rhodosmods: (Default)
Rhodos Mods ([personal profile] rhodosmods) wrote in [community profile] rhodos_meme2022-08-10 10:12 am
Entry tags:

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!
katharma: (Default)

[personal profile] katharma 2022-08-16 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
No, I'm sorry, I -

[ she pauses a second, because she's tired, too, and before too long she hears the drag of metal against concrete. it's slow but deliberate, she can hear it edging closer but still can't see anything. she can barely see the girl whose hand she's still gripping tightly, tighter still as she starts to hear a low growl. ]

We - we've gotta get inside. [ maybe whatever's out here with them won't follow them there. ] Do you think we can find our way back to the town?

[ it's been less than hospitable lately, food quickly going rotten in the fridge and the water leaving her skin feeling grimy, but it's better than nothing. especially if there's something after them. ]
midsommaring: (so you will do)

[personal profile] midsommaring 2022-08-16 01:48 am (UTC)(link)
[The question seems to pull her up short. Her brow furrowing in thought. She tries do think of something she loves doing. Anything, a hobby, a song, something, but she comes up short

Before Sweden, her life had consisted of going to class, checking in on her sister, and hanging out with Christian and his friends.

How pathetic.]


I don't think... I have anything like that. Maybe I should get into fishing, too. [She tries to laugh, but it comes out hollow, empty. Even to her]
konyaku: (𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦)

[personal profile] konyaku 2022-08-16 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
( there's a sound, somewhere over the gasp of his breath, that tells him he should be on alert--just because the theater has mostly emptied out doesn't mean that there isn't something lurking here, something that he can't just fight with his fists or hope for cursed energy that won't come, in this place. if anything, he should be overflowing with it, now: but like rika, there's very little to feel in that regard. it's like missing a limb.

carefully, slowly, he forces his arms to loosen, tries to will himself to gain some measure of self-control, and slowly arches to sit up again. it's not like it's the first time he's cried in front of someone else--in fact, he used to be something of a cry-baby before everything happened, someone that crumbled at the thought of something truly difficult, gave up before even trying.

the water catches his eye, and he reaches with one hand for it. he won't look at the person next to him, but his profile makes it obvious; there are tears, still building up over his cheeks, sliding down to loop along his jawline. )


Thank you. ( it's stiff, polite, shy and awkward wrapped up into one; he wrenches the cap off the water bottle, but doesn't take a drink. ) Why do you think it...does that?

What does it want with them...? I wish it would just take them all away. ( muttered, quietly, before he finally forces himself to breathe and, with some luck, take one steadying swallow of water. )
konyaku: (𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦)

[personal profile] konyaku 2022-08-16 02:02 am (UTC)(link)
( kokomi disappears to check the lock, and satisfied with it, at least for now, yuuta takes to tending to the dishes. funnily enough, he thinks that they aren't even kokomi's--after all, she'd mentioned just arriving, essentially, which must mean that she hasn't really been here long enough to dirty anything. does this mean they're staying at someone else's place? or is it more like this is some sort of homestay, a hotel, or something of the like?

he's considering the options as he works his hands, steadily, with soap and a sponge, methodically working the dishes until they're soaped up and then rinsed. by the time kokomi returns, he's nearly finished; luckily, there's some sort of drying rack, and he sets each dish there, carefully. )


It...might be that way. ( he says, uncertain, over his shoulder. if that's the case, then... ) Is there more than one, ah...bedroom?

( he's only seen the place up to the kitchen, after all. elbowing the faucet to turn it off again, he holds his dripping hands up, panics internally, and then finally locates a towel to carefully dry them off on. with a nod to kokomi, he tries to offer a small smile. )

Do you want to give me a tour? Show me the highlights.

( a bit ridiculous, since she just explored it, but: he's trying to be fun. or something. )
octaplicitous: (could restore me)

[personal profile] octaplicitous 2022-08-16 02:06 am (UTC)(link)
I suppose I am.

[It's as good a direction as any, while they have no knowledge of why they're here. So he follows along.]

I'm Azul Ashengrotto. Owner of the Mostro Lounge, and presently housewarden of the Octavinelle dorm at Night Raven College.

