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Apocalypse How Mods ([personal profile] apocalypsehowmods) wrote in [community profile] redstringtheories2022-05-01 08:53 am
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TDM #11




➥ Arrival

Photo of a modern office building from the outside. There is a manicured lawn with several trees and bushes. To the left side of the photo, there is a waterbody with reeds around the fringes. There is a purple gradient filter over everything.
(cw: potential for severe disorientation/vertigo, claustrophobia, arachnophobia, body horror)

It happens in the blink of an eye. You may have been asleep. You may not have. You may have stepped through a door or turned a corner. You may have seen a flicker of something at the corner of your vision and turned to look. Or maybe you didn't.

It doesn't matter. What matters is that you find yourself somewhere entirely new and entirely unfamiliar. The arrival point is not always the same. (If you're lucky, it might be a canteen or an open office. If you're not, well... you aren't claustrophobic, are you? Or arachnophobic. These ducts do seem to be a bit cobwebby.) There is no one waiting for you but you don’t seem to be alone, either. Even in a janitor’s closet or the bathroom, you’ll find at least one person who seems to be just as out of place as you are.

If characters have arrived in a location devoid of NPCs, they may want to work together to figure out what is going on... or to avoid their 'kidnappers.' If you’ve arrived in the middle of the entry foyer or the gym, there may well be a few people who startle a bit at your arrival and try to approach (or discreetly leave the room... where are they going?). Will you cooperate or fight? Do you even understand what they're saying? You might need to find a translator, if you’re not immediately willing to follow a stranger.

After characters follow their new hosts (or are forcibly taken in) there will be a limited tour and the chance to settle in at the ADI-provided housing. (Do you enjoy living with strangers? Well. It's a new situation to navigate, anyway.)


➥ Rivertouched

Aerial view photo of a long, dark river, running through a forest. The river appears to be placid and has a number of bends.
(cw: supernaturally affected mood changes, supernatural compulsion, hallucination, potential for suicidal ideations and drowning)

Weird things happen in Dogtown, everyone knows it. And the weird things have been getting worse. The Apocalypse Disruption Initiative (ADI) is not above taking advantage of that to test out the waters for its newest arrivals, but they're far more conscientious about it than early days. They're not looking to send anyone to their death, especially not with recent events that have transpired surrounding Dogtown and in Gloucester proper. An employee gives you a GPS device where you need only press a button to alert ADI there is severe danger and someone needs to come help you right away, and you've been left with another person at the trailhead. Maybe they're a new arrival, as well, or a more seasoned 'veteran.' Either way, you're together for the next while and you've been asked to find and record any paranormal activity in the park. You have your phones and any other equipment you might have brought with you. Those who succeed in documenting anything peculiar will receive a $100 reward to be used as they see fit.

This month, late April rain showers have swollen the streams in Dogtown, leading to slightly more treacherous conditions, particularly at low trail-crossings. Anyone who needs them has been issued some waterproof boots for their walk to help with that. Some pairs who go wandering may find themselves getting split up unexpectedly, though. A fork in a path leads off and each person may find themselves drawn to a different trail.

One path continues on as normal. The other is a bit more overgrown, wild with flowers spilling over the sides of the dirt path. It is quieter here, a little darker as the trees begin to close in overhead. The sound of birds begins to fade, even the swaying of grasses. Soon, it might be only the sound of your own breath and footsteps that carry you down the path. But there's nothing that appears to be dangerous, just strange. And then you come to the river.

There are no rivers in Dogtown. There are a few small creeks that run into Strangman Pond or the Babson Reservoir, but nothing like this. It is a wide, slow-moving thing with dark water. Anyone touching it will find that the water is actually warm, more like a pleasant bath than the freezing spring it should be. There's also an urge to step into the water, to lie down in it and just… float away. You're so tired and aching and this is a place of peace and quiet, no one around to bother you. You could stay and float along the river forever.

Or you could if it weren't for your companion finding you. Those who took the other path and return to try to find their wayward partner will not find a place of peace and quiet. They will, instead, find their companion near a mudpit. Potentially, said companion will be lowering themselves into it, turning over to be facedown, as the mud slowly embraces them.


➥ Well Read

Photo of a table piled with books. The books are not stacked, just a mess. People are on either side of the long table, some picking up books to look at them. The background is blurred with only a few book titles at the end of the table facing the camera in focus.
(cw: gaslighting, supernatural compulsion)

Spring is in the air, and with the success of the recent flower festival, Gloucester's library system has decided to host a book fair to get people interested in reading. They've acquired a large number of new books with a particular bend toward the paranormal and local legends. This might have something to do with a recent, large donation from a mysterious local benefactor who wishes to remain nameless, but who can really say? Books!

Flyers advertising the fair go up around town and seem, somehow, especially enticing, even to people who might not be regular readers. Those to come will be offered the chance to sign up for a free library card that can be used at either of the two libraries in Gloucester and in the wider Cape Ann library network, which encompasses a further seven libraries. Strangely, members of ADI who try to sign up for a card will find that they are already in the library system. In fact, they've already checked out and returned several books. Don't they remember? They've been coming here for months now!

