redstringtheories

Entry tags:

!tdm

TDM #12

(NOTE: Changes have been made to our standard Arrival and Dogtown prompts. All players and potential applicants are encouraged to closely review these.)

➥ 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.) You might even arrive in a section of building that has been demolished, leaving a pit of rubble open to the sky–hope you're up on your tetanus shots! 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. The one exception is the demolition zone off what used to be one corner of the building: it seems the security teams are keeping a particularly close eye on that area to document new arrivals and bring them in quickly.

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.)

➥ Birdswatching

Photo of a crow in profile. Only the head and beak are visible. Its mouth is slightly open.
(cw: scopophobia; paranoia; unnatural animals)

Weird things happen in Dogtown, everyone knows it. And the weird things have been getting worse. Much worse. The rise in dangerous rather than merely uncomfortable or startling phenomena has put an end to ADI's use of Dogtown as a testing ground for new recruits. Under ADI's advisement, the City of Gloucester has officially and indefinitely closed Dogtown to the public, and work is ongoing to construct barriers around the entire park to prevent trespassing. Dogtown's borders are now patrolled by Gloucester law enforcement as well as ADI employees from the Investigations and Security divisions, who document phenomena visible from outside its borders and actively keep people out. New arrivals who volunteer for the work may still find themselves dropped off outside the borders of Dogtown in order to beef up patrols and help document paranormal activity while receiving an introduction to the kind of work ADI does. An employee will give 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, explicitly instruct you not to actually enter Dogtown, and leave you with another person at the edge of the park. 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 record any paranormal activity visible from outside the park. Those who succeed in documenting anything peculiar will receive a $100 reward to be used as they see fit, but those who are caught entering Dogtown in pursuit of such proof will be reprimanded and receive no reward.

This month nothing appears to be out of the ordinary at first glance, which might make the increased vigilance around Dogtown seem like a bit of an overreaction. Sections of the park's border are bustling with contractors installing fences and the new police and ADI patrols are fresh enough to be alert to any hint of danger, but Dogtown itself just looks like an ordinary, if overgrown, park from out here. The sun is shining, there's a pleasant breeze to offset the summer heat, the birds are….

The birds are not singing. There's movement in the trees and undergrowth, to be sure, the sound of small animals going about their business...but no birdsong. No cawing, no hooting, no trilling. That's not to say there aren't any birds, though. Once you start to look for them, you'll spot them among the branches: birds of any species one might expect to find in the area are not only present, but present in higher numbers than normal. And they're all just...staring at you. Watching. Even when you turn away you can feel their beady little eyes on you.

It's when you step out of view that they do start to sing, or at least to make noise. They call back and forth as if to inform each other of your movements, keeping tabs on you, always keeping you within eyesight of at least one bird. They're waiting for something, waiting for the moment in which to attack, waiting for your moment of weakness.

You mustn't be weak. You mustn't give them an opening. But even after you depart the outskirts of Dogtown, they're still watching, all of them, every bird in Gloucester turning its gaze upon you as you pass. They're everywhere, making your skin crawl with the knowledge that no matter where you go or what you do, they know, they see.

Are they the only ones watching? Did that stranger look at you out of the corner of his eye? Is that child watching you from their window? What are they planning? What do they want from you? Is that pity in their gaze, or is it scorn–or is it hidden rage, biding its time? Nowhere is safe. Nowhere are you free from eyes upon you, ears listening at the door.

And the birds keep singing now.

➥ Current Events

Photo of footprints in the sand along a beach. The tide is ebbing and flowing on the left side of the frame.
(cw: thalassophobia; mild scopophobia)

There aren't many mandatory activities at the Apocalypse Disruption Initiative. The higher-ups prefer not to impose upon their people's free time. Everyone enjoys different things and finds different ways to relax. After recent events, though… they're making one exception: The (newly) Annual Beach Barbeque! The Staff Development Department is keen to help find new ways to get people outside to enjoy what good times there are, and have set up a few different areas for people to engage. Attendance is noted upon arrival to a particular section of the beach where the events are being held. Those who fail to turn up will find their pay docked and persistently encouraging emails to the effect that they might want to visit the Counseling Center if they're having trouble connecting with people.

Riptide
Surf and boogie boards, both, have been laid out on the beach, ready for someone to pick up and hit the surf. The waves in Gloucester aren't much to write home about, but they make an easy start for beginners. Care should be taken, though. There are reports of some rip currents in the area that seem to crop up unexpectedly. You might find yourself suddenly pulled out much farther than you expected. And the ocean stretches out into the horizon, far, far bigger than you might expect. The shore seems so far away.

If you're lucky, you're not alone out here because getting back to shore seems a daunting task, indeed. Or maybe you're playing lifeguard and spot someone in need of help. Be quick! It's unclear just how much danger these waters hold.

