redstringtheories

Entry tags:

!tdm

TDM #1

➥ Arrival

(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.)

➥ Sticks and Stones

(cw: hallucination, potential mind-control)

Weird things happen in Dogtown, everyone knows it. The Apocalypse Disruption Initiative (ADI) is not above taking advantage of that to test out the waters for its newest arrivals. They're not looking to send anyone to their death, though. That's far too much paperwork, you'd been assured with a wink from the employee who'd directed you to the park trailhead. You've been left with another person. 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, there seems to be something odd afoot with the stones around the park. Instead of the questionably useful advice they offer, there is, instead, something embarrassingly or horrifically true about you carved into the stone. Trying to show your companion or gauge their reaction will net nothing; they will simply see their own truth. It's only when you admit to what's on the stone that it seems to become visible to others or any camera in your possession.

Take a picture. The least you deserve for the trouble is some money.

➥ I Will Survive

"We'll have others with you, but all of you will be out on your own for missions, so to speak," the ADI employee who had led you down to the underground training facility explained. "You'll need to have some basic skills. Even if you're not going out soon or ever… it's safer to know these things."

Basic skills, in this case, appear to mean survival and weapons training. The room you've been brought to on Floor B3 below ADI Headquarters is a massive, underground gym, and there are sections set up for various skills practice. One side of the gym is dedicated to fighting: bare-knuckles, wrestling, knives, and tasers are all out on display. There are also a few guns, but those are reserved for people who can prove they can manage the other weapons first. The other side has areas for fire-making, building a shelter, navigating without a phone, supply preparation, cooking, and basic first-aid. Through a side door, there's also a small pool where people are being taught the basics of swimming.

Any or all of these skills would be useful in a dangerous situation, and there aren't enough native ADI employees to cover training for all of them. If you show that you're proficient with something, you'll be asked to man one of the areas to assist in training others. If you're at a loss and looking lost, you will be pushed toward whatever skills practice area is physically closest to you, whether you wanted to learn anything about that or not. Best make the most of it… and try not to kill anyone or burn anything down.

Even those who have refused ADI Housing and taken themselves to Bonnie's Flophouse will find that they're welcome for this training under the strict understanding that no supernatural abilities will be used. Bonnie will have informed them of it and helped them get to ADI to ensure they learn some of the things they might need to survive... and also just to bond with the people they'll be working with for the foreseeable future.

➥ Shifting Perspective

(cw: body horror, implication of near-drowning, violence, potential for blood, gore, drowning, death)

The beaches around Gloucester are numerous and varied with reported supernatural activity at many, if not most of them. For those working with ADI, they'll receive the direction in a mass email from Reyes Amador, the assistant to the Head of ADI. For those not technically working at ADI, Bonnie will provide the same information.

All,

We have received reports of strange noises and sightings at Coffin Beach. Please take at least one other person and investigate. A $300 bonus will be offered to those who bring back evidence of the source of these reports.

Take Care of Yourselves,
Reyes

Those who head to Coffin Beach will find that the sand beneath their feet squeaks softly with each step, like the faint sound of a poorly-maintained hinge protesting their movements. It makes stealth especially difficult, and those who wish to maintain their cover would do well to stay farther up into the vegetation and off the beach, itself. There aren't any houses out this way, just coastal marshes, the beach, and some higher ground with low-growing shrubs, tall grasses, and thin trees.

For the patient, those who wait for night to fall, they will be rewarded when they hear the sound of someone crying. Searching the beach, they will be able to spot a young person who appears to have washed up in a kayak on the beach. The young person is visibly injured in some way with blood coming out of them. Those who approach cautiously may get the sense that there is something not quite right about this person. Man or woman, their face is too long, their angles too sharp.

There is something wrong. It's not the injury.

There is something very wrong with what this person is.

They will not respond to any calls or move from where they lie, half-submerged in the surf. Anyone who approaches within a few feet will discover they're not nearly as helpless as they seem to be, though. The person will burst from the water with a powerful thrust, attempting to tackle anyone nearby and bite them. The person's face transforms into a long, fanged maw, trying to rip and tear and drag their prey into the ocean with them, away from any safety.

➥ Mod Notes

ARRIVAL: 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. Please refer to the Arrival page for details regarding the arrival and onboarding process.
STICKS AND STONES: If so desired, to facilitate CR, characters may feel themselves compelled to ask about the stones when they see their truth written on it. Resisting the compulsion will become more and more difficult as time goes on.
I WILL SURVIVE: Characters may be students or trainers in this scenario. They might be able to get away with small displays of supernatural abilities if they want to risk it and if they find themselves with the necessary reserves of power. Anything significant will have them immediately removed and asked not to return to ADI for a few days.
SHIFTING PERSPECTIVE: Characters may fight off, capture, or kill the creature. If they successfully capture it and bring it back to ADI (or call for someone to come and do that for them), they will receive a significant monetary bonus beyond the promised $300 for their work. If characters successfully kill and document the kill, they will also receive the bonus and instructions to push the body out to sea. If a character is taken by the creature, they will be killed. Please bear in mind that if a character dies in the TDM prompt, they are dead. A different version who doesn't have TDM memories may be apped in their place.
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Arrival
What the-

[Mercy blinks rapidly, disoriented as she finds herself going from the sun-dappled shadows of the forest in Leighland to something close to pitch blackness in her eyes. It's a cramped space that smells of strange chemicals and dust, and she grips he dagger she's had out for cutting herbs even tighter as she takes a step backward.

Into someone.

Mercy shrieks bloody murder and whirls, flailing an arm. If her fellow new arrival is particularly unfortunate, they may be stabbed.]

Sticks and Stones
[Never in her life has she held something as fantastically amazing as a camera. Mercy can barely focus on the job at hand with her companion after they're shown how to take pictures with it.]

Wait, wait! Here, let me get a picture of... oh, he's gone. Did you see that bird? He was brighter'n a cherry just come off the tree. It's- Oh, hey... Ain't that one of them stones they said was in the-

[She breaks off, blanching as her eyes skim the words carved into the face of the stone:

'You're the reason Crys is dead.'

Her gaze flicks to her companion, horror painting her features. Are they seeing this? This- No. No, someone couldn't have carved that? How would they even know?]

I Will Survive
You need some help?

[The young woman smiles gently at her fellow... new arrival? She's not heard a term for them beyond that from the people working here. She's dressed in a short brown dress with green sleeves and black stockings. The white cloth of a novitiate covers her head, but there is no crucifix or other notable jewelry about her person. She speaks with what seems to be a Southern drawl.]

I been told I'm excellent at surviving. Specially when it comes to cooking. You know how to build yourself a campfire that don't smoke something fierce?

