redstringtheories

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TDM #18

➥ 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.)

➥ An Eye for an Eye

Photo of caucasian hands typing on a laptop and holding a cellphone. Internet symbols are displayed around the phone.
(cw: toxic online behavior; supernaturally induced cruelty and social anxiety)

Since the dawn of the Internet, hiding behind a screen has always seemed to bring out the worst in people. You'd think, though, that a company network with accounts easily traced back to their owners would largely be an exception to the rule, and maybe so far it has been–but lately the ADI network is becoming a seriously unsafe space. It's not that the rumor mill is churning out falsehoods, at least no more than usual (there's always some risk of that when you bring people together and make communication lightning-fast). No, the problem is that lately people are being entirely too honest with one another. Brutally honest, in fact.

Do your coworkers annoy you? Maybe they smell weird, maybe their eyes are set too far apart, maybe they whine and complain too much or you simply find their mannerisms off-putting. It just feels right to tell them about it over the network–you're just being honest, after all, and the truth shouldn't hurt unless they deserve for it to hurt. Even the kindest, most socially conscientious individuals on the network find themselves getting caught up in the need to share their most judgmental truths, feeling righteous in the moments those messages are written or recorded. It's good to get things off your chest. It's good to air everything out.

Being on the receiving end doesn't feel so good, though. Everything hurtful that's just been said to you: that's the truth; that's how people really see you, and you know with certainty that everyone around you is keenly aware of your every failing. The brutal honesty of friends and acquaintances cuts through even the thickest of skin, and coming back to the network to argue, to tell your own truths in retaliation, to read and reread hurtful messages like you're prodding an open wound just feeds a growing addiction.

Off the network, face to face, the urge to be brutally honest with one another is suddenly gone, replaced with shame over all you've been told and all you've told others. Can you still meet your roommate's eyes after what you said to them online? The compulsion may be gone until you're back on the network, but the impact of your words remains, unforgotten.

➥ Softly Falls the Snow

Photo of trees covered in snow.
(cw: potential for temporary blindness/injury to eyes, skin injuries, acid burns, weather catastrophes)

Snow seems to have arrived late this year in Gloucester. January sees the first big storm blow in, blanketing the coastline in light flurries. As the early part of the month progresses, there are occasional storms that bring fresh powder. Most of it is fine, but every now and again…

"Acid snowfall," the weatherman announces. "Keep yourself bundled up and inside, folks. It's not just the sting of Old Man winter on your cheek this year. Experts say it's not likely to melt you like the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz, but it can do some light damage if you're out in it a little too long. Researchers from NOAA - the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration are looking into the reason for the sudden and unusual phenomenon in our slice of the state. More news to come on that front as they figure out just what's going on with our ever-changing climate."

Out on the streets, the reporting seems to be mostly correct. Those who find themselves out in the snow will find that it tingles a bit more when it lands on bare skin. But mixed amongst the normal snow, there are darker, heavier clouds with a purple tinge to their bellies. The snow that drifts from these clouds is sharper. It doesn't just tingle where it lands, it burns. Faces, eyes, tongues, anything it hits. Fabrics are eaten away at a faster rate, and you might just find yourself hurrying inside with holes all through your clothes if you're not fast enough to escape. The indoors might not even give you full respite. The flurries from these clouds seem to last a great deal longer than they should and dance through the air on wind currents that don't make sense. They'll follow you in through doors and windows to add another burning rebuke. The sky, the weather itself, seems to have turned against everyone. How do you escape a 'natural' phenomenon?

➥ Phasmophobia

Photo of ghostly woman within a grim and forbidding room. All in black and white.
(cw:ghosts, broken/altered limbs and necks, implications of drowning and being buried alive, spider-like imagery)

It starts as a flicker in the corner of your eye. The sound of someone moving, of eyes on the back of your head. Except no one is there when you turn to look. There’s a brush of fabric as someone walks past, but the storage room you’ve stepped into is too small not to see who’s there with you. Someone crosses the street beside you, but when you look up to take notice, they’re already gone. Maybe it’s just the stress of living in Gloucester, no one’s immune forever. It’s a reasonable thought.

