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rhodos_meme2022-08-10 10:12 am
rhodosmods) wrote in rhodos_meme2022-08-10 10:12 am
Entry tags:
TDM #1
TDM #1: AUGUST
Jump to: Arrival · Sound and Light · Into the Fog · Waking Up to a Nightmare · The Bonfire
Summary · Questions
Summary · Questions
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
arrival (1)
anyway, she's been up on her feet for a while now, her oversized coat awkwardly tied around her waist, because she doesn't want to ditch it, but it's too damn hot to be wearing it properly. especially over this shirt in particular, which is actually very on theme for where she showed up, very nautical, and has a thick collar that's usually very cute, but right now it's actually terrible. it's the worst. and it's filthy, and it stinks, god, she smells so bad. if she wasn't so achy and disoriented and deliriously tired she'd be feeling a lot more self conscious about it. but mostly she's just trying to stay focused on... finding somewhere out-of-the-way to mentally regroup, not getting sick, and not having some kind of complete meltdown in the middle of this perfectly serene, beach-side shopping plaza. but yeah, a change of clothes, or a glass of water would be nice.
and despite her paranoid determination to get through this, and figure this out, she's a little checked out by the time she's approaching the small shop steve decided to rob. enough so that when she sees who she thinks she sees, she slowly stops in her tracks and sort of just- sighs? it's a big sigh. the kind that deflates some of the tension that's drawn up along her entire body at this point, but certainly not all of it. because it's also the sigh of someone that knows if vecna did manage to get into her head one last time, at the beginning of the end, this would be the exact moment when she gets hit with the brutal reality of it, and has to try to fight for her life again.
she knows it might not really be him. she knows. she's expecting it not to be. she suspects that when he turns to face her, she'll be met with a twisted version of him that would know exactly how to taunt her for every shitty thing she's done in her life. and if that suspicion is correct, vecna really is the most evil piece of shit on the planet, in any dimension, because he's managed to figure out the exactly how to get her to surrender to him. because-
well. she's not sure she'd be able to fight back this time. in fact, she's positive she wouldn't be able to.
and in the version of this scenario when her mind wasn't so foggy and paranoid, she'd be hurrying over to help him pull that shirt on the rest of the way, while scolding him for almost certainly irritating the scratches and bites along his torso more than they already are, and immediately trying to figure out what the actual hell was going on... but she can't. she can't move. ]
... Steve? [ ugh, the sunshiny world they've landed in might be peacefully quiet, but her voice was probably still too quiet for him to hear. she sounded weak. her trigger finger flexes, reminding her yet again how much she hates that she showed up without either of her guns. ] Steve.
no subject
Steve is still too stubborn to give up, even if everything hurts, even if he should have tried to scrub off some of the dried blood in the ocean, even if a shirt is such a low priority in beachy spooky empty ghost towns. he's gritting his teeth, trying not to focus on the pain of lifting his arms far enough to fit through the sleeves, it's about all he can focus on. he feels the approach before he sees who is doing the approaching, and wandering so long without seeing anyone almost made him feel like there wouldn't ever be anyone to find. it's not really Vecna's MO, to tailor your nightmare to your worst fear. maybe Steve doesn't have anything he feels guilty enough about to attack, which is... weird. bad. too much to unpack right now.
insisting he's not stealing a shirt is stupid, and when Steve actually turns to look at who is approaching, he forgets all about it. because, turns out, the last thing he remembers isn't earthquakes and the ground shaking and Hawkins on fire. it's Nancy, lost to a threat he can't fight, even as he tries to insist her back to him. Nancy. Hey. Hey! Stay with me, rings in his ears, even though she's here and awake and looking right at him.
is this just a new wrinkle to Vecna's tricks? this is honestly too much for Steve, a trick within a trick. frankly, he doesn't care if it is a trick, that most likely if he reaches for her, Nancy will break and bleed, mouth gaping open, eyes jabbed out, limbs snapping one by one. and it's so messed up, but he'd still rather have that three seconds of a Nancy that isn't even real in his arms, before it all goes wrong, than to keep his distance and have it happen anyway.