[He says this like it's impressive, because in his world it kind of is. Not just anyone gets into NRC (or at least that's what they say).]

It is nice to meet you, Mr. Larry.
wrists: (14)

[personal profile] wrists 2022-08-16 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ at least he listens and the door gets firmly shut. laurent is not going to thank him for that, since it was only common sense. the arm, however, gets a second glance when he lifts it — he has not seen anything like it before, and he's struck with a curiosity to know how it works. to ask albel anything in the family of reasonably friendly conversation seems quite out of the picture, and laurent, though well versed in the art of being falsely charming, does not feel like expending the energy right now.

he's not going to pass out from blood loss. imagine how silly that would be.
]

I don't need a medic. [ although his trusted palace physician would be a very convenient addition to this situation. ] I need a man who knows how to undress another man. Clearly, that is not you.

[ extremely big talk from laurent, who has never undressed another man in his life. he catches the rag and studies it before draping it over the counter. it looks filthy. he will scavenge from elsewhere, meaning he's now taking a knife to one of the pillows on the couch and stripping it of fabric. ]

The odd show of violence came from you, so congratulations on your insidiousness. I'm certain it will serve you well here. [ as if laurent is not also unsavory in his own right, but he has not mounted anyone onto a cross and had them flogged since coming here, so he thinks there's a fair amount of space to pass judgment. in any case, the mind games are concerning.

one handed, and with a certain measure of difficulty, he begins undoing the laces at the nape of his neck, loosening the fabric enough so he can begin freeing his wounded arm.
]
seaboard: (⌜𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-08-16 02:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ She says nothing about it, as he leans against her, gently moving her fingers back and forth with a quiet him to help fill that emptiness that grief left behind. Her eyes lowered as she watched carefully. His pain. His agony. If only she could take it, but that was always the if, if she could carry it all, perhaps things would be better.

But she can't.

She can only hope to guide against something less immediately destructive. She does not raise her voice or grow angry, what good would that do? Even if he is set to scorn her. No, her hand settles against the outside of his arm, if only to get him to look at her.
]

Because, warrior, what would you strike at? The mist? Perhaps the stone walls? Or a puppet upon a stage, shown in shadow and light? Would you fight flames? You have no plan. [ Soft, soft, soft, and yet, she feels her mother's guidance in the directness of it. ] None of us do. We cannot, we have no knowledge of this place. I have no doubt of your courage and your strength. But there is nothing, yet, to fight. We have no understanding of what it is they desire from us. You will only hurt yourself, wear yourself out, and leave us broken so that if there is an enemy, we are twice as defenceless against it.
wrists: (Default)

[personal profile] wrists 2022-08-16 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
[ he'd pushed her out of the firelight's safety, for all intents and purposes damning her to a painful death. and yet when she looks at him with frightened eyes, there's something else he doesn't expect to see there — compassion, of a sort. concern. his men care for his safety because they are his guards and it is their duty to die for him if they must. but she has no such obligation, and she stays all the same. the brush of her fingers at his arm feels like a lightning strike.

but she knows. his blood hasn't faded, and neither has hers. it's pity. his stomach turns, his knuckles white where he grips his sword. he can almost feel the heavy, phantom hand of his uncle trying to push him to his knees.
]

Together. [ he has to fight to get the word out, to wrangle his panic under some semblance of control once more. taking her arm, he pulls her close to him, feeling the rapid pace of her heart. ] Stay close to me. We'll run.

[ with the dogs snapping and snarling, their growls filling the air, he plunges into the fray with her, his sword slick with blood when they finally break through into the firelight. here, there are others, all with their own secrets, but laurent doesn't read any of them. he can't. he's too filled with shame about his own on display again, and he turns away from the girl, wiping his sleeve over his eyes. better get away from her before his anger takes hold again. ]

Leave me.
isola: 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵: 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘴 ( 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘵 ) (cabrón - ii)

[personal profile] isola 2022-08-16 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
{ He does note the shift in her laughter, voided of something he’s not privy to. Will nearly comments on it, but resists. It’s familiar enough of his time spent drinking endless nights, not knowing what enough was until someone had to pull it from him. Unfortunately, those people were never convenient. The last person he saw before coming here had been Jack.

