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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!
distastes: (pic#15854255)

[personal profile] distastes 2022-08-22 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ he sits at last on the stone mottled by blood, bile, and spit, back to the flame. every nerve quivers inside his body taut with discipline stretched too thin and pale. but what else is he to do? give in to the madness that stalks his heart? two beasts can play at that game, prowling and circling in his chest.

chonghua doesn't hurry either, especially with the ugly firelight being their only respite.
]

It calls you a war-maker. Did your rule necessitate it?
riflestock: (MY GODDAMN HAND)

[personal profile] riflestock 2022-08-22 04:04 am (UTC)(link)
[ this is also a highly hypocritical statement since ethan on first arrival had absolutely been annoyed that he wasn't allowed to fall over and die. this just seems like some sick game, making him continue to dance for somebody or something's entertainment.

previously, that has not gone well for the somebody or something. ​]


No.

[ he glances automatically to his apparently undamaged right hand, again ignoring the more obvious injury on his left. ]

I know it should, but it's like... I forget about it.
guitarpicks: (5e1JYk1)

[personal profile] guitarpicks 2022-08-22 04:47 am (UTC)(link)
No one gives a fuck that I didn't. [ eddie snaps back, bitter and hurt, at the same time that robin keeps going and for a moment eddie wonders if this is what it's like to listen to him when he's revved up and talking. when he can't fucking stop himself either until the breaks slam and he remembers some fucking semblance of tact.

the people that do matter know. henderson does, sinclair and max too. and sure, he doesn't call steve harrington, nancy wheeler, or robin buckley friends but they've fought demo-bats together and that's something. maybe if they make it out of that place and it all goes to plan, they can be. maybe after that his goddamn life will turn around and it won't be a series of tragedies but some decent character development in the heroes journey. some school shit that stuck and he wants so badly instead of that 'fuck you' the universe sends his way each time.

he swallows, takes a deep breath. his chest hurts and he feels so sick that he's dumped this all on her.

then he snaps his gaze toward her, watches for a moment because he doesn't know what comes next. how is he not like his dad if he'll be arrested for that same shit, known for it unless they fucking figure out a way to convince the world that henry creel is still alive and what? that he's a supernatural wizard killing teenagers and eddie was just caught in the cross-hairs of it all. not meant to be there at all, not significant. nothing.

and if it were so goddamn simple that he doesn't want to be his dad. that he fucking wishes, no matter how hard he tries to be that image of the fucking confident king of the bottom dwellers, that he were anything else. ]


Probably none of them. [ he says after a moment, a low drawl as he tries to pick himself up and then falls because this place is dragging him down too. ] Am I brave? I jumped in that water after you because I didn't want to be the coward that stayed behind, not because I didn't want to end up like my dad. I didn't want-- I didn't want to get arrested like him.

That's not brave.
decoder: (pic#15756958)

[personal profile] decoder 2022-08-22 05:43 am (UTC)(link)
Maybe... Maybe you aren't brave. I don't know. which he can easily believe is true because robin and eddie...they just don't know each other, let alone who they are as people. and robin knows how it feels to be patronized — what can she do, give him some insight about his personhood when before the events of the last few days she barely remembered his full name? it's an endeavor designed to fall on deaf ears.

but what makes her sad is that she does know that eddie is brave. he saved the entire town in perhaps the sickest way possible; she's no where near a metalhead, but she can appreciate a victory brought about by rad instrumental skills. eddie can't know, though, because to let the cat out of the bag would be doing him such a disservice right now, truly a kick while he's already down.


What I think is just that...people like to sell us short. Because Hawkins is this town where everyone just sees you once and they know who you are, and what you're going to be, and how they should think of you— And it's totally crazy, but that's just how it goes. So if they sell you short, and then you sell yourself short, there's just so much short-selling going on.

feeling ridiculous, she makes a sort of motion with her hands as if that will tie all of her thoughts together neatly. robin doesn't give rousing emotional speeches, let alone to eddie munson. with a calming breath, she concludes. What I mean is that you did it. You believed us, and were totally on board with what most people would think was just totally psycho nonsense, but you did! And you jumped in, and you helped Steve, and if you didn't have some kind of bravery somewhere inside of you, then maybe you would have just kept running after we found you and wanted nothing to do with any of this.

with that, she rubs at her face some more, sure that she's spilled more than enough tears to soak it again. her hands come back drenched, laughing as she examines the damage, as well as at the lamest way to get across some semblance of what she was trying to say, suddenly coming to her. — Also, if you were trying to not be cowardly, 'brave' is the antonym for that. Soooo according to English linguistic rules, I'm basically right.
smokes: (i've got to let it)