Steve's shirt is still only half on, but he reaches to put heavy hands on Nancy's shoulders anyway. she's just as grungy as he is, still wearing the striped shirt she ripped apart to try and cover up his war wounds. she doesn't disintegrate into ash or shoot up into the sky so all her limbs can twist into macabre pretzels, so Steve risks a shaky hand on her cheek. it's stupid, it's so stupid, to let himself feel even a breath of relief. ) Nancy? ( this is probably a trick, and falling for it will make it worse, but he's beyond caring. the panic of being with her one minute, as she fought a foe behind her eyelids, ran off to a dark place not even his voice could reach her — and the next minute he's here, in an empty, beautiful, sunkissed place he's never seen before. it'd been hard to function, force himself to move, force himself to do anything but scream for a girl that couldn't answer.
and here she is, the familiar bright blue of her eyes, the wild matted curls of her hair. it's enough to make him feel a little breathless. ) Nance, shit. Shit. I thought he... I thought he got you, I thought he was going to... ( and Steve could smack himself, for giving Vecna a perfect cue to ruin him, it's like he's daring the guy to, at this point. as if it is possible to just hold Nancy Wheeler too tight for a psychic murderer to take her away, Steve winds her up desperately, probably too tight and too much and too desperate for a guy that's not her boyfriend. he'll just... if this is real, he'll feel bad about it later. and if it isn't real, well, fuck it, because hugging an illusion isn't a crime. )
no subject
although now that she's with him here, seeing that same look and hearing that same tone again, she's hit with another oh of realization that she's just going to- not worry about yet. not right now. but it means that when she feels that brush of his fingers against her cheek, she's leaning into it before she can stop herself. he says her name and she nods, quick, manages a quiet "yeah" before she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself in check. and the first time around, when she came to on the floor of eddie's trailer, she was holding onto him before she could even process where she was and what actually just happened. but this time her hands end up sort of hovering between them at first, like she can't figure out if she wants to reach for his hand or touch his face or even just press her palm to his chest just to feel his heartbeat. she wants to do something, but she's too caught up in what feels a little bit like desperation.
pleaseberealineedyouherepleasebereal
she knows she should say something, she needs to give him more reassurance than just tipping her face so she can rub her cheek against his palm, but she can't do it. why the hell can't she ever just say something when she really wants to, and when she knows he needs to hear it? but... then she's taking a second to think about what he's saying, and how he's saying it, and her brow crinkles, but it's more just in confusion than any kind of doubt. because that... doesn't make sense, does it? they were just-
oh. oh. uh oh. oh no.
the way he's holding her should feel like too much, too quickly, but it doesn't. not at all. there's a split second of panic because he needs to be careful or all those nasty bites are going to open right back up and-! but... wow, that "split second" is quite literal, because a second later she's already curled up against his chest. her shoulders shift, because she wants to hug him back, keep him close, prove to him that she's real, and prove to herself that he is too, but those fucking bat bites require a moment of consideration. so with that in mind, her arms slip up over his shoulders, while she lifts up on her toes and tugs him down the rest of the way with a hand on the back of his neck, so she can tuck her face against his shoulder and hold on tight. ..okay, her face is closer to his neck than his shoulder, but she's calling it his shoulder.
how she manages not to drop every attempt she's making at keeping her emotions in check, right then and there, is honestly a miracle, but part of it is that what he said is just distracting enough to keep her from doing it. there's a part of her that wants to pull back, hold his face this time and ask him what he means, why he would say that when all three of them were together, right before she showed up here? but- y'know. maybe not yet. instead- ]
No, no, he didn't, he- It's okay. I'm okay, I promise. I'm right here. We're okay.
no subject
it's not that Steve expects the nonsense that happens to him, it's just that he can expect some kind of nonsense will. so, knowing it'll happen, knowing that if he doesn't keep moving and keep rolling with the (sometimes very literal punches), then maybe he won't get up from the next one. maybe they still don't have time for this, because it's not like they're safe. they're at least uncertain, a place they don't know, entirely too removed from the battle they'd just been fighting.
it's just... it's just, going from with her to gone? really fucked up his mettle, his ability to just keep moving. Steve showed up here terrified, uncertain if Nancy had ever woken up. that he was Vecna'd right along side her, and there was nothing either of them could do. wandering empty streets had felt crushing, either trapped in his head or dragged into some new bizarre happenstance, because he knew so absolutely Nancy was in immediate, imminent danger, and he wasn't there when she needed him.