Shifting Perspectives
Come on. We gotta help.

[Mercy's whisper is urgent as she and her companion watch the person on the beach clawing pitifully at the sand. This is what she's been training for. Brother Earth wouldn't look kindly on her if she let another go to him before their time. No. Not Brother Earth. That's not the one she's serving. This is for the Spring Tide. Life. She is here to bring life.

She starts to stand up, unless her companion stops her.]

► ARRIVAL

( she expects to be dead. there are few details about the underworld considering that those who find themselves there don't return to life but from the sparse texts that are written of it, the old whispers of gods this place is certainly not what zelda expected. particularly since she's found herself in a broom closet.

she's immediately confused, hands coming up to her face in the dark in her surprise, in checking for effects of martin's spell, to see that she's okay-- but what magic would she feel?

it's why after several deep breaths, trying to calm herself, to make the start of a plan does she finally open the door, stepping out into the hallway, looking down it in both directions. and there's at least someone there )

Hello?

( she won't ask where this is, not when this should be the underworld but-- which part of it is she in? )

► STICKS AND STONES

( zelda understands the consequences very well, or at least it's something that she believes. though it makes the task ahead that much more difficult. she has spells that could easily locate magical or paranormal activity but in being unable to use them? this isn't the kind of investigation that she's used to or that good at.

but she's not alone at least. and whilst there's been polite if awkward small-talk on the way over zelda's quieter as they look around, focused on the job in hand.

something that apparently becomes easier to find than she'd expected. which makes her stop, startled and the wonder, a little fear is immediately obvious in her expression because that rock has something far too true on it.

which is why she now speaks up, cautious in it-- ) Those rocks. Can you... read what it says?

( not that it was in any language but english but she also doesn't know how to ask otherwise )

► I WILL SURVIVE

( it hadn't been optional. whilst zelda was open to helping, enquiring about what she could potentially do to help this wasn't what she expected. she was a librarian, investigating through knowledge but being required to learn combat skills or how to use a gun?

someone had tried to hand a weapon to her, to demonstrate the basics with her but her already up hands curl inwards towards her, moving away from it without fully stepping back from them )

Oh, no-- I don't use weapons.

( usually she has magic but after the warning, she's very cautious about using it )

Arrival - Ducts

Binx is no stranger to sleeping cold and uncomfortable, nor to dark, enclosed spaces. What is new to him is awakening someplace other than where he fell asleep. Consciousness comes to him slowly at first as his sleeping mind reassures itself that the threat is over and done, that he needn't awake right away, that the children are--

It's the realization that he's no longer in Dani's arms that has him thrashing suddenly awake, golden eyes wide in the darkness of the vent. "Dani--?!"

He's not alone, but it's not Dani or either of the teens. Binx's gaze fixes on the person sharing the vent with him, his back up. He lets out a fully feline yowl, as much an attempt to distract from his mistake in speaking as it is a warning to this person who appears to have kidnapped him.

Arrival - ADI Housing

"Oh, snap," mutters Binx, gazing in dismay at the apartment door that has closed and latched in his absence. He was sure he'd wedged it open--someone must have come by and closed it. With a resigned sigh, he jumps and tries for the doorknob. Then again. And again.

Round doorknobs are the worst.

Sticks and Stones

Regardless of his partner's attitude, Binx hadn't bothered to even try to bring the camera ADI had attempted to provide him. The equipment manager had muttered something about attaching a go pro to a collar for him the next time, but she has another thing coming if she thinks Binx will let himself be subjected to the indignity of a collar.

The moment they left headquarters, the yellow-eyed black cat trotting along beside their new employers was instantly replaced with the illusion of a teenage boy, his long hair tied in an unkempt ponytail. An illusion is all it is; whenever someone forgets and reaches out to touch him or give him something, he seems to duck out of the way or fumble whatever he's handed, letting it drop to the ground. He seems a bit startled whenever anyone notices him an engages him in conversation, and meets the gaze of anyone looking at him with an odd expression, like he finds their behavior bizarre. Of course, from his perspective they're all looking at a point more than five feet above his head most of the time, so he might be forgiven for requiring an adjustment period.

Their guide says something or other about him and his partner splitting the bounty if they get any photos, but as soon as they're left alone Binx contradicts them.

"Don't concern yourself about the money," he says. "I haven't any use of it; you can have it all."

I Will Survive

There's little one can teach even a human-brained cat to do with a weapon, or a set of firemaking tools. Binx had tried to simply slip out after someone joked about using him as target practice, but instead he's found himself cornered in the side room with the pool.

"Thank you, but I do know how to swim," he's protesting, which is unfortunately only met with insistence that if that's the case, he can demonstrate.

Arrival
[There is a pain that blinds him, but here, at the end of the world (again), he has Martin and he is loved.

And then he is somewhere else.

The pain hits like a freight train, and he feels empty. Hollowed out and left a husk, a shell. The Eye has not left him, not entirely, but the crushing weight of not Knowing suddenly is intoxicating and horrifying.

He has a moment to revel in it, to stare around, before he realises how badly he's bleeding. And it doesn't heal instantly beneath his fingers.]

O-oh. I- help?

Sticks and Stones
[There is a click nearby, and Jon whirls to face it, immediately on guard. He knows that sound. He knows what it heralds, and he feels sick that he can hear it in this new place. Hasn't he done enough? Hasn't he fed the Web enough?

He gives the tape recorder a hard look.]

Leave me alone.

[And then turns his attention back to the standing stones.

They look like rocks, but when has something looking normal ever been an indication of anything?

He walks around it, and sucks in a sharp breath of air that tastes of blood and tape at what's written there, carved into the rock.

This is your fault]

I don't think this is a mundane rock.

I Will Survive
[Part of Jon wants very much to help these people. He should. it's his fault. all of this is his fault. He's obligated to help them really.

And part of him looks at this training room, with the weapons and supplies and wants to laugh. Or be jealous. Angry maybe.

He wants to sneer at the people training with guns, like guns had ever helped them Basira shooting over and over again until Daisy's monstrous form fell. Like the mundanities of survival had done anything to stop the apocalypse.

But that would mean revealing himself. And while he probably deserves whatever punishment might be meted out to him, he doesn't want to die. Not until- he needs to know if Martin is here, if he's okay.

And he thinks he can be more use alive. Maybe he can prevent the apocalypse here.

So he slopes over to a corner, gives the fire-building area a wide berth, and finds himself looking over maps. Actual physical maps.

Might not be a bad idea honestly. How many phones had he got through at home?

He settles down and starts trying to work through the instructions with single-minded intensity.]

