![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsehowmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
redstringtheories2023-03-01 08:44 am
TDM #20
(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.)
(cw: spiders; spider eggs; swarms; uncanny valley; loss of bodily autonomy; full encasement)
Beware the bus.
His name is Gus.
Don't shout.
Don't run.
Don't make a fuss.
Gus the bus.
Bus the Gus.
He's big and bright.
A mean old cuss.
The sing-song rhymes haunt the streets of Gloucester this month with young people, in particular, muttering to each other about a haunted bus that just has 'G1_15' fixed on its scrolling route sign. They've taken to calling it Gus, and regaling each other with tales of seeing it picking up and dropping off vagrants late and night when no one else is around to see it.
Enough sleuthing will uncover that these sightings, such as they are, seem to happen around 2 AM along Dory Road, where the Dogtown Trailhead existed before ADI and the local police force had the park shut down. Gus doesn't appear most nights, but for the lucky few who do spot him prowling, two things will become immediately clear:
1. He only seems to turn up when there are two or fewer people around; and
2. Gus is not a bus.
The hulking form that 'rolls' down the street does, indeed, look like a bus… head on. But catch him from the corner of your eyes and you will see that he skitters. The 'wheels' seem to extend in arachnid legs with two poking out from each well. His headlights are fractured, as well, with eight distinct lights winking away in the darkness.
Should one be foolish enough to remain at the single bus stop on this street or approach when they see him coming, they'll find their muscles locking up and, whether they want it or not, their body will move to board Gus. He'll settle down and let you in, should this happen. Welcome to a ride you won't soon forget.
The interior of the bus is filled with webbing and enormous white egg sacks. Try as you might, you can't seem to stop yourself from walking down the aisle and settling upon one of the sacks. You can speak. You can even scream, if you'd like. One of your fellow passengers may be doing so as small spiders swarm across them, slowly wrapping them in silk. But you can't get up, can't move to get off or fight the forces holding you. And as you sit, the swarm finds you and begins to wrap you in your own cocoon.
Once a person has been fully encased in the webbing, they will find themselves slowly losing consciousness. Instead of death on the other end, though, they'll awaken the next morning at the bus stop on Dory Road. somewhere on their person they'll be sporting a new tattoo… one that looks like spider webs.
It's probably fine.
(cw: altered perception; characters given cause to doubt their reality)
A single disturbance at a supermarket wouldn't have been enough to grab ADI's attention–Karens will be Karens, after all. But when two videos pop up on social media in one week featuring individuals in the produce aisle of two different Gloucester stores having what appear to be very similar mental breakdowns, it's worth at least a casual investigation. It's a bonus assignment, with ADI offering anyone who is willing to check out the grocery stores in the area a small payment for time and reimbursement for any related purchases.
For the majority of investigators, this little assignment is a big dead end. Local supermarkets, including the two with known events, are to all appearances ordinary grocery stores selling ordinary produce. Just a few people will see an odd sheen to the fruit that's heaped up in the produce bins. Upon closer inspection by those select individuals, the fruit in question appears to be made of wax. Touching it, weighing it in one's hand, smelling it, cutting it open, or even eating it just confirms what they see: it's wax through and through, too lightweight to be real, too smooth and brightly colored and false, a mouthful of lies.
To the people around them, though, obliviously picking out what they believe to be real food, the fruit remains as real and as heavy with juice as one would expect from real, solid food grown from the earth. For the majority of people, both local and interdimensional, the fruit is fruit by every measure, including taste. It's not especially perfect or delicious, not anything out of the ordinary in today's world of hothouse agriculture: it's simply fruit from the supermarket, as one would expect to buy on any ordinary day.
Food or wax? Are you digging your teeth into your next meal, or into a lump of inedible decor? Is perceiving the fruit as wax a delusion, or a hidden truth? Who can say?
(cw: compulsion)
There are many who would claim to hear a siren’s call to their local library. The lure of knowledge, escapism, or simply a quiet nook to help maintain focus, there’s an appeal to wandering the stacks for all kinds of people. Even if you’re not usually such a bookworm you might feel a bit of a draw when you happen past the unassuming building just West of Downtown. It’s ignorable, if gut feelings really aren’t your thing, but the curious might find themselves called closer.
As soon as your shoes touch the floor of the open main room, the call you’ve been hearing becomes a little louder, if only a little. There’s a whisper near your ear, like someone just a bit behind you speaking too low to hear. Someone familiar. Someone trusted.
Delve deeper. The voice gets more distinct, the words recognizable even if they never go over a whisper. It coils through your ears and your mind and your limbs, a sweet ribbon of promise. Come closer, don’t you want to hear? Don’t you want to know? Look harder.
Towards the back of the main room, near where a cluster of tables stands vigil, sits the history section. Local, State, Country, World, a wide manner of options present their spines proudly, though not a one seems to lay claim to the source of the whisper. Best just to listen, then, to your dear friend’s message.
Those who listen to the words will find information is their reward, information about them. Information about home. Is it the secrets in your past? The concerns of the present? Knowledge impossible to confirm from your future? Perhaps you should listen longer. Perhaps come back and check again. Or maybe just ask your friend nearby, they certainly seem to be listening keenly.
- ARRIVAL (March 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.
- THE WHEELS ON THE BUS (March 1-15): Gus will only appear when there are two or fewer people on the street. There is no way to stop yourself from boarding Gus should you become trapped in his control, nor can characters physically fight against remaining where they are in the bus. Gus does not affect the thoughts of anyone he meets, merely controls their bodies. Those who wind up riding him and earning a spider web tattoo are free to decide where this tattoo is and what, precisely, it looks like. For the moment, there doesn't appear to be any ill effect from the tattoo. Maybe your new friends just want to make sure you remember. Characters may ride Gus more than once. They will acquire additional tattoos for each ride.
- WAX ON, WAX OFF (March 1-15): Any characters who see the fruit as wax will see wax regardless of which stores in Gloucester they visit; characters who see the fruit as fruit will see real fruit regardless of the store they visit. Almost all members of the general public see real fruit; a smaller majority of ADI investigators see real fruit.
- STORIED SUSURRATIONS (March 1-15): Characters who go to listen to the books whisper to them will, indeed, be told of some canon information relevant to them either from their past, present, or future! Any characters grouped up will hear the same message as those nearby, as the whispers carry on individually in the voice of someone the character trusts. The message doesn’t seem to change with new or prolonged visits, just the same message offered over and over again without a source.
THANCRED WATERS | FINAL FANTASY XIV | OTA
Storied
At this point, he went back to hear him. Two years and he'd nearly been afraid he'd forgotten the lyrical confidence to Lord Bastrop's voice and he didn't want that sort of doubt. Even if he was truly stuck here and didn't (or never) hear him again, Johnny wanted to be able to remember. So he returned, usually leaving again by the time someone else's whisper started in as they approached.
This time, he's the one intruding as a woman's voice, soft and gentle, joins Mimley's whisper like a quiet duet of assurance. He's not familiar with the white-haired man there either, but that's not odd considering his recent arrival. "It's hard to leave when it sounds like they're right there, isn't it? My apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt."
Re: Storied
"I suppose it is," he said, inclining his head slightly. "I know it isn't her. It can't be her. But there is a comfort in hearing her again." Because even after all this time, he missed her. Ached with the knowledge of his failure.
"And it's fine," he said. "It's hardly an interruption." Not when he could still hear her. "I shouldn't linger, in any case. Nothing good comes from dwelling too long on the past."
no subject
"I suppose you're right...and yet I admit this is hardly my first time wandering in here and it likely won't be my last. A little hope is worth holding onto, even if it hurts."
While he didn't necessarily want to pry, it was hard not to hear the intent in the woman's message. Have faith. All will be well. Things aren't as dark as they seem.