Reviewing their own lists, people will find that their checked out books seem to be filled with titles that they probably would have checked out, if given the opportunity. There's something more, though. Comparing lists with others, every single member of ADI from another world will find that they appear to have checked out Philip Dick's Eye in the Sky novel. That novel cannot be found in any library in the Gloucester or Cape Ann system, though. There's no record of its acquisition, nor is there a record of where it might have gone to. Anyone asking very confused librarians will be assured that they'll try to get it in again. It seems to be something of a rarity, though, and the system will have a bit of trouble acquiring a copy. They promise to have it within a month. Two at the very most! If you like existential sci-fi horror, though, can they interest you in these other titles?

The fair itself will feature a wide variety of books to suit any genre. There are also prizes on offer for anyone who wants to test their reading knowledge. Laptops have been set up in one area with quizzes to test your knowledge of a particular book. The questions begin in a benign and sensible way and stay that way for some. For others… the questions start getting to be more about opinion, then more about you. The questions are phrased as hypotheticals, but there's no way this thing could know to pose that specific hypothetical to you. It can't possibly know about that horrible thing you did or said. Why is it asking? Why can't you not answer? Why can't you leave? Those faced with these questions will be forced to answer them with error messages popping up if they try to lie. The only way to escape is to get through the full quiz or to have someone else rescue you. Of course, this might entail them reading over your shoulder and seeing just what sort of things you've done.


➥ Training Wheels Off

Photo of a long, red passenger train on a set of tracks. It is in a forested area, coming around a small hill.
(cw: hallucinations, nyctophobia, claustrophobia, severe injuries to fingernails, severe burns, dead bodies, superstition)

The word comes down from Nia Lehrer, Warden of ADI, that they have a strong lead on a ritual attempt at this point. Between the information collected by native ADI agents and the visitors from other worlds, they know there's going to be an attempt involving the Dark avatar, Katie Dunn, and the Buried avatar Deepthi Anand. There's also something strange going on with FYRE, a mining company headquartered and operating in Appalachia. All hands are needed on the ground given the amount of area they need to cover and the potentially short timeframe to stop something from happening. ADI requests volunteers from the off-world visitors, including new arrivals, offering a substantial bonus for their involvement, and promising not everyone is going to be engaged in some pitched battle. An army marches on its stomach, after all, and moving, housing, and caring for so many people a state away is a major logistics undertaking, not to mention the need for PR experts who can help deal with the locals while ADI sorts out what needs doing.

A train is chartered, heading everyone toward Wolf Pen, West Virginia. It's a standard train, one that will ferry the entirety of ADI's personnel and equipment to Wolf Pen in just about 18 hours. It's a ride that takes them through some towns, but predominantly sticks to what remains of the wild parts of the eastern seaboard and Appalachia. There's a dining car, cars for luggage, some cars that are just seats, and some cars that have bunk beds in them. Bags are packed, people loaded in, and the journey begins. Of course, no journey with the Apocalypse Disruption Initiative would be complete without some oddities along the way.

Scratchmarks
The train isn't making any stops, just plowing onward, which means people who want to get a little exercise will be forced to roam between cars. The space between the two carriage doors shudders with the motion of the train. The walls are made of metal and thick, accordion-esque plastic that stretches and bends. Very occasionally, the doors between the carriages seem to simply lock up. Tugging on them does nothing and this is a very small, unstable place that only seems to grow smaller and hotter the longer you're in there. Less than a minute may feel like hours, but that's not all. Those who are trapped might begin to see scratchmarks, places where the walls have been gouged, maybe even partially ripped open. There are fingernails still embedded in some places. Seeing this prompts an overwhelming need to escape, to be out of this place because something terrible is coming. You might need to be let out by someone or you might get out yourself. Either way, inspecting the space between cars turns up… nothing. No scratchmarks, no tears, no locking doors. Maybe you should just sit down and stick to one car. It was only a few seconds, after all.

Fearful Tunnel Syndrome
As they move out of Massachusetts, the coastal wetlands and plains give way to thick forests and then mountains. The Blue Ridge Mountains thrust their way toward the sky, carving a new horizon as the day fades to night and the sun disappears far earlier than it might usually do for this time of year. The Blue Ridge Mountains might not be so impressive as the Rockies, no peaks piercing the heavens. They're older than that, worn by more time than anything living on the earth now could comprehend. But they rise up, imposing in a landscape that has known only these mountains as their forebears.

The train slows as it starts chugging up passes, forcing its way deeper into the heart of these rocky monuments. It begins passing through tunnels. Mutters go through the carriage, old superstitions that you ought to hold your breath going through these tunnels. There might be a wish if you make it to the other end. Or there might just be safety from whatever specters might have died in those dark places beneath the earth.

But someone doesn't hold their breath.

It happens sometime around 9 PM. The train enters into one of the tunnels and very suddenly, every electronic light goes out in the carriages. No phones seem to be working, no flashlights, not even those for people who are made of technology. The world is plunged into blackness… and then something begins tapping along the windows. It will be impossible to see what it is, but for five minutes the tunnel stretches on and on and on, far longer than it should be. Longer than it could be. Nothing attacks, there is simply the dark and the tapping before light is restored and the conductor comes over the speaker to apologize for the issue. Just some internal malfunction that's been sorted out. Really, there's nothing to worry about.

Burned Bridges
The morning sun rises late in this part of the country, shadows stretching out from the mountains and tall pines that surround the tracks. Still, those keeping vigil at the windows will see the occasional point of interest. Animals rushing by, small towns, even the odd campsite that's almost certainly illegal. But there's one thing in particular the eye:

The charred remains of a person have been positioned along the side of the tracks. This person cannot be seen by anyone except individuals, and no one will see the exact same person in the same spot. The bodies are stood with a tattered red flag on a pole. Those who have been involved with certain happenings or who have been reading the news might well recognize the insignia of the "Shadowcats." This is a cult made up by members of ADI in an effort to frame them for the murder of a Desolation avatar and his circus troupe. Someone or something seems to have taken notice. Maybe? It's hard to say, after all, when the bodies simply disappear from one blink to the next.



➥ Mod Notes
  • ARRIVAL (Apr 1 - 31): Two people will always arrive in the same general location together. Arrivals occur throughout the early month, not all on the same day or in the same place. Arrivals are not naturally fluent in English/other languages immediately upon arrival. Characters may attempt to evade capture, but they will eventually be snagged before they can leave the building. PC's already in-game are more than welcome to interact with and try to guide new PC's to get them oriented. Please refer to the Arrival page for details regarding the arrival and onboarding process.

  • RIVERTOUCHED (May 1 - 12): Please keep in mind that death is permanent in the game. If your character dies in this prompt during the TDM, they will be dead. A version of them who did not experience that event on the TDM can be apped in, instead. Characters who try to walk away from the quiet/river after reaching it will find that moving away is like trying to move through molasses. It becomes harder and harder until they reach whatever personal limit they have. Moving back toward the river will be much easier with no resistance. There is no way to collect the river water for later. Characters who attempt to do so will find they just have some mud that appears to be wholly mundane. Characters caught in the hallucination may be snapped out of it immediately by the return of their partner, or may not be able to perceive them for a time, at player discretion.

  • WELL READ (May 1 - 12): Characters may be able to obtain their own copy of Eye in the Sky from somewhere like Ebay or similar, but it doesn't appear to be available through any existing publisher. Whatever copy they obtain will follow the summary provided in the Wikipedia link for the prompt. Characters will be issued a new library card if they attend the fair and wish to obtain one. The quiz questions are up to players to decide on the specifics, but they should become increasingly invasive about personal details regarding the character. Any PCs looking over their shoulders will be able to see the invasive questions, but regular, non-ADI natives will just see an ordinary book quiz question.

  • TRAINING WHEELS OFF (May 13 - 14): Characters who note and report suspicious activity will be taken seriously and native ADI personnel aboard the train will investigate. They will not be able to replicate the effects that characters experience, though. Or see what the characters might have seen with the exception of the blackout. Everyone will have experienced that and ADI will be on high alert. They will ask for volunteer guards at either side of the train cars to make sure no one actually gets locked between sections after a few people experience the Scratchmarks sub-prompt. Characters will have assigned sleeping accommodations (up to four to a sleeping car room, but can wander the train, otherwise. Food and non-alcoholic beverages on the train will be free.
dreadstring: (Default)

[personal profile] dreadstring 2022-05-01 05:36 pm (UTC)(link)
For the Fearful Tunnel Syndrome prompt, would characters who have darkvision as one of their powers (and who've been naughty children who feed their patrons) be able to see anything during the blackout, or is it impenetrable supernatural darkness?
jup1t3r: (04)

Rye Kalibash | Original Character

[personal profile] jup1t3r 2022-05-01 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
➥ Rivertouched
[ It starts as a desire to prove he doesn't need anybody. Whoever's company he'd been assigned at the trailhead he's keen to sever ties, to forge ahead alone and make it bloody well clear that he can look after himself, thanks.

And so he gets drawn down a path that's wild, the canopies of trees knitting together overhead as though he's wandering into a tunnel and who knows what he'll find at the end. The absence of noise should feel off to a man who's used to cities, and storms, and yet...

There's nothing that strikes him as strange about how willing he is to approach that dark water as though it's an invitation he can't possibly pass up. And who wouldn't? Stooping down he runs his fingers through, digits moving with the eddies of enjoyably warm water, desire to slip down beneath the surface a powerful urge he doesn't want to deny. And so he tips forward, face rushing towards that surface as though he can't wait to be enveloped in the water like a long, hot bath. ]


➥ Well Read
--and I can assure you I've never borrowed a bloody book here.

[ Anybody standing close by will hear a decidedly argumentative tone framed by a rather southern English accent. Clearly Rye is having none of this, and it's unfortunate that the librarian is getting the brunt of his ire. ]

No, no. I know how easy it is to create false records. I have been the person creating those false records.

[ There's barely a pause for breath - either his own or the librarian's - before he clarifies. He doesn't have time for some idiot to take his words literally. ]

No, not these false records. Somebody else's handiwork. Clearly they didn't think this whole con through.

For god's sake, I think I'd know if I'd checked out a book in a place I've barely just arrived in, don't you?