He slightly parts his mouth, then considers his answer. }


It depends, if you’re a patient person, sure. I don’t have many hobbies, just distractions. Are you from here?
isola: 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵: 𝘰𝘭𝘥_𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 ( 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘵 ) (vino - i)

[personal profile] isola 2022-08-16 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
{ The play is ending and he’s been here enough to know that it will restart again. He almost counts the beats until it does. The cat is proving to be a sufficient distraction from the thrum of this odd cycle. His attempt at a smile is small, weak even. Pardon him. His socializing needs some tuning. }

I have seven dogs. { He still thinks he might one day go back to them, or so he hopes. Will stares at Jenny the cat, considers the offer. } You should probably know my name then. Will Graham.

{ It’s odd, as if his own name is something foreign. He carefully reaches out and pets the cat. The weakness to his smile seems more genuine than before as he finds the fur is soft. He is compelled into a confession that may not mean much at forefront, but holds deep for him. }

I miss them.
midsommaring: (i wish that i could)

[personal profile] midsommaring 2022-08-16 02:40 am (UTC)(link)
I can be patient. I don't have many hobbies, either. Or... any. I just realized. [She would just agree to do whatever everyone else wanted to do. Not wanting to make waves, or be thought of as difficult in any way.

Maybe that's what happens when you build your life around other people. When those people are gone, you have nothing left. Not even a hobby.]


Oh, uh, no. Boston, originally. You?
isola: 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵: 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬 (french vanilla fantasy - iii)

» the bonfire ( i’ll go lightly post-s2, if you don’t mind a sweaty mans );

[personal profile] isola 2022-08-16 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
{ The creatures demand attention with their imposing frames and haunting way they move around them. He sees no point in approaching them, at least not yet. Will witnesses the attempts people make on fighting them, and to them he does briefly pay heed. He’s distracted by their foolishness to go head on. Perhaps a part of Will is already frightened to the idea of these creatures and if they intend to come for him. The unknown, most of all. He thinks he’d deserve it.

It’s amongst the commotion that he feels a cold chill grip his body and gradually crawl all the way up into his throat. It squeezes his windpipes until he’s forced to find the breath some odd force is trying to take away. It is at the brink of the release and a cough that he notices everyone is having their own little dilemma. He’s at the edge of the bonfire, purposely having skirted away so he can leave if he wanted without too much notice.

He didn’t get the chance. Even more when he finds he coughed up blood. Will barely glances at the droplets, his throat becoming sore as his eyesight blurs for excruciating seconds. Then after a heave, he finally catches sight of an all too familiar frame. It’s the suit. There’s no denying the words at their feet. Will knows, he has known. He tries to step back, but the crackling fire and a loud groan from somewhere nearby makes him halt. He’s riddled with confusion and a lilt of pain from having to cough up remaining blood, some of which ends up on his shirt.

His bloody inscribed words are blatant. He kicks dirt over them, of which provides ineffective: You let them die. }


Fuck off. { His voice is hoarse from trying to manage his breathing, but he can’t help the lurching response. }
37stitches: (Default)

[personal profile] 37stitches 2022-08-16 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
S - mhmm. Seven's a good number, [ Abby murmurs. He likes dogs. Animals are easier. Maybe he likes the cats best but the dogs are nice when they run up and bump their noses against his hands. When they curl up next to him, or bark because they're happy just to exist. His uncle's afraid of dogs but that doesn't make them bad. ] I have dogs too. Just - not here.

[ Only Jenny. She purrs, low and rumbling, and tips her head back for pets. Whatever else is happening here, she's alive and strong. The magic holds in her, even if Abby can't feel it here. Can't call it to him. What if someone gets hurt and he can't heal them?

That's been on his mind. That thought. Racing and racing and racing.

Abby's smile is small. A little uncertain. Will Graham. Okay. ]


Hi. I'm - Abby. Abby Fontaine.

[ Alistair, if they're going by birth certificates, but it never fit. ]
seaboard: (⌜𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-08-16 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ Her expression stays placid through it all. ]

That is why we must all work together.

