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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!
pilgrimages: (pic#)

[personal profile] pilgrimages 2022-08-19 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)
[ she knows she can't keep up. but she also, selfishly, doesn't want to be left out here alone. not now that she knows she's really alone, that she can't channel the sin's power at all.

shame rolls through her, prickles hot and sharp over the wound in her leg as she looks down at it like she's evaluating, even though she knows already what she's going to say.
]

That'd be great. [ imposing on his kindness and slowing him down. no wonder she's in this position. she nods and starts hobbling his way, pursuing him towards the library, but she only makes it a handful of steps before her legs buckles again. she drops to one knee, smothers her pained noise and starts trying to push herself back up again, leg shaking and failing to make the effort. ]
roomed: (Defeated)

[personal profile] roomed 2022-08-19 09:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He's not sure whether he should be apologizing after the question hits Ethan that way. But it also means he might be onto something. ]

Well...

I was done. The...guy in the blue coat, he was killing people for a ritual. I was the last one. And I stopped it, but...

[ His fingers curl up around nothing, and he consciously makes them straighten back out.

He repeats, quietly: ]
I was done.

[ He shakes his head. ] I don't know. It's just a feeling I have.
unwilt: (🥀 071.)

[personal profile] unwilt 2022-08-19 09:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Thomas smiles a little, rueful – he can't help himself, really. It seems that though this place has pulled people from worlds entirely different from his own, there are similarities to be found everywhere. ]

I was once a member of the priesthood, for what little that's worth to me anymore. Though I don't recall being taught anything of augurs.
somatosensory: ꜱᴏʟᴀʀᴀɴ (ari_097)

[personal profile] somatosensory 2022-08-19 10:06 pm (UTC)(link)
( oh.

well. that's going to be a problem.

leaving her behind would be the easy solution. as it stands, they're already 0-2 with him holding the advantage, but she'd also done her part in the end. )


Hang on. ( the only warning she's going to get before he's bending to hook an arm under her knees, the other reaching to support her back.

she's more solid than she looks, but it's not by much. the extra weight is practically negligible. )
pilgrimages: (pic#)

[personal profile] pilgrimages 2022-08-19 10:09 pm (UTC)(link)
What are you—

[ she winces as he lifts her, putting pressure onto her wound briefly. the sudden exhalation cuts off further complaint, but not for long. her fingernails scrape at the front of his suit, finding no purchase in the smooth, hard armor plating. ]

Just leave me. [ it makes sense. why would he do this? ]
somatosensory: ꜱᴏʟᴀʀᴀɴ (Default)

[personal profile] somatosensory 2022-08-19 10:26 pm (UTC)(link)
( a huff. quick but amused. )

You're welcome to nobly sacrifice yourself later, should it become necessary. ( and it may well become necessary if there's more things like those dogs out there. )
pilgrimages: (pic#)

[personal profile] pilgrimages 2022-08-19 11:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[ somehow it's easier to accept the possibility that he might keep her around as a distraction than to accept the altruism of him carrying her to safety. either way, she is too conscious of her weight, of her bulk, of her uselessness to be comfortable in his arms. despite this, she tries not to shift. tries not to make herself more than she already is.

but the silence gets to be too much, oppressive in how it makes her sit in the moment of receiving a simple act of kindness.
]

What's with the helmet? [ they might as well get to know each other. ]
somatosensory: ꜱᴏʟᴀʀᴀɴ (ari_001)

[personal profile] somatosensory 2022-08-19 11:33 pm (UTC)(link)
( a slight canting of his head, as he considers the question. )

How do you know it's not just my face?

( it might as well be at this point. but rather than letting her answer, he presses on: ) Helmet has night-vision. Motion-tracking. Seemed sensible to keep it on rather than taking my chances with it off.

( just as well, really. the armour isn't completely impenetrable but it's a kind of safety he's reluctant to part with right now. )

What's with the dress?
wrists: (22)

[personal profile] wrists 2022-08-20 12:58 am (UTC)(link)
[ "adequate" is the highest praise he has ever given anyone. it might as well be a marriage proposal. he can't think of anything... more that he would say, to anyone, because he certainly wouldn't be caught dead saying complimentary things regarding beauty or the like. he has not ever thought about what he might say if he was trying to get somebody into bed for real, as gideon says, because his efforts have mostly involved staying out of anyone's bed, not for lack of attempts (one-sided, the side being decidedly not him).

change the law? even injured and soused, he manages a haughty scoff.
]

Adopt a baby? The child would be a false heir, a bastard and a scourge upon the royal bloodline. [ he pauses. despite everything, a bastard would still be better than one with the tainted blood he carries in his veins. only auguste was pure. ] I will not bring forth an heir. My bloodline ends with me.