[ The lack of useful reaction from the librarian has rubbed Rye up the wrong way and, with a huff of irritation and a 'oh forget it, I have other means to get to the bottom of this', he turns on his heel and heads for the laptops he's been told about. At least he can get some sensible answers out of those.

Though apparently not before somebody who's already hogging one of the bloody things seems to just be sitting there staring at pop-ups. This is painful. ]


Christ, what questionable shit have you been clicking on? Are you going to close those popups or... just keep staring vacantly at them?

[ Such a charmer, really. ]


➥ Training Wheels Off - Scratchmarks
( cw: claustrophobia)
[ It seems like a terrible fucking idea to get onto this train with what feels like not enough information in the slightest, but Rye needs something to keep his mind busy. It seems like an even worse idea to be weighing in on a fight that doesn't yet feel like his, but he finds himself aboard the train all the same, carriage rattling in a way that feels strangely reminiscent of home.

The longest he's ever spent on a train was from London to Edinburgh, and that was a sleeper train for a grand total of six hours. Eighteen is an entirely different kettle of fish, and it's scarcely two hours in the need to stretch his legs troubles him. His knees - a decade older than they should be, fucking joint problems - feel as though they need to be cracked to relieve the growing ache in them.

It all happens despite him feeling fairly confident about wandering between one car and the next. This train feels like the old slamdoor trains that used to be in service, and he's surely quick enough to get the door to the next car open before the other one snaps shut behind him.

His brain takes a moment, then another to process the information - the door is jammed, must go back. But the door behind him, the way he came, is also jammed, it seems and Rye exhales in heavy disapproval. For fuck's sake.

Of course he's not claustrophobic, that kind of thing has never bothered him. And yet the air suddenly seems to grow thick, too warm, and loosening the collar of his shirt seems to do nothing at all. Then there's the dark terror that starts to grow at the back of his mind, and literally at his back as he can feel the walls shrink until the space is nothing more than the size of a coffin and he's stuck inside.

Oh god, is that fingernails buried into the wall?

He's barely aware of how hard he's pounding on the door, doesn't know what he's screaming at the top of his lungs that are struggling to suck down the soupy air. His words are nonsensical to anybody close enough to hear, but Rye's convinced he's shouting for aid, shouting for somebody to let him the fuck out. Why can't anybody hear him? Why isn't anybody coming to open the door?

He's going to die here, isn't he? This is where he's finally going to die. Not some bullet to the head via sniper. Not in a prison cell of her majesty's choosing for cyber terrorism. No, he's going to die between two fucking train carriages that got jammed shut. ]


( ooc: feel free to wildcard if there's anything that takes your fancy! I'm on pms or over at [plurk.com profile] edgerunner for any questions!)
smallvillegazette: (eight)

lois lane | superman & lois

[personal profile] smallvillegazette 2022-05-01 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)
➥ rivertouched

[The best way to solve a mystery is to get into the thick of it, so here Lois is, having volunteered for a trip into the forest so she can do some actual research, not just flick through books and scour the internet.

She's amicable enough with her assigned partner, despite clearly being focused on the investigation, at least until the path splits. She could have sworn she heard footsteps beside her, but when she turns again, she's alone. Lois hesitates, unsure whether to continue or turn back, unsure how long she's been alone, but decides it's best to retrace her steps than carrying on alone.

It was a good decision, apparently, because she comes across her partner again, as they start to sink into the mud.]


Hey! What are you doing? Get out of there!

[She breaks into a run immediately. If they don't listen, she'll have to drag them out herself.]

➥ scratchmarks

[It was a simple case of restlessness that drove Lois to stretch her legs, wandering the length of the train, hoping to shake off some of the tension.

When she passes between two carriages and one of the doors seems to catch, she doesn't panic. When she turns back around to return the way she came and that door is stuck, she still tries to keep her calm, telling herself it's fine, that someone else will need to pass through sooner or later.

But then the walls start to feel — closer, the space tighter. That's when she notices the fingernails caught in the metal, the gouges in the plastic, and panic rises up like bile, choking her.]


Help! Someone help! [She bangs her fist against the doors a few times to no avail, which only serves to make the fear worse. Suddenly she's on the farm again, hearing Jon beg for help and powerless to save him.] Someone! Anyone! Clark! Please! CLARK!

[She knows he isn't here, but fear is a funny thing.]

➥ fearful tunnel syndrome

[The lights go out.

Lois fumbles for her phone, pressing the power button to no avail, trying several times to unlock it when she can't see a single thing, before realizing that it's not going to work.]


Shit.

[When the tapping starts, she forces herself to take a calm breath, not wanting a repeat of her earlier incident.

If anyone nearby sounds panicked, she'll do her best to direct herself towards them, reaching out into the dark with a gentle hand.]


It's okay, we're safe in here, I'm sure of it.

[No she isn't.]
bindlestifflost: (Angry or intent)

scratchmarks

[personal profile] bindlestifflost 2022-05-01 08:47 pm (UTC)(link)
[This is the biggest train he has been on by far, but even so sooner or later the need to be up and moving around hits. He's less exploring than doing a little aimless wandering when he hears the commotion from the other side of the door and hurries the rest of the way.]

