd find himself in the middle of the road some nights.

He has taken to exploring on his own and staying clear. Perhaps it isn’t hell he’s found, it’s purgatory. He continues to stare at the sea from afar, returning to it every other day. Each time, he tries to find the waves upon the water that might have no actual ripples. The fog is ahead, and part of him wants to know what is beyond. He knows better. Does he…? }


I always thought I would die at sea. Now it’s mocking me.

( nightmare ) » — strung by your hand;
{ It’s different, the way the goosebumps rise upon his arms, hairs standing. He might as well be a soaking wet cat, plucked freshly after being thrown into a tub. The feral that comes from within is stilled, but he isn’t about to trust the lure of a fog that is tempting him. He’s had his temptations, and a question has been haunting him more than the subtle hooves he hears by his door. He has to wonder if the newfound reality is his punishment? Where did...? The wounds of a feverish dance are still fresh in his memory, as if it’ll eventually suffocate him if he keeps driving it back into a deal with it later mindset. Far too many questions, and all he can do is fixate. It’s what he does best.

Instead of panicking when he finds he’s outside instead of his room, having woken up from a bout of sleepwalking, he briefly listens for the familiar sound. It has been ages since he's taken an unwanted night stroll. He knew he was going to encounter someone eventually, just not while in his boxer briefs. Great. He takes a step, and the shadow on his right copies him. It's attached to a looming figure larger than a moose, antlers unmistakable and a pitch dark complexion as if one were to stare into a black hole. }


Do you see it?

{ He’s tired. All he can register is his parched voice, roughened after needing to adjust to speaking once again. He’s not sure if he can calculate how long it’s been. A brief moment passes, until he hears a clear sound of feathers ruffling, as if whatever is lurking nearby is slowly rearing up for something. Stalking its prey. Assessing. }

( sound & light ) » — pandora's box;
{ Most of the time he spent when he arrived had been compartmentalized in sections. Most of it was to observe and intake what was happening. He's a creature of habit, so he took to the apartment and trying to make it what his house had been in Virginia. He wanted to stay away from people as much as he could, but sometimes life has a way of making a fool out of him.

Will hasn't moved much after he noted the film liked to play over and over. A sensation begun to creep into cracks he tried to conceal. Bleeding wounds are more accurate, and he was trying to put a tiny, pathetic band-aid over it. The more he watched, the more the stench of grief or otherwise became apparent. }


You're resisting, { comes the comment. It has always been easier to deflect onto others rather than trying to understand what he's feeling. His expression is indescribable. He does not turn to look at his newfound companion. His eyelashes do get a hint of wet, drawn out with a rapid motion of blinks. Will's eyes sting, and his frown deepens. He's not sure if it's his doing. }

( wildcard ) » — byo;
( v flexible as i’m trying this out, so open to all sorts of scenarios. hell, let's get weird. i love mind bendy shit. most likely pulling him from the end of s3 or midway bc i like to make my muses suffer. pms are open if you have any questions or ideas you want to try. or hit me up at [plurk.com profile] groovygenes!! )
Edited (rudeness) 2022-08-13 10:12 (UTC)
seaboard: (⌜𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-08-13 10:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ She shakes her head. It is never pleasant, to be the barer of bad news. No matter how great or small. ]

I walked as if in a thick sea mist, which I am quite used to, to not lose my head so immediately, for long enough to lose the shape of the archway I had come from initially. I tried to follow the sound of the ocean, as much as I could I let it guide me...

Then I found another archway, and instead of appearing somewhere new, I walked out right the way I had come. This has happened every time I have attempted it.
songmother: <user name="inkcharm"> (087 would you leave me?)

oh gosh, that's so thoughtful :3

[personal profile] songmother 2022-08-13 10:12 am (UTC)(link)
Sarah appreciates that the stranger is polite, though wonders how much this strange effect she is feeling may be affecting others as well, and what he may be leaving left unsaid. She did seem very susceptible to whatever had happened after she watched the show last night. At least tonight she was not alone with it. A strange thought, in itself.

The former general has done plenty of things others would not understand, in the name of a sort of dedication and fervor similar to religion. She had commanded the US army before the US was a country, directly shaping its formation and waging is wars, subjecting her kind to conscription in exchange for equality. For freedom. To stop running, and burning. Her kind had, in the centuries, forged a beautiful society. But their ancient enemy had returned to destroy them, and the government she served was behind it. Empty words, broken promises. Was it worth it?

A reflective, self-aware smirk teased the edge of her lips. It's easier for most to live and die in it than recognise they were ever wrong. Was she so different? "So it is. Perhaps we can be better than that."

What could it hurt? She was either dead and none of this mattered or she stood to gain by giving in and seeing what became of the unusual impulses this island subjected her to.
spencerfuckingmiddleton: (114)

[personal profile] spencerfuckingmiddleton 2022-08-13 10:28 am (UTC)(link)
[ Spencer is so close he can just about grab Jack by the stupid collar and yank his lanky ass to the ground — then he just stops and Spencer almost bulldozes him. He manages to come to a stop hard enough that when he bumps into him, they don't go tumbling down.

Well, that just makes the chase boring as—

...Dogs. Those are dogs.

Spencer squints at the hellish creatures, not exactly phased by them, but maybe mildly concerned that this can go bad. Possibly. In that distant, "did I leave the stove on, eh fuck it let it burn" sort of way.

He can't help but look over at Jack with the most heated look of annoyance. ]


Of course not, dumbass. More of a cat guy myself. [ He turned around, about ready to leave Jack to maybe slow the dogs down by being a chew toy, but then saw more behind them. They weren't charging, but they weren't standing there either. They ambled closer. ] Well. Shit.

Had to run, didn't you?

[ Clearly this is all your fucking fault, Jack. ]