Until you’re headed out of the bar one night and a man lingering nearby the oddly deserted street gives a hoarse cough. You think. A dry, wretched sound that doesn’t hold the harsh repetition of a cough, but of a low rasp of a voice that doesn’t come out correctly. He steps closer, and the evidence of why is clear: his neck isn’t right.

Stretched impossibly long, his neck holds his head on his shoulders precariously upright as he reaches a hand out to you. Snapped vocal chords rasp and he staggers a step forward, causing his head to roll unsteadily on the column of elongated muscle and dubious bone.

Across town, you look up from washing your hands and perhaps learn the taste of your own heart jumping up as a face stares at you in the mirror from directly over your shoulder, her mouth spilling dirt and blood onto it as she tries to scream and torn fingernails claw at your back.

Elsewhere, there’s the wet splat sound of something slapping down the hall towards you. If you don’t go to investigate yourself, it will soon come to you as a dripping, bloated, corpse drags bound legs behind it. As soon as the pits that were its eyes turn in your direction, its pace quickens in a desperate drive to get to you. It claws at your ankles, at your knees, as its mouth spits water and wretched howls of insistent anguish.

There’s eyes on your back, you’re sure of it. Positive. And there’s a sound of something creaking and the unsteady pattern of steps, like each one is carefully made. This time there’ll be something, you tell yourself, this time- you’re right. When you turn, something long lurches and hobbles behind you. Each limb is rail thin, stretched beyond comprehension, but what looks like a stick-legged spider, is most assuredly a person. Or used to be. Now it offers wretched rasps like whispers mixed with nails on a chalkboard as it toddles towards you.

The ghosts change, each one as horrible and gruesome as the next and never in the same place, but they all do the same thing: talk and grasp and try to catch whether with nail or teeth or arms that might wrap too many times around you, they want to get you, chattering their static or scrambled or damaged voices at you the whole time. Take a swipe, a kick, swing a weapon….and it passes through their desolate forms, trailing the image like smoke behind it as they vanish from sight. Though, not without leaving traces of their scratches or dirt or blood behind.

➥ Mod Notes

ARRIVAL (January 1-31): Two people will almost 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 information about the state of ADI Headquarters.
AN EYE FOR AN EYE (January 1-15): Tech-minded individuals who manage to stop tearing into each other long enough to dig into the network's system and access history will discover that the increase in antisocial truth-telling corresponds with an external device having hacked in. Further investigations reveal that the hostile device in question shares unique identifying information very similar to a security system ADI agents recently encountered while cleaning out the Oculus Cult's warehouse of horrors. Once the source is discovered, the network will be shut down for a day on January 15 to revert settings, beef up security, and eliminate the brutal honesty-inducing effect.
SOFTLY FALLS THE SNOW (January 1-31): There are two kinds of acid snow. The normal sort that is discussed in the weatherman's reporting, and a more supernatural variety. Anyone who comes in contact with the supernatural acid snow will experience acid burns that can vary in intensity from mild skin irritation to something that needs medical attention and skin grafting to fix. The acid snow probably won't completely dissolve you or your clothes if you don't stand out in it for hours on end, but characters may be able to surmise that if someone were to fall in the supernatural snow overnight and not get back up, there might be nothing left of them by the morning. The supernatural acid snow also seems to have a mind of its own, moving in ways it shouldn't and trying to land itself on bare skin. If examined under a microscope, the supernatural snowflakes seem to be pulsing and moving.
PHASMOPHOBIA (January 1-12): The ghosts can’t be fought, actions taken against them will dissipate their forms temporarily. More than one person can see the same ghost at the same time or in two different times or locations. Regardless, if they get hold of a character, they will claw and scratch in a way that, afterwards, might seem more like desperation than intent to hurt as all the injuries are largely superficial unless an errant nail gets lucky. Despite their attempts to seemingly talk to the characters, the only words anyone might be able to parse with any dubious certainty are pleas. Sightings of the ghosts will taper off towards the middle of the month with no further reported incidents past the 12th.
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Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

A - Arrival
[It isn’t an immediate surprise that Yvienne finds herself waking up in an unfamiliar place. That tends to be what happens when she overdoes her magic, and her body shows all the signs of it, from her dully pounding head and the annoying sense of disorientation and heaviness. She wonders how long it was this time... surely her parents and Lariatte must all be quite worried. Perhaps even her teacher had managed to muster up some concern!