Hang on!

[It's a strong, deep voice that answers her. He's expecting the door to be stuck, so when he yanks it, it flies open and he stumbles backward a few steps before catching himself.]

You awwright there? What is it?

[He immediately starts forward again. She'd sounded panicked.]
cardinalrule: ([GG] headtilt)

Hunter | The Owl House

[personal profile] cardinalrule 2022-05-01 08:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Arrival

[It's fairly late when Hunter suddenly appears in this realm. Late enough that most of the employees who usually work in the cubicles he's popping into existence near have headed home, but not quite late enough that the whole building has been locked for the night. The sun is starting to go down, it's a lovely evening, overall.

For most people, anyway. One second Hunter is in his room, having just finished a meeting with the other Coven Heads and about to get started on some paperwork, and the next he's here, in a bizarre looking office that would look thoroughly out of place in the Boiling Isles. He's still in his uniform, Flapjack tucked safely inside his cloak, though the sudden jolt is setting the bird off. That means there's one cardinal flying out from his hiding spot, slapping around the ceiling and tweeting frantically.

Of course, the first thing Hunter does is get his gold owl mask back on and his hood up, before reaching for his artificial staff. Obviously, this is some sort of trap, maybe another attempt on his life by Kikimora, and he just needs to handle i -

He reaches for his staff, and it isn't there. The one thing potentially keeping him from being dead is gone - ]


What is this?!

[He's shouting that at nothing in particular, his voice cracking a tiny bit as teenage voices tend to do when agitated and upset. If he doesn't have his staff then he at least needs to exert some authority, use his position as the right hand of the Emperor to stop whatever this is. As a last resort he could use Flapjack, but he doesn't know how safe it is for the bird.

Regardless he's looking around, ready to defend himself or start ordering scouts around, when the view outside the nearby window catches his attention. He stops and stares, then stares some more, his anger draining away to a hollow kind of horror. Slowly, he steps over to the window.

The trees outside are green.

The trees there are green, the nights are quiet....

Belos' words echo in his mind as he stares out at the human realm.]


Well Read - A.

[For a huge nerd like Hunter, a book fair seems like the perfect starting point for his exploration into the human realm. He's shown up, reluctantly without his mask and cloak and outer armour, and Flapjack hanging out in the trees surrounding the library to eat some bugs and pester the other birds.

He isn't really sure what to expect, but the library system claiming he already has a card and has signed books out isn't it. Baffled and a little affronted, he figures the logical thing to do is investigate the books he's supposedly read. He goes and gathers them, and it isn't long before there is one beat up-looking kid with some books in his arms:

A Pocket History of Human Evolution: How We Became Sapiens by Silvana Condemi
Occult Science in Medicine by Franz Hartmann
Witchcraft Medicine: Healing Arts, Shamanic Practices, and Forbidden Plants by Claudia Müller-Ebeling, Christian Rätsch, and Wolf-Dieter Storl
Folk Medicine in Modern Egypt: Being the Relevant Parts of the Tibb al-rukka or Old wives' medicine of Abd al-Rahman Isma'il by ʻAbd al-Raḥmān Ismāʻīl
Plagues Upon the Earth: Disease and the Course of Human History by Kyle Harper
The Boundless Sea: A Human History of the Oceans by David Abulafia

He's having more trouble tracking down Eye in the Sky.]


Training Wheels Off - Burned Bridges

[Hunter has never been on a train before. Trains aren't even a thing in the Boiling Isles, so this is new and exciting and kind of terrifying. A big metal tube on rails? It seems like a minecart on a whole ton of wild magic. Weird and fascinating all at the same time.

So he's wandering up and down the cars, in his full uniform including the mask, one cardinal with a scarred eye perched on his shoulder. Occasionally he just stops and finds a seat next to a window to stare out at it, baffled by the environment that is the human realm. No bones of an ancient corpse jutting out of the earth and into the air, no boiling rain, no suspiciously carnivorous foliage. Belos was right, it is peaceful.

He's still staring out the window when he catches sight of what looks like a charred body along the edges of the train tracks. It's enough to make him sit up, furrowing his brow from behind his mask as he watches it and some flag go by.

Then it disappears, and his first reaction is to turn his head away from the window.]


What was that? That couldn't have been a person, they don't have boiling rain here.

[He's directing that question to the bird on his shoulder, who just cheeps in response.]
corvosi: (Default)

G'raha Tia | Final Fantasy XIV

[personal profile] corvosi 2022-05-01 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)
I. Arrival

In the library, between the stacks, there's a thud followed by a muffled grunt, as though someone has abruptly and unexpectedly fallen from a height of a couple feet - far enough to knock the wind out of them, but not quite far enough to do any significant damage unless they landed very poorly. Silence reigns for a moment, and then...rustling.

Should anyone come investigate the sounds, they will come upon a short, largely humanoid man dressed in the loose and many-pocketed clothing of a veteran traveler, crystal-tipped staff slung over one shoulder, feline tail that matches his red hair in colour lashing unhappily behind him. He picks up a book, rifles briefly through it, picks up another - then pauses. One catlike ear swivels towards his unanticipated company, and he turns, slit pupils widening slightly.

The expression isn't hostile, exactly - anyone not too unnerved by the inhuman characteristics and bloody crimson eyes might read wary puzzlement, and when he speaks, that's matched by his tone.

Unfortunately, he isn't speaking anything approaching English. Fortunately, the tone and body language for "where am I?" transcends the language barrier. It might take some pantomime to get the point across, but it's probably possible to convince him to come along quietly.

II. Well Read

"--I've only just arrived," G'raha Tia is in the middle of protesting when someone passing by - that's you - catches his eye.

He turns to flag down the familiar face (and it might take a moment to recognize him for anyone who's only ever met him on ADI property, because out here he looks purely human, feline attributes hidden and colouring muted), brow knit in a wary sort of puzzlement. He doesn't object to having an account at the local library - quite the opposite - but it's strange. Particularly as that wasn't in the packet of information and identification he'd been issued to make him seem like he belongs, however tenuously, to this star.

"Have they insisted you already have a lending account too?"

III. Burned Bridges

The sight of the landscape streaming by the train windows is lulling, almost meditative, and G'raha has been drifting, lost in thought, for the better part of half an hour when something grabs his attention and yanks. He jerks upright with a sharp intake of breath, then half-rises, turning to follow the shape of the charred body as the train thunders past.

It's possible that if anyone happens to be dozing in the seat next to or in front of him, he might clip them with elbow or tail, the latter invisible, but a solid weight.

Wildcard
(If you have an idea for something else, hit me! Or PM if you want to plot something.)
smallvillegazette: (fifteen)

[personal profile] smallvillegazette 2022-05-01 09:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[The second the door is open, Lois all but tumbles out, more than a little disoriented in her panic.

The slightly more open space helps, but she's rattled and confused and the best thing she can think to do is to wrap her arms around herself as she moves further away from the door, glancing at George uncertainly. Her hands ache from pounding them against the door, but it doesn't stop her from gripping her jacket tightly.]


The doors wouldn't open. I was — [Alone. It's a long held fear. One day something will happen, and she won't be able to handle it alone, and Clark will be too busy saving the world to come to the rescue.

She doesn't rely on him, she never has, but she's only human in a world full of aliens and superpowers.]
I couldn't get out.
twicelost: (alpha days)

burned bridges

[personal profile] twicelost 2022-05-01 09:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Sitting a row behind him, Katrina is calm but on alert. She doesn't feel safe, but she thinks no one is in any immediate danger. It's the besr anyone can ask for, with the Entities and their avatars wreaking havoc.

His question makes her turn to look out the window, and she sees a charred corpse too. It's the flag that draws her attention more, though. She's not terribly familiar with it (she's been more than a little preoccupied with the news about the state of life in the ocean, naturally, being that it's like what's happening back home and what drove her and the other sirens to work with humans and... look, it's been on her mind a lot). All she knows is that it isn't what it seems to be. Or at least, back in Gloucester, it wasn't.

So, this newcomer with the red bird on his shoulder may not be asking her that questiom, but she responds anyway, her tone and accent distinctly not local. What was it Ryn's friends had them pass as? Finnish? Humans are strange. Her gaze is steady, sharp. Her face is neutral otherwise. ]


Human. Murder. Or... maybe warning. Not boiling rain.

[ Which sounds awful, to her. ]

Flag is strange. Should not be here. It belong in Gloucester.
trestle: (Myth)

Pope Creek | oc

[personal profile] trestle 2022-05-01 10:16 pm (UTC)(link)
( arrival )

It's not as if Pope hasn't known some maddening things through the years. Hell, he is a maddening thing, but suddenly finding himself emerging from beneath the trestle that's his home and finding himself suddenly swept up in some agency and talks of needing his help and he's not sure what to make of it all.

But then they hand him a device and send him off with another to a stream. This he can handle, it's like home.

Foregoing the boots, he leaves his shoes on the banks and rolls up his jeans as he wades into the water.

"This is great," he says, even though he suspects from their expression they don't feel the same.

There's no hesitation, heading off further down the creek with a laugh and a splash as he finds himself in his element. So caught up he loses track of another, meandering deeper and deeper into the wilds until he finds himself at a river, wide and smooth and warm.

"Okay, I could really get used to this place," he sighs, shucking off his shirt and tossing it aside figuring why not take a swim?

( well read )

Years of being alone and Pope has read just about any book he can get his hands on. So the idea of showing off kind of excites him.

He should have known better.

Does being a monster make you a killer?

"What the hell? No." He rolls his eyes at that question. It goes on.

So why are you a monster?

"Fuck this," he mutters, moving to shut the computer off. "Whatever. I'm not." He types that answer.

Error.
Why are you a monster?


He pushes back from the laptop with a clatter of his chair, shaking his head. "Fuck this shit."

( scratchmarks )

Pope loves trains. The sound of them. The speed of them. Even the sharp scent of metal and gears and oil. He loves it all.

Except for being inside of one.

He's already been pacing the trains they have, not finding much peace in the compartment. At nearly six and a half feet he feels trapped in the space.

Which is fitting as he starts finding scratch marks, moving to jerk on the door, wanting to be out of that room. Now. When he can't manage to open it, he bangs his fist against the door, a heavy pounding of more than his building and weight.

( fearful tunnel )

This is why Pope will never volunteer for a damn thing again. He should have known better. Once more everything seems fine as they move through the the mountains. There's memories here for him, things far removed but then don't the Appalachians always call to their own?

When the lights go out, he's not scared like he was before. He's pissed.

Moving to the windows as the tapping starts, leaning in close. His eyes seem to reflect light that isn't there as he taps back at the glass.

"You want to play? Bring it," he growls, his voice gruffer than it's been, his soft lilting Kentucky Appalachian accent deeper in that moment.
cardinalrule: ([GG] point)

[personal profile] cardinalrule 2022-05-01 11:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[Oh hey, Hunter certainly doesn't mind starting up a conversation, not when it sounds like this lady has information on this realm that may be of use to him. He turns into his seat, peering at her from behind his owl mask. Flapjack lets out a soft cheep, blinking his one unscarred eye.]

Funny, I was told the human realm is quiet. [He's allowing himself a little bit of snark, even though it was Belos who told him that, and obviously Belos isn't going to be wrong.

He holds up two gloved fingers.]


Alright, two questions for you. First one, is this common for the human realm? Second one, why should that flag be in Gloucester?
dreadstring: (Default)

rivertouched

[personal profile] dreadstring 2022-05-02 02:06 am (UTC)(link)
[Laudna neither answers nor obeys. She continues to sink into the mud, face submerged up to her ears, bubbles forming around her as though she's a child attempting to blow all the air out of her lungs to see how fast she can touch the bottom of a pool. There's nothing particularly defiant about her - she seems perfectly relaxed, sprawled loose-limbed in the chilly muck, as though unaware of both her surroundings and of Lois's distress.

In her own mind, she floats in warm, clear water, cocooned in quiet that is, for once, welcoming rather than hostile.

It's fortunate that even when coated in mud, she weighs approximately as much as a bundle of dry sticks, because hauling her out is probably going to be necessary.]
smallvillegazette: (fifteen)

[personal profile] smallvillegazette 2022-05-02 02:14 am (UTC)(link)
[Things Lois does not want to do: go into the mud.

Not out of concern for her clothes or anything so ridiculous, but it's clear that something is very wrong with this situation and she has no idea what caused it. If she goes in there, is she going to be able to get back out?

There isn't a lot of time to strategize, so she does the best she can, which involves grabbing her phone out of her pocket, quickly dialing ADI, then dropping it on the ground away from the mud. Maybe someone will come, if she doesn't respond soon enough.

That frees her up to wade into the mud, keeping her attention focused on Laudna until she's close enough to get her arms around the woman's waist, giving a solid pull in an attempt to get her above the surface.]


Come on, I got you, stay with me.

[She's not letting someone die on her watch.]
dreadstring: (Default)

[personal profile] dreadstring 2022-05-02 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, that's beautiful.
dreadstring: (Default)

[personal profile] dreadstring 2022-05-02 02:59 am (UTC)(link)
[The mud sucks at Laudna's face, at her arms, the earth reluctant to relinquish its prize now that it's claimed her, and when she comes free, it's with a sickening squelch. For a long moment, she's dead weight, bonelessly limp and unnervingly cool to the touch, as though the chilly mud has already leached away most of her body heat.

And then she jerks, sucking in a ragged breath as the illusion shatters, leaving her flailing in confusion, uncoordinated and weak as a newborn kitten.]


What?

[Her feet scrabble for purchase, and it takes a couple tries to get them under her, to find something solid in the muddy pit. Her eyes are too wide, and it takes her a moment to register, if not Lois's presence, at least her identity.]

Where--? Where are we?

[This is...decidedly not a sun-dappled river. It's not anywhere remotely pleasant, and the first thing that comes to Laudna's mind is grave.]
Edited 2022-05-02 03:00 (UTC)
musicdied: (what did you just call me?)

Scratchmarks

[personal profile] musicdied 2022-05-02 03:28 am (UTC)(link)
[It's been nearly half an hour since the last person passed through from another car, and while Yelena isn't completely absorbed in her book - is never completely absorbed in so public a space, with so many unknown variables - neither is she expecting someone to start pounding on the door. She jerks to her feet, book tumbling from her fingers.

Even with caution slowing her steps - because it can't possibly just be the muffling quality of the door and her own lingering injuries that renders the shouting that accompanies the thud of fists incoherent - it doesn't take her more than perhaps fifteen seconds to reach the door.

So, approximately an eternity.

When she sets her weight against the thing and heaves, the door rockets open as though it had never jammed at all, leaving her blinking in puzzlement at a man she distantly recognizes from the briefing prior to departure. She tilts her head slightly, leaning to the side to check that there isn't, say, something horrible clawing the door to the previous car open before asking mildly:]


What the fuck?
ployboy: (And I ain't giving this fire)

somebody saaaave meeee (fearful tunnel)

[personal profile] ployboy 2022-05-02 03:51 am (UTC)(link)
[No she isn't sure, Tim wants to correct, because he's fairly certain that she's a fresh transplant. Even with his own nerves on edge, he can also piece together some certain panicked hollering from earlier and this particular section of the car--

anyway. It seems his own hushed growls and mutterings have gotten her concerned (with that dash of spooky ambient tap-tap-tapping). Tim draws in a breath, defeated more than anything.]
This isn't the first time this happens.