[ Take that as you will. There is nothing but a pleasant nothingness in her features. ]
solitairy: (004)

😊

[personal profile] solitairy 2022-08-16 03:31 am (UTC)(link)
[does phantom feel bad about scaring the everliving daylights out of shalem again?

no. not really.

but he trusts shalem, and the words come easily, his voice steady.]


There is a room that is familiar yet not. Tidbits, trinkets and artifacts that would indicate that someone has lived in it before. [him in particular.] If there are more signs such as that... I must know if I've been here before.

[if they have. this place might be a little too rural for rhodes island operators but once upon a time, they were simple children in a simple hometown. and the troupe moved in and out of many places before settling in that accursed castle.]
solitairy: (004)

[personal profile] solitairy 2022-08-16 03:41 am (UTC)(link)
I am accustomed to my lady's moods, and she comes to find me when she has her demands.

[except... some part of him does think that perhaps ms. christine either did not come here with him, or the day that she's left him has finally come. it was, after all, an eventuality and phantom has never deluded himself into thinking that she'll stay forever.]

But if she has decided to part ways with me, then she has likely left this place by now.
servinghunt: (superiority)

sound and light

[personal profile] servinghunt 2022-08-16 03:52 am (UTC)(link)
"What is?" asks an old man, seated in such a way as to... hold about as much size as a normal human frame can. "The play?"

Wearing robes, gloves, and a mane of graying, whitened hair that was too long, and looked to have never been styled before in his life. He slid his eyes to the other man, a large scar bifurcated his face -- olive green, and seemed to center across his nose. His lips curled, into something that was close to an unassuming smile.

"Or something else?"
ktizo: (🎵 should we lose our way)

Hythlodaeus // Final Fantasy XIV // OTA

[personal profile] ktizo 2022-08-16 03:52 am (UTC)(link)
Arrival

Wherever he's woken sure is warm- that's one of the first things Hythlodaeus notices as his robes trap that heat and make him feel entirely too hot. He's quick to duck into a store which, blessedly, has air conditioning.

It's a store that sells pastries mainly, but there are little trinkets on the shelves around it that Hythlodaeus picks up and looks over. Eventually he finds himself waiting by the counter, peering around to see if anyone is actually around to serve.

"Hello?" Maybe someone who has figured out that none of the stores have people working at them can help?

Sound And Light

The play is an odd one, but Hythlodaeus finds himself watching it a few times out of boredom. He finds it's different every time, but he can't quite figure out how. That doesn't really matter in the end as after the third sitting, he finds his eyes prickling with tears. He wipes at his eyes furiously- he barely ever cries, so why now?- but eventually he can be found sobbing into his hands as a weight settles in his chest and he finds he misses home so, so terribly. Their plan hadn't worked, Etheirys was lost to them, and where he would usually get past thoughts like this with a smile he just can't stop the tears that fall instead.

It's embarrassing to him, really. He's always tried to be strong, and he's always had the uncanny ability to take things in his stride. But here he is weeping, and for no reason! But he can't seem to stop. How he wishes for comfort right about now...

Waking Up To A Nightmare

The fog had been bad enough. Hythlodaeus had avoided the strange dogs and navigated the city as best as he could, always on the lookout for anything useful. Food, mostly... he finds he needs to eat more, here. But the smashing in of his doors was unexpected, and he yelps as he all but falls out of his bed, before realising that he's wet and sticky with blood. He has no time to do much but grab his robe from the chair and pull it around himself before a creature is stooping through the now-open door, terrifyingly familiar. It stands at around nine feet tall, a hooded figure with grey skin. The robes it wears are tattered, charred in places, and unnaturally long arms reach for him as he stands there terrified. The tips of its fingers end in points seemingly sharp enough to draw blood- but Hythlodaeus doesn't want to stand around long enough to let the creature test that theory on him. He manages to get around it somehow as it barrels towards him, fleeing through the open door and running for his life.

Unfortunately he is not looking where he's going, and there's a high chance he'll just run straight into someone at the speed he's going. He can't even begin to process what is happening, he just knows that he needs to run away.