[ then gideon says something that makes him take notice, even through the persistent fog in his head. that she has known that sort of deep solitude plucks at some invisible thread in him, maybe a feeling of kinship that he immediately attempts to snuff out. his thoughts turn to harrow instead, hearing for the first time something serious in gideon's tone. ]

So you did not lie with her. [ nailed it. ]
laststoryteller: (Default)

[personal profile] laststoryteller 2022-08-20 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
[ Yuki’s brows knit upwards, concern and surprise both. ]

Monsters? Oh, I can’t even imagine.

[ He shifts in his seat, a little uncertain. ]

Losing one’s family to monsters and surviving… I can’t say I relate, but I wish you peace one day.
laststoryteller: (❄ 04.)

[personal profile] laststoryteller 2022-08-20 02:16 am (UTC)(link)
Oh. I’m not sure.

[ He blinks, looking over his wrists. ]

I had noticed you looked more like an Aliver, but I hadn’t noticed my own. I wonder why…

[ He hums and takes another spoonful of gelato. ]

This is bliss. You ought to try some, Gara.
shurajodo: art commissioned; do not take. (⦁ 05 💀)

[personal profile] shurajodo 2022-08-20 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
( ???? )

You're mad underwhelmed.

( He eyes over the gelato and pulls a face. )

Don't make me bite ya.
laststoryteller: (❄ 02.)

[personal profile] laststoryteller 2022-08-20 08:14 am (UTC)(link)
Well, what is there to be done? I can’t do anything to make myself Handead again in this moment, so there’s no use in worrying.

[ Or so he says.

He boops Gara’s nose with the spoon. ]


Fine. After this, let’s look around more.

laststoryteller: (Default)

Waking.

[personal profile] laststoryteller 2022-08-20 08:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ Yuki is outrunning his own demons. He looks terribly frail and waifish, but he’s not quite so fragile; breathing hard, he looks over to the other terror. ]

Outrunning one just to get to another — Ah! There!

[ There’s an alleyway a few yards off; it seems as good an escape route as any, especially if the new Manifestations won’t fit through the narrow passage. ]
seaboard: (⌜𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 ⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-08-20 10:28 am (UTC)(link)
[ She pulls herself up, a tall woman, and she wears it for better or worse with purpose. Taking the other young woman's hand comfortably leads them out from the endless images of a mummer's violence. ]

A good plan. I shall fix us something to eat and drink.

[ Gathering her skirt up with her other hand, she goes to navigate them out. ]
Edited 2022-08-20 10:32 (UTC)
seaboard: (⌜𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 ⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-08-20 10:41 am (UTC)(link)
[ She nods, grappling with the plan he puts forward with a nod. She is not a fighter, not even very good at running so well. Not without her gifts. Not without that comfort of a great and terrible presence that has been with her half her life. ]

What... what do you think? We could throw something, perhaps? Or...

[ She looks around. Breathing in and out slowly as she tries to come up with a plan. A distraction, a distraction.

Well. There was this alcove. Another empty building. One of the many that filled this place. So she opened it, as silently as she could, pushing the door inwards and peering in. Another iced treat shop, it looked like. Food, and things that went along with food.
]

There must be something in here?
seaboard: (⌜𝙱𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-08-20 10:45 am (UTC)(link)
[ Her brows lifted, and immediately she steps back to bow in a respectful manner, her fingers to her lips in what she knows as a sign of respect to a devoted person, past or present. Queen as she was, she had always had deep faith. ]

Truly not? I suppose women are often better at interpreting them.
seaboard: (⌜𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 ⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-08-20 10:50 am (UTC)(link)
[ She mistakes it, of course, watching the flicker on Juna's face, and then down at the utter mess she had made in one dreadful outburst. Her mouth pinching tightly, eyes worried.

She moved to follow her.
]

Forgive me, I should not have made such a display of it in front of you. I will hope you forgive me, I promise it, I am not prone to such actions often. Just seeing him again, it caught me so suddenly... I do not know what came over me.
midsommaring: (never got dention)

[personal profile] midsommaring 2022-08-20 11:20 am (UTC)(link)
Thank you. For being so kind. [She follows, almost childlike, still holding onto the woman's hand. Her own skirt is still faintly damp, from being washed and hung to dry. No longer bright white, but the same dingy sort of colour of the water here.]