1) Arrival

[ Gojou is a bit surprised by the change in surroundings. Time doesn't pass in the Prison Realm, so he has no idea whether he's been there for days or years. All he knows is that he had been relaxing just fine when suddenly there's a whirl of imagery before his eyes, then he finds himself in a rather standard looking bathroom.

He lifts his blindfold, just to get a gander at the place without looking at its cursed energy. Lowering it again after a moment, he shrugs and looks around to see who else is here. He can sense someone there. ]

Friend or foe?

2) Sticks and Stones

[ Gojou shifts uncomfortably as he stares at the stone. 'You killed your best friend' is written in blazing letters across it and he's not happy with this at all. It's not as if he's ashamed of the fact, but it's not exactly something he wants to advertise either. ]

Do I have to take a picture of this?

[ He steps in front of the stone, trying to block what it says from anyone else here. ]

3) I Will Survive

[ While Gojou is holding back from using his powers, he still makes a formidable opponent when it comes to martial arts. The people in charge quickly learned this and put him to work training others. He likes teaching, so he doesn't object to this. However, his method of teaching is a little more hands on - involving actual fighting to learn the moves, rather than going through the instructions. ]

4) Shifting Perspective

[ Gojou is not really bothered by the sense that something is 'wrong' with the person. He's encountered things like this before and he's sure he will in the future, again and again. From the feeling alone, he's assuming this is a supernatural creature, and he keeps his distance for now. ]

Be careful. Don't be drawn into its act. Something is going on here.

Edited 2021-07-05 22:28 (UTC)

1. Arrival
It's a mere flicker between leaving the office (last one there, past 8pm and only twelve hours before she's due back again) and finding herself not in the corridor of the office building she spends the majority of her waking hours in, but in what seems to be the server room of an entirely different office building. Locked from the outside, doubtless for information security, far too small, and she's not alone either.

It's tight, too tight, for two people, and Meredith presses herself back against the server racks in an attempt to offer the other person in the room some space.

"I...what? How'd I get here? Who are you? What's going on?"

2. Sticks and Stones and Dislocated Bones
Meredith seems hesitant to accept the assignment when she hears that they're going to a park large enough to have trails. As most people have noticed, she walks with a cane and tends to be slow even on nice even carpeting or tile floors like in the office. But it really doesn't take long before she and her new partner spot a rock that makes her stop and squint at it.

"Well, that's just sort of rude, now isn't it?" She points it out, expecting her partner to see the same words she does: MORE OF A LOOSELY-STRUNG PUPPET THAN AN ACTION FIGURE. Clearly a jab at her joint problems.

3. I Will Survive. Hopefully.
Despite looking like the sort of prim polished office drone who never gets her hands dirty, Meredith's at least somewhat proficient in first aid, even for dealing with unusual matters like 'acid burns' and 'acute freezing of extremities'. While she's not a doctor, she can at least offer advice on first steps until someone can get to one.

This leads to her being put in charge of a first aid class. Someone's set her up with a whiteboard easel and a couple of markers, and she's just about done explaining the basics. "The really big picture is that you have to first get someone who's hurt safe, and then you begin to work toward stability, if possible. Remember to be vigilant for signs of shock. They won't always look the same in all circumstances, but after you've seen them a few times...you pick up on it. Any questions?"

[ooc: spoilers for Persona 5 Royal!]

A. Arrival

[Goro Akechi wakes up.

That, in and of itself, is surprising enough. When the world had faded to white and shattered around him, he'd fully expected that to be the end. For a moment, as he comes back to himself, the he considers the idea that he might be in his own, fully-deserved, hell.

He just hadn't expected hell to smell so strongly like cleaning products.

And be so annoyingly cramped. In the darkness, he can't tell what's jabbing into his side -- if he didn't know better, he'd think it was a broom handle. One breath, two, then he shifts experimentally, bending his knees, his elbows, cautiously rotating his neck. He still can't see anything, but he's alive. Or at the very least, he's not fully dead, and that's about to become someone else's problem.

With a wordless growl, he lunges forward what little he can, scattering what sounds like cleaning supplies here and there, banging gloved fists against every wall in an attempt to find the door and break it fucking open. If you're outside, it just sounds something like a wild animal trying its best to escape.

If you're inside, well. Watch your head.]

B. Sticks and Stones

"Find and record paranormal activity," is it?

[A young man in a sweater vest and khakis stands at the entrance of the park, unfolding the map and glancing over it with evident boredom and thinly-veiled annoyance. A beat, then he folds the map and turns toward his partner, shaking his head with a sigh.]

Well, let's get this little "orientation" over with, shall we?

C. I Will Survive

Hm.

[For a boy who looks to be barely out of high school, Akechi seems more than comfortable with the weapons on display. With an expert's precision, he checks to see if the pistol he'd chosen is loaded, weighs it in his hand, ensures the safety is on. He slips protective earmuffs over his ear and sights down the barrel downrange toward the target.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Two shots to the chest, one to the heart. His eyes remain cold and dispassionate as he surveys his handiwork with a soft hum and removes his earmuffs.]

If nothing else, they certainly seem well-prepared. I wonder how seriously the police here take firearms licenses?

D. Wildcard!

[None of these work for you? Want to do something else? Use this prompt here! Akechi can generally be found anywhere exploring both the building and the town, generally trying to familiarize himself with everything. He'll accompany someone for shifting perspectives as well!]

1. Arrival

(Last thing Ren remembers is the swaying of the train on his way back to his hometown, peaceful and calm save for Morgana's sleepy ramblings as he tosses and turns inside Ren's bag. Suddenly, he's found somewhere completely foreign, devoid of any light other than the sheer glow under the door. His head thumps with the beat of his heart, disoriented to the bone and he has to brace himself against the nearest bookshelf to keep from falling to his knees. The world spins and turns he despises it from the bottom of his rebel heart.

After a moment of deep breathing and attempting to put his thoughts in order inside his scrambled brain, Ren'll attempt to move. Poorly. Forgive him while he fumbles in the dark, possibly elbowing, headbutting or bumping against another living soul stuck in the janitor's closet. A great way to start.)

2. Cooking Classes!

(Proficient is a word that can definitely be used to describe Ren's cooking skills, especially of the curry variety. He's volunteered to teach a few of the basics - how to cook meat, make sure nothing catches on fire, the proper way to chop and dice without losing a finger, and other precious lessons for those starting in the field cooking.

He's rather patient as well, so no worries if the first attempt was a bust. Ren'll just teach it again with a smile that can't fit any more kindness in it.)

Let's try again.

3. Wildcard

(For the other prompts, I'm going to tag out! Other than that, feel free to just hit me with whatever you feel like, or PM this account to discuss!)