[personal profile] smokes 2022-08-22 06:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ she can't try to heal him? alex is like "dang, i can't try to heal me either," even though using his powers on himself is usually trading one problem for another, anyway. but like her, he's internally grousing over his own sense of otherworldly disconnect. ]

Yeah, this is fine. So far. I don't feel any worse, so here's hoping it stays that way. [ his gaze doesn't immediately return to aerith — he takes a few extra moments to keep staring uselessly into foggy darkness for signs of dogs.

when his brain catches up to her thanking him, his shoulders roll in a small shrug. ]


It's not like I was enjoying the front seat view, either. [ and then, after a couple moments of arguing with himself over whether to even ask or not, he yeets for it. ]

You can heal people? Could, whatever.
smokes: (if you want a rationale)

[personal profile] smokes 2022-08-22 06:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ now that she's no longer touching him, he feels worse again. the fuck?? so what if he just tries to subtly move closer like a cat like he just tried so hard to resist doing. so what. ]

Nah, I always look like shit.

[ when you try to make a little joke and yet don't nail it. ]

No. Yes? Maybe. [ would it make him feel better? probably not, but it couldn't make him feel — jk it absolutely could make him feel worse. whatever. yeet. ]

I dunno why I started crying, y'know, it was just like... he was there, and then he wasn't, right? I could sense it, kind of. Like a light switch. I don't think I even cried then, but these stupid fucking puppets...
distastes: (pic#15854245)

[personal profile] distastes 2022-08-22 06:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ looking at him this way, a pale crescent of stolen moonlight against an equally pale backdrop of stone, it would be easy to mistake wu yu as delicate. his every muscle weaves in a tight defense over bone, and those that shine through do so at such thin angles that his veins show blue through translucent-wet skin — cheek, jaw, collar, wrist. the flutter of his lashes feels heavy, like he would sink under despite their mutual tethers, the familiar lay of hands. it would be easy to think of him in every way that he is not, that he is not under the constant anxieties of being stolen, used, negotiated with. that he is not coveted. that he is not lethal nor perfect. to be standing here whole and alive is a gift, but the searching maw, the teeth of the creatures lurking below, circling in the flood... that fearful instinct holds fast. they are somehow here.

but where is here?

bu chonghua doesn't know either save the clues he's gleaned since awakening in a similar miraculous state given the most immediate previous memories he has. that he doesn't immediately move to assuage wu yu with such knowledge will be apparent to him. exhaling slowly through his nose, bu chonghua sits obedient and square in wu yu's grasp, though the workings of his body are hardly quiet. his mind churns, his lungs are timed strong and steady in his chest. his emotions swell into the cage of his ribs where his heart paces like an animal waiting to be let loose.

better judgment keeps him steady, but old habits die hard.

looking at him a long moment, bu chonghua slides his grip upwards along his cheekbone, fingers clutching over the contour of his ear to grip into the damp strands of hair behind it. leaning in, he presses a long kiss to his opposite brow.
]

I know of other ways to draw attention, Wu Yu.

[ for the circumstance, the words come easily and immodestly. he's being completely serious and yet the gratitude he feels that they are together makes his voice gravelly with emotion. what he means is this: he is going to take you out of here one way or the other and there is likely not a force on heaven or earth that can deter him. ]

If you don't want me to pick you up, we can do it this way.

[ bu chonghua separates from him long enough to turn around and kneel, offering the broad expanse of his back. he glances behind him and waves his hands to draw wu yu forward — perhaps if they'd met much early, again as children or as silly teens with less than the world to lose should they make a single misstep, this would have been something they could have done already.

he gives a choice without really giving a choice. your steed awaits.
]
midsommaring: (what am i normal)

[personal profile] midsommaring 2022-08-22 07:58 am (UTC)(link)
My sister. She was never well. Bipolar. I thought if I got my degree, become a therapist or at least counselor of some sort, I could help her better. Help her be better.

The forensic psychology wasn't about my sister. [It's added quickly, lest Will think her sister was a criminal.] It was an elective. A talking point with my friends. I thought it might make me more interesting.

[She pauses, staring out into the fog for a long moment before she looks at Will.] I've only talked about this with one other person.
accredit: ᴘɪxɪᴠ ɪᴅ: 6013209. (▶  063.)

[personal profile] accredit 2022-08-22 09:35 am (UTC)(link)
( hi!! it is i!!! how did you know omg... also sorry for the lateness!!)

[ he takes a chunk of bread and already begins stuffing it down. barely swallowing as he's taking in the stranger's words. he echos the sentiment of the concept that he's likely one of the more normal individuals he's met here. or, beings for that matter as he recalls the mutilated dogs running amuck.

or walking amuck? either way, he doesn't dwell on it and he eventually drinks some water to help ease the chunks of bread down.
] A while, huh?

But, think you're on the right track. It doesn't seem normal considering how long it's been carrying on for. I would say maybe it's a bit of both? Bait for some, a warning for others. [ a pause as he coughs.

damn, this bread is dry, but it isn't the worst thing he's eaten.
]

Feel like it's not impossible that it's some monster.
accredit: ᴘɪxɪᴠ ɪᴅ: 6013209. (▶  092.)

[personal profile] accredit 2022-08-22 09:42 am (UTC)(link)
[ sometimes, people look worse than they are??

or so he might have argued, but he swiftly gets the impression that's definitely not the case with this guy. there's no denying this whole farce was eerie, weird, and completely off-beat, but, he wonders if its effects on everyone had differed. perhaps, due to continued exposure? perhaps, something completely random or triggered when certain conditions were met? the speculations were basically endless...

even amongst battles with other servants, it's undeniable that certain cards need to be played on the field— a constant game of chess; one of actions and reactions. but, instead of pondering on the how, the result and "fix" here was probably more important.

hence, he shakes off the nerves.
] You're saying the play was similar to what you've been through? [ "that's rough, buddy..."

but, noticing the tight grip, he does automatically reach out, if just to secure the man's wrist in his own, as if to remind him of the potential harm he could do onto himself.
]

You want to talk about it?
standless: (now wait a second)

hehehe (ALSO I MANAGED TO FIND AN IRL DOG THAT LOOKS IDENTICAL TO DANNY SO... !)

[personal profile] standless 2022-08-22 09:46 am (UTC)(link)
[Danny- and what a lovely dog despite circumstance- gives a cautious sniff from where he's being dutifully cradled like he's the size of his own head, while Jonathan for his part merely blinks. He's doing well to listen at least, though that might actually make this a little worse for Robin. He's not even interrupting! God man, save her from her rambling!

But the fact is, he can't help but think 'oh, this feels rather familiar'.

(He's a bit wordy himself after all)

And to that end, Robin's word vomit is answered with his own.
] Oh no, it's quite alright- this entire place has taken a dire turn for the worst after all, and we cannot be faulted for our habits in the face of such fearful encounters. It is simply a way for us to keep alive, and what more could be asked of any here?

Danny is unfortunately not taking this with good health however, [Jonathan admits with a worried frown.] He's been quite anxious since arriving at all, and I am unable to blame him for feeling so. It was disorienting indeed to awaken here from whence I came, and I've little doubt that there is something sinister here that his keen senses continue to pick up upon.

[He spares a moment to stroke between the dog's ears- Danny does seem to be calming down at least, so that's fortunate- and looks back to Robin with some worry in his eyes.] Be it anti-climactic or not, I'm certainly glad you managed to come in here without apparent injury however. From but a look at the teeth in those vile beasts, it's clear that even a slight bite could end in staggering illness.
standless: (muffled `ohno`)

[personal profile] standless 2022-08-22 09:46 am (UTC)(link)
The nervousness does not miss Jonathan's eye, though he may have the wrong idea of where it originates from. How could anyone have simply been transformed entirely in coming here after all?

He's got much to learn, but perhaps they all do. For now he startles a little, momentarily confused by the question before he remembers his shirt. "Oh-"

Which is still rather heavily stained in fresh blood. "Oh goodness- I'd forgotten the state I was in," he gasps, hurriedly explaining himself. "I assure you miss, I am unharmed- or at least I am now. It is quite strange to explain, but I dare not burden you with such dark details as how my blood came to spill upon this shirt."
accredit: ᴘɪxɪᴠ ɪᴅ: 6013209. (▶  018.)