"Unless...do you suppose it's some evil force as those who put us up might claim? It would be a rather cruel thing to use our loved ones against us."
no subject
Not everything, he supposed. The Warrior still fought on.
"She's...gone," he said. "I don't know that anyone could use her, even if they wanted to." It was still hard to talk about her sometimes. She had been so much to him.
"I won't pretend that I would never come back," he admitted. "It's been a long time since I've heard her voice. And there is a comfort in it."
no subject
"Honestly, even if it were some rotten force at work, I don't see how anyone could blame you. e must take what comforts we can when we can. Mimley is not...gone, but h has ben absent for two years and I do not pretend he will be back. He shouldn't be back, at home or here. If I take some comfort in hearing his voice again, whose business is it really but mine?" The same was true of any who might linger here, he should think.
He takes a deeper breath and turns more towards the other man and his oddly light hair. "Johnny Summer. A pleasure to meet you. I'm...new to the area." Which was the nicest way of putting he was taken from time and, seemingly, space, when he wasn't entirely sure this man was of ADI or simply a hapless local.
(arrival) Never Fear, the Counseling Department Is Here! (Maybe a little fear.)
Researcher and newly minted counselor, fresh from 'training', Themis Galvus is called on to observe. Most wouldn't expect him to actually do anything at this time. But as he mentioned, it would help him aid people later if he was at least able to assess the person's mood or provide insight to said arrival's behavior to those who will be approaching.
He sold a good story, at least enough that the arrivals team and security were willing to call and let him watch from a distance. To Thancred's eyes, once he has enough wits to look around him after his arrival, there is a rather youthful twenty-something hyur with silver hair standing at the edge of the demolition zone. He's wearing a similar style of button down, long sleeved shirt and dress slacks to some of the others on site. And there's a couple more that are more pragmatically dressed to travel over the rubble, which they are doing now.
A member of security, an arrivals worker and a medic are the first to draw near.
"Hello, do you understand us? Are you injured? Please remain calm." The tone is soothing; it's clear they're used to this. English is used but given the nature of Eorzean's common tongue, it possible is roughly understandable, barring some syntax and terms.
Elidibus is notably not one of those approaching. Yet. Besides that he would probably get in the way, he's already realized who this is. He says something to one of the people he stayed back with- words to low to be immediately overheard- before pulling out his phone- is that a tomestone- and tapping its screen.
Don't mind him, he's just a guy. A guy who is trying not be immediately recognized. Hopefully distance solves that issue.
Re: (arrival) Never Fear, the Counseling Department Is Here! (Maybe a little fear.)
Not that it mattered in this instance. Because this was some strange new star with slightly mangled Trade tongue, easy enough to understand and get by but not quite right. He'd managed. He always managed. Language was, after all, an intrinsic part of espionage. And while he was hardly the genius many of the others were, he could make his way around different tongues with relative ease. Had she been here, Y'shtola might have had a sharp comment in response for that. He missed her.
"I understand you fine," he said. The syntax was off, some of the phrasing not quite what he would have expected, but he'd dealt with worse. "And I think you'll find I'm quite calm." There was no point in letting emotion get the best of him. He'd learned often enough that it would change nothing. Was he injured? That took a bit more thought. He took a quiet inventory of himself and shook his head. "I'm fine. No injuries to speak of." Nothing, at least, that would cause him any trouble.
His eyes slid past the group to settle on the man behind them. Conspicuous in how he was trying not to be. "Did you want to join the conversation?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and keeping his tone as jovial as he could. "Or are you content in trying quite unsuccessfully to fade into the background?"
no subject
Elidibus numbered among those who would not fault Thancred for his opinion on Ascians. He would among the first to say no one should.
The representative of the group looks a bit relieved. The ones that are probably there for the people who wouldn't remain calm remain alert but that should be expected and they're making no aggressive gestures. A certain amount of tension in the air seems to disappear as first contact establishes this as 'probably not going to be violent'.