Edited 2021-07-06 11:20 (UTC)

Stick and Stones

Pope doesn't know what to think about all of this. He's dealt with spiders and creepy sounds and he's feeling kind of at home. Now they're sending them out into the creepy woods and, well, he's feeling right at home.

Now he's there on the edge of a trail with a camera in hand and someone else tagging along while he hunts down paranormal information. He's been assured they won't let them die. He's heard that story before, and the reassurance is anything but. Especially with someone else there with him.

He's torn on that. He's used to being alone but if there's something or someone out there looking to kill him, having someone he can sacrifice to them isn't the worst idea. So he offers his best smile, all cheery and joy as he gives them a curious look.

"You ever done anything like this before? Not my first hunt, I admit."

I will survive

Living his life in the woods, Pope knows a lot about survival skills. So he throws himself into the hand to hand combat first, enjoying himself as he gestures for someone to come closer.

"Come on. Try it." His look is casual and friendly, but he is a skilled and aggressive fighter with a hunger for blood.

He is doing great with the hands on camping skills, willing to show others how to start fires and other off the land skills he's learned. He's doing great.

Right until he gets to the pool.

He stares at it, glancing back at another and then at the pool.

"How deep you think it is?"

Most of his time in water hasn't been in this form, and he hasn't really learned how to swim. He was much more on the side of drowning people not swimming with them.

Shifting Perspective

There's an ease in the dark and in the woods. It's natural, even if these aren't his woods. This isn't what he's known but it's familiar and comfortable as he slips along the edge of the trees, looking down along the beach. He is all about collecting the money. Not that he's ever cared much about it, but he has been having fun about whatever the hell this place is, and he is enjoying playing along with their games.

So when he sees the body on the beach, catches the scent of blood, he feels like his gut it knotting up. Others have come and gone all night, he's heard them along the beach, and now he's watching as another heads onto the sand and heads down towards the injured party.

Suddenly it all seems to sync in his mind. The blood. The prone body. The lack of acknowledgement to draw others in. He knows it because he's done it!

He doesn't even think about it, rushing forward just as it lunges for the other person. The sound he makes isn't entirely human, shouting out in what is more a roar than yelling as he rushes forward. He's not usually the hero but he can be on helluva jealous monster as he tries to get between this creature and their intended victim.

(ooc: Pope is a cryptid with shapeshifting abilities to hold a human form when it suits him. He's based on the Pope Lick Trestle Monster (a goatman) in Kentucky. More details can be found here.)

Arrival

[ Marcus opens his eyes to darkness. The air is stale, mildew-y, and when he reaches his arms out he knocks several bottles of something or another off a shelf. As his eyes adjust he can just barely see the outline of the door, but upon standing and feeling around for the handle he finds it's locked. And just his luck, there's no light switch. He turns back towards what he assumes is the center of the small room and waves his hand in the air, looking for perhaps a string hanging to pull for the light and... smacks someone in the face? He startles back in surprise, both that he didn't sense them before or hear them moving around, but he supposes he was a bit occupied. The little adrenaline spike has his heart racing now, but his accented voice is smooth and cool when he speaks. ]

...oops. Might've been polite to announce your presence, you know.

Sticks and Stones

[ Searching for paranormal activity is something Marcus is actually intimately familiar with, though not in the context of this world. His experience with what most people would consider supernatural is very real but very specific -- demons, and demonic possession. Omens, portents, mutilations, all that sort of thing? He knows. This is something else entirely, but he figures the skills he's honed will translate. And they haven't sent him out alone.

It's all pleasantries until they make it to the park, at which point he stops walking and turns to his companion. ]

So what do you make of all this, really?

I Will Survive

[ Marcus is possibly the oldest fellow on the fighty side of the gym, and while he's confident in his strength he's not so sure about actual combat. He was a priest, not a brawler. Still, he's cheerful with the instructor, eyes bright and sharp despite the lines around them. ]

Time to teach an old dog some new tricks, eh? What should I grab?

Shifting Perspective

[ Marcus is among the patient of those sent out to the beach. He waits in the grasses off the oddly noisy sand, watches, and listens... and is rewarded with the sound of crying. A familiar lure, he thinks, and peering down the beach he sees the source. A figure washed up, slumped over their kayak, bleeding. Should his companion move to aid the stranger, Marcus throws an arm out across their chest, like someone stopping short trying to keep their passenger from being thrown forward. ]

Don't. I have a bad feeling about this.

Wildcard

(( Hit me with whatever! Different training prompts, assigned roommates in the shared housing, grumping about the food selection ADI provides... I'm easy! ))

STICKS & STONES

[ whoever his partner is, larus hasn't said much to them since they'd started their trek along the path towards the rocks. if he's being honest, he doesn't particularly care about the reward over what he might find, already accustomed to things being a certain way despite the circumstances. but at least he can see where he's going and avoid a tumble down the side of a hill in the dark. he's lost count of the times he's reached out and steadied the person with him, nudged them back away from a sharp drop or a dangerous looking ledge.

should he bring that up in conversation? honestly, at this point, it probably doesn't even matter.

so, they walk. if the silence is unnerving, he doesn't bother to address it, and once they reach their first stop, larus stares at the words – or word, rather – etched into the stone and blinks once before finally addressing his partner. ]

Do you see that? What's it say?

[ because it's completely possible he's also hallucinating. ]

I WILL SURVIVE

[ he hasn't had to use many survival skills as basic as wilderness training in a very long time. when he'd been a boy, perhaps. even longer than that? larus can't remember, but a few things have continued to stick with him since then—however many years it's been.

crouched down by a pile of sticks, he sorts through the tinder and kindling and frowns at the missing pieces of the puzzle. it would take him a while to actually build a fire like this without the proper equipment, and perhaps that had been the challenge all along? he'd much rather be training with some of the weapons, even if he found most of them pointless to what he could do with his own hands. yet, he's picking his way through each section as best he can with what knowledge he has, and once he gathers some things together, he decides to just circle around some of the other people working on the same thing and observe. perhaps this puts him in a position to really know what he looks like he's doing; even if he does, sort of, it doesn't mean he should give advice. at least until — ]

If you light it like that, you're going to catch yourself on fire.