[personal profile] accredit 2022-08-22 09:54 am (UTC)(link)
[ her thoughts were precisely right and echoed some of his own sentiments. as with anything in life, some tasks were meant to be of personal trial. something indicative of their own character and morals, and precisely because of that, he would always be the sort to take action than remain in inaction.

but, it isn't to state that he couldn't be sympathetic to her reservations. at her suggestion, he does seem to tile his head along, as if deliberating over his own outfit and hers and since they didn't exactly have anything else, he gives her a small wince, before nodding along.
]

You can call me Rider. [ but, still with that, he does step in front of her. ] What about you? I do like the sound of "miss," but I have a feeling your name probably suits you a bit more. [ with that said, he's already putting a foot within the fog of the archway. ]
faeriegold: (a way thought closed forever)

[personal profile] faeriegold 2022-08-22 10:38 am (UTC)(link)
It's... strange. Not being stared at or subject to a barrage of disbelief or what are you! type statements. She also feels restless just standing here. Vögelein should be hovering at head height or above, circling, always moving, always able to jerk away if she's reached for. Is this how it just feels for people? Like they're so soft and heavy and pinned to the ground? She's seen them in motion, they don't act oppressed by gravity except when they're old, or sick, or that sort of thing.

"You're sure? It looks severe." She is not dependent on this stranger, she reminds herself, if he dies in front of her it's not going to throw her life into chaos. Further into chaos. What a callous thought to have... But Jakob just succumbed at last to his age and long illness, and she hasn't had the time or chance to process how she feels before ending up, somehow, here and without the time pressing on her. "Let me see."

She has a faint German accent. The coherence is improving, she's not used to having a tongue and needing to use wet fleshy anatomy to speak.
37stitches: (Default)

[personal profile] 37stitches 2022-08-22 11:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ Abby shakes his head mutely. The dogs are good, gentle. He likes it when they lie down next to him and he can watch their paws twitch as they dream. It's like with Jenny, but she's a cat and her ways are different. Not better or worse, just different. ]

I - mhmm. Don't live with him anymore. I like dogs, [ he murmurs. ] Animals. They're - easier. Than people.
decoder: (pic#15756968)

omg the resemblance is UNCANNY

[personal profile] decoder 2022-08-22 02:58 pm (UTC)(link)
wow...and that was robin on ramble lite mode! if only she were half as good a listener as she were a talker, but she's adapted! any time she wants to interject into jonathan's own talking, her head nods furiously instead, expression of utmost agreeance.

once there's a break in the conversation, she pushes out her backlogged commentary as quickly as she can; it's likely more of a disservice than she thinks it is.


So one, thanks for being understanding — but if we have a conversation outside of this one, you'll probably notice that. Well, I tend to talk a lot a lot of the time, which kind of ruins it being a fear reaction but I swear it's just...worse, when I'm stressed out. Two, I think it's super cool that dogs have this extra-sensory perception that I one hundred percent believe is real. I've never had a dog? But I read a magazine article once about how people think dogs really have access to three more senses than we do, including an understanding of the paranormal that we humans just don't have, so having a dog here could be so useful.

now that that's out of the way, she sighs quickly, looking at danny with empathy. whether or not that dog could stand up to one of the hell hounds outside...well, she hopes she doesn't have to see danny try. I guess the name of the game is not bumping into one of those things since they only look dangerous if they're in your personal bubble. I'm really only outside to grab more food, so...do you guys need some assistance with anything? Scout's honor that I won't loot your loot.
kletva: (pic#15880092)

yes im sorry a single mom who works two jobs

[personal profile] kletva 2022-08-22 03:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[ she asks, and he seems to keep going and there’s a tightness to her expression.

she doesn’t say a word for a small while, simply moves around until she can perch on whatever stone of the amphitheater steve had found himself on, hands folding over her lap.

she watches the screen start it’s second run through, shadows casting a disquieting story against the old stone.
] You don’t need to apologize, [ she says, thoughtfully, lilt of a faint accent catching against the consonants.

she gives him another brief look. brief, because she doesn’t want it to feel like she’s intruding. and yet, it doesn’t feel right to just walk away, either.

she’s not been the best at dealing with sadness herself. but she knows what it’s like to be left alone with it. hairline fractures that get worse and he’s just a kid (sorry steve), and she’s hurt enough people and maybe if she can’t fix that, or herself, she can at least be better now. she’s tired of hurt, all around her.

and she looks to him and thinks she sees someone who has had to be strong for a lot of people.
] We don’t always get to choose when we feel the most.

[ watching the show through a second time, as she is now, really doesn’t clear anything up. her head tilts. ] Sometimes it’s from confusing puppet shows in strange places. [ a deadpan, pinched sort of humour, though she’s surprised at how dreary she feels in watching it again. ]
kletva: (pic#)

[personal profile] kletva 2022-08-22 03:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[ there’s a twist of a frown quickly forming, a disjointed mind trying to put together pieces that are too few to make a whole.

so none of this was out of their own free will?

wanda, for an unsteady moment, thinks that maybe in her scramble to bury the darkhold, she had created another hex, something dragging her and another town under, rewriting realities over and over again but there is nothing here that supposed that.

she looks down at her hands, fingers no longer shadow-dipped. magic, still, no longer answers, before her eyes flick back to aerith, who had seemingly moved away from the archway.

she wonders if she deserves anyone’s concerns after everything she’s done.
] I’m fine, [ she says. she’s not, but that’s not the point. she doubts anyone would be given the context. ] Just disoriented. I — was on a snow covered mountain before waking up here. [ that seems a gross understatement, but it would have to do.

still, the girl approaches and offers something kind and wanda’s fight deflates further.
] I’m Wanda.

So, it seems we’re both a little — displaced. [ answers would be nice, of course. but wanda’s expression softens, a fraction, turning to watch Aerith a little closer. ] Are you alright?
cheerleader: (chrissy20)

[personal profile] cheerleader 2022-08-22 04:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[Chrissy almost asks her to define what okay even is. Nothing feels okay. Sometimes it feels like she's still a victim here, powerless to stop anything. But then she realizes that's the exact mindset she came into this with. At some point, she has to let herself start growing.

Even if this all is essentially a neverending nightmare.
]

I'll be okay.

[Her words are chosen carefully. She isn't okay now, but she will be. And that's enough for her.]

I'll be better if we can come up with a plan. Let's try getting to one of the stores.
faeriegold: (You think about the past)

sound and light

[personal profile] faeriegold 2022-08-22 04:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[Vögelein has an eidetic memory, which, I've still gotta ask if that gets nerfed. It has not been helping her understand the play or keep track of exactly what changes. Things are... blurred somehow. The images wash over her like television, fast and inexorable in that same way. Why does her chest feel tight? What's this pain in her face, why are her eyes hurting and her vision getting bleary like rain has caught in them? Inexplicable. Everything's so inexplicable, and she is lost.

She's startled by movement in her periphery, and for all that this has happened several times by now she's caught off guard to be looked at, regarded as another participant instead if flitting unseen in the background. Seeing the other girl crying lets Vee see what's happening with her.

The humanization has left Vögelein quite petite, under five feet tall. Enchanted by having clothing options in something approaching her size, she's adopted a sleeveless top and a colorful, filmy, translucent beach wrap over a white jersey skirt she stitched out of a couple of cannibalized t-shirts. She still has a mild German accent that sometimes also shows in sentence structure.]


I don't understand why it is that it's so sad! It's - they. Aah.

[She rubs her face, feels the unnatural yield of her cheek and the wet of it, and tries to laugh, though it sounds like a sob.]
Edited 2022-08-22 16:08 (UTC)
riflestock: (this will all be over soon)

[personal profile] riflestock 2022-08-22 04:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[ the abrupt recitation of name and age sounds like a mantra, not an introduction. ethan would sympathize, but they really do need to go.

well. ethan assumes they need to go. it's also entirely possible the thing in the shadows will simply follow them.

he's stronger than he looks, fortunately. will can use him as a crutch as much as he needs to. ]


It's the witching hour, Will Graham, [ he says grimly, as if will had really needed the answer to what time it was. maybe it's a joke. ]

We need a locking door. [ as if that's going to stop any eldritch monsters l o l ] Do you want to try for your place or mine?
cheerleader: (119)

[personal profile] cheerleader 2022-08-22 04:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[The idea of having someone to look around at things with is nice. It doesn't help her relax any, but she thinks that it's probably normal to be on edge when you're put into a situation like this.

When they step into another room, Chrissy is taken instantly with the flowers. There's something about them that just make her think of Aerith. Maybe it's the fact they serve to put her at ease. Though that doesn't seem to be the case for her new friend. She reaches out to touch at a petal on one flower.
]

They feel real to me.

[It's kindly pointed out, voice soft.]