so, sue him. Steve needs a little reassurance right now. does it hurt? objectively yes, though the adrenaline of finding her does push past the pain. way more important to focus on the fact she's here, she's real. Nancy hugs him back and Steve isn't in the state of mind to overthink that, just overwhelmed by the fact she's okay. he can worry about overstepping later, apologize later, second guess what it means, that she hugged him back, later. because right now he feels like he needs this contact. more than he needs a clean shirt for sure. )
We're okay, ( Steve repeats, a rusty laugh escaping the cage of his lungs. they are, and they aren't. they get a little less okay every day, don't they? but, functionally, they're walking and breathing and talking. could be so much worse. ) You're okay. You're good. ( good enough to tolerate what must be the world's grossest hug, to be fair. his hands slip from the small of her back to land at her hips as it sinks in exactly how close they are, and how... not wearing a shirt he is. oh, yeah, and still pretty sore, on the bat snack department. he should... yup. let her go. Steve has to do it one hand at a time, like his body hasn't quite caught up to the logic of his brain. )
Sorry, I just... ( nope, he'll come back to that sorry later, it just isn't the most pressing concern now. and he'll be able to collect his thoughts better later, anyway. ) You think this is some Vecna thing? Why would he shunt us off to an empty beach town we've never heard of? Is it some kinda clue? ( if it is, it is a bizarre clue. this is way over Steve's head. but there's gotta be some reason they're here, right? )
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he apologizes, but she just shakes her head, gives him a quick smile. it's cool. apologies are completely unnecessary because there's nothing to worry about here. nothing happened that caused her ability to- brain properly, go a little wonky for a minute. there's no emotional dam that's emotionally breaking apart. she's not replaying the last few minutes of her time in the upside down, over and over in her mind, trying trying to figure out what the hell could have wrong, how vecna was able to ring that 4th chime, and if that means that max is really- no. no. no.
she's just pondering the realization that she would do just about anything for another somewhat desperate and somewhat slimy hug from her shirtless ex-boyfriend, because she's so damn tired of pretending the last few days haven't been really, really hard. or that she isn't really, truly, bone-deep exhausted. or that she hasn't really, really needed a hug that was just like that, except maybe two hours longer. that's all.
... well, like. okay, listen, the shirtless part isn't necessary. that's not the point! the point is that it's harder to pull herself together than it usually is this time, and there's a split second where she's worried that it might become a problem ( and by that she means she's worried she's about to burst into tears ), but steve saves her ( again ) by asking her those questions.
with the way nancy's mind works, he could have been asking her just about anything and she'd find a way to distract herself with it. she's the champion of dodging her emotions in favor of, oh, any old random curiosity wandering by. she will take that opportunity to redirect her focus, thank you very much-! ]
This can't be him, there's no way. [ she blinks a couple times, shakes her head again. her brain's rebooting, thank god. ] No. Not both of us, at least, not after- [ her brow furrows, eyes searching his face for a moment, drop down for another, and then up meet his again ] Hey, what... happened to your shirt? [ she cracks a small smile, huffs. she knows it might be a ridiculous question, but not really! not if he just showed up here the same way she did. ] And your shoes?
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After what, ( Steve prompts, gently, even though it's ridiculous to hold a conversation half into a stolen shirt. he awkwardly creaks to try and elbow another arm through a sleeve, in the interest of his belly button not having a starring role in this conversation. he's still bloody and yucky and sore all over, so, the attempted to straighten his shirt is not without a hint of a grimace. if it were anyone but Nancy, he might have folded on some of his pride and asked for help. but since it is Nancy, he's pretty sure asking his ex to help him with his shirt is slightly uncomfortable, especially now that they're out of the obvious life-or-death danger that had been involved when she wrapped up his wounds.
not that Steve doesn't think she would help him, if he did ask. it's more that he shouldn't put her in the position of having to feel weird about it.