"I'm glad you can understand us." The rep is a woman and looks genuinely pleased. It's so much easier when there's some basic understanding right from the get-go. "Honestly it'd be completely understandable if you weren't calm, given you've suddenly found yourself somewhere else."
Ah if only she knew.
The medic pipes up, "I'm glad you're okay. Though if you're also fine with it, we'd like to check you over once you're settled." The question is how much are these people defining 'settled'. That being said, their attention is drawn back to Elidibus as Thancred calls over to invite the silver-haired young man to join in.
"Ah, Mr. Galvus is here as an observer," the representative begins politely. "He's recently passed the training as a peer support specialist..."
...I mean honestly at 'Galvus', her voice is probably fading into a certain amount of background noise. But the rep also begins to trail off anyway as it seems 'Mr. Galvus' is- after sending another text or so- moving somewhat closer.
"I can add a great deal to this conversation," he answers, using Tradespeak rather than English. "Yet I wonder if you would desire it."
Now that is a painfully familiar voice. And not one that might have first been expected on hearing the familial name. Really there was no point in hiding who he is, particularly since the representative so helpfully spoke up while he was sending a message to Urianger.
Could he have stopped her? Yes. But it would have still only delayed the inevitable. Best to have urged the elezen to attend the scene instead.
no subject
He hesitated at the suggestion that they check him over. He'd never been a terribly patient and who knew what the chiurgeons were like in this world. Any issues he had, if any presented themselves, would likely either be tied to his aether or similar to what had occurred on the First. Neither were exactly issues easily dealt with, and putting them onto some poor medic or healer was hardly fair. Best not to trouble them.
A frown spread across his features as the young man was introduced. Galvus. If ever there was a family he did not need to see more of, it was them. Granted, he had thought them all dead, save for Zenos - whatever madness he was up to. But this wasn't him.
"Galvus, you say," he said with a pointed look at the man. "That is passing familiar."
No, he didn't want to know what the man would add to the conversation, especially not when that voice was all too familiar. But he couldn't allow his own biases to get in the way of learning more about his situation. However distasteful it was. And it was important to find out how Elidibus had come to be here. Alive.
"By all means," he said, slipping into the far more comfortable patterns of Tradespeak, "enlighten me. I hadn't thought I would see you again."
no subject
Still this group is experienced and people are picked because they can handle themselves well (both bravely and professionally) in front of the newcomers. It may be a bit more interesting that Elidibus and Thancred know one another.
"In these halls, I may go by Elidibus," begins the Ancient. Well it seems he's not hiding himself entirely. Perhaps that is because the name holds no particular meaning to the people of this star. "Yet our hosts have asked that I adopt an identity more suited to the denizens of this star and their particular nation when moving beyond. Thus I have assumed the familial name Galvus and the given name of Themis."
There is no trace of more than calm emotion behind the poker face. Not even the brooding malice that seemed to be part of his words during those last days of fighting him on the First. Other than the perfect control, there is only the faint glow of his eyes to set him truly apart from another hyur. His words give no clue as to whether the surname was adopted out of convenience or because there is a certain other numbering among the Fear-touched.
Had the Warrior of Light spoken much of the appearance of Ancient Man behind the robes and when one wasn't looking upwards in a measure of yalms? Well it might not matter much in the end whether this is Elidibus in his Ancient visage or some newly adopted vessel would it? They are enemies either way and little would change that fundamental truth.
He stopped a distance away to make conversation easier but give Thancred space to assess the threat before him; no doubt calculated to be the right amount. Elidibus glances the way he came as though checking for something. But seeing no sign yet of the person he invited, it seems best to continue speaking and the reps have no problem with that. Partly because it makes their job easier but also because it sort of is 'Mr. Galvus's' job to help settle the Fear-touched.
"Nor I you." Yet here they both are. For a moment, Elidibus pauses to think; what best to start with and how to give a concise summary. "I will begin by saying you will find yourself wholly here. Unlike the Exarch's magicks which called you to the First, it seems our entire being has been drawn to this star by the forces which delivered you here."