[ spoken deadpan and unimpressed. but more than that, the wind is blowing in the right direction to make what he says true enough. ]

WILDCARD

[ for quick info, larus is a (young) vampire in his canon. more can be found on his journal! hit me up with other prompts as well. i'm very keen on writing out shifting perspective with anyone interested and would be happy to start! just let me know. will also match style ( prose, brackets ) so hit me with whatever! pm for questions. ]

A; Arrival
[Pain. It hurts so much. She didn't know being deleted hurt. When you think of deleting something on a computer, you think of it being instant; this hurts and it hurts slow. It's disorienting enough that she has no context for where she is, no idea that where she is changed. There's pain, and then there's a flash of blue-green in front of her. It's eye-catching and solid in her crumbling vision. She reaches for it--

And crashes to the ground, newly-made, a perfectly solid ghost made of binary and electricity, clutching a turquoise Switch Lite to her chest like she'll fall apart if she lets go. And only now, as her panicked breathing slows, does she realize she's curled on the ground in some kind of office building. It's dark; it's nighttime, even though that kind of concept shouldn't exist anymore.]

Hello? [Her voice sounds small in the quiet dark. She doesn't like it. She summons up some false confidence.] I hope I didn't scare anyone when I dropped in! It was an accident.

B; I Will Survive
[It's not that she's squeamish. She's probably lost the right to claim anything close to that. But, looking at the weapons, looking at the knives, Monika certainly feels out of place. Self-defense is important, of course! Any young woman knows that. But maybe there's--a bit of a difference between the sort of self-defense she grew up (ha) expecting and the sort of self-defense this place seems to expect of her.

Her hand hovers indecisively over a knife. It looks very practical. Not ornate at all.

She shifts to the tasers.]

This sort of thing shouldn't be too hard to learn, right? [Monika certainly doesn't look like the kind of girl who would be getting into a bare-fisted brawl or stabbing anyone, if nothing else.]

C; Sticks and Stones
[Monika has been ignoring the rocks. She's been ignoring them as hard as she can. But it's like they say: if someone tells you not to think about a white elephant, that's all you're going to think about. You shouldn't be here, the rock says, and Monika can't deny it's true but she doesn't want to see it, doesn't want to acknowledge it. She doesn't want to think about it but it's feeling more and more like if she doesn't say something the truths she sees on the rock will come bursting out all over. It was murder, the next one says, and she just can't stand it.]

Do all these rocks seem weird to you? Ahaha, maybe it's just because there's so many...

D; Wildcard
[If you'd like to hit Monika up elsewhere, she would be found around the ADI HQ and housing getting her bearings, as well as taking a few curious forays into town while trying not to get lost. If you'd like to plot something out, I can be found at

maiiau!]

Edited 2021-07-06 05:13 (UTC)

(OOC: Replies to prompts may go into spoilers from the movie Spiral, let me know if you'd like me to avoid them.)

I. Arrival

[As soon as the impromptu tour is over, William does a pat-down of himself to make sure he has everything he normally carries on him. He still has his wallet, his badge, his phone, his wedding ring -- hell, he even has his service weapon. Damn. That's some level of trust right there.

The information that's been presented is a lot, and some part of him is still reeling. But there's another part of him that's closing in on accepting it, in his own odd way. Sure, this is absolutely fucking insanity but he can kind of grapple with it. Because if something like this existed, and if some weird shadow organization was grabbing people to be a part of it --

-- well, what was the phrase? "It's an honor just to be nominated?" Whatever. It was the kind of shit he'd eat up with a spoon, and some calculating part of him couldn't help but think it made perfect sense he'd be yanked into something like this.

Turning to his fellow tour companion, he ask:]

What do you make of all this? I'm kind of still taking it all in, gotta admit. It's a lot.

II. Sticks and Stones

[He'd always been a city boy, and he was dressed the part, so wandering around the woods in dress shoes wasn't exactly a natural fit. Still, he did his best, keeping the pace with his impromptu partner, trying not to let it slow him down. Besides, some part of him was curious -- he wasn't from a place where supernatural phenomena popped up, at least not that he was aware of. It could be interesting.

Still, he stops dead in his tracks when he sees it: a boulder with stark black letters on the side, the letters high and clear on the rock face.

"There is no William Schenk."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just looking at it with an odd expression. Eventually, he makes a low sound, barely even a word.]

Huh.

III. I Will Survive

[He gets roped into helping out at the shooting range, which is just as well. William knows he'll need to learn some of the more survival-based skills at some point, but he knows he's not coming in flat-footed. Might as well help out with the recruits who are fresh-faced and in need of some training with a firearm.

With a friendly smile, he asks:]

First things first, I guess: you ever held a gun before?

ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇ

[ falco was a small boy as he was young; barely past four feet and no more than twelve years old, he's oddly managed to surprise the expectations of their instructors down to the use of weaponry to the point that he could be useful. he was no grand expert or pro, but it had been clear that he was intelligent and experienced in learning all of this. boy's scouts was something he wished he was if he knew what it entailed. for now, the boy catches in his sights someone that's having difficulty with something or other. maybe they are unsure of how to hold a weapon or make a proper fire. weather exercises, hiding your food, even knots and setting up camp, tell the time by the sky or navigate with stars— ]

Excuse me, [ sir, or ma'am, which ever was necessary. he's awfully polite, even meek when he approaches and would damn hate to boast about what he knows that other's don't. ] do you need help with that?

[ be it firearms, maps, navigating or other basic survival skills, knives, food, aim, shelter, water, first aid— you name it. he gestures to whatever it was that's in the person's hand or immediate task, and with briefly pressed lips: ]

I'm trained.

[ alternatively, there is one thing he needs some practice with, and that's modern firearms, at a work station pulling apart either a pistol and neatly setting its parts across his table. he's not merely taking it apart as a child would playing with toys. he's studying it. absently, he looks to the closest person that has hovered close enough to his vicinity to speak with, whether they're observing him or not. ]

Everything really . . . Evolved, didn't it?

[ there's palpable unease in his voice, disappointment wedged with unavoidable sadness. ]

sʜɪғᴛɪɴɢ ᴘᴇʀsᴘᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ (one tag in please!)

[ if falco was anything, it was purposeful when he chose to do something. on the beach at the call that could mean something to his world and his own, falco has decided to monitor a part of the shore that hadn't been taken yet. of course, there was safety in numbers, and he was sure not to be a loner and let his neighbors know where he was. who knew— being so young, maybe you've decided to partner up with him. who wants to leave a kid alone on a haunted beach?

either way, when he spots the shape, falco doesn't think twice— he signals and runs for the rolling waves. his heart skips and jumps and runs just as fast as his legs did when he saw a woman; he goes in innocent, and he cries out, coherently to the closest helper: ]

There's a woman—!

[ the boy goes as far as to drench his legs up to his knees to reach her. perhaps he doesn't hear enough warnings over the ocean's loud hushing and sea foam hissing. maybe she was hurt, maybe that's why she looked wrong—

but maybe from afar, with more keen and suspecting vision, you'll see that it's very wrong, and it's unsafe for falco to get so close. ]

Edited 2021-07-06 20:09 (UTC)

I. ARRIVAL

[Jamie doesn't know what to make of this "in the hangar one minute, somewhere strange the next" nonsense but he doesn't like it at all. He's completely at a loss to explain how or why it happened, and the only thing that makes sense is that this is some Backdraft fuckery, because they're the only people he knows of who hate his team enough to screw around with them to this extent. Also because if something is going wrong in his life, it's probably their fault. Somehow.

The room he's in isn't immediately foreboding, though. There's row upon row of tall, dusty metal filing cabinets with tiny labels in faded ink, written in a language he can't read. He's disproportionately intrigued by these, because they're all full of paper. Just drawers and drawers of paper with more indecipherable text on them. He's never seen this much paper all in one place before, let alone covered with reams of nonsense. Its mere existence baffles him.

A noise nearby startles him out of his contemplation of a page of accounts receivable for July 1997, and he whirls to face its source. At least he still has the wrench he was using to tune up his Zoid, and he brandishes it as menacingly as he can manage.]

Wh-who are you? Don't come any closer! I mean it!

[This warning is undermined somewhat by Jamie's less than impressive stature, and the fact that he's probably not speaking any language his companion will be familiar with. Some of the words sound tantalizingly close to English, but they're just different enough to thwart any attempt at understanding them, and the cadence is off, too. The tone is pretty clear, regardless.]

II. I WILL SURVIVE

[Somebody decided that the scrawny runt who spends all his time in front of a computer needs some hand-to-hand combat training! Ahahahaha.

Jamie's expression says loud and clear that he knows he's pretty much screwed. He looks like he's ready to bolt at the first sign of hostility.]

Is this really necessary? I mean, are they expecting us to punch a ghost or whatever?

III. WILDCARD

[choose your own adventure. feel free to PM if you have questions or concerns!]

A. arrival

[There's a banging coming from the air ducts.]

Hey!! Someone, help!! Hello? Help!! Let me out!

[Even if one can't speak Japanese, it's obviously a cry for help from a young woman, accompanied by the sound of fists slamming against the unforgiving metal.]

Is anyone out there? Let me out, please!

B. sticks and stones (spoilers for DRV3)

Oh...!

[Kaede had been walking with her hands clasped behind her back, more engaged in looking at the birds and humming a soft rendition of Vivaldi's Summer than she is in seriously looking for like... ghosts, or whatever. Like, that's obviously stupid, right?

She pulls out the phone the ADI staff had given her and holds it up in both hands to take a picture of a bird's nest, but as she brings it up, she freezes, spotting a rock emblazoned with an accusation:

nothing you did mattered
and
LIAR]

Hey, what the heck's up with those rocks? [She points, then crosses her arms with a visible pout.] Jeez, people really shouldn't put mean messages out in nice parks like this, you know? I wonder if there's somebody we can report it to...

C. i will survive

Hmmm...

[Fingers twisting together uncomfortably behind her back, Kaede's gaze flicks over the weapons on display, visible concern on her face.]

I mean, brass knuckles are totally out, and knives are still really close... but it's not like I want to shoot anyone! Aaah, jeez, I'm a pianist, not a fighter! They don't really expect me to like, fight anyone, right?

[-She's talking to herself, a low murmur through a deep frown. A beat, then she claps her own cheeks with both of her hands in a display of determination.]

Right! I can read a map, though! Or, well, I can learn! I'm sure I can help like that!

D. shifting perspectives

Okay, sure, it's probably a ghost. But what if it's someone who needs help?

[Tucked behind a half-rotten piece of driftwood, Kaede keeps her voice low, fingers gripping the wood in clear consternation as she looks between the bleeding figure and her partner. It's not that she doesn't like working with someone -- it's reassuring, really! -- but it also means there's someone who could get hurt.

Then again, there's someone who's obviously hurt right in front of them.]

Maybe we should call the police...?

Arrival

[It was strange going from the quiet solitude of an empty Panopticon to…an office? Not his office, of course - there were not enough strategically placed eyes – but an unfamiliar office with…people.

Elias stared, his eyes narrowing coldly as nausea slid awkwardly into his stomach. These were not familiar faces, not people he Knew or knew, and his brain was strangely…unfamiliar with so much that dwelling on it just made it worse.

He had just watched Jon go into the Lonely to fetch his wayward boyfriend, and now, this. No yellow doors to be seen. No Distortion laughing. So…what was this?

He feared he would be sick. Not that the carpet looked like anything more than a basic high-traffic patterned piece. They might not even notice.]

Excuse me, but…can you tell me where I am?

Sticks and Stones

[One hundred dollars. It hardly seemed worth the trouble of anything, but the vague “peculiar” idea was so open-ended that he wanted to see for himself.

Apocalypses didn’t grow by themselves, after all. And if there was nothing, it would be easy to falsify “evidence” and get the money anyway, thus avoiding a pointless trip.

So paired with a person, he sighed as he walked, looking for anything…odd. There was a rising, toiling memory of doing his own research when he was younger, of course, a time mixed with long-dead familiar faces.

How they would have laughed at him now, starting over.]

Have they told you what “peculiar” means? It seems rather open-ended.

[He sighed, vaguely annoyed, before he caught something from the corner of his eye. A word. Several words.

The bodies get higher the longer you breathe.

Well, that was interesting.]

I Will Survive

[“Basic skills”.

He looked at the weapons and fighting, an eyebrow arched as he watched sparring, training. He could hear the splashing of swimming, which was fine but vaguely odd in the scope of things, and dragged his eyes back to the first aid.

Odd, but…. did eye replacements count as that?

His hands slid comfortably into his pockets as he shook his head. This was not the place where he should be; he belong in offices while people did this for him.]

Is there something more…supervisory, perhaps? I have been known to excel in that area.

Arrival - Janitor's Closet

This is not where he's supposed to be.

There is a loud yell and a vicious string of curses in no less than three dead languages when Jake falls face-first into a nest of mops and buckets. Some of the buckets are full of...some unfortunate-hued liquid and in his frantic flailing in goes his shoe into one of the buckets.

"Great! Just great! Who broke the door this time? Ezekiel? Cassie!? I bet it was you, Ezekiel!"

Because obviously this is just a broom closet in the Library and the Door had simply deposited him in the wrong spot.

Sticks and Stones

Jake has fluctuated between wild anger and seething grumpiness, which the nature of this mission isn't helping. Because it's just like the missions back home, and he should be going home to the Library and not here. He just wants to get this over with. He's glad to be out here and doing something familiar.

Except what promises to be an interesting mission has now turned unfortunately, quite personal.

Jacob Stone is a genius.

Something that he's hidden for a long time, something he was just as embarrassed as proud about, something he's hid for forty years. He looks at his companion, his eyes wide.

"I...can explain."

I Will Survive

Jake is in the gym on the "fighting-section" side. He's got experience in brawling--messy, wild, untrained fighting, but he's also got a few years of Baird teaching him the professional basics plus the martial arts that the Monkey King taught him in Shangri-La.

It's clear that he enjoys fighting, as he throws a few punches in the the air for practice.

"You wanna spar?" he asks the next person that walks up. "I could show you a few moves."

i. arrival

[There is something very, very odd about thinking you're not going to wake up, and then doing exactly that. The vacuous feel of space is somehow not as foreign to him as he'd like, and the brush of death similarly so; it's hard to say he would know when it's finally over.

Of course, it only makes sense that it would never be over. Not for him, no. It would only be a kindness if he actually was able to call his own shot.

Instead, he finds himself coming to with a sharp pain, a fogged mind, and... oh, that's quite a lot of blood, actually. Turns out there happens to still be a knife somewhere in his chest, and despite all he has been through his hands still shake when he looks at it, when he starts to move to touch it and then stops. Probably best that stays where it is, if he is indeed still... somewhere.

He doesn't look up quite yet, doesn't survey his surroundings. Instead, he just speaks a few quivery words.]

... Martin? B.. Basira? Did t--

[Oh, standing up is going to be a no go for the moment, and he groans and stays on his knees.]

ii. sticks and stones

[This, at least, feels almost normal. If he closes his eyes and thinks as hard as he can, he might find himself back in the Institute before the everything, comparing notes on a case with Tim, asking Sasha where she kept her notes. There was so much before the Archive, before everything that stacked itself into its neat little path that he was forced-- no, chose to walk. He chose it, in the end, and he needs to remember that.

In the meantime, he's far past the point of heavy denial on just about anything, and is intending on doing the job he was sent here for despite it all. He's not sure how all of this might tie in or make sense, but-- well, some of it just doesn't. It's all a statement, all the same.

If he listens hard enough, he can hear the click just before his eyes lay on a nearby stone.

This is the fault of your cowardice.

Jon simply sighs.]

Did we get any information about exactly what we're looking for here? Or are we simply stumbling about blind?

iii. shifting perspective

I really wouldn't go near that, if I were you.

[There have been many times Jon has been accused of simply Knowing something in his life, but this? He doesn't need any kind of supernatural knowledge to know that 'strange crying' and 'things that only appear in the dark' is practically bait. Admittedly he's been in his own head about all this very much, but he feels as though-- no, he should help them, of course. If he still believed in karma or some kind of justice, he'd imagine it was that. Instead, he does what he can... which at this time is whatever small ability he has to convince someone not to go running into the surf to their likely death.]

It's a bit... predictable to be any kind of safe bet.

i. arrival

[The first thing he does is try and find information. Breaking open office drawers, trying to find a computer someone left unattended and... searching for a calendar on the wall to get the current year.

Flynn can only surmise that something went wrong during a jump and he's suffering from short-term amnesia. It's the most logical explanation but it also means he can trust absolutely no one until he figures out why he came here. He's calm and professional while he quietly makes his way through the building but a slight frown hints at his frustration.

However, that falls off when he spots his fellow arrival. There's an amiable if slightly unsettling smile when he approaches them.]

Greetings. Do you work here?

ii. sticks and stones

So do you think they had a vote on the name? ADI? Disruption, that's kind of lowballing, don't you think? I mean, should we be worried that Prevention didn't make the cut? It just doesn't inspire confidence, you know?

[So. Mission time! If you're lucky enough to be paired with this guy, you might eventually get so see a side of him that isn't really obvious on first glance. Despite looking like a 6'4'' Eastern European contracted killer (which he is, minus the contracted maybe), there's another part that comes out once the boredom hits.

Commentary.

Lots and lots of commentary.]

I'm just not too sure if playing park ranger is the kind of proactive move you should make if the fate of the world seems to be at stake...

iii. i will survive

[Finally. Flynn grunts his approval when he sees all the weapons lined up and quickly makes his way over to the firearms. Except they stop him right there and for some reason want proof that he can do the bare minimum before allowing him access. Ugh. Of all the times to be a bureaucratic hardass about these things...

At first he feels like arguing. Like, did you want him to actually help with your things that go bump in the night or not? But playing nice is probably his best bet until he learns more about this place. And if what they have told him is actually true.]

You!

[When he sees someone else working their way through the arsenal, there's an impatient wave before he helps himself to a taser and a knife.]

Come here. I want to level up to the good stuff.

iv. shifting perspectives

[Flynn knows nothing about monsters or the supernatural. However, the time traveling he's been doing isn't that far removed from impossible concepts coming to life so it doesn't take him long to adapt to this new reality.

So there's monsters now. Big deal. As long as he can shoot them he thinks he can handle himself.

His face is impassive when he watches the wailing woman in the kayak, especially once he gets close enough to spot the strange wrongness about her features. But he knows there are far too many goody two shoes in this place and he quickly looks around if anyone makes a move towards the woman. If so, he will attempt to grab their arm and yank them back.]

Easy there, tiger. If that isn't a strange noise and sight, I don't know what is. Let's try something first.

[And, seemingly oblivious to what an asshole move that is, he starts picking up stones and throwing them at the wailing woman in the sand.]

( sticks & stones )

[ while hiram does enjoy traveling, home is and always will be the pine barrens and the cabin he'd--more or less--been raised in. being told he's trapped here for the time being is.. inconvenient, particularly as home isn't that far away, really. if, that is, it isn't inhabited by some other jersey devil, which he supposes is possible. still, the idea of just leaving is tempting enough that he's distracted at the park, and doesn't actually care enough about the money to be recording.

what the fuck's he supposed to record, anyway? as far as he can tell, he's the most supernatural thing around. except.. his companion seems to be focused on one of the stones. hiram stares at the stranger's profile for a few thoughtful moments, then flicks his glance to the stone in question, catching a few words there that he doesn't bother reading. ]

Curse, prophecy, or uncomfortable truth? [ in his experience, mysterious weird shit inscribed on rocks is one or the other. ]

( shifting perspective )

[ when they find the crying figure, hiram knows immediately that there's something wrong with him. or it, he supposes. he's a monster, too, after all; how could he not recognize something so fucked up? give it ten, twenty years, and it might be as well-known as hiram himself.

instead of approaching, he drops lightly down into the sand to sit a respectable distance away, out of its immediate line-of-sight and hearing, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his palms to regard the creature. ]

So, [ he says casually, and turns eyes on his new partner that are suddenly luminous in the near-dark, gleaming like an animal's. ] Monster, ghost, demon, or something else? [ he smiles, then, and there's something.. off about it. too wide, maybe, teeth just a little too sharp. (is it any safer to be with hiram than with the thing half in the water?) ] We could kill it, probably. If you want.

( network | un: devilish )

Raise your hand if you're not human.

( wildcard )

[ catch him at headquarters checking out the canteen or poking around the offices or whatever, really. ]

i. arrival

Oh! Excuse me. Hello?

[Cassandra hurries to catch up to her fellow arrival, seemingly unbothered by the strange location or not knowing how she got here, almost as if this isn't the first time this has happened.]

Hi. So sorry to bother you, you're obviously very busy with... sneaking around, which, okay, is a little weird but probably perfectly reasonable. Anyway! I was just wondering if you could point me towards the nearest exit?

[There's an expectant smile on her face.]

Because I'm in the wrong place.

And... I need to get to the right place.

ii. sticks and stones

[At first she is full of energy and zeal, actually looking forward to the mission and having something to do. Cassie sets out exploring and documenting the park with enthusiasm but also a kind of routine that hints at this not being her first rodeo.

At least until she sees the writing on the-- well not wall, but same idea. It's there, on the rock, in big, mocking letters.

Cassandra Cillian betrays her friends.

Oh. There's a stricken expression on her face but after a moment she approaches the rock, gently running her hand over the writing before turning back to her companion.]

In my world, we once fought a shapeshifter. It fed on lies and could be trapped by telling the truth. Maybe these are protective spells of some kind...

iii. i will survive

[Yeah, all that... fighting, she'll leave that to someone else, thank you. There is a very conscious side-stepping of the range and sparring mats. It's bad enough that Baird makes her run these training simulations all the time, if she can get around it for now she absolutely will.

What she's really interested in is the navigation corner and she's soon busy scouting the equipment for maps of terrain and stars that let her cross-reference. They told her this is Earth but what if the alternate timeline she finds herself in has subtle changes?

But when she taps into her synesthesia and tries to draw up the latitude and longitude of her home world into hallucinatory images, everything is a mess. Colors, lights, impressions, they're all scrambled, tasting like burned pistachios and smelling of daisies. Numbers dance in front of her vision, then melt like burning wax, leaving her confused and disoriented.]

No, that's... that's not it, Tropic of Capricorn, located at 23° 26′ 14.440″... perpendicular to all longitudes at the intersection points...

[For a while, she mutters to herself, looking like she's staring and drawing or conducting in thin air. But it's futile and before long she scrambles to get pen and paper.]

Two Earths at the exact same location but with a frequency of potential Apocalypses the probability of tectonic or orbital changing events should go up considerably...

[She scribbles for a while before she becomes aware of other people again, her head snapping up.]

Hi! Hello. Are you interested in maps? We have lots of 'em!

iv. shifting perspective

[The thing is, she sees the wrongness. But it doesn't deter her one bit. Supernatural creature or not, they obviously need help.]

Hello? Can you hear me?

[Cassandra approaches the kayak, slowed down by a sudden headache when her mind tries to calculate all the angles and numbers in which the appearance of the woman differs from a regular human.]

We're here to help...

Edited 2021-07-07 17:15 (UTC)

( sticks and stones )

[ Far from being the most enthusiastic recruit, people have not yet accused Iqbal of being uncooperative. Still, his attitude among the stones, in search of what is — at best — a menial anomaly, shows both inaction and a desire to get this over with.

The first time he comes across his truth isn't so much a shock as it is annoying. Like someone above knows why him being here is offensive, and is pointing a finger at his powerlessness — because the greatest insult of all is to shine a light on a god made of darkness.

You can't hide.

Well. If that isn't worth a cigarette, then what is? ]

Is that for you, or for me?

i. sticks and stoners
[ He feels like David Duchovny, out here with his... all-in-one phone/notebook/flashlight/camera, investigating some paranormal bullshit. Apparently, he and his new partner are just supposed to wander around this park and keep an eye out for anything weird. Like what? Ghosts? Werewolves? Fairy circles? Will-o-the-wisps? ]

See anything, Scully? [ He looks over at his (unfortunate) partner with a lazy look, before pulling one corner of his mouth up in a half-smile. ] Or I could be Scully, if you want. Bet I could pull off one of those very smart skirt suits. Whatever it takes to get paid.

[ As if on cue, that's when he sees it, the writing etched into a large stone.

YOU'LL JUST SPEND IT ALL ON DRUGS. All that lazy bravado washes away in an instant. ]

Fuck!

[ He draws in a short, gasping breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he covers them with his hands. Like a kid who can't stand to watch a scary movie, god, he's so fucking pathetic.

Not here, not here, not here. It can't be happening. ]

ii. i will survive
[ So here's a fun fact: Jeff has no skills. He is skill-less.

Well, that's not true. He has plenty of skills, none of which lend themselves to the worlds of paranormal investigation or wilderness survival or whatever. Apparently, there's not a whole lot of demand for musicians here. And the second he even offers to just sing a fire to life, he's shushed immediately.

No magic. He's gotta learn things the boring, mundane way.

As a strapping young man (lean, bordering on too skinny, and looking like a moderately forceful shove could send him stumbling over his mile-long legs) he's immediately herded to the more physical activities. Anyone lucky enough to be paired off with Jeff for fighting practice is probably going to have an easy time of it. One of three things is likely to happen: ]

[ 1: Jeff will try to sucker punch you, then immediately try to run away and escape from the consequences of his actions. ] Shit, shit, dude, I'm so sorry! White flag-- Truce!

[ 2: Jeff will try to distract you and totally derail any fighting practice with a languid smile and some awful flirting. ] Shouldn't we oil up before we start rolling around on each other?

[ 3: Jeff, fed up with the whole training session, starts singing a very lovely song that just so happens to be carrying a nasty little spell. At first, it may seem like he's, weirdly, serenading your character. But there's something else there, in the melody, a creeping, dreadful sensation that tries to claw its way into your heart and send you running in terror. (Or maybe you aren't the target. Maybe you're an instructor, or a bystander, and it's probably time to grab this little prick by the collar of his shirt and yank him out of the sparring area.) ] And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had...

iii. wildcard
[ Throw anything at me, I'm flexible! Will match prose or action. Quick character info: dumb bard from a modern fantasy universe, had big dreams of becoming a rock star, and recently experienced his own Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust courtesy of a demon finding its way inside his head. Also it's like 1995/1996 for him. More info in his journal. ]

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Mercy Graves | OC

zelda schiff ► the magicians

Thackery Binx | Hocus Pocus