[The darkness, the technological blackout. (Tim feels a headache budding.) But to his credit he doesn't continue to list all of the previously accompanying bad news; this woman's green, remember?

It's hard to see a damn thing. It's best to stay put. It's not like he can pin any familiarity to the woman just yet. He moves just enough to position himself between her and the nearest window, a shadow himself.]
There's a lot of things here that feed on fear. [---] Singular focus on them makes the moments pass... slower. [Makes the hungers grow.] So how about you tell me about yourself, and I'll tell you about me. [Later, he'll pat himself on the back for this... stellar introduction.]

I'm Tim.
jup1t3r: (12)

[personal profile] jup1t3r 2022-05-02 08:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ One moment he's certain he can feel the life ebbing away from his borrowed bones, and the next-- air. He's ungraceful as he tumbles forward, only just catches himself before he really does sprawl out all over the carriage floor with its repeating pattern.

Where he ends up is on his knees, as though at worship, head bowed and lungs demanding the toll for what felt like too long without oxygen.

Too many seconds slide by and then he's looking up and around, his apparent saviour standing at the now very open door looking at him like he's lost the fucking plot. ]


Thank you.

[ It seems like a good place to start, if somewhat uncomfortable for a man who's used to relying mostly in himself in dire situations. Thank yous and apologies are still very stiff when they're pulled from his lips.

Getting up on wobbly legs, he turns and peers into the space he had been so sure he was going to expire in. What he can see and what he knows doesn't add up, and he frowns, brows crashing together head on as he looks back at the woman confused. ]


It was jammed. Both... both were jammed.

[ Doors, he means. He's already gesturing with a hand, as though there's something at play here that's just off. He's most certainly not going anywhere near that space again, hanging back at what he hopes is a safe distance. ]
twicelost: (challenge)

[personal profile] twicelost 2022-05-02 01:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Katrina gives a soft, sardonic chuckle, with a twist of her lips. ]

Surface is calmer than ocean, but humans make big mess often.

[ Just because she likes plenty of the humans here doesn't mean her opinion of humans on the whole has improved much.

Her face relaxes as she thinks on his questions. ]


I do not know if is common. Flag belong to Shadowcats. Gang that work in Gloucester.

You are new. I am Katrina.
outofthepast: (Default)

[personal profile] outofthepast 2022-05-02 02:35 pm (UTC)(link)
For the purposes of human disguises on non-human characters, does the train count as an extension of HQ? (Or put more simply, will people like Nick appear human on the train, or look like their real selves?)
smallvillegazette: (six)

[personal profile] smallvillegazette 2022-05-02 05:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[It's a near thing that Lois doesn't go falling back into the mud herself, but she braces herself as Laudna tries to get her feet on solid ground, loosening her hold without completely letting go.]

It's okay, you're alright.

[Just to help soothe the immediate panic, as much as it can be soothed in a situation like this.]

We're in Gloucester, I lost you on the path, I'm so sorry. [She means it, genuine distress in her voice that she wasn't paying closer attention. It's a miracle she didn't find Laudna too late.] Can you walk? We shouldn't stay in here.

[Clearly the mud pit can exert some influence, and she isn't inclined to test how strong that influence might be.]
smallvillegazette: (nine)

[personal profile] smallvillegazette 2022-05-02 05:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[She's trying to think back to all the faces she saw in the carriage before the lights went out, but while her memory is good, it isn't perfect, and she's new enough it's difficult to put names to faces. She'll just have to rely on identifying people by voice, for now.]

I gathered as much. We're giving them what they want, if we're afraid.

[That didn't stop her from a a minor panic earlier, but she's making an effort now to keep herself calm, to ignore the tapping. Maybe she can pretend it's Lewis with his ridiculous mechanical keyboard that he thought was a good idea to bring into the office.]

Lois Lane. [It's automatic to give her full name, harder to stop herself from adding The Daily Planet after the fact.] It's nice to meet you, Tim, despite the circumstances.
jup1t3r: (14)

well read

[personal profile] jup1t3r 2022-05-02 07:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's hardly surprising that Rye has been skulking around the laptops, waiting for somebody to finish. His reliance on anything digital was already questionable, and that was before he inherited magic and created the ability to put himself inside the machines with all those ones and zeros.

That's a party trick he's keeping under wraps for now, something he forgets he's thinking about as somebody slides their chair out without warning and he catches his hip. ]


Watch out. Some of us have no love for being thrown around like a ragdoll.

[ Perhaps a smidge dramatic, and so are the arms that fold defensively over his chest as his eyes automatically drop down to the laptop screen still on the desk. ]

...funny kind of survey. Why is it asking you that?

You don't really fit the profile of somebody I'd be expecting to take a What Monster Am I quiz. Not goth enough. And certainly not teenage girl enough.

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