As far as Elidibus has determined, anyway. At the very least this is not the same type of spell but something on a far greater scale.
He then glances at the medic who is standing by, trying not to look like they're attempting to see through Thancred's clothes for any signs of injury the hyur might be hiding from them. Look, it's just concern! He's a healer!
"Those of this star rely on technology. Their chiurgeons and healers have many advanced techniques. Most of which would rival it not far surpass Garlemald or even Sharlayan's scholars," comes a helpful addition from the person who is probably one of the last Thancred really wants to listen to.
Arrival
Despite the arms and armour, there's a sympathetic sort of warmth to her expression, and her voice is calm and measured when she asks, "Can you understand me?"
(If he can, if her English is more than calm gibberish, there's a distinct accent there, and not one he's likely to have encountered before. As befits a strange new world, really.)
Re: Arrival
"I can," he said. It wasn't quite right, but it was serviceable. "I suppose it's too much to hope that you could help me make sense of what's happening here?" He smiled. "Don't get me wrong, I won't complain if you don't. I'm just as happy to have beautiful company."
Because it was easy to fall back on old habits. Old defenses. Easier than letting himself think too much about the others.
no subject
"Sense is usually too much to hope for here," she says. "But I can give you some answers, and there are much smarter people inside who can give you more. To start with, you're in the city of Gloucester, in Massachusetts, but I'm going to guess that doesn't mean very much to you."
no subject
"Well, that's familiar at least," he said, when she warned him not to hope too much for sense. The names she gave were not ones he recognized, and he could not even place them in a region that made sense, either on the Source or the First. "I'm unfamiliar with Massachusetts unfortunately. Where is that meant to be located?"
no subject
Which would at least be a novel sort of dimensional variation to navigate.
"The important thing to understand - and there's no way to say this gently or so that it doesn't probably sound insane - is that this is not your world, even if there are things that are similar."
Wildcard: Reunion, part deux
And yet, he could not help but hover near HR - likely doing nothing to abate whatever misgivings Sophie might have harboured since bringing him and Themis together; he could not entirely tell whether it was sympathy or irritation that had her set him up with a mug of tea and a stack of files in need of alphabetising, though her smile and the accompanying "Might as well make yourself useful, eh, Mr Augurelt?" had seemed kind enough. Perhaps the Library would have felt a more obvious choice of hideout - Twelve and Thancred both knew how often he'd retreated to the shadowy halls of Gubal, or the archives of the Waking Sands, in his time - but in truth they had been scant comfort of late, the soft whisper of daft old coot, you know you've been here before; hope will shine again coming from where a linkpearl would sit if he still wore one a knife between his ribs, for all it was all-too-easy to stand and listen. And so he sat, and resolved not to fret but to focus on the task, awaiting the point Thancred would be set loose.
Re: Wildcard: Reunion, part deux
So of course he agreed to help. Of course he agreed to seek out these threats, as ever he had done. There had never been another choice.
Mostly it was just a lot of talking and explanations that seemed rather...well...self-explanatory if he was being honest. The phone wasn't terribly different from a combination tomestone and linkpearl and he was used to world-ending problems. So he mostly just listened and nodded where it felt appropriate and expressed his interest in helping, all while waiting to be left to his own devices.
As soon as he was, it was second-nature to seek out Urianger. A familiar face in the midst of all of this - and one that did not make him want to punch anything.
"It looks as though you've made yourself quite at home," he said, watching his oldest friend as he worked with some papers. It seemed that in waiting for him - he was waiting for him, wasn't he - Urianger had gotten rather caught up in other things.
no subject
His smile wavered, just a little, as he fought to keep his tone even (because he was supposed to be unflappable to the point of coldness, right? The calm logical base from which the other Scions roamed). " 't'is good to see thee. They have given thee leave to wander?"