It’s only gradually that she comes to realize that something is wrong. The ground under her is hard and cold and shifts with each movement she makes, and she can both hear and feel the wind blowing past her. Despite her own struggle to stay away, the alarm gives her the adrenaline needed to push herself up and get a better look at her surroundings. The mountains are gone. She’s in the middle of rubble, surrounded by an odd kind of fence, with only the sky as a familiar sight. This isn’t... somewhere anyone she knows would have taken her.]

Oh dear... to leave a lady lying in the dirt like this, some people really don’t have any manners at all. A good thing I’m not in my uniform... [She says it lightly enough, but it’s clear from her face how uneasy she really is. And while the language sounds close to English, there’s an odd cadence and accent to her speech that makes it ring not entirely right to those from Earth. Looking around for any clue as to what happened and how she got here, she finally manages to spot what looks like another person. It’s not that she doesn’t find that suspicious as well, but... at this point, she doesn’t have many options other than to try and speak to them.] Ah - excuse me? Are you alright?

B - Softly Falls the Snow
[Even in a strange world, the weather is something Yvienne can’t help but be drawn to and fascinated by. And weather as bizarre as this, she definitely can’t turn a blind eye to. She hadn’t even had any exposure to snow in her own world since she discovered her magic, so how could she miss the chance to do so in this one? Her teacher would be disappointed with her to know she was slacking off - and it felt like what a witch and student should do in such circumstances.

But still - she’s no fool. She can see people hurrying inside with holes in their clothes and burns on their face.]

Hm... it’d be one thing if I could borrow someone else’s, but I hardly have enough spare clothes to go and waste them for curiosity’s sake. [She’s talking to herself as she stares out one of the office windows at the dangerous flurries. It was empty when she came in, but she’s too absorbed with her thoughts to have noticed someone else entering.] Maybe there’s a way to catch some? If they can’t get through glass, a jar should be able to hold them...

C - Phasmophobia
[A dark night, and a ghost lurking in the corner of her bedroom. A ghost with long arms and a gaping mouth, reaching out for her. It managed to grab the corner of her bedsheet before she had properly woken up and recognized if for what it is, and then she was out, rushing to the door and out the hall.]

Ahaha... I wonder if I should feel nostalgic. [So she says, as she hurries down the hall, putting as much distance between her and the ghoul as she could. But she keeps her eyes straight and does not dawdle or look back. She knows better than to try and fight them. It never worked, not since she was a child. All she could do was avoid them.

Still - it follows, and she prioritizes staying away from it over staying quiet. If she happens to wake up others in the apartment complex as she goes, well! She has more important things to worry about!]

Sorry. You want to go and catch the death snow?

[Donna's cubicle just happens to be nearby and she's already nursing a grudge against the stuff and everything, in general after a miserable Christmas holiday.]

Are you mad?

[Yvienne looks over, slightly surprised and even a bit embarrassed that she’d been overheard. But she covers it up quickly with a bright smile and an innocent-looking tilt of her head.

My, that’s quite a rude question! Research and investigation are both done here, right? Wouldn’t it be stranger to not want to learn more?

It's a valid observation. [Donna huffs. The girl reminds her a little too much of the Doctor in this moment.] And it's evil terror snow. What d'you expect to learn from it?

How it works, for one. I mean, even aside from the damage it’s doing, it’s hardly moving like normal snow. For all we know, it may not actually be ‘weather’ at all.

[A particularly pertinent detail for her. Her ability to use magic had certainly diminished severely in this world without Lariatte, but that made it seem all the more important to make up for it in other ways, like studying and preparation. If she couldn’t call herself a witch, she’d really be at a loss for what to do.]

'Course it's not. Acid snow isn't meant to be, like, actual acid, is it? This is supernatural. Entity stuff, by my guess. Maybe the Desolation. Or... well... Extinction, maybe? End of days and the weather trying to kill you sounds about right for that.

[A dark night, and a long shift, and Carter is very ready to call it a... well, not exactly a day but he is very much looking forward to his bed.

He yawns, taking his time trotting up to his apartment - at least until he sees Yvienne rushing up to him. He doesn't recognize her but the way she hurries down the hallway gives him pause.]

Are you all right?