Poseidon Quivers
ADI recognizes that not everyone may want to actually get into the water. There are tools (some simpler, some more sophisticated) for designing sand art, whether it's a castle, a more elaborate statue, or some sort of trench to bury your enemies. One of the native ADI staff is also encouraging those with an artistic flair in the sand arts to teach others. Maybe you're learning something new or maybe you're a student. Either way, you're bound to get covered in an unpleasant amount of sand. Some of it tingles in a way that leaves patches of skin feeling numb long after the sand has been brushed away. Some might also experience a numbing of their emotions, as well, when affected by the sand. Maybe that makes it easier to deal with all of this…

We Feast Upon the Flesh
What's a barbeque without food? There's the standard fare of hotdogs and burgers (with veggie patties and tofu dogs for those less inclined toward the carnivorous), and then there are the Gloucester 'favorites.' Someone’s had the thought to bring a battery-powered fryer out to the beach, and the scent of truffle fries and fried clams fills the air.

Be careful when eating, though. The seagulls are watching. Waiting. Taking from those who look like the easiest marks. Their gaze is upon you, beady and staring. Even when they're not actively bothering someone, the sense that their little black eyes are observing is intense.

➥ Spot the Difference

Photo of a dock. There are lobster/crab traps in the foreground with small fishing vessels tied to a dock in the background.
(cw: bodily harm, stalking, bullying, altered perception)

Unfortunately, it's not all sun and sand by the seaside. Saving the world never ends, and Sable at the docks has gotten word to ADI that there have been a handful of incidents involving a shipment of goods that are meant to be headed for the General Store. They’re all mundane objects, but there have been some reported mental breakdowns and a few injuries. Before anyone will touch the boxes - and definitely before they’re put on the shelves for customers - someone will need to comb through the boxes to identify exactly what is causing the issue and ADI is paying a bonus for anyone who is willing to shoulder the danger.

The problem? The workers who were affected have no idea what caused any of it. As far as they can remember, they were handling absolutely normal items. Anyone investigating will have to use their own powers of observation to figure out where the danger is coming from. Or possibly trial and error. Because the vague reports do mention that these unlucky workers were touching the objects, heavy gloves and even grabber tools will be provided so that direct contact is not necessary.

The afflicted boxes have been sequestered away in a small warehouse (really more of an oversize shed). There are a handful of them on otherwise bare shelves, as if anything else has been moved somewhere else. For a space that is holding dangerous items it's... Actually it's pretty mundane.

So are the objects that need inspecting. They range from toys to cups to cleaning instruments of all things, all perfectly normal goods. Perfectly normal. Except when they’re not.

The differences that mark out the Entity-touched goods are incredibly easy to miss. As subtle as a face painted on a mug with too-wide eyes or a plush wolf toy…that happens to have one or two little metal teeth tucked away in the back of its open mouth. There’s a crate of fancy silverware sets, engraved with patterns. Most are floral in nature, but somewhere in there, there’s a set where the pattern is more reminiscent of blood... or tears. Maybe spiderwebs.

Touch one of these wrong objects, and suffer the consequences, whether it's an unshakeable sense of being followed (or the conviction that the people closest to you are out to get you, hearing whispers of threats in the voices of your friends) when handling the toy plush, wounds appearing randomly on ones’ body when holding a knife, or the certainty that your body parts are changing in shape or size when handling the mug. One of these things is not like the others.~

➥ Mod Notes

ARRIVAL (July 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 (or the rubble that used to be part of 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, as well as updated information about the state of ADI Headquarters. During characters' absence in June, it seems ADI finally received the necessary permits to demolish a portion of the building–if asked, NPCs are open about the fact that the demolition was meant to test the theory that destroying Headquarters might prevent further interdimensional arrivals. It hasn't worked.
BIRDSWATCHING (July 1-31): Feelings of dread and paranoia regarding birds, humans, and even animals in general will follow exposure to the staring eyes of the birds in Dogtown. Characters who leave the area immediately after noticing the birds' unusual behavior will experience only minor effects; the degree of paranoia and how long it lasts is proportional to the length of time one spends near Dogtown while aware one is being watched by the birds, and the effects may last several days. Hiding under the covers or in a windowless room seems to help, a little.
CURRENT EVENTS (July 5-Onward): While the beach barbeque only lasts for one day (the 5th), the supplies for creating sand sculptures and various water-based sports will be available for the rest of the summer for characters to avail themselves of, either as a learner or as an instructor. Escape from the riptide is possible without outside assistance, but will be challenging. There is a distorted perception of just how far away the shore is. While the sand can be collected for analysis, there will be nothing scientifically notable about it. Even removed from the beach, though, some of it seems to cause intermittent numbness (both physical and emotional). This will be an ongoing effect.
SPOT THE DIFFERENCE (July 15-31): As indicated in the prompt, contact with the afflicted items will result in various different effects. With some of them, gloves will be enough to prevent characters from being affected, though others might be stronger (this is up to player discretion.) Feel free to play with the established effects or create your own, though please use content warnings for anything not already mentioned in the prompt. The effect from these objects will last for an hour or two and then fade away.
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► BIRDSWATCHING

( she'd taken to the patrol happily, volunteering more than being tasked, wanting to know what the situation outside was but using it to get a better feel for the place and people as well as the strangeness.

except so far eve hadn't seen much of anything. it was quiet, although that was strange in itself. things that were this quiet usually weren't a good sign. though she'd heard that it had changed lately, that the barriers didn't used to be there. which made her want to know what specifically was on the other side of them.

but for now, she was settling for patrolling, assessing. and-- ) Were they there before?

