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Deer Country Mod ([personal profile] reddosmod) wrote in [community profile] countryclub2022-09-25 09:57 pm
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SEPTEMBER TEST DRIVE MEME!

SEPTEMBER 2022 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: Bread Cornucopia filled with fruits and veggies]
[Image Two: Creepy glass eye embedded in sand]

Prompt Two
[Image One: A Lone Lighthouse by night]
[Image Two: Ghost Ship in dilapidated condition]

Prompt Three
[Image One: Wasps, Wasp Nest made from human Mask screaming terror, swirling eddies in wasp Nest]
[Image Two: Horribly mutilated Cenobite in Latex gear with exposed teeth]

STANDARD ARRIVAL
WHEN: First Week of September
WHERE: The Farther Shores/The Boardwalk, Koz's Orphanage
CONTENT WARNINGS: Creepy Prosthetics buried in the sand


On some level, you are one of the fortunate ones. The storms of August are now a distant memory. It is the waning of the Blood Moon and the tempestuous state of the Beast Moon this year is fading finally while the harvest is being collected. Sleepers arriving find no particular difficulty in actually reaching the shores for the most part, and transformations back into their natural state of being are relatively easy. They are met by happy Trenchies and fellow Sleepers with robes of white and their bags as normal, and motioned towards the waiting tents set up along the

What is strange, however, is that when Sleepers arrive, they may find their eyes drawn to something disturbing amongst the sand. Water washes with the waves and tide, and reveals a body part! They are always prosthetics of some variety, and many are glass eyes that eerily stare at the person. They can be retrieved with some ease, though they're in bad need of cleaning. Perhaps they belong to someone in town? If not, however, asking around will get a suggestion to bring those to Koz's Orphange in Crenshaw. They have a Lost and Found there, and it is the season of finding what and who is lost. If they do, they might catch a glimpse of Koz floating mournfully through the area, and one of the children will gratefully take the item, saying that they will add it to the rest of the Lost and Found, before coming back with a photo in hand. "Here, I found this, and I think it might be yours?" The photo is, indeed, of the giver and someone from their past. Perhaps it is an actual photo taken, or one they cannot remember having been taken. Regardless, it is offered to them in a cheap wooden frame. How it got there, the orphan does not know. It was probably there when they arrived.

SEASONAL DETAILS ON THE BOARDWALK

The Boardwalk is quite the spectacle this time of year, and those who were here the prior year will remember many of the decorations and festivities. Pumpkins have been stacked on spikes lining the Boardwalk with grotesquely realistic carvings of faces decorated on them. Massive white linen has been hung in the air to look like ghosts floating back and forth against the ocean wind.

Delicious smells waft from the Boardwalk as fresh donuts, candied apples, and hot apple cider are sold at every other booth, along with complementary cornucopias given to each new Sleeper made out of bread that has fruits of all varieties but always seems to have a small jar of the favorite fruit, seed, vegetable (or even meat) of the person receiving it. If asked where it is from, the Sleepers shrug and say "The Orphans took up a collection to give a welcoming gift to new arrivals." If what is in the jar is eaten by the person given it, it will help to ease their mind and give them a calm that can last up to a week as they acclimate.

Preparations are in order for this year's Black Parade. An annual celebration, it is promoted among the excited locals as something that people can participate in. Face Painting booths and costumes are available to those who wish them, with the statement by the Trenchies, "We do it to disguise ourselves from roaming spirits and hungry beasts."
A FADED MEMORY
WHEN: Mid October
WHERE: In Swimming distance (Barely) of the Farther Shores
CONTENT WARNINGS: Ghostly Ship & Lighthouse, Threat of Corruption, Remains of Ghastly Murder and Dismembered Corpse


It is by accident that your eyes chance to look towards the Farther Shores. There, you happen to see a lighthouse, but you know for certain that it cannot be the lighthouse that is normally there and manned by the fishermen. You can't usually see that from this angle. The moment that you see it, a feeling of mounting dread falls upon you, and you realize that there is no light in the lighthouse. Though the compulsion to investigate can be resisted, there is an almost overwhelming urge to go, to investigate, to re-ignite the flame before it is too late!

The question is getting out there. The fishermen, when the lighthouse is mentioned, will make warding gestures and look terrified. All will resolutely refuse to sail out, muttering incomprehensible curses and lashing their boats securely to the shore. There will be no fishing tonight. The lighthouse, from the docks and shores, is out in the water on a rocky outcrop that nobody remembers being there, though any Trenchy asked will pale at the mention. The only way to get out there is to swim. It is a hard, dangerous swim, but the tide is coming in, rather than going out, so the riptide is not pulling down. It can be done, or a raft can be hastily made. When clambering up the stone steps to the lone lighthouse, it is apparent its door is ajar. And within? Horror awaits.

The insides of the tower are caked in viscuous, green blood. The Lighthouse itself is barely standing. It looks as if a thunderous, colossal fist has battered it repeatedly, the building nearly collapsing at every step. It does not actually break apart, but those who ascend the steps find themselves fighting not to slip on old, caked and thick blood that smells of roses. The contact with the blood isn't doing anything good to the person's sanity and hallucinations of the screams of the dying can be heard, along with shrieks of "What is it?" at the top of someone's voice. An increase in corruption is possible here, though not required. The more one contacts the blood, the greater the risk is. In the top of the lighthouse, dismembered, skeletal remains lay in gobs of what may once have been flesh. One of them holds desperately a torch in their hand, and there is a lighter present. One look out into the night will see a great vessel approaching, broken, its sails tattered and ruined. there is little time, and hopefully the lighter works!