I'm Dani, by the way.
seaboard: (⌜𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚖𝚙 𝚝𝚘𝚘⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-08-20 12:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She just nods once in response. They have little else but kindness to give here, and that is what she would make sure would be in abundance. ]

Gilia St. Loe. It is a pleasure.
standless: (GASP...)

Jonathan Joestar | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Phantom Blood

[personal profile] standless 2022-08-20 02:41 pm (UTC)(link)
{ARRIVAL - IS THIS HEAVEN, OR IS THIS- | CW: REFERENCE TO PAST DEATH, SUFFOCATION / BLOOD, STRANGULATION, ANIMATED GORE (Latter CW Applies to Linked Image)}

In his last memory, he was dying.

Jonathan could remember holding the disembodied head of his step-brother close, and dying with a smile on his face. He could remember Dio's fruitless cries, shouts that devolved into pleading, bargaining that had he heard them, would have left the man smiling sadly and saying-

'...I can't believe you this time.'

(How many times had it been that way? Dio would say something, say anything about how a particular turn of events or offer in his own favor would end in Jonathan's favor as well, and in the end it would be Jonathan left to deal with the consequences.)

(How many times had it been that way, and how many times had he forgotten?)

In his last memory, he was dying, so it is very odd indeed he thinks, that he is opening his eyes again. Odder still, he finds, that he is breathing.

(In his last memory, there were a pair of holes directly through his throat, and blood was pooling in his lungs at far faster a rate than he could hope to fill them with air.)

(It was a miracle he lasted as long as he did in the first place.)

"Agh...what a headache..." the surprisingly soft-voiced giant of a man murmurs as he stands, one hand against his brow as he grimaces. His expression is quick to fade out for confusion as he realizes where he stands- or more accurately, that he stands at all.

He wears, for all intents and purposes, a formal suit, sans jacket- albeit one ruined by the blood streaking down his front from the collar down. As he walks, it is slow as well. Not because of any exhaustion, but instead sheer curiosity and apprehension. Jonathan eyes the world around him with one part wonder and another part worry. The streets are so bare- and there are all these...things he can't even identify, these photos in full brilliant color, these shirts printed with what he could swear was impossible detail. And these lights, these foods-

The first person he spots, he is quick to call out.

"Excuse me! ...Excuse me, please!" he calls, rushing for them with a raised hand, reaching out but never reaching enough to try and make contact. In fact once close enough he draws it back, polite but quietly panicked concern on his face.

"I beg your pardon, but I must ask- just where is this place? Where are the inhabitants?"

{SOUND AND LIGHT - PAINTED DREAMS, PROJECTED NIGHTMARES}

Settling into Rhodos is a strange matter for Jonathan. On the one hand, he is here now, and ostensibly unable to leave. He had accepted that what would occur after death would be a mystery, and if this is to be the answer to it then so be it.

But those he has met since then have put question to such thoughts- more than that, there is the matter of the location and what is there as well. Drawing from his studies in the field of archaeology, he is quick to begin trying to take notes on everything down to the detail within the town- markings on walls, decorations on roof edges, no matter how minor, he is jotting it down with one of those strange and fragile excuses for a 'pen' as found in one of the storefronts.

(Of course, all of this could only take place after he was finally convinced to 1, settle into an empty apartment, and 2, take what was available in the first place. It still feels like theft.)

(It still weighs on him quite oddly, a scratch he cannot quite reach.)

Days pass, and it is not so long after the open air theatre begins to project its current show, that his peaceful confusion begins to drift into fearful confusion instead. Photographs begin to fill his little apartment- innocent things, as brilliantly colored as those tourist cards he saw on the first day.

But its inhabitants...

A teardrop falls upon his notepad paper- just as kitschy and tourist oriented as the pen is, but one makes do- and blots on the notes he was making for the current rendition of the play. Jonathan startles, but even as he moves the notepad, he cannot keep himself from sinking farther into his thoughts- the tears begin to flow more heavily, and soon he finds himself covering his mouth with one hand as he tries to muffle the sound of sobbing for the sake of politeness.

(A useless endeavor indeed.)

"I- I apologize," he breathes, once it becomes clear he has been noticed. "I simply cannot- I cannot fathom what's come over me..!"

(A lie, he finds himself thinking, as the photo of his wife carrying an infant child comes to his mind again.)

{INTO THE FOG - GREAT, AND LESSER DANES | CW: IMPLICATIONS OF PAST ANIMAL DEATH, PAST CRUELTY TOWARD DOGS}

Things have rapidly progressed from neutral, to worse.

At least earlier in the month, he could move through the matters. Have a cry, bond with others, and perhaps come out of the whole thing feeling just a little better even. Photographs continued to appear in his home.

(He can see himself in some of their faces, their eyes, the smiles, and it sends a foreign chill down his spine as he realizes he himself is present alongside them in some of these.)

Other objects, as well- quills, papers, his sword, though he has not seen fit to carry it about- swords are weapons after all, and this is hardly any place for them.

"What a terrible fog..." he remarks as he brushes that thought away, unsure as to why he found himself thinking back to it just now. Shaking his head, he manages to look at one other small, positive thing that has come of all this- one strange, eerie thing that he's still unable to completely be comfortable with, as his hands brush over scars and injuries that weren't there before.

"Come along Danny," he encourages, the skittish giant of a great dane trotting out behind him. The dog sniffs the fog and whimpers, and Jonathan gently stoops down to stroke his head.

(He doesn't think about how these scars indicate something so much worse. Something that would have persisted and persisted until the poor dog breathed his last.)

(They never showed him his dog's body, but he knows what burn scars look like.)

"Come now- nothing here will hurt you now," he whispers, pressing his head against the dog's own. Eight years, since he last saw his dear dog. Eight years, and yet here he is now. It's enough to make him-

rROrrRrRroRRRRR...

Jonathan stands, and stiffens. Danny whimpers loudly, tail already tucked between his legs. There are shadows in the fog that has rolled in, and the more they watch, the more it clears. One, two...Three they soon number, and Jonathan finds his blood running cold. They should not be alive, he thinks, as the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. They make him think of ghouls, in fact- sallow skin and rotting flesh, clouding eyes that speak of death long passed. They must be ghouls, he thinks-

(He can no longer create hamon.)

Jonathan scoops his dog in his arms and breaks into a run.

"Seek shelter!" he calls out as he runs, the words for any who may here. "There are beasts in the fog..!"

"HrrRRnr!! Hrerr!-"

"Worry not Danny, I've got you..."

And he certainly does- for the dogs are not so quick at all. But even so, as he makes it to one of the smaller store fronts and gets inside to set his dog down, Jonathan finds himself strained for breath.

"....Just what came upon this place, I wonder..?"

He has yet to notice the thing 'staring' distantly in the fog from outside.

{WAKING UP TO. . . | CW: Blood imagery, gore, body horror (Thorn impalement, Headlessness)}

The month is almost over, and it feels somehow as if there is more yet to come. As the 28th comes near, there is this sensation of a shoe being held over him, great and massive, whilst he himself plays the role of the fly to be squashed. Something is going to happen. Something is going to happen.

(It does.)

Morning comes and Jonathan stirs to the sound of Danny whimpering at his side. Death has made him a nervous thing, trembling and craving company of the one who missed him so, and Jonathan is too softhearted to even consider doing anything less. He may refuse to acknowledge his own trauma, but he'll not deny any comfort for his first 'best friend', and so he holds the dog close. He assumes, in his sleep, that Danny is perhaps having a nightmare.

The door breaks down and he is immediately proven wrong.

The blanket is soaked in red and he can make out a shape that makes him somehow more nauseous than the stench of blood. The walls seem to seep with fluids and mold despite their material, and as his dog cries Jonathan is quick to scoop him in his arms. And then-

From a mass of vines, it rises. Writhing, the plants so dark a violet they may well be black. They form themselves as bindings and whips, the later lashing toward them as they spear the ground with thorns, and the former holding tight to a figure that slowly emerges from the mass.

It is a body, Jonathan recognizes, but he has little time to comprehend it. Freeing one arm he reaches for the nearest thing and manages to find his sword.

(He wonders to himself, if whatever sent him these knew it would be needed.)

(He does not wonder long, clumsily swinging what was meant to be a two-handed weapon down enough to send the Thing back just enough that they can get around.)

(There are no injuries that he can see. He does not want to remain long enough to see how much more it can take without flinching.)

A body, his mind practically screams, and even as he runs- one arm holding with difficulty his dog, the other near dragging his blade behind him- he cannot remove the image from his mind. Dio's words echo through his skull as it burns into place, and he nearly closes his eyes to try and banish it that way.

'We are one and the same in this world of ours...Thus...I must take the body of the only person in this world I respect, make it my own, and live out eternity with it! THAT IS MY DESTINY!'

It was his size, almost. Certainly, it had the same build. Arms twisted around itself as the thorns dug deeply into its flesh, legs bent to horrid angle.

But worse...

The head. There had been no head, only a gaping hole- a whistling 'scream' akin to the sound made when Dio's tears had pierced his throat, the air escaping without mercy. All he could see no matter where he looked as his eyes took in the sudden darkness of the world around, was that gaping, empty hole.

He killed him. He killed that vampire. He took him down with him to the death.

(But the photos on the wall could only make him wonder, make him think-)

What if he failed?

The cry of another of those hounds meets his ears, and Danny whines in his arm. Jonathan swallows, and averts his eyes away from the hanging mess that now decorates the 'walls' of the streets.

"We mustn't stay here..." he murmurs, though to who, is unknown. The only problem is...

"..But then where is there..?"

{THE BONFIRE (THE AFTERMATH)}

A bonfire, is where.

It is twisted indeed that their refuge be the thing that causes his dear dog to cry in remembered pain and fear until he has passed out into slumber. Jonathan holds his dog close indeed once he finally makes it to the fountain square, shushing and calming the animal as best he can as he lets the poor dear rest.

It is quiet here. Peaceful, in a twisted manner. Or so he thinks until the procession begins.

"...Hold-" he starts, only to chase for the Handmaidens. "Wait! Just what are you bringing to the fire..?! Have you no mercy in your hearts?!" he demands, attempting to pull the Handmaidens back. They don't fight back, but nor does he exercise a particularly large amount of force. How could he? They do not even defend themselves after all, they do not even move to fight. Jonathan cannot even be sure they are human, but without hamon, how could he possibly-

"You can't do this to someone who-"

His words cut short when he sees what the pale figure even resembles. It is just enough pause, that the Handmaidens can carry on.

"Wait-!" he starts fruitlessly, but he cannot bring himself to move, or even shout. The faceless appearance- the smooth stumped limbs, the grey pallor of skin...

He cannot even identify what he attempted to save. He cannot identify anything or anyone of what-

"KGh....GKH..."

Coughing begins- coughing, wet and foul and hoarse, and he can feel the blood as it spills forward in the same way it had when he died.

"Kaghh-!" Is that happening again then? Is this what happens in death? A repetition, a...A... "Kghh...!"

Jonathan blinks his eyes through the pain of the coughing, and makes to return to his dog- but then pauses.

And pales, as he looks at where the blood fell.

'I LEFT HER. ALONE, ON THE SEA, WITH CHILD. I LEFT HER IN DEATH, WITHOUT KNOWING IF I FAILED.'

Jonathan cannot move.
standless: (and maybe ask why)

SOUND AND LIGHT

[personal profile] standless 2022-08-20 02:43 pm (UTC)(link)
"Miss?"

It could sound for a few moments, as if he were speaking through water, before Jonathan's soft voice calls for Dani's attention once again. To view the show on repeat is a disorienting thing after all, with subtle shifts of narrative and character bringing confusion even without the added effects. With those, well.

Jonathan cannot say for himself why the young woman near his seat in the theatre area is begining to cry, but he cannot say he doesn't empathize either. Something about this show has dredged it up within him, within others in the audience indeed he is realizing, and that 'thing' is despair. It is all he can do to keep from bursting into quiet sobs on the spot- to avoid thinking of those he left behind, and what he had done in the process.

As a distraction, perhaps, he reaches for the fallen flower crown.

"You dropped this, miss."

It is a feeble distraction indeed.
midsommaring: (my days and nights)

[personal profile] midsommaring 2022-08-20 03:56 pm (UTC)(link)
That's a very pretty name, Gilia. It's nice to meet you, too. It's... nice. To find someone else, here. For a while I was worried the whole city was empty.
seaboard: (⌜𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚜⌟)

[personal profile] seaboard 2022-08-20 04:03 pm (UTC)(link)
I suppose it is.

[ Either part, though she'd rather let compliments move past her, hardly mattered to the cor of what she said. ]

It feels so... empty. So desolate. It should not. I am glad to have found you too.
midsommaring: (wipe my eyes)

[personal profile] midsommaring 2022-08-20 04:11 pm (UTC)(link)
I felt so alone again. Abandoned, in a strange way. Just me and the fog. But this is so much better, already.