( she catches sight of the birds and there's a lot of birds. a lot of very silent birds. that was a little creepy )

► SPOT THE DIFFERENCE

( this sounded like magic more than anything that eve had heard so far. mysterious objects that caused weird effects, memory loss, a lack of knowledge as to what had happened? she'd spoken to whoever she could, getting herself over there. she wouldn't be able to identify the artifacts, most likely anyway, but she could help keep people safe and away. she was a guardian, it's what she did.

however, she wasn't the only one that had gone out to the storage shed. unfortunately. she didn't expect others to have the knowledge, doubted it rather than potentially putting them in danger with the benefit of the doubt. which is why if she sees someone reaching towards one of the items she's quick to shout-- )

Hey! Don't touch that.

A. Arrival:

[...so sometimes this happens in the Sanctum. You open a door and it opens to a completely different place. So he's not entirely sure what's happening but it really could just be a quirk of the Sanctum. He pauses, stumbling out into a hallway that seems to just end, on what seems like the wreckage of part of a building.

He pauses, looking around, and opens the door again but the Sanctum isn't there. It's just an office. He turns, like he's expecting Wong to be right there next to him.]

...right. Uh. We didn't forget to pay property taxes this year again, did we? Or do that little Etruscan ritual?

B. Spot the Difference - cw: body horror

[Cursed objects are his forte. Okay, maybe not his forte, per se. Well, at least he's familiar with them. So when he stands in front of an innocuous looking shed with equally innocuous looking items, he raises his eyebrows.]

Imagine what horrors are held within...stuffed animals.

[But he's also experienced, so he has on a pair of yellow dishwashing gloves.

It was the only thing he could find in a hurry.]

Listen, you should let someone more experienced handle these kinds of things, okay? I know magic.

[Reaching for the stuffed wolf, he pauses to pick up a dumb-looking bowl with a crumbling, eerie pained face on it.]

If this belongs to one of the Entities, we need to have a conversation about their sense of taste.

[And then something weird happens, even through the glove he feels a strange, sparking tingle and his glove is sort of...looking kinda funny.]

Hey, is it just me or do you see that--

[His glove seems to be warping, or maybe just melting, and so is his other hand, like they were suddenly made of candle wax.]

...what the hell!?

i. ARRIVAL

[Caitlyn comes to in the dark. Her head is splitting, her jaw aches, flecks of blood and spittle and paint are drying uncomfortably on her face, and her leg is in such agony that she momentarily wonders if the pain has rendered her blind.

But the thought that she's been dumped somewhere to await some further torture, that Vi could be injured or dead, is far worse than the pain, so she sits up and--

Her head rams into a low shelf, sending a pile of toilet paper rolls crashing down on top of her. She cries out, a hand immediately flying towards her head as though touching it will somehow make it any better. The hand never makes it to her head, though. Instead it collides solidly with someone else who's stuck in this cramped, dark closet with her.]

ii. BIRDSWATCHING

[Her first proper job as an investigator, and she's standing outside an empty park, clutching a device she doesn't really know how to use, watching several people in brightly colored vests build a fence. Shoulders tight, posture ramrod straight, she frowns intently at her surroundings.

She's been told Dogtown is dangerous, but from this vantage point it hardly seems so.]

Why are they keeping us out here? [Her tone is pointed, regardless of whether her assigned partner is really listening or not.] Surely we could acquire more information if we were actually allowed to enter the place rather than watching it from a distance.

[It would be easy to walk in. The builders are engrossed in their task. The only ones watching them are a few birds.]

iii. WILDCARD

[Feel free to throw any other ideas you've got at me! Hit me up by PM if you'd like to plot.]

i. birdswatching

[It takes him an embarrassing long time to notice the birds. Granted, he has been to planets devoid of avian life forms and where he dwelled no birds sang. He is still adjusting to this new world, this Earth, cut off from hyperspace lanes, spaceports, and HoloNets. And with those strange Entities afloat it's only natural that he should be a little behind on its flora and fauna.

Still. It is no excuse. Qui-Gon would have spotted the discrepancy immediately, he's sure of it, and it's almost like he can hear the gentle rebuke to be more mindful of the Living Force.

Obi-Wan doesn't raise his head but lets his eyes shift and glance at the trees from time to time while pulling his hood deeper into his face.]

Don't look up.

[He doesn't; his voice is a soft mutter, his lips barely moving.]

I believe we have been spotted.

ii. current events

[Obi-Wan has a lot of nightmares and quite frankly? This is one of them. It may be one of the less gruesome and heartbreaking ones but that doesn't make him less anxious as he reaches the festivities.

He came here to keep up appearances - apparently it was highly recommended to attend - but now starts the real challenge. Dodging people. Looking busy enough not to invite small talk while looking friendly enough not to seem hostile. Not being in the center of the action, but also not lingering too much on the sideline to seem antisocial.

It's a cautious dance. And it's exhausting.

When he bumps into someone or gets trapped between socializing events, he aims for an amiable smile, mutters apologies and tries to be on his way. After dodging several of such attempts at conversation, he changes tactics and takes some food, hoping it will shield him for a little while. You don't talk while you eat. At least he hopes the planet would adhere to this etiquette.

Unfortunately, the birds don't.

One of the seagulls swoops down with a vicious cry to snatch his meal and then for a few seconds, it's chaos. It tangles with his robe, screeches angrily, hacks at his face while he smacks at it and tries to get hold of its wings. When he finally manages to do so, he flings it away - unfortunately into the face of another bystander who now also has to deal with the angry creature.

Oh yes. Just like the nightmares indeed.]

iii. arrival

[When he first gets to Gloucester and ADI, he looks comically out of place with his sun-bleached dusty hair and weather-worn robes, like he just stepped out of the wild west or a desert monastery. Just for a moment there's open bewilderment on his face before he drops his head, striding forward with empty purpose that he hopes will let him blend in.

He finds himself what seems to be the destroyed part of a building with no recollection of how he got there. That is... disconcerting but he can't dwell on those feelings right now.

There is someone here with him but before Obi-Wan can address them he can spot a patrol up ahead, people who seem to keep an eye on the destroyed area. Obi-Wan moves quickly, pulling them behind a pile of rubble to duck out of view.]

They are surveilling the area.

[He turns to his companion, his face earnest but not judging.]

Why are they looking for you?

iv. wildcard

[gently voicetesting c: hit him up, pm me or find me under

caffettiera]

I. Arrival

When Marc wakes up in a demolished corner of an office building, it is not in fact the strangest thing that's happened to him this month.

It's been a weird little while for Marc Spector and Steven Grant.

He--Marc--gets slowly to his feet, one hand pressed to his temple to keep the pounding there at bay. "Hey, Steven. Mind letting me in on where we are?"

Silence greets the question, and a panicked little burst of butterflies lurches in his gut. "Steven?"

He keeps his voice quiet, but the urgency in his tone is unmistakable. "Steven! This isn't funny. Spector to Grant? Say something, you son of a bitch." A pause, and he screws his face up to do the first thing he can think of that will annoy a response out of his counterpart. "Hey! Stevie! I'm talking to you!"

That's about when he notices he's not by himself.

Well, not by himself... outside of himself.

II. Birdswatching(ish)  
Marc is also very very used to the sensation of being watched. That doesn’t mean he likes it. He never has.  

He likes it even less now, when he doesn’t have Khonsu’s presence to use as an excuse for the feeling. He can feel his temper rising as he walks downtown, shoulders hunched, scowl in place, after a shift at the wall going up around Dogtown. He wants to talk to Steven, is what he wants to do, but that requires a degree of effort - and power - that it shouldn’t. It requires tapping into a place that shouldn’t make him tired to use. A place that, arguably, without the god, shouldn’t exist.  

Marc grits his teeth and ducks into a small alley between a coffee shop and some kind of antiques store, focusing his attention on a broken bit of mirror propped to one side of the alley. When he concentrates, really concentrates, the image there seems to shift a little, and suddenly... it’s not him. It’s a worried, soft-eyed man with his face. One that no one passing by will be able to hear. One that they will, unbeknownst to Marc as yet, be able to see. Sort of. They’ll be able to see something isn’t right with his reflection, at least.   

“Really not thrilled about this little division problem we’re having.”   

Steven glances toward the street, then fixes worriedly on Marc. You shouldn’t be doing this. You heard what they said about those beings, the Entities. We just got done with stopping an apocalypse. We don’t need to help kick off another.

  “We finally get to talk,” Marc says, gruff and irritated. “Really talk. I’m not going to go back to pretending I’m alone upstairs.”  

Steven’s expression softens at that. You don’t have to talk to me to know I’m there, Marc.  

He looks sheepish. "Yeah. Yeah, I know that, but--"

The sound of someone’s approach startles him, and he whips around, ready to fight--except the person approaching gets the alarmed yelp of Steven Grant instead of the scowl and growl of Marc Spector. “Jimmmminee... Christmas. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”  

There is a very British accent where there was very much not a British accent a moment ago. 

WILDCARD.... 
[There were gonna be more prompts but I’m tired and it’s past my bed time, HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME and feel free to specify a prompt and/or which of the boys you want!]

Edited 2022-07-03 02:56 (UTC)

I. Current Events
Caleb hasn't been here two days, and he's already been cornered by someone from staff development. Almost literally cornered - he'd attempted to duck into an office to avoid the unmistakable hazard that is a cheerful person wielding a stack of flyers, only to find that the door to this particular office is firmly locked. And so here he is, back pressed against the door, shoulders drawn up and hands buried in his pockets, radiating discomfort strongly enough that it's almost a physical force.