★ an eye for an eye

( lilith's always found honesty to be refreshing, using untrue words when it suited her purposes and cruel truths at others. which meant that the shame that lilith now saw was... odd. or at least seemed more unnecessary to her, a waste of time against everything else )

If that was how they really felt then they've saved themselves time.

( they no longer had to deal with someone they despised, that felt like a bonus. for most situations )

Regret seems a little late now.

★ phasmophobia

( the feeling of eyes watching her is nothing new, the chill the runs along her spine is an almost familiar feeling, never comforting but a well-known companion, living with her. to feel it now, in a place as equally strange, was intriguing, to wonder what was bringing it here.

she let the curiosity draw her, stepping down the darkened hallway until the shadowy figure was before her, lurching, tall and leaning, twisted, unfortunately. her hands moved on instinct to tug at her magic, though she found nothing there, not how it would normally sit in her fingers.

except lilith wasn't yet backing away, watching curiously at it to see what its response would be, moving only to look behind her at the sound of other footsteps in the hall behind her )

Its grip appears unpleasant.

( an understatement maybe but she's sighted worse )

[It's not the first time he's been forcibly yanked from one world to another, though it's certainly the gentlest (and somehow, oddly, all the much worse for that); this time, there's no pounding headache, no desperate plea, and no sudden slip into unconsciousness. Urianger simply rounds a corner a little before Thancred, and is no longer in Radz-at-Han. Fluttering silks and the scent of spices give way to rubble and chain and for the love of the Twelve hadn't they earned some fleeting respite from this sort of thing?

Sigh. He pinches his brow, and is about 6 beats into trying to count to 10 and clear his head when the voice interrupts him. She gets a thin smile (polite, but weary) and a slight, respectful inclination (more than a nod, less than a bow)]

Is this thy doing, then?

Edited (Decided to go with a different canon point which supersedes this <3 ) 2023-01-15 15:17 (UTC)

ARRIVAL

[ You know that moment you shove a bucket over your head to save yourself from head trauma as a house falls around you and then you burst out through a door in a strange place instead? No? You don't know that one? Oh, well, neither does Bruno but that's sure what just happened to him. Rather than crashing through a crumbling wall, he crashes through a door, slamming a janitor's closet right open and tumbling out onto the floor.

At least with the bucket, he fits right in with the mess of other items that come tumbling out with him. The mop, the additional buckets (fancier ones made of plastic, with wheels, even!), the brooms, the dustpans, just... an obscene amount of clutter.

As for the little man in the green ruana and bucket on his head, he lays sprawled across the linoleum floor of the hallway and, after a moment, very, very cautiously lifts the bucket just so he can peek out from under it. ]

...oh no, esto no es casa.

[ Yeah, this isn't home. This is...? Where? What happened? ]

SOFTLY FALLS THE SNOW

[ This much snow is a shock for a man who's spent his entire life in the fairly tropical valley his village calls home. It isn't entirely foreign to him, of course. The mountaintops were often adorned in white and his sister very rarely summoned up some snow now and then but this much, blanketing the entire landscape? The biting chill in the air?

It's a new experience and that means Bruno lingers out in it despite the warnings of it being acid snow and, for the most part, it had been fine! Just fine! Until the ominous clouds heavy with purple shading roll in. From then on, his mildly acidic stroll in the early morning turns into— ]

Oh god, oh no, s-someone let me in, let me in!

[ Ah, to snow eating through his newly gained winter gear. Oh boy, his coat is fizzling up a storm as he dashes through the streets trying to duck under eaves and into covered doorways, looking for actual shelter. ]

PHASMOPHOBIA

[ Or maybe you're sharing a table with him at a very ill-fated time in the canteen when the lights overhead begin to flicker. Bruno pauses in his disinterested poking around his food with a fork, tensing up as soon as the flickering begins. He looks up, across the table to meet the gaze of whoever else has taken a seat there and exchanges a look. A terrified look. Ultimately, he's an easily frightened man and this bodes no good, he's sure. ]

I... is that a normal thing? For those lights to do?

[ Someone please say yes. Tell him it's one hundred percent normal. Tell him he has nothing to worry about. ]

[ Hickey had been lingering outside, having a little smoke, standing under the eaves of an ADI building because apparently, people get fussy when you smoke inside? Whatever, there's literally acid snow, they can suck it up and deal with his cigarette smoke.

Thankfully, as he gets in a smoke, he spots Bruno frantically running from cover to cover. And while part of him just wants to be a dick and watch, it's only a matter of time until the man realizes he's there. So, Hickey decides to be a good person for once. ]

Oi! Over here!

[ Thanks for the vague attempt at being good this once, Hickey. Bruno will appreciate it. As it appears that Bruno's panicked dash for safety has brought him right back to an ADI building and he simply hadn't realized it in that search for somewhere that's actually open to hide in, being called over that way is quite the blessing.

He won't even pause and look. He just turns that way and barrels on ahead, sliding to a stop through the snow and ice to put him right under the eaves almost next to Hickey.

His coat is still putting off little streams of smoke where the acid had been burning through... right... maybe he should... Give him a moment, he's stripping the coat off, off, before anything has a chance to eat through to his actual skin! ]

...off, off, nope, this is... definitely ruined... oh geez, they just gave this to me, too...

[ Hickey is absolutely not helping with that coat. Instead, he's watching Bruno with a little wince, stepping away from the coat so that no acid actually gets on him. Nope nope nope, he doesn't want to deal with that. ]

They've got other coats, [ he points out, with a little shrug. ] Anyway, considering how odd this place can get, it's on ADI's fault for not having acid-proof things to begin with.

[ Is that a ridiculous statement? Yes. Is Hickey staying with it? Also yes. ]

Can you acid-proof stuff, though? It's, like, acid...

[ Which is apparently bad, look, his isolated little village didn't have a science class, okay? Regardless, he is dropping the still slightly steamy coat on the concrete that takes up space under the eave they're taking cover beneath.

Let's just leave that right there, uh... yeah. ]

I think maybe they should have at least said something about the purple clouds being bad?

Technology can do all sorts of nonsense here that I never thought possible, [ points out the man from the 1840s who still doesn't know how televisions work. ]

I'm certain that they can acid-proof things. They just haven't gotten around to it for this batch of problems.

[ he says, with the confidence of a man absolutely bullshitting. ]

You're right about the clouds, though. Could have at least put up a sign or something.

Or an announcement to go indoors if you see purple death clouds. What's the point of all this techy stuff if they don't use it for that?

[ Bruno at least knew of televisions before seeing one here! Just... just knew of. That's the fun part of being an oracle, you can tell everyone about the weird things the future has and they get to think you're nuts, ha... ha, yeah, great.

Mobile phones and the internet, though, hoo boy, that evaded him big time. ]

[ Thank God, someone else who doesn't see the point of all that techy stuff. Hickey nods and lets out a grumpy little sigh before, ]

Honestly, it's bloody inconvenient at certain points.

I mean, it has been nice to poke around it and actually verify all the stuff I knew was happenin' in the future but beyond that, eh...

[ He shrugs. It's a big shrug before another thought hits him and he's quick to turn, looking up with a big, surprisingly excited smile on his face in spite of the acid snow having made a good attempt at murdering him. ]

Oh! Oh, and the soap operas! There are entire channels for them! A whole bunch play them all afternoon!

[ You know, because it's what old retired people watch, uh. Maybe no one should tell him that. ]

Right, two things, [ Hickey says, small frown on his face, looking at Bruno as he realizes just what the man actually said. He takes a puff of his cigarette before tossing it on the ground and stubbing it out with his shoe, outright littering like the asshole he is. ]

One, what's a soap opera. Two, what d'you mean 'all the stuff you knew was happening in the future'?

[ Because yeah they're in a world with weird superpowers now, but seeing in the future? That's a thing? ]

[ Bruno's gaze follows the discarded cigarette to the ground. Littering isn't really a concept for him but something about that feels like... he shouldn't do that? ]

Uh, should you be...

[ Just dumping that right there when there's one of those little ashtray stands in the corner opposite of Hickey. Bruno never finishes his sentence, instead kind of just pointing weakly at the ashtray but, uh, kind of late for that, soooo, moving on. ]

Well, a soap opera is a television show! [ The answer to that one comes easily and he looks up at Hickey again. ] It's like a... y'know, a show that's full of drama and all the characters are always betraying one another and all this illicit romance stuff and. Hm.

[ How does he describe them beyond that? ]

They're just. Fun, I guess. Fun to watch. [ Awkward cough. Right, sure. The future part, though, well that earns a shrug and he simply states, ] I see the future.

[ Yeah, that's all, like that's nothing! ]

I mean, I haven't tried to see it here yet and I don't. I don't think I will try, because it tends to be, er, bad and. Yeah. Nice to know the whole moon landing thing was real, at least?

[ Right, forget the soap operas, that's boring. He can see the future and he just dropped that into conversation? ]

Why the hell wouldn't you want to try it here? [ he says, absolutely unbelieving. ] Who cares if it's bad. You'd still want to know if the bad thing's coming, yeah?

[ Riiiight, right, people are... people here don't know about his gift. That's so weird. Everyone back home did and they avoided the heck out of him for it. Maybe he shouldn't be so open about it? Here? It was something to consider. ]

Uh. [ Bruno stared at Hickey for a second, at a loss on how to defend his disinterest in actually using his gift before it comes to him. ] Because then I would obsess over it even if it isn't something I can change? That would definitely... definitely become a problem. I just don't do it, not if I don't need to.

Yeah, but if you know it's coming, you can take steps to make it less terrible. [ He continues to look at Bruno like he's a goddamn idiot as he explains, ]

Say you see a flood coming. You can't do anything about the flood, but you could at least get all your valuables out of town first.

[ Valuables... ]

I mean, something as big as a flood would hit me with a vision even without me trying, so I'd be able to warn people to leave and if they want to waste their time on valuables, well. That's on them? I guess?

[ Bruno can't imagine it. His village isn't like that. They'd focus on the people first, hello? It earns a vague shrug at best. ]

But I'm not going to sweat the little things. I get waaaay too anxious about little things. If I knew all the little terrible things that may or may not happen, I'd just... it'd be a whole thing. [ And he waves his hands outwards to try and punctuate that point when he says 'thing'. ] Pretty sure I'd refuse to step foot outside my room at that point.

[ Hickey nods, listening intently. Honestly, the idea of seeing the future sounds nicer the more he hears Bruno talk about it. Getting anxious? Not a problem for him! He is full of questions though, so he continues with, ]

So if it comes on you without trying, does that mean you can't see a vision on command?

I... can? Yeah, sure, it just. There's a whole thing but.

[ Bruno won't go into detail on the overdramatic ritual he goes through every time. This is mostly because, even without using his gift, he can see where this conversation is ultimately going to lead and he has to stifle a sigh.

Great. He should have kept his big mouth shut.

There's an awkward pause where Bruno shuffles back a step or two from Hickey and reaches down to retrieve the discarded jacket now that it's stopped smoking. The acid is quite done eating through it, leaving dozens of little holes and rendering it useless. ]

Can we maybe change the topic? I already said I'm not doing it, s-so it's just. It's pretty pointless to go too in detail about, y'know?

[ But he wanted to ask even more nosy questions!

Hickey lets out a little annoyed 'hmmph,' as if it's somehow Bruno's fault Bruno doesn't want to answer his invasive questions. After the hmmph, he shakes his head before pointing out, ]

Simply curious. After all, from what I've heard, powers like that work differently here than how you're used to back home.

1 AND ONLY. ARRIVAL (REMIX)

There's a young man loitering around Gloucester. You won't find him at the ADI Headquarters, or at Bonnie's, so it might be easy to mistake him for a local at first. Maybe he's just moved here. Maybe he's just passing though.

...probably just a college kid, in town to visit his parents. Yeah, that's it.

Except he's around an awful lot, hanging out at places where ADI transplants tend to congregate. You know, like your favorite coffee shop, or that one late-night diner, or this store or that. Totally casual, seemingly minding his own business, and maybe it's just a big coincidence that he turns up multiple times, in multiple places.

...of course, to anyone who's been around since before the mission to Wolf Pen, he's pretty easily recognizable as Jeff. Troubled, confused, dreamy, difting Jeff, who ran away after the big confrontation in the mines.

He's looking better these days. Still lanky and a bit too skinny, but there's none of that sickly quality he had in the months leading up to Wolf Pen. His hair's sun-kissed and blonder than before, and there's a healthy, rosy flush to his skin, and a light dancing in his hazel eyes. Wherever he's been, it seems to have done wonders for him.