Wildcard

Up for anything so feel free to hit me with a wildcard if you have something else in mind! I can be found at [plurk.com profile] sneks too if you would like to plot there.
springgirl: (two)

[personal profile] springgirl 2022-08-16 04:04 am (UTC)(link)
"Not really--" Voicing out loud that she's more than willing to try her luck at fighting the bear seems like a bad idea. But she keeps a tight hold on her hand, even as she's boosted up and climbs in through the window. Even as her wrist and arm scrapes against stone, making her wince. The ensuing splashes (and the feeling of something on her legs and feet make her tense. An awful, nauseous feeling grips her.

It isn't the first time she's seen blood. She hears distant screams, sees that night in her mind's eye. There had been so much blood that she hadn't been able to keep from wondering how they'd gotten rid of it all. But even if it wasn't visible anymore, it still stained the floor of the woods. The only thing that comforted her was that the monsters who did it were gone. She feels dizzy and sick for a few seconds, forcing herself to push past it.

"...Hey." She gives Dani's hand a squeeze, gentle and insistent. "Look at me. I know this is... gross and horrific, but this space is the only thing keeping us safe from what's out there." Their fingers are still intertwined, and she has no intention of letting go. "What's your name? I'm Cora." It's hardly small talk, more of a way to try to keep her distracted.
sunmon: (pic#14981209)

[personal profile] sunmon 2022-08-16 04:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ by the time she hears the yelp of the last dying dog, alina has made her way up onto the roof. at first, she lets her legs kick over the ledge, but at the yelping sound, she draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, as if it might keep invisible monsters from snatching her down.

the fog feels so much like the fold, like this. familiar in its oppression. but there is nowhere to run, now. no end to it. and no light to pierce it.
]
sunmon: (Default)

[personal profile] sunmon 2022-08-16 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
Volcra.

[ she says it through a grunt as she props herself up onto her elbows, looking at chrissy's hand. then she reaches up and grabs it, pulling herself to her feet with chrissy's help. she dusts herself off and squints through the fog at the dark sky.

it looks different, somehow. the fog. like there's some light simmering faintly beneath it. she can't quite place it, but something seems ... different, somehow.
]

It lives in the shadow fold. We should be safe if we can find some light.
pilgrimages: (Default)

[personal profile] pilgrimages 2022-08-16 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
I admit, I don't really know what having siblings is like, but ...

[ she folds the photo anyway. though she may question gilia, seek understanding, juna's not going to disbelieve the necessity of discarding that which upsets her. ]

You don't seem fond.
pilgrimages: (Default)

[personal profile] pilgrimages 2022-08-16 04:24 am (UTC)(link)
[ she catches her breath as the stranger hauls the dog away. juna sits up further, lets the chain clatter to the paving stones. it's heavy, but lighter than it had been with the dog's force behind it.

one, two good breaths and she's back on her feet. struggling to put weight on her injured leg. she grabs one end of the chain, hobbles her way closer to aristaeus and the dog.
]

What's wrong with it? [ he seems to have the situation well in hand, so it's time to address how odd they look. this is more than mange. ]
pilgrimages: (Default)

[personal profile] pilgrimages 2022-08-16 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
That thing isn't safe to eat. You'd live longer starving.

[ which they all might, given the state of the shelves in the stores and their homes. but juna comes from a farming community. she knows what sick and wrong animals look like. you don't sell the meat. you just put them down. ]
isola: 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵: 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 (bury a friend - x)

[personal profile] isola 2022-08-16 05:36 am (UTC)(link)
The open air is tranquil. { It’s an off comment, meant to be minimal as he lets his gaze linger back towards the horizon. It looks like it’s near but it’s probably far. He’s only just arrived so it didn’t occur to him that more people would be here.

Normal people. He wonders what normal looks like out here. If others are in their turmoil as well. He hopes theirs is not the minefield his has become. One step out of bounds and it’s over. }


I’m originally from Louisiana, then moved to Virginia. I couldn’t leave the South. Maybe you’ll find something here. Whatever here is? The fog hasn’t moved in days. I think it’s waiting. { For prey, echoes in his mind. }