"I - ah - I'm not very good with--" he begins.

"It's especially important to form connections with your co-workers when you've just arrived," the relentlessly cheerful woman interrupts, and surely he can't be the only one who thinks that wide smile makes it look like she's about to take a chunk out of him. "We're a team! You need to come out and enjoy everyone's company when you have the opportunity."

His slightly over-wide eyes dart, snagging on someone who's just coming down the hall, and there's something a little bit pleading in his expression. Please, please come save him from this hell.

Or, you know, add to the pressure. See if a mostly-depowered wizard can spontaneously combust out of sheer desire to be absolutely anywhere else.

II. Spot the Difference
a. Caleb has - reluctantly - allowed himself to be coaxed into something resembling normal clothing, and so doesn't resemble a refugee from a renaissance fair quite as badly as he had for the first several days following his arrival. The sturdy trousers and long-sleeved shirt are perhaps a little heavy for the July heat, but only they heavy leather gloves he wears really look out of place, and those are a precautionary measure as much as anything else, considering the task at hand.

His breathing shallows as he steps into the close heat of the shed, and he squints a little as his vision adjusts to the dimmer light, gaze tracking towards the only other person currently inhabiting the space. "Have you found anything yet?" he asks, voice quiet, and lightly accented in something that isn't quite German.

b. cw: bodily harm The items Caleb has encountered so far - and there have been frustratingly few for the number of hours he's put into this particular task - have been inert when grasped with a gloved hand, though the metal teeth on one stuffed beast were sharp enough that if he'd been anything less than careful, he might have cut himself badly.

Still, all luck runs out eventually, and his comes to an end when he encounters a set of tarnished silverware. At first, he thinks it's just another harmless set - there have been several, fussy things that have nothing to condemn them but bad taste - but on closer inspection, what he initially thinks are leaves appear to be tears, dripping from a graceful curl of thorns.

Or perhaps not tears. He turns the knife he's picked up to get a better look at the design, and a sudden, sharp pain shoots along his shoulderblade. He curses, head whipping around to see - nothing out of the ordinary. But the pain persists, joined by another slash along his ribcage, and something damp trickles along the curve of his back. The knife slips from his fingers, landing with a jangling clatter amidst the rest of the set of suddenly-sinister implements.

To anyone with an angle to see, the dark red bleeding in patches through his cream shirt is probably a bad sign.

c. His patience isn't infinite. After the injuries inflicted the day before, after several days of frustration, of fighting the itch behind his eyes and the knowledge that he could save so much time and risk with one simple spell, something even a child could learn to cast, it runs out.

Caleb isn't a fool. He waits until he's alone - until his partner has stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, or a bite to eat, or gone to relieve themselves, or for the break between shifts that never quite seem to line up.

It takes all of six seconds to cast the spell, and the afflicted items light up like horrible fireflies, on the shelves and inside their boxes. They seem to warp, twist, and there is something jarringly wrong about them, something that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up and pries with strange, skeletal fingers on the back of his skull.

Catch him, perhaps, as the last quiet word of the spell falls from his lips - or as he stumbles back, catching himself against the worktable, muttering a quiet but heartfelt, "Fuck."

(ooc: No Way Home compliant but not dead set on a canonpoint yet)

i. arrival

[He's on the tour. He loves tours! Especially this tour? This is a really exciting tour? So exciting in fact that their ADI handler has problems getting a word in between all his questions.]

You got an entire division for saving the world? That's really cool. And resourceful! Do you have, can we see the science department? You do have a science department, right? What's the current state of your technology? How many years ahead of the public's technological stance would you say you are? Are you operating outside the military or are they involved, do you have like, a red phone to call the president? Does the president know? Is there a president?

[He leans over to address his fellow arrival.]

Apocalypse Disruption Initiative, isn't that just the coolest name?

[His head cranes up again.]

Hey, uhh, you guys aren't secretly evil, are you? That would be such a letdown, 'cause I gotta tell you, you're really selling this so far...

[Again, he leans over to his companion.]

That would suck, wouldn't it.

ii. riptide

[At first he hangs out on the beach. Sun, surf, food, what's not to like? But man, a lot of people are really grumpy about this event. He doesn't really get it. This is actually nice? It's just really important to have something nice between the horrors?

And surfing. Man, it's like skateboarding but cooler? He's having a great time, really, at least until he spots someone else further out. Far out. Super far out? Peter frowns, then starts paddling towards them.]

Hey! Hi. Are you okay?

[He's balancing on the surfboard, looking back and forth between the waves and his board, looking like he might attempt to stand on his hands. Man, he really wants to stand on his hands. That'd be a neat trick.]