Sometimes, he'll have headphones on as he fiddles with an apple green, totally outdated ipod shuffle. Sometimes, he's got a weird sphynx cat in his arms, bundled up in a rainbow knit sweater. (Long-time Bonnie's residents might recognize her as Macaroni, Jack's cat. She's back, baby!)

You might catch him looking at you, a faint smile lingering at the corners of his mouth, like he's laughing at a private joke you're not in on. Come on over and say hi. Or get in his face. Or punch him, he probably deserves it.

[ OOC: Your resident Spiral avatar is back! I know this tdm is pretty much done, so this whole prompt is going to be recycled in the upcoming tdm anyway, but whatever, I got impatient. Anyway message me at weeyotch#8200 or

weeyotch to hash out anything. ]

Edited 2023-01-27 10:38 (UTC)

Gil came around in the blasted out section of ADI, so he knew right away that something was off. That, plus the weather, snowflakes burning against his skin and the lighter spring turtleneck he was wearing—something was very off.

He’s still a little dazed by the reality of what’s happened to him (again?) when he spots Jeff, and the selfish (human) part of him that’s worn down with shock and just trying to cope almost turns to walk another direction before he can be spotted.

But Jeff has been gone too. Maybe not in the same way. He still has. And Gil had concerns he never got to address.

So he approaches JEFF which my phone keeps autocorrecting and I’m not fixing this time on one of those nondescript street corners, where the younger man stands cradling what Gil can only assume is a cat.

“Hey kid.” A pause. “Been a while.”

Of course it's a cat. Look at its general.... cat shape. Cat vibes. Whatever. Jeff might look like something of a scruffy 90s grunge Bond villain right now, cradling the creature in his arms as he stands under an awning, humming softly.

(And though he's already protected by the awning, it seems as if the snow's sort of... avoiding the area. Maybe it's just Gil's eyes playing tricks on him. Definitely not some corrupted bardic magic at play.)

"Hey, Gil." His faint smile grows, a little too sharp on that dreamy face. "I missed you."

Malcolm spots him outside the coffee shop. He stops, not because he can’t believe it - Tim came back - but because he looks so different. He really didn’t just disappear like Tim. He really did run away south.

“Jeff?”

Jeff smiles brightly, all good cheer, as if he hasn't been missing for (about? over?) six months. It's like, as far as he's concerned, he just saw Malcolm yesterday.

"Hey, dude. Buy me a drink?" He shrugs helplessly. "I'm short on cash."

As usual.

He remembers the last time they spoke, vividly--he remembers how wan and exhausted and filthy and scared Jeff seemed. The smile, in that context, doesn't seem excessively strange--young man seen at his worst, he's bound to be tense the next conversation. But something pings wrong in Gil's instincts. Something just pings wrong.

Other than the cat.

"You're looking better."

When he's in the lee of the building with Jeff, he's relieved not to have the light sting of snowflakes against his face, but the wind--the wind isn't right for it. Gil mentally shakes it off and tries to focus on what's right in front of him. "Should that thing be outside?"

"I'm feeling better..."

'That thing'? You're talking about his (adopted? kidnapped?) child, Gil! Jeff makes a face, faux shock, and gasps, covering the cat's ears. She doesn't seem to mind, possibly because she's nested cozily in Jeff's partially unzipped coat, and knows that this is the price she must pay for warmth.

"Her name is Macaroni. And I can't leave her alone long. She gets separation anxiety." He hums softly and tilts his head, looking down at the cat. "Probably 'cause everyone disappeared on her..."

Edited 2023-01-27 18:03 (UTC)

He sees Jeff and turns right around. It's hard to sleep that night.

He sees Jeff again a day later in a place that's so entirely unexpected: the hardware store. There's heat packs on sale for cheap, and having a body that's previously been broken in so many places means that acid snow isn't the only pain in bitter weather. Tim's methodically clenching and relaxing his fingers, two of them feeling sore and out of place on his hand. And Jeff's hanging out by the doors.

Jeff, looking like gold. Like sunshine.

Tim slows his steps, thinks he can do better than hold a grudge. He thinks, maybe he'd make the choice to leave too, if

"Hey."

Smooth. Tim lingers. Thinks, he wants to step closer. But he won't.