The moment the torch lights the lamp in the lighthouse, the ship veers away from a collision course that would have destroyed the lighthouse and likely the flimsy rock outcropping on which it stood. Shades of dead sailors stare in horror at those who man the lighthouse today, the ship sailing away into the night. All are pointing beyond, and if you look over your shoulder, you can barely see a collosal figure in shadow walking into the town beyond, seemingly confused and wailing. Nothing further happens, and when the people in the lighthouse reach shore again, they will find upon turning back that it is gone, as is the outcropping, though a close inspection does see the remains of a shallow of stone there where the island once stood.

Note: The Ghost ship cannot be interacted with. If someone has the ability to reach it, they will pass through it only to realize it is nothing more than a memory in the land. Fragments of rotted wood and broken masonry can be found in the water below, covered in countless barnacles. Nothing within them shows any proof of what once transpired. There is a risk of corruption from blood exposure, though this is very much up to the players if they wish to incorporate it.

No Trenchy will willingly speak of what transpired, though a careful investigation at the Pale Sanctuary may find a tome among the sacred texts associated with Cloverfield. Reading from it, one might find a forgotten marking that the first sighting of Cloverfield, long ago, saw the collapse of the original lighthouse. No Disciple recalls the incident, and none will speak of it.

FRIEND OR FOE
WHEN: Anytime in October
WHERE: At the frindges of the main districts
CONTENT WARNINGS: demonic bugs, Bug Horror, Grotesque death, Self mutilation, Bug Infestation


The first thing that alerts you to the danger is the screams. They are agonizing, gut-wrenching and full of naked horror. When traveling near the edge of any of the districts, particularly the Crenshaw district, it is possible at times to witness a truly horrifying sight. The screams, if investigated, come upon the grisly attack of a horde of not exactly wasps but closer to demonic insects swarming over a person. They shriek, their whole form shrouded by the terrible creatures as they're being stun and the things seem to be extruding some sort of substance to cocoon them while still alive to one of the trees. There is no cry for help, as the person is clearly unaware of who is there, but do you reach out to save them?

If you do not, the scene is horrific and grisly beyond reckoning. The wasps trap the hapless victim against a tree, grafting the extruded paper all over their screaming visage to form a new wasp nest before they ultimately begin crawling inside of them, devouring them from the inside out and implanting their eggs in the new 'home' created for them. It is at this time that the palpable danger may dawn upon you. The infernal bugs have not yet seen you, but they seem to be aware that there is other life around. Do you take this moment to try and beat a hasty retreat, or do you fight it out with the bugs? They can be destroyed, but only by means of abilities and powers that destroy multiples at once, such as great gouts of flame. Hopefully you have a coldblood present! Fleeing them is easier, but can you leave this person to their fate? Still, if instead you observe and take no action, eventually the bugs seem to notice you, and though they swarm near, as long as they are not attacked, they seem to do nothing.

Strange.

If, however, you try to save the victim, a very different scene plays out. The same rules apply to fight the swarm, and if you stop them short of killing their victim, you will see just who it is that you have saved. There, mutilated through self scarification and brutally altered in horrible ways that seem almost fetishistic, is one of the blood crazed zealots. Despite being weakened and badly injured, they lash out at you, their defender. The power that they wield with their blood is incredible, and they demonstrate an ability to wield it that is well documented. The only note is that no Cold-blooded Zealots are present, and so their powers are not represented this time. However, they are drained and though they pose a threat to your life, they can be killed here with a bit of care, can be resisted with great difficulty and certainly be escaped. Either way, there is no true reward for having killed them other than knowing that you have done so. Why are they here? Alone?

It is almost as if they were an advance scout, and the wasps were someone's defense against them, someone's early warning.

CODING
gotaknife: by <user name=everchased site="tumblr"> (40)

Boardwalk

[personal profile] gotaknife 2022-09-28 04:16 am (UTC)(link)
[Martin is still dressed in the black robes he was given by the Waker when he first came to shore. He's managed to shake off most of the confusion he felt when he first washed up on shore, but he hasn't gotten far yet in terms of figuring out where exactly he's ended up.

Trench, the locals call it, as though that's not at all ominous sounding, like they ought to be worried about being attacked, or having to go to war, or something. So far, though, it doesn't look all bad.

He's managed to acquire a cup of hot cider for himself - it's not tea, but it's fine. It's warm, and sweet, and comforting, even if it's not quite what he expected.

The question takes him a little off guard as the stranger approaches. It hasn't occured to him to look for a way back home yet. He's not even sure if there's a home left for him to go back to, but he thinks there ought to be.

He hopes there is.]


Oh, I - I don't really know how to get back, sorry. Did you just get here too?
gotaknife: by <user name=everchased site="tumblr"> (23)

Lighthouse

[personal profile] gotaknife 2022-09-28 04:38 am (UTC)(link)
[Loneliness and lighthouses somehow seem to go hand in hand, and it's easy for Martin to get drawn in by the desire to investigate, to help, and to re-ignite the lamp he's sure lies at the top of the stairs.

Cautiously, he pushes the door that stands ajar a little further open, and he recoils at the scent of floral scented vileblood that brings a wave of dizