reddosmod: (Default)
Deer Country Mod ([personal profile] reddosmod) wrote in [community profile] countryclub2021-12-20 07:51 pm
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December 2021 Test Drive Meme

DECEMBER 2021 TDM
Another month, another test drive meme! Our test drive memes are open to anyone interested - regardless of whether or not you join our game!

All Test Drive Memes are game canon. Players can choose to keep their TDM threads canon or not. TDM threads can be used for AC and can be used as your writing sample for your application.

Our TDMs serve as a way to build into the actual lore and worldbuilding of Deer Country and we strongly encourage everyone to enjoy and participate! Current players are always welcome to pull prompts from the TDM to reference on the Network or bring into logs as well as tag out to new characters top-leveling on the TDM itself.

Characters will always be able to actively die during TDMs as this is an extremely dangerous world. You can still have this be game canon! Check out how character death in Deer Country works here.

If you have any questions about the TDM, please ask down below!

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE

Prompt One
[Image One: A cat skidding across a frozen lake.]
[Image Two: A man carving ice sculptures]

Prompt Two
[Image One: A woman laughing as she plays with many tentacles.]
[Image Two: A naked girl in a fetal position under water.]

Prompt Three
[Image One: A cold limp hand in bloodied snow.]
[Image Two: Jack Nicholson slamming an axe into a door in The Shining.]

SEMI-STANDARD ARRIVAL
WHEN: End of December, early January
WHERE: The Farther Shores/The Boardwalk
CONTENT WARNINGS: Similar warnings from November's TDM. Drowning, freezing to death, trapped under ice, hypothermia, frost bite.


Arriving in December has most of the same from the November Arrival. One difference is that the beach itself has completely frozen over, making it a slick black ice skating range. And that's exactly how Wakers treat it. You can rent skates and sleds. People have taken to the beach to have fun as well as help Sleepers out. Learn how to ice skate and help your fellow Sleepers! Win-Win!

Tents are filled with furs and warmth. Someone is giving out hot soup and hot chocolate to those just arriving. You can find plenty of hot bread rolls. Local seamstresses have gathered and are giving out thick wool cloaks with unique designs. You can find thick fur ushankas, gloves, and scarves. There are coldblood stone snaps as they call them where two small coldblood stones are hooked together so you can make a snapping noise that generates a small spark of flame that's hard to blow out.

Along the Boardwalk are magnificent ice sculptures of various intricate creatures: humans, animals, monsters, Pthumerians and other things. Some Watchers are in the process of working on new mounds of ice and are willing to teach anyone interested in the art of ice sculptures.

CH-CH-CH-CHANGES
WHEN: End of December to mid January
WHERE: The Pthumerian Ocean and the Farther Shores
CONTENT WARNINGS: possible drowning, injury, hypothermia, giant friendly tentacles, confinement in a goo egg, nudity/exhibition, body horror of varying degrees


A new year is upon us and the winds of change can drive rough and tumultuous waters, now filled with big chunks of ice. Some incoming sleepers will be facing more obstacles of ice, cold and wayward currents that can take them off course and delay their arrival on the shores. But many are in luck as the massive tentacles of a benevolent beast from the deep can be seen rising from the waves on the horizon as it collects as many sleepers as it can who have begun to shift from their squid form before they are safely out of the choppy waters and onto the ice covered beach.

The tentacled behemoth will wrap new sleepers up in a protective, transluscent and spherical fish or squid egg filled with a gooey liquid to help further suspend and cushion them on their journey to shore. However, this protective egg is a toss of the coin in how helpful it can be. Merely by chance, a sleeper may find themselves in either a red or blue tinted egg that they wil likely need help getting out of, and quickly, seeing as the warm goo that is cushioning them doesn't exactly provide air for those who require it.

A Red egg will provide extended magical warmth even when a sleeper exits it into the cold, they will feel as though they are stepping into a heated room and wearing comfortable warm clothes, even if they are naked. Wakers who assist someone getting out of a red egg and who are splashed with the gooey contents will also feel this effect, and if they are clothed they may feel... overheated and overcome with the strong compulsion to get their clothes off.

A Blue egg is not so helpful, if a sleeper finds themselves in this egg, they will start to transform back into their squid form, even if their mind is continuing to reform and remember themselves. They can regress all the way back into a squid or be unfortunate enough to get trapped in a grotesque halfway fusion of squid and their regular form, but either way their mind will still be normal and somehow some will be able to speak. Just like a red egg, this can happen to Wakers who come in contact with the blue egg's goo. This effect can last for an hour or longer depending on player preference.

Characters who attempt to make their way out to sea to make contact with the tentacled monster will never seem to be able to reach it to see what it looks like. The waters will become darker and colder, and more tumultuous the farther they go either by boat or swimming (why you're swimming is beyond literally everyone else, but you do you). Chances of ending up in the freezing water and dying by drowning or freezing to death are extremely high if this attempt is made, and locals will advise against it if asked.

BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE
WHEN: Late December to mid January.
WHERE: All over Trench
CONTENT WARNINGS: Surreal/existential horror, out of body experience, temporary memory loss and fugue, imprisonment, frozen death, blood, possible insanity and violence, monster/creature leech


All throughout Trench there's a phenomena of bloody snow piling high in whole districts within minutes and snowing people into their homes or whatever building they happened to be in at the time, even a tent on the boardwalk can be covered. Most of the blood is a stark red, but other blood type colors can be found in large or small swaths here and there. At first it seems like an inconvenience that you can either wait out with whomever you've found yourself snowed in with or dig your way out of, but the blood in the snow is thick and heavy and pressing in against the walls and windows and if you choose to try and dig, the influence of blood in the air will hit you hard and the ill effects will come on fast and halt you in your efforts...

Soon, the rooms appear to warp, minds become foggy as what appears to be an illusion or a reality warping takes hold, no longer does the room look like your home or the store you were browsing, and you can't quite remember what it was before or why you were there. The roof over your head is different, and the slow motion of the fan causes the cracks in the plaster to show shadows in ways that just don't match your memories. It is strange, but as you walk through the new space, you do not feel in danger. Something is just not quite right.

You recognize the furnishings but you can't place when you bought them. It looks like a hotel room and this is a suite for two. How long have you lived in this place? The door of the kitchen or perhaps the pantry opens, and someone else emerges with the same look of vague confusion there. You recognize them, but not quite. Their name is on the tip of your tongue until they speak. Do you know each other? Yes, you do. This is your house, right? Weren't you just standing there together not long ago...?

It must be your home: Some Sleepers, for one reason or another, might accept the surreal experience as the new reality even as they grow weaker and ...thinner? Their life feels impermanent, almost like you could peel the wallpaper away to find something entirely different underneath. But it isn't a bad life. It's simple, comfortable, food is always magically available somewhere when they need it and the people they are with are family, are they not? You're pretty sure that's what you remember. The scope of the vision grows, somehow you find yourself in the bar of this hotel where a bartender stands waiting. He doesn't feel quite real, but he'll happily chat over a cocktail 'on the house' with guests, who he assures have always been there.

But some Sleepers find themselves rejecting this vision, as comfortable as it is, it's still wrong. This isn't their home. This feeling everything should be fine is a lie. Everything is wrong, and at a certain point, they snap. The idea of sleeping a night in this place is just too much and the moment that their mind refuses this reality completely, it is replaced by a singular urge: to destroy this lie entirely. Paranoia and a frantic instability overtakes them and they find whatever weapon they can to start breaking everything in sight, even attacking their fellow Sleepers and hunting them through the shifting little hotel spaces that seem to move around them rather then them moving within it.

Violent Sleepers can be subdued and reasoned with, but it may be difficult. Powers are also dampened, though not gone, if Sleepers can remember that they have them at all. All sleepers, docile and violent will start to weaken to the point where they collapse and they will eventually die, but if they are lucky enough to pull themselves and/or each other out of it, they'll be able to see clearly that it's the bartender that they should attack. Once they do, there will be a screech and the illusion/reality alteration will falter and the bartender's true form is glimpsed.

Once the creature is wounded sufficiently, Sleepers will find that there is a fleshy pulsating rope attached to the base of their skull as the creature was feeding on their hopes and dreams of the future, keeping them in a state of complacency, confusion and conflict. The only way out of this is by attacking the bartender or death.

CODING
hearuthinking: (Let's go)

Jason Kolchek | DPA: House of Ashes | Paleblood

[personal profile] hearuthinking 2021-12-21 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
1. Ch-ch-ch-changes

Jason found himself in the freezing water, struggling against the current. His head dropped under the water only for a tentacle to wrap around him. His instinct was to fight the damn thing but it was already wrapping him in the egg. Jason still scratched at it and even took a knife to the thing trying to get out. Didn't matter that the egg was carrying him safely to shore-- he couldn't breathe!

And it wasn't getting any better for him. There was something really disturbing going on with his body. His eyes were growing, shifting in color; suckers were appearing along his arms. He watched this with growing horror, throwing himself against the egg.

“Get me the fuck out of here!!”


2. Baby It's Cold Outside

[Bloody snow? Nope, nope, hell no. Jason immediately tried finding something to start shoveling that shit out of the way. It didn't take very long for the blood to take a hold on him and warp his reality]

Ughhh. What... what the fuck is this?

[He stares all around him. There is definitely something wrong about this. He can't exactly put his finger on it but it puts him on edge. It seems comfortable and safe, but Jason doesn't trust it]

I don't belong here! This is a goddamn lie!