It's just, you're really far out and I thought I'd make sure because this is my first social event and, like, it'd be really mean to let a co-worker drown. Just because I didn't take the extra step and talked to them, you know how it goes? That'd be really neglectful, I don't, I don't do that. That's not me? Me, I've learned a lot about teamwork lately and there's no drowning in team.

iii. birdswatching

[So what do you do when a bunch of creepy birds watch you?

... It's a good question. What do you do when a bunch of creepy birds watch you? Beats him. He stares at them, they stares back. He flaps his hands and makes shooing pigeon noises at them, they stare back. He asks does Polly want a cracker and tosses a piece of his peanut bar at them, they stare back.

Peter purses his lips, then reaches out to tug on his companion's arm.]

Hey. Hey, can you do me a favor? Can you, like, distract the security guards just for a second? I wanna climb that tree and get a bird.

iv. wildcard

[more voicetesting, ~~i'm sorry it's the summer break and i watched a lot of stuff ok :'D~~ hit him up, pm me or find me under

caffettiera]

Edited 2022-07-03 17:08 (UTC)

potential spoilers for stranger things season 4 vol. 1 in the comments
birdswatching.

[ robin has done some strange odd jobs in pursuit of a little spare cash, patrolling doesn't concern her so much. at least if there's anything weird to be found there are people about, others in the same position as her, or people that have more of an idea of what's going on. either way she isn't especially worried. something about ignorance and bliss, right?

so robin patrols, dutifully waiting for something interesting to go on from the perimeters of dogtown, though she doesn't pick up on the birds right away. there's just a feeling, a difference, some kind of shift that she can't quite identify. robin turns to the nearest person, and she's quiet but hardly all that subtle. ]

So is there actually anything going on in here? I mean, it doesn't look all that exciting, right? It just looks abandoned.

spot the difference.

[ if this is some kind of upside-down powered hallucination, it's dragging on a little long, without any kind of reveal. robin is still waiting for something to come jumping at her out of the shadows, but until it does there's little else to do but...go with the flow. at least until she comes up with a better idea, that is.

the flow doesn't so much direct her to handling cursed objects as a natural curiosity that has gotten her into trouble before does, but avoiding the weird happenings doesn't exactly prevent them from existing, and in her experience she'd rather be in the know. still, when faced with a pile of objects and wearing a pair of cumbersome gloves, robin can't help but wonder if maybe she should have sat this one out. ]

Does this look haunted to you? [ she holds up a perfectly ordinary teddy bear, shaking it a few times before squinting at the thing suspiciously. ] What are we even supposed to be looking for, is something going to jump out at us? If all the forks start bending, I'm so out of here.

wildcard.

[[ open to any + all prompts! hit me with something or hit me up @ sharknado with questions ]]

[ ooc: note that all of dio's prompts contain major spoilers for virtue's last reward! ]

ARRIVAL.

Hey!! What the fuck is going on here!?

[ Banging on the locked door of what seems to be a supply closet, Dio yells at the top of his lungs with fury in his tone. But behind that anger… is unmistakably a barely concealed layer of panic.

He was supposed to be in Rhizome-9. He’s sure that’s the place he’d snuck into only minutes before – so where the hell is he now? And how did he get here? No matter how hard he thinks about it, he can’t figure it out. Unless someone knocked him unconscious – the thought of having been caught before his mission even begins makes his throat tighten with fear – but wouldn’t he remember that, at least?

Maybe he should be more cautious about making a scene, but Dio can’t find it in himself to care. The only thing holding back the panic he feels is adrenaline, and he hasn’t been tied down, at least – so he’s going to take advantage of that if he can.

When the door actually opens, he steps back, surprised- before his expression twists into a scowl once more. ]

You’d better have some explaining to do! Where the hell am I!?

BIRDSWATCHING

[ They’re watching him.

Dio’s not scared. Obviously. He’s the leader of the Myrmidons, for fuck’s sake, and these are just a bunch of- stupid birds. He’s got nothing to fear and he knows it, and he tells himself that repeatedly as he walks away from Dogtown, scoffing at the complete waste of time it was to show up at all.

And yet.

And yet. He can feel their eyes on him. No matter what way he turns, or how much he tells himself it doesn’t matter, the sensation of their gazes bores into him, sending a chill down his spine. He can’t do a thing. Every move he makes is being watched, and if he makes even one misstep…

He’s so out of it that he doesn’t even notice the person approaching him, too busy scanning the streets for birds. When he does, he immediately flinches back, before scowling, calling out in an angry voice- ]

Fucking hell, can’t you watch where you’re going?

WILDCARD

[ Feel free to throw anything at Dio here! ]

arrival
[Okay, this looks bad. But there's enough weird shit in the world that he refuses to freak out at the drop of a hat. He doesn't have any theories to immediately explain how he went from the homestead to someone's posh office; he didn't see any of Strange's magical sparkle shit, and most magic has at least some kind of visual effect to go along with it, or a tingling down the spine.

Been in worse situations. This isn't the middle of a fight. He just needs to get out of here and figure out where he is is all. He leaves the office, takes a quick glance around, and moves like he knows exactly where he's going. Smile politely at anyone he passes and keep moving. Best way to avoid being noticed is to look like you belong.