Steve's brow lines, a little, as Nancy presses him about his missing pieces. it wasn't... it wasn't that long ago that he stripped them off in the boat. and she was there when he did it, so, how could she have forgotten? ) Lost to Lover's Lake, I'd guess, ( Steve extrapolates, because actually he wasn't there to see what happened to that daddy af sweater he'd had on before he made the brave (and foolish) choice to dive down to Watergate. ) What about you, what's this... G.I. Joe jacket about, huh? ( it's tied around her waist, which ... it's not like they need any extra warmth right now, so he can't quite understand the addition. )
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[ she catches herself at the tail end of the sentence, trailing off on the word, because maybe it's not the worst thing in the world to blurt out?? but... it was maybe a little Much for the situation, sure. especially considering he wasn't doing anything too strenuous. still, he didn't ask her for help, but she still does once his shirt is on enough that it's not too awkward to reach out and guide the hem of it over the make-shift bandage. it's just! it would definitely hurt, if it got caught and tugged down with the shirt, considering the fabric is just going to stick as the blood dries and shit, she really, really should have insisted on properly redressing it with actual gauze and a sterile patch. so if her eyes linger on his hips before she actually lets the shirt settle flat, it's only out of concern
this time.still, her smile is a little sheepish once she looks up at his face again, and she's ready to bully him into helping her find a shop with some type of bandaging, but the mention of lover's lake, paired with his confusion over her jacket, that catches her off guard. if he had asked her the same thing after they peeled out of the warzone parking lot and started to change into their new gear, she would have made a joke about it being the latest in backwater Indiana chic. but... that's not what he's asking. ]
Wait, so- [ she pauses, like she's not sure she even wants to suggest what she's thinking, or hear his answer to the question she wants to ask, because it's insane. ] You... don't remember me waking up from Vecna's trance, do you? [ it's more of a statement-question, because it would definitely explain why he just hugged her so tight. looked at her like he couldn't believe she was standing there. granted, she was shocked to see him too, but- how? ] Is that the last thing you remember before you got here? Because that's not where- or when I came from. That was almost a whole day ago for me. [ she's got that tone she always gets when she's trying to solve a puzzle in her head and talk at the same time, and her eyes shift to look past him for a second too, because she needs to think.
--but then her jaw clenches. and her eyes widen. because she's having another aha moment, and it's once again an aha moment that makes her heart sink. she takes another moment to shut her eyes and pull in a breath, because doesn't want to show how scared she is once she looks up at steve again. but her lips press into a hard line, and she even takes the smallest step back from him.
because if steve doesn't remember her waking up? then maybe she never actually woke up. which also means that might not actually be steve. and that's a thought that she, apparently, can't handle right now. so there's another step back. her voice is tiny again, whisper-quiet and unsteady. and it's not demanding or accusatory, it's sort of.. pleading, in a way. ]
How do I know you're real?
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of course, something else ends up distracting from the reasonable thought of cleaning himself up. because Nancy is right, and that is the last thing Steve remembers. it isn't really a Vecnaism to make people forget things, so what... what does that mean? like ending up in a beachy ghost town needed another goddamn wrinkle. Steve can't help looking a little wounded, drawn back into that moment, the very last thing he remembers. you don't remember me waking up implies that she did, which is good. it just makes everything suddenly a lot more confusing. especially as Nancy starts to spiral away from him, slipping down a train of thought that might be difficult to drag her back from. )
Whoa. No, no — I'm real, Nance. I'm real, I'm right here. ( Steve settles hands on her narrow shoulders, even grips there. steady, sturdy, sure, determined to convince her of what might be impossible. he doesn't begin to know what is happening right now, how Nancy can remember more from home than he can, how they could have randomly been transported here in the first place. but call it his himbo confidence, call it desperation, call it whatever you want. Steve is still bizarrely certain that this isn't some mind trick.
finding each other, getting to hold Nancy in his arms long enough to remember how easily she fits in them, the comfort and relief and catharsis of finding her — doesn't really seem like the sort of mind fucking they're used to. it feels too good to be something corrupt Vecna is using against them. that doesn't make sense, either, Steve is ridiculously sure of it. )
I'm here. It's really me. I don't know what the hell is going on, I'm really confused, I think I'm getting a sunburn on my nose. I don't know why Vecna would make you hallucinate me struggling to put a shirt on, right? It's gotta be me. ( Vecna would never be able to capture the dumbass energy that comes off of Steve in waves. honestly, Steve has a point here. )