[He grabs the nearest object-- which happens to be a lamp-- and throws it. Hopefully if it's aimed at someone, they duck]

3. Wildcard

[Idk looking at the ice sculptures or some other thing? Poke me at [plurk.com profile] seraphjewel I will match style!]
natzoom: ([:|] moe as fuq)

Natsume Takashi | Natsume Yuujinchou | Paleblood

[personal profile] natzoom 2021-12-21 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
i. arrival

[Ohhhh, it's cold. It's very cold. It's freezing cold and it was summer when Natsume left home, so he is extremely ill-equipped for the weather. It's a pure miracle that he's ended up safe in one of the tents and been draped in furs, rather than turning into a Natsume-sicle out on the frozen ice.

Once he's all bundled up, though, he ventures back outside to watch the ice sculptures being made. As unprepared as he was for the weather, Natsume genuinely likes winter. In fact, he can even be found crouching down in the snow, making snow bunnies with little bits of leaf or fabric for the ears.

Later, once he's gotten a bit more used to the heavy fur gloves, Natsume can also be found making a strange extremely spherical cat out of snow as well. He's fully in his element, and likely won't hear anyone approach.
]


ii. ch-ch-ch-changes

[Again, considering his luck, it's a pure miracle that Natsume doesn't end up in one of the eggs. Instead he can be found charging up and down the shores with his furry hood up over his head, wielding a long, pointy icicle and saving people from eggs left and right. It's quite heroic of him.

Except, of course, he's gotten thoroughly splattered by the red goo, multiple times, and he's feeling the cold less and less. In fact, by the time he makes it to the next egg, whoever might be in it, he's extremely overheated, face flushed and sweaty. He pauses for a moment, actually panting in the freezing air.
]

It's...sort of hot, isn't it? [Time and place, Nats, there's someone suffocating in an egg right in front of you, kiddo.]


iii. baby it's cold outside

[Natsume is making soup. It's very cold outside, and the snow is high, piled against the windows, so soup is a good idea. He isn't...positive how you make soup, but he'd presented the idea to the bartender -- who didn't seem to mind that Natsume was underage, who's a very nice person, all things considered -- and gotten his approval, so he figured he might as well try.

He's standing in front of the pantry, holding a pot in one hand, staring at the cans. There are plenty that contain soup, but something feels...wrong. The labels, maybe. Or the kinds of soup. Or -- something.

Someone comes out of a room nearby and, without turning, Natsume asks:
] Do you know what's wrong?

[Then he blinks, corrects himself:] Did you want soup?

ooc: Natsume can canonically see/hear supernatural things that most other people can't, and is extremely spiritually sensitive -- feel free to note if there's something about your character he might pick up on, or opt-out from that entirely~
Edited 2021-12-21 03:09 (UTC)
fightscene: by <user name="quixotic"> (5)

Sevika, Arcane (Vileblood)

[personal profile] fightscene 2021-12-21 03:17 am (UTC)(link)
(Spoilers for Arcane S1 inevitable!)

01A- ADD BAILEYS, THEN COME BACK

(Sevika cuts an intimidating silhouette in the corner of your tent: a giant, broad-shouldered woman, with a cape draped around her shoulders and arms. She's bunched it up around her neck and chin, tucked in each end. Fucking cold out there. Her arm hurts where the flesh ends and the metal begins.

She sees your offer of hot chocolate and raises you... one eyebrow,)
Tell me you have something stronger.

01B- YOU'RE A MEAN ONE

(Well, aren't the ice sculptures beautiful, a measure of finesse and creativity she could never personally hope to achieve. Sevika doesn't bother with the finer details of anything; precision is reserved for the mechanisms of her arm, and little else. Don't get started on the point of creating something only for it to inevitably melt.

Speaking of. The near-spent cigarette plucked from her lips finds a sizzling home in the elegant, carved face of one sculpture, right in the middle of the forehead. Positively drawled,)


Hmmph. Better.

02- THE MATRIX IS A GOOD MOVIE (nudity)

(The heat inside of the red egg is becoming unbearable, and spurs her on to slam against it. The shadow of her from the inside is hazy, undefined; the metal outline of her arm that briefly molds against the gooey interior is a much closer, angrier thing. Fingers scrabble for purchase, trying to rip, to tear.

Let her out. Let her outttttt)


03- WILDCARD

(Hit me with anything. Happy to match styles!)
devilmind: (coming to)

The Operator | Warframe | Warmblood

[personal profile] devilmind 2021-12-21 03:40 am (UTC)(link)
i. changes (blue egg)
[ Over the centuries, the Operator has possessed many forms: Warframes, Necramechs, the Ravenous Golden Maw. But this? This is new.

In this cephalopod form, it takes a while for them to even gain an awareness past that of an animal’s migratory instinct. Cognition re-emerges slowly, along with jumbled fragments of memory. Soldier, betrayer, devil, child—they’d try to unravel the tangle of lives in their head if they weren’t too busy trying to make it to shore. Viscous blue fluid drags at their tentacled form, even while the waves carry them closer and closer to land.

By the time the ocean finally spits them out onto wet sand, the Operator is thoroughly exhausted. They lay there for a few moments, feeling their body churn and their thoughts gradually solidify. They’re encased in some sort of membrane, they see now. Blue slime surrounds them on all sides and as gills morph slowly back into lungs, they realize with a pang of urgency that they need to escape.

They tear frantically at the leathery membrane that envelops them. Fortunately, their upper body has already reformed, with hands that can grab and rip. They claw an opening in the membrane and push an arm through, only to gasp at the icy cold that meets it outside the egg’s protective barrier. Still, they push themselves toward the frigid air, splitting the egg’s soft shell ever-wider until it bursts completely.

Fingers sink into the sand as they drag themselves out into the cold. In the distance, they see clusters of movement, light—heat. Shivering and bare, nothing could be a more welcome sight. They try to rise to their feet, to chase the promise of warmth, but they just as quickly stumble and fall back onto the sand. There are no solid legs beneath them. With a jolt, they realize the true state of themself:

Only their upper body has returned to the shape of a human child. Everything beneath that is still a roiling mass of tentacles.

The word ”infested” flits through their mind, chased by a nauseous rush of horror. But, no. Disoriented as they are, the Operator knows this isn’t that. Still, the tentacles might be the death of them anyway—they can only drag themselves so quickly over the sand with their arms, their unclothed body bleeding away heat with every inch. ]


ii. boardwalk
[ Rescued from the cold and now fully humanoid once again, the Operator can be found wrapped in black robes and a woolen cloak, hat, scarf, and mittens. They know they look ridiculous, but after their close-call on the beach, they aren’t taking any chances with the weather. Really, if they weren’t so stubborn, they’d still be recuperating in a warm, fur-lined tent right now—they don’t recall feeling this weak since they’d been removed from their somatic pod on Lua.

Nevertheless, the Operator is determined to learn more about this new world they’ve found themself in. Thus, they make their way slowly along the boardwalk, eyeing the frozen sculptures that line the path. They stop at a particularly lifelike statue of a man in a tophat, regarding it with a puzzled frown. ]


It’s just ice, isn’t it? [ they ask. Bundled up in their oversized winter accoutrement, they’ve never looked more like a child. ] There’s no one inside.

iii. wildcard
[ The Operator will stick around the beach/boardwalk for a while, regaining their footing and staring at people with their creepy golden eyes. Feel free to have interaction start there or contact me via PM or [plurk.com profile] crimsonxiphos for further plotting! ]
Edited 2021-12-21 04:46 (UTC)
devilmind: (uncertain)

i.

[personal profile] devilmind 2021-12-21 05:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ Wrapped in woolen winter wear, the Operator is also out among the ice sculptures lining the boardwalk. They're taking it uncharacteristically easy for now—not like they have much of a choice with the exhaustion and disorientation that came parcel with their arrival here—simply people-watching and taking in the sights of their new environment.

They see the boy shaping something in the snow and stop to watch, curious. They haven't recognized most of the animals they've seen carved into ice, much to their dismay. But as the boy adds to long, leafy ears to the shape, the Operator's golden eyes light up. ]


Is it a kuaka?
holyjudgmental: (14)

Junia, The Vestal | Darkest Dungeon | Vileblood

[personal profile] holyjudgmental 2021-12-21 05:27 am (UTC)(link)
[cw: psychological horror, religious fanaticism, violence]

i. arrival
[There is a woman kneeling on the ice. In what may be a small mercy, but is no comfort from the cold, she's wearing a thin white robe that covers her wrist to ankles. (But perhaps not so much a mercy - it clings to her translucently, outlining her well-shaped arms and back, the firm, muscular curves of her thighs folded underneath her.) Her head is uncovered, and long, darkly sodden hair falls midway down her back and around her face.

There's a broken patch in the ice behind her that had begun to freeze over, where a smaller hole has been broken in the blessedly just-thin enough new rime. Poison-green blood trickles from her forehead, down her face, her neck, staining the hem of her robes. Ever the wretched survivor, she battered her way her way free with her own sanctified skull and fists.

And she is praying like her life depends on it, her hands clasped fervently as her teeth chatter and her body shakes and tears that smell, cloyingly, of lilies run down her face to mingle with her blood.]


- oh Light, your most humble servant begs your intercession, your searing illumination, to bear the burden of your Flame in my lowly flesh -

[The words are a rolling plea, as if terrified, begging - but also as if affronted, as if betrayed.

She may seem lost in her prayer, but if anyone comes near enough for her to hear their footfalls, her head will snap up. Her face would be lovely, if not for the blood, tears, and less savory things coating it; if not for her expression, a raw and wild blend of rage, terror, and something not quite sane. She stares at whoever she sees like they cannot be there, silenced, stricken.]


ii. baby it's cold outside
[This is right.

This room. The slippery feeling quilted thing that had been on the bed now wrapped around her, on top of her grey robes, her hood pulled tight around her face, her hair hidden. She sits on the edge of the (very, very soft) bed, her knees tight together, her back firmly rigid, and this is right. It must be.

But she cannot stop looking at her hands. There should be something in them, she thinks, and so she stands up and shuffles to the window, comforter still tucked around her like armor. She runs her fingers over the cord that dangles besides it, a thing strung with beads that feel so strange to the touch she grits her teeth. Gritting her teeth feels familiar, so she keeps doing it, retreating from the window to sit in a chair that at least promises to be less soft than the bed.

It's there whoever joins her will find Junia, sulking in the corner like an angry floral puffball in her comforter-shroud. She stares at them, her eyes narrowed - they're dark in color, but what color they are isn't easy to determine. Her head hurts. She doesn't know why.]


iii. wildcard
[you can reach me by PM or [plurk.com profile] terriblepurpose if you want to talk about a different starter!]
enblightened: (smell like i sound)

i

[personal profile] enblightened 2021-12-21 05:57 am (UTC)(link)
[When there are signs of new Sleepers making their arrival, Bigby habitually comes to assist. For when he had first emerged, so many people came to aid him, to reassure him they didn't think of him purely as a beast. So he wanted to give that same aid to others, to make sure they are taken care of.

The kindness he was given, he wants to extend.

Somehow, he never truly thought he would come across a familiar face, but it was never impossible.

Quietly, he approaches, a woolen blanket in his arms, ready for arrivals. He stops when he hears her prayer, truly looks at her.

Ah.

It isn't that he's reluctant to aid her, but he knows how disorientating coming to Trench can be. That, and they have had a rather difficult... relationship, as it were. Still, he goes to kneel by her, blanket in his arms.]


Sister, I wish not to interrupt your prayer, but perhaps elsewhere out of the cold?
holyjudgmental: (08)

[personal profile] holyjudgmental 2021-12-21 06:19 am (UTC)(link)
[The closer he comes, the more frightened looking she gets, until the rage has given way entirely. Her eyes are flooded with abject despair as he kneels, and she makes a sound not entirely like a whimper. It's like something breaking in her chest, or worse, her mind.

Of course it would be him. Of all the faces her tormentors would wear, of course it would be him, her reward for her laxity, her indulgence of secret, furtive pity (not sympathy, never), her consorting.]


Please. [Junia can't bear to look, can't bear to see the false pity in his eyes before he unfolds into a horror, every part of her seized in the divine terror of this: she has finally died, and she is being punished. She buries her sickly-sweet face in her hands and doubles over herself, shaking.] Please, Flame, forgive me -

[She cannot go on. Her throat closes. She prays that it is only pain, she prays he does not speak, she prays to be saved, and she receives the same answer as she had for most of her prayers in her life, and all of them since she awoke: nothing. She is forsaken, utterly; she is damned, and this is the shunned darkness. She deserves this. She knows she does.]
enblightened: (even closer behind)

[personal profile] enblightened 2021-12-21 06:33 am (UTC)(link)
Sister-- Junia.

[For all that he has started to gradually warm up to various physical contact from others, he still does not reach for her. He would loathe to set her off further, and it would not be welcome in any case.

So he tries, best he can.]


You need not forgiveness from the Light, nor to punish yourself to appease anyone.

Come out of the cold. I can take you to other people.

[And that scent... oh, he knows it well.

After all, that sweetness, it is something he has inside of himself as well. His blood has been verdant and terrible since his transformation, but the smell was new. Alas for her, they are the same now in that way.]
holyjudgmental: (13)

[personal profile] holyjudgmental 2021-12-21 06:49 am (UTC)(link)
[It is Bigby's voice, still, so strangely refined from such a wretch, but the words are lashes. The Flame knows she earned his cruelty in life, but he never deigned to grant it. And now, to offer her rescue, comfort, to lie to her that she does not need forgiveness? He would not, she thinks, he would not, and that finds her (blessed, blessed) fury again. Her eyes show between her fingers, sparking.]

Do not seek to deceive me, devil. Strike and rend me, cast me into the lightless void, do not - do not deceive me.

[But it is still a plea, her voice still trembling, thickened with tears.]
enblightened: (after you)

[personal profile] enblightened 2021-12-21 07:01 am (UTC)(link)
[Silently, he shakes out the blanket. No longer does he offer, but instead he decides to reach and drape it over her. Dry and hopefully offering warmth.]

Remember that we are not enemies. We never were, you and I. Even at our worst, lashing out at one another in the dark.