Let's see how long he lasts before he hits something that needs a keycard.]

birdswatching
[Okay, this looks stupid.

The entire situation is a kind of insane that he...doesn't have to necessarily understand to deal with. Time travel, sure, been there, done that. But this is some kind of alternate timeline where those five years never happened, even if part of him tries to think of where he was right around this time, what country he was rampaging through under a new guise (a new self). These people want to avert some kind of apocalypse and haven't even been through one.

It itches under his skin, but he's been trying, really honestly trying, to let the anger go. These people, supposedly, had nothing to do with a bunch of people just showing up and are just trying their best. Which is all anyone can do.

Watching an empty park does not really jive with that idea, though. He's dropped off outside a damn park that needs some upkeep with some fencing being built with an order to make note of anything paranormal.]

How exactly are we defining paranormal here?

[Because he's seen some wild shit in his lifetime that could've been defined as paranormal to a civilian. Just saying.

Also, being boots on the ground isn't his style. It isn't long before he's scaling a nearby building that better overlooks the grounds, paces slowly along the edge of the roof like a sentient gargoyle. Which puts him, actually, well within view of the birds.

Of all the birds. Every single one of them. Watching him as intently - more intently - than he watches them. And it is well and actually fucked up that his fingers itch for arrows, wondering how many he'd need to start culling them.]

spot the difference
[Okay, this looks...like nothing. It looks like just a bunch of random shit, and they're just supposed to, what, look at everything without touching it to see which one has a design that looks a little off?

It isn't that he doesn't take it seriously. People have literally been going nuts, and mind-altering and reality-warping is something he's got a little first hand knowledge of. But still. He's opening up a box of what seems to be silverware with gloves more suited to welding than this, and he feels silly.]

I gotta admit, I have no idea what we're looking for.

➥ Arrival

[ Hopefully whomever was in the same, rubble laden building as Will wasn't expecting their partner in crime to show up any time soon. Laying awkwardly across two pieces of broken concrete wall, the ex-profiler took his time working his way from is this hell? to why am I not dead? to where am I?

Body twisted in an artful tangle of limbs, it was the slow realization that the bleeding knife wounds on cheek, thigh and shoulder were hurting way too much for him to be dead. That Hell suggested a reality that was too in line with Hannibal's way of thinking for Will to want any part of, and finally that if he was going to work out where he was, he was going to have to get up.

That seemed like a lot of effort but with a groan Will inched his way down the concrete slab, landing like an awkward duckling on the dusty floor. His open wounds stung as the dust hit raw flesh and Will sighed heavily before muttering under his breath. ]

Can't even manage to die without making it complicated.

[ Pushing himself to his feet, he began to take further stock of his situation when a noise (perhaps someone else clattering about) caught his attention. The instinct to retreat until he could get eyes on potential danger warred with a first responder's instinct to check on people. Too weary to maintain any healthy level of paranoia, Will followed the latter. ]

Hello?

➥ Birdswatching

[ At least he was no longer in a blood stained white shirt. That was the good news. Bad news would be the fact that he's standing somewhere he probably shouldn't be, yelling at birds. ]

Listen you rats with wings! Until you start sprouting horns I don't want to hear it!

[ Hear what? The birds weren't making any noise. Might be best to leave the madman to his devices, but if you feel like asking he does pause in his bitching to set his hands on his hips and stare right back at the birds.

Yeah, he's probably going to regret that later. ]

➥ Current Events (cw: We Feast Upon the Flesh / Hannibal canon subject matter. If you want to avoid it completely, let me know and I will steer the conversation away.)

[ The events in Dogtown are definitely coming back to bite him on the ass. It is almost impossible for Will to see anyone else at the barbeque except the seagulls and the gulls are making him itch.

Not physically, but psychologically. The sort of itch that has him standing with the top off his hamburger, poking at the patty with a concerned finger. Sometimes lifting it up to his nose did that smell like long pig? Each time he made to lift the food towards his mouth, a gull would settle its feathers, causing Will to drop the burger as if burned.

At which point the paranoid staring and sniffing actions would start up all over again. ]

arrival

a; the demolished area

[Altaïr straightens, and in an instant goes from chaos to desolation. It's more than enough to startle him, who just this day thought that he would never be surprised again. What...? Another vision of the Apple?

He has no answers, but his instincts are still with him. Tucking the treasure into his robes, he flicks his wrist to draw his hidden blade forth. Reconaissance, investigation, an efficient solution if necessary. He'll do as he has always done.

Whoever he comes across in this place is likely to find themselves up close and personal with the blade if they appear to present the slightest threat. If not...perhaps they'll solve the puzzle of this solution together.]

b; the tour

[Altaïr is glowering presence throughout the tour, such as it is. He speaks little, taking in everything they are told; how much he comprehends is less clear. Regardless of how friendly his fellow new arrival may or may not be, it seems that he's content to keep his thoughts to himself...until they're set free for the chance to settle in.]