How are these ones weird?
23659: (pic#15836675)

[personal profile] 23659 2022-08-22 04:51 pm (UTC)(link)
( there is this: the starving animal is seen as weak but it is also often the most dangerous. in some ways, wu yu takes that shape, though less so in recent days nights hours last moments. less. more. the problem of the boy who was a dragon who was a boy before that and now became a young man suffused with years that do not all belong to him, is this: the capacity of his violence, self and otherwise, is only equalled and outstripped by the capacity for his love of this person. he did tell him once; and then he vowed it; and now they are here.

but where is "here"?

they think it not at the same precise moment, but close. staggered heartbeats.

he has the temerity to peer up at bu chonghua and his first suggestion, abruptly the wu yu who walked over, feline in his approach as he leaned in and said to a man who certainly already knew how: should i teach you? smoking or otherwise. it stands, and there is warmth here, not fire but adjacent, the black of the sky and the white trail of a falling star that never stops: i'm sure you do.

dizzy warmth prevails a moment only when chonghua kisses him, and wu yu closes his eyes again — a weakness conceded only to this person by choice.

he finds himself taken off guard more by his next gesture, staring as bu chonghua kneels and beckons him forward. said staring continues a moment longer, and his awareness flits around out of sheer habit: still, no one is stopping to watch or stare. if anything, the more he is able to pay attention, if he sees anyone in the distance, they seem incredibly preoccupied, which he supposes is fair; so too is wu yu. the mystery and the danger inherent in lack of knowledge is all encompassing; or would be, if not for present company.

there are so many questions, but as if in secret collaboration with bu chonghua, wu yu's body reminds him he is human. his legs feel shaky with threat; he sighs and quietly moves forward, lowering himself to cling to the back of the person he would kill for or die for without a second thought. that there exists a crucial flaw in this way of thinking has not yet occurred to him. his scarred arms slip over chonghua's shoulders, and his face presses to the back of his neck, a kiss that is not quite a kiss as he breathes shaky and uneven enough to never be easy. )


This place...

( his vague intention to wait until they are somewhere more secluded is lost in his own disorientation. it is taking all of wu yu's stubbornness and old near feral survival instincts to keep as coherent as he is, struggling to ignore the unnaturally strong presence of blood scent and taste. it might be coming from himself; he knows and yet his senses should be more dulled than this. he cannot help but ask. )

Do you know it?

( asking how they survived seems pointless for the moment, and wu yu is not sure he could accept the answer. there are not many after all, and one of the likelier candidates makes him blindingly nauseous. bu chonghua may feel his body seize, the arms around him tightening and the breath in wu yu's body stopping for a too long moment as he bites back that fear — that they are here by design of the one he thought would at least die with them in that flooded cavern, the air burned out of him in long overdue retribution. )
decoder: (pic#15756979)

[personal profile] decoder 2022-08-22 05:22 pm (UTC)(link)
robin can't really describe it either. maybe it's just the overwhelming notion of being here hitting robin squarely in the chest right now. it's hard to try to not examine the darkness invading her heart; if she looks too close, it will likely dredge up feelings she doesn't want spilling over in front of a stranger, but the allure of it is so...present.

I don't know, like. Definitely a cool experience! Some dark, twisted version of Fraggle Rock. she laughs through a few more tears, scrubbing at her face with the back of her hands. But it's like...suddenly I don't know what the point of anything is. If there is a point. Like I can't even focus on this cool fucking thing I just watched because why do I even give a shit? About anything?

her hands tousle at her hair, like it could shake free some understanding of why her mind is quickly becoming a void, outside of this dark, deep pit that she refuses to look into as of yet. god, she's being so self-centered right now. with a large sniff, she inspects the pockets of all of her jackets, removing a napkin she used to dry off some fruit she'd taken earlier. robin offers it to the small woman beside her. It's not gross or anything, just, uh. Previously-dampened. By water, nothing weird.
faeriegold: (You think about the past)

[personal profile] faeriegold 2022-08-22 05:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[Vögelein licks her lips - a weird gesture that, like breathing, just seems to come with this great soft body, not something she who was made without a tongue had ever been able to do before - and gets another sting of that weird sensation that she expects is probably taste. Is this what books call the salt of tears? A wonder, and something she also deeply mistrusts.]

I.. I have myself wondered that. From time to time. [Oh that's annoying, having to put effort into breathing normally and speaking. She's seen people rendered unable to speak clearly by sobs and doesn't want it to get that far.] It's an old question. 'Why are we here'? It grows harder to care over time. But I don't want to stop, either. Why go on otherwise?

[Oh right wiping and blotting at tears is a thing. For the first time in at least a century Vögelein feels the need to carry a bag. She didn't improvise any pockets in her half-scavenged outfit.]

No, you can use it yourself. But that's kind. Never did I think it would be so uncomfortable! I don't know how you stand it.