But even then, were there not times in which we were also at our best, our most valiant? I know that is within you too. It was within all of us.

[well then there's damian but Don't Worry About It]
holyjudgmental: (10)

[personal profile] holyjudgmental 2021-12-21 07:16 am (UTC)(link)
[The blanket quiets her almost at once. Trembling hands pull it up over her hair, down around her face. She is still crying, but she has long experience with doing so without sound. When she does speak, her arms wrapped around herself in the shroud of the blanket, it's tiny, lost:]

But - you cannot be him. Because then I would be not be dead. And if I am not dead, you must leave me here, because - because, Bigby [and perhaps he will be surprised, to learn she knows his name after all, for how often she has ever used it] if I am alive, the vessel is empty. I am diseased. I am abandoned.

[Worthless in whole, not only in part. Not one flicker of flame, not one mote of light, to justify her existence.]
Edited 2021-12-21 07:18 (UTC)
enblightened: (i smell like i sound)

[personal profile] enblightened 2021-12-21 07:21 am (UTC)(link)
[He truthfully cannot remember if Reynauld or her ever used his name before. It was Baldwin before any of them that perceived him a man at all, eventually. Even if Reynauld and Junia eventually did agree to cooperate with him, still, he was a creature. An abomination.

He holds a breath, then speaks again.]


Do you believe the Light would be so cruel as to completely abandon you? And even if that were true, it would be crueler yet for me to decide you are a waste to be abandoned like refuse. I could not, even at my worst.

Regardless, you are not diseased. Your blood has changed, but you are still you. You... will not become like me, that I promise.

[His hand, rough and bony, is offered to her.]

I will try to explain, if you will allow me.
Edited 2021-12-21 07:23 (UTC)
holyjudgmental: (12)

[personal profile] holyjudgmental 2021-12-21 07:44 am (UTC)(link)
[When he asks her if she believes the Light would be so cruel, Junia lifts her head, a wild look in her eye, because he is mocking her, he must be - but he isn't, she sees at once, and this only feeds her despair.

He has always been too gentle. But she is so afraid, and she is damned, and she is tired. So she wraps her hand in the edge of the blanket and places it on his, her eyes downcast. They have helped each other before, in the dark; he is not wrong. She has touched him before, with her gloves on, to staunch a wound or be aided over an obstacle. It is not so terrible a thing.]


If you know the cause of this - [She is deferential, meek. She is never like this except at her worst. She loathes it.] - if this is some new horror -
hardbitten: (Default)

rachel havens | original | paleblood

[personal profile] hardbitten 2021-12-21 10:44 am (UTC)(link)
i. CH-CH-CH-CHANGES (red egg)

[ It doesn't occur to her how much peril she's in until her little vessel is swept in by the tide to settle on the shore. The egg's warmth is a welcome distraction. But within a few moments Rachel has more and more difficulty dragging in enough air to fill her lungs until she feels like she's choking from the lack of oxygen.

Turning over in the egg, she pounds on the shell from the inside with one fist. Then two. Then she's desperate enough to bash her head against it, wailing for help all the while. ]


ii. BABY, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE

Take five, Lloyd. I've got this.

[ She really does. Rachel is in her element behind a bar. Although this one is much more high class than the watering holes she's used to working in, with polished wood, mirrored speed rails, and chairs that don't leave an impression of your ass when you sit in them.

She leans toward the newest customer on her forearms and asks, in her honeyed way, what they'd like to drink. ]


iii. WILDCARD

( you can reach me at [plurk.com profile] ghosts4tea to brainstorm. will style match! )
devilmind: (disbelieving)

ii.

[personal profile] devilmind 2021-12-21 10:50 am (UTC)(link)
[ The one who joins her turns out to be a child—or at least, something in the form of a child.

Luminous golden eyes regard the woman on the bed warily. People in this world have quite kind so far—they had rescued and clothed the Operator, not to mention pointed them in the direction of shelter. But there is anger in the way this woman looks at them through narrowed eyes and the Operator is keenly aware of how weak they still are after their harrowing arrival here. Could they die in this place? It seems unlikely, but the Operator would rather not test the theory with recklessness. ]


Hello, [ they say, though it sounds more like a question than a greeting. ] Is this… your house? I was told it was empty.
siriusly: (rEMEMBER HOW IM A COP)

i

[personal profile] siriusly 2021-12-21 03:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[fish eggs are probably one of the least weird things to happen in Trench, but seeing human bodies writhing in them...it's a viscerally nasty thing, you know? no time for recoiling or retching, though: someone's in there!

Manabu slides over, slowing his momentum by dropping to his knees before bumping into the red mass, getting all kinds of the heebie-jeebies. at least it's warm? that's nice. but it's got to go.

getting back to his feet, he unholsters his gravity saber, grimacing a bit as he considers how to do this without hurting the person inside. it means puncturing some of the membrane carefully...swallowing back on a want to heave, he grabs at a gooey mass and thrusts the edge of the saber in before firing a brief little laser shot to burn a hole in. he casts the weapon aside and sets to work pulling that hole open.]


C'mon! Almost--!

[once he can grab her wrist and yank it up, the rest should be pretty quick!]

Linhardt von Hevring | Fire Emblem: 3 Houses | Darkblood

[personal profile] idratherbeasleep 2021-12-21 03:16 pm (UTC)(link)
You can check out Linhardt's permissions here, and feel free to either PM me or hit me up at [plurk.com profile] zaure on Plurk! I'll match styles if you'd rather do prose.

Content Warnings: Lin's canon is fairly violent, so general warnings for war/violence as well as PTSD and specifically disassociation



I. Arrival



Content Warnings: Lack of air/almost drowning

[At first, being underneath the ice is peaceful. Even when the cold starts penetrating into his changing body and his new lungs start screaming out for air, Linhardt waits. Just a little longer. A little longer before he has to fight again. A moment of quiet peace. A moment where nobody requires anything of him.

Just a moment.

That's all he's allowed, after all, even now. A moment.

His own body turns against him, demanding such trivialities as not freezing to death and being able to breathe over peaceful solitude. The first thing Linhardt does is ditch his heavy coat, letting it float away. He then kicks wildly in the direction of the surface, grateful that he'd grown up on the coast and knows how to swim, even if the cold in his veins slow his muscles and saps his energy.

At least he has his magic. As he approaches the surface, a soft glow emanates from the ice, Linhardt's fire magic lapping the ice from above until it melts open. He shoves his face into the freezing air and gasps for breath before flopping himself up land.

Getting up is somehow worse than saving himself, because now he has to choose what to do. Linhardt has no idea where he is, he's cold (although getting warmer now that he has some fire and isn't underwater and not in danger of frostbite...), and he doesn't recognize anyone or anything around him, which is concerning.

Linhardt sighs; he wants to listen to the people offering him sweet drinks. He wants to lay on soft furs and buy himself in warm cloaks, to let the warmth sink into his bones and drag him back down into unconsciousness. He's tired, and his clothes are soaked. The coat his father gave him is at the bottom of a weird squid ocean. His shoulder length hair is pasted to his scalp and it's uncomforable, even when he tries to pull it away. He wants to go and ignore everyone. Ignore everything except his own body parts angrily feeling after being numbed under the water.

That's not the right thing to do. There are other people out there in a situation like his without magic. He can't leave them just because he's tired. With a glum look on his face, the Healer approaches the nearest person who looks like they won't be TOO over the top and reaches out to signal that he'd like to speak.]


Hello. I would like to help with the situation.

[His tone is flat. People are hurt; who cares about being polite?]



II. Ch-Ch-Ch Changes



Content Warnings: Idk, stupid experimentation? Is that a warning?

[These tentacles were the second most interesting thing Linhardt has ever seen. Well. At least for today. There are a lot of things that are interesting. Including the eggs. Although he disputes the nomenclature: Linhardt is pretty sure that an 'egg' needs to contain a pre-born organism, but that distinction quickly turned philosophical so Linhardt hid in a nearby closet.

In order to not repeat the closet incident, he'll call them eggs.

Right now, he's looking at them. Blue. Red. Blue. Red. Hmm.

He misses Caspar. Caspar would have already got stuck in one of the eggs and Linhardt would have scolded him but learned a bunch. Now, there's no Caspar. But he still wants to know. Linhardt's hand twitches.]


I wonder what happens if you mix them?

[He pauses.]

How sure are we that we'll live if we end up in one of those?



II. Baby It's Cold Outside



[Linhardt doesn't know where he is and he doesn't care. Nobody wants anything from him. They leave him alone. It's good; he can just curl up in the room he's allowed, hold his pillow over his head, and ignore all of it. Unfortunately, whenever he goes to sleep he wakes up with his heart pounding, and it's ruining his main hobby of 'spending as little time conscious as possible to avoid politics and emotions'.

Which is why he's in the hotel bar, disheveled and sleep-deprived.

He turns to the person next to him.]


Do you have any recommendations for energizing beverages? I cannot-ah-

[Linhardt stops to yawn.]

I am having trouble staying awake. And sleeping doesn't seem to help.
minifilia: DNT (Concern 5)

Ryne (again) | FFXIV | Vileblood

[personal profile] minifilia 2021-12-21 04:41 pm (UTC)(link)

I. Arrival

(( CW: FFXIV ShB (up to 5.2) spoilers, Near drowning (under ice), borderline hypothermia ))
A. [ Ryne awakens with a start under the dark, icy waters. As anyone else arriving here, she isn't ready for it, and when she tries to take in a breath, she accidentally takes water in. The ice water filling her lungs snaps her out of it, and the survival tactics Thancred drilled into her kick in.

It only takes her moments to figure out where up is, and she quickly grabs the blades she always has with her. She manages to stab through the ice and create an escape for herself.

She emerges from the water, coughing and gasping loudly. She tries to scramble to the edge of the broken ice, but her body is already so heavy from the cold. ]


H-Help! I-I need h-help!

B. [ Even out of the icy waters, Ryne isn't out of trouble yet. She's hardly dressed for the weather, and even with the help of others, she's struggling to warm up. She's covered head to toe and many of the dogs curl up next to her by the fire that's been built by the rescuers, but no matter how hard she tries, the hume can't stop shivering, making it hard the hold the hot chocolate she's holding. It's like the coldness has infected her down to her bones.

Normally ice is an element she does well with since it is the closest related to light, but even she has her limits with this sort of thing. ]


L-Lady Sh-Shiva... pl-please w-watch over m-me....


II. Baby It's Cold Outside

(( CW: Mod CW's, PTSD/trauma related anxiety, minor FFXIV spoilers (ShB) ))
A. [ Ryne swear she blinks and suddenly she's somewhere new yet again. She looks around slowly, taking in the new scene around her. The modern fixtures amaze in some ways; in others, it just adds to her unease. Some of the people around her seem to be okay, even accepting of what's happening, and it makes Ryne's stomach start to turn with a familiar anxiety.

It all reminds her too much of Eulmore, and it makes her sweat. A small sobs bubbles up in her, and fear quickly turns to anger. ]


No... no... it's wrong... it's all wrong!

[ Ryne pulls out her blades that suddenly seem at her sides again and starts attacking around her. The furniture, the walls, the food... anything that gets in her way. It's all a lie, right? So it all has to go. She can't stand to be a moment longer.

She almost attacks the nearest Sleeper that approaches her, whether it's to stop her or just see what's going on, but she manages to stop herself. Her hands shake, struggling to keep a grip on her blades, as she meets the Sleeper in the eyes with her own tear filled ones. ]


You can't... you can't keep me here! I'm free now! And I'll never be a prisoner again!

B. [ Once she's calmer for one reason or another, Ryne manages to press on. She feels weak from the affects of this place but still determined to get out of here. It isn't long until she manages to track down the bartender, and she sees him for his true form shortly after. Much like a Sin Eater... and she's trained to kill Sin Eaters.

She runs across the bar with her weapons drawn again, stabbing at the beast. A blade sinks into the counter when she misses, and she's quick to pull it out. She turns to face it again as it crawls up the wall in another part of the room.

But she also sees another Sleeper in the room, and while she looks at them for her a moment, her eyes snap back to the creature as she readies herself again. ]


Are you going to just watch, or are you going to help me!?


Wildcard

(( If these prompts aren’t working for you, feel free to make your own! Plot with me at [plurk.com profile] sekoshi!! ))
terriblepurpose: (45)

[personal profile] terriblepurpose 2021-12-21 04:46 pm (UTC)(link)
I can't believe I'm asking this but: can characters collect and save some of the egg-goo for future use, or does it break down after the egg is punctured?
hardbitten: (03)

[personal profile] hardbitten 2021-12-21 05:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Light streaks in front of her eyes, lancing through the goo that surrounds her. Startled, Rachel retreats as far as she can within the egg, even as she's drowning for want of air. What in the hell is this now?

In her panicked state, the hand reaching for her doesn't appear as a hand. An octopus arm, maybe. Or pincers. If it grabs her, she's going to lose a limb. She just knows it. But, in spite of her fighting and flailing, there's nowhere for her to go; and she's been rendered weak by the stale air now scraping her lungs.

The hand grabs her and pulls. She bursts from the shell gasping and heaving and dripping in ruby-red amnion that trembles as she crawls from her prison to collapse onto the sand.

But her eyes are still open. And she's breathing. ]
siriusly: (quiet i'm doing stealth shit)

[personal profile] siriusly 2021-12-21 05:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Al...most! Gih-!!

[yoink. pop. there's not a lot of traction on the icy beach, so he flops over as the girl's finally freed from that squishy mass and all that goo just oozes out all over the place, melting frost and seeping into Manabu's clothes.

he doesn't waste much time in scrambling back up to getting back on his hands and knees, sweeping some of the more solid offending egg-bits off of the girl (gross. gross!! he never liked fish eggs as a kid and this is justifying that in spades).]


You're good--it's okay. T-take your time--
holyjudgmental: (13)

[personal profile] holyjudgmental 2021-12-21 05:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[They're only a child. Junia does not soften so much as relent, unclenching her jaw to say, emphatically but softly:]

This is not my house.

[Which is true, she realizes, but it's because-]

This is our mother's house.

[That's right. This is - her sibling. She has so many, and thinking of them makes something strange happen inside her chest, an aching. A resentment.]