This is madness.

[Or not. Is he talking to himself or his companion? The difference seems negligible.]

spot the difference

[Altaïr has no desire to serve those he does not trust. But this task is...something that may help the people, in some way. He can imagine ordering his men back home to investigate the source of tainted goods that have sickened the citizens of the Holy Land. Here, he can do so himself, and do so easily. Except that with his second sight have come strange urges. He doesn't understand it but he's intelligent enough to spot the pattern. This could make it worse.

One step at a time. And maybe, if he keeps it brief, nothing will happen. Altaïr shifts his vision and spots the objects immediately; a face on a mug, spiderwebs in the crevices of an intricately carved toy, a few more things. All glowing bright red in his sight.]

There, there and there. [He points.] These are what we've come to collect. The rest are benign.

[If he sounds absolutely certain...well, he is.]

wild card

[ooc - set up literally anything and I'll roll with a scenario you think would be fun!]

Edited 2022-07-10 01:59 (UTC)

i. Arrival
Methos's first thought when he finds himself flat on his back in a shallow pit, chunks of concrete digging into his spine, is that must have been one hell of an explosion. The second is, where was the bomb?

The third comes only as he pushes up to his elbows, and realizes that not only is there a significant percentage of building remaining, what remains is absolutely unfamiliar. Which isn't an entirely alien feeling, but is an incredibly unwelcome one. At least if he's been knocked out and relocated, he's free to move, and there's no one looming over him with a weapon. Small mercies.

He rolls up to his knees, fingers ghosting over his now very dusty coat, noting the familiar shape of the weapons that were not, apparently, taken from him before he was dumped in a rubble pit, which only serves to make all of this stranger. He picks his way carefully to the nearest piece of cover, peering out from behind it to survey the rest of the blasted demolition zone and - yes, that's certainly a security patrol along the perimeter. Damn.

He spends a little while watching that patrol, memorizing its movements before he makes his own move.

Perhaps you're someone else who woke up in the demolished portion of the building, in which case when he spots a hint of movement or hears the shift of rock beneath someone's feet - well before anyone not trained specifically and thoroughly in stealth can get close - he'll raise a hand in a gesture of warning and hiss, "Get down."

In English. This may take a few tries.

Or perhaps you're part of the patrol - or a further ring of security, not immediately visible from the rubble - and alert enough to spot him when he tries to slip past.

ii. Poseidon Quivers
Methos - Adam Pierson, to anyone on this world - has been working on building an obelisk, which should be simple enough, but has come out looking a little - well, more than usually - phallic. This may or may not be intentional.

He reaches out to add something to it - and overreaches. Seeing as it's sand, it topples at the halfway point, spilling over his hand and into the shallow trench that surrounds it. He frowns slightly, and pulls his hand back, looking down at it in mild puzzlement. He flexes his fingers, and the frown deepens, a slight furrow forming between his eyebrows.

He didn't feel that, either the collision or the movement of his fingers.

And that should definitely be more troubling than it is.

iii. We Feast Upon the Flesh
Eventually, he regains enough feeling in his hand to be able to hold a plate filled with burger and fries. He's halfway through when he notices a quartet of seagulls nearby, eerily still. Watching him.

He makes a shooing motion at them. They don't move.

He picks up a small, sea-rounded rock from near his heel and lobs it in their direction. One hops sideways to avoid being hit. Otherwise, they don't move.

He considers his plate, then breaks a fry in half and lobs it in their direction, expecting an avian squabble to break out immediately over the treat. One of the birds hops over and snaps it up. The other three don't move.

"Now that's just wrong," he says to anyone within hearing distance.

iv. Spot the Difference
It is, perhaps, a little hypocritical for a man who's existed for millennia - who's died and returned more times than he can count and has slain others like himself to absorb their essence - to be skeptical of magic. But in all those years, he has seen very little that couldn't be explained, either at the time or later, when science caught up to experience. He's willing to allow that magic exists, but it's rare, incredibly rare, and certainly not found in...garbage. Mispainted pots, stuffed toys, some old widow's silverware.

He's still diligent about his task, sorting the weird from the merely tacky, but four hours in, he hasn't had even a whiff of anything supernatural, and is all the more convinced that the exposed workers must have been exposed to something else, some kind of hallucinogen, either by accident or deliberately by someone wanting to cause hysteria.

He's currently picking through one of those boxes of silverware - strange design on this one, more like a kid's Halloween party fare than anything that would be bought for normal use - when something stings along his arm. He frowns, and swats at it with his free hand - that's all this stuffy little warehouse needs, biting insects. His hand comes away bloody, and he swears in irritation.

And then stops, as a gash opens across his palm. It's the exact mirror of one he'd once made with a much sharper knife, and he stares at it in disbelief for a long moment, as though he can will it away.

It isn't closing.

Threaded | Flat

QUESTIONS

eve baird ► the librarians

Dr. Stephen Strange | MCU - Canon compliant to MoM, MoM spoilers possible within

caitlyn kiramman | arcane