"Where are you staying?"

Like that's a safe enough question to begin to catch up with. Like there's nothing raw biting at his brain.

"Or are you just passing through?"

--well, he tried.

"Sure," Malcolm tells him, almost like an automatic reflex. He's not a hugger; that's never his first instinct, but he does offer a hesitant smile to Jeff's sunshine one.

"You look well," he says, opening the door of the coffee shop and holding it for him.

"It's this new diet I'm on." Fear. It's what's for dinner. Jeff waits a beat, then laughs. "No, but seriously, I'm kinda sober now. Kicked the drugs, got some sunshine..." He does a little spin as he heads into the shop. All drama, as usual. "Brand new me."

Jeff's making like he has any business in a hardware store, like he isn't here just because he's been lurking and watching and haunting Gloucester like one of those twisted up ghosts. My, look at this ice scraper. He could use that for the car he doesn't own--

"Hey."

Jeff looks at Tim with bright eyes, a slow, dreamy smile coming to his face as he waves the ice scraper at him.

"I'm, you know, just crashing somewhere." Vague, in the way that Jeff's always been a little bit vague and ditzy. He blinks, looking infuriatingly innocent, before asking, "Do you hate me?"

"Because you're holding up the line?" He breathes out incredulously, letting the words tangle with the sour spite he feels for just that second. Tim pushes down the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Then he meets those dumb, bright eyes and says the truth. "No, you idiot," Tim says. "I'm glad you're okay."

...that's it. He doesn't feel empty having said it. It's, shockingly, not strange to him. Still, Tim frowns a little. It's his way of staving off the nagging scare that he might be way, way off. He remembers Jeff's scar. So he gestures broadly, blandly, absentmindedly to Jeff's... face. "I mean you look... like you're okay. Are you okay?"

"You gave up drugs?" Malcolm says with a faint lift of his eyebrows. "I'm so happy for you; that's really hard."

"Oh. I'm in line?" Jeff looks around, as if this is news to him, then laughs and takes a step to the side. Look at him, so gracious and cooperative!

It's hard to say if Jeff's smiling now because Tim admitted to being glad to see him (well, see him in a state of okay-ness, which isn't quite the same as being happy to see him, period), or because Tim just called him an idiot. It's Jeff, so. You know. He accepts both as a love language. He reaches out, as if to take Tim's hand, before figuring it'll just get swatted away, and touches the collar of the other boy's jacket instead, giving it an affectionate, familiar tug.

"I'm okay. I'm--" He hums in thought, searching for the word. "I'm golden, man." But. His smile fades, and his brows furrow, looking... a little confused, or maybe concerned, or confused over his own concern, or whatever. "You disappeared."

Jeff Calhoun could slide a garrote over Tim's head and he would color the following adjustment around his neck as fond. Because Jeff is sweet, and Tim takes that simple step away from the cashier's immediate line of sight as proof of the fact.

He glances back at a gruff and handsome woman who is expecting Tim to dawdle; he drops his heat packs in a display bin and mutters a sorry.

He mutters his sorry and his face is feeling hot already, and Tim sighs and gets a hold of Jeff's hand. "I heard," he says with a tug. They should escape and have this conversation... literally anywhere else. Tim is refusing to meet Jeff's eyes as he marches them out. It's a painfully guilty gesture.

"I was in Wolf Pen--"

Jeff's birthday.

"...and then I was here. And everyone I knew was saying I had been missing for months, and it's winter now, and I don't. I don't remember-- how I lost half a year just like that."

And, because he feels like that's not enough I statements:

"I was worried you were lost too."

Macaroni is, he thinks grudgingly, a good name.

Then Jeff makes that comment and Gil closes his eyes for a moment, the pain of lost time, trust unwillingly broken weighing on him. He opens his eyes and studies Jeff’s face. “I’m sorry kid. I wasn’t—it wasn’t part of the plan.”

CONTINUED OVER HERE

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

TDM #18

QUESTIONS

Yvienne Magnolia | Ciel: The Last Autumn Story

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lilith ★ chilling adventures of sabrina

A - please disregard, no longer canonical

bruno madrigal / encanto / yes i know i'm late hello kates

hey girl hey. :3 also, acid snow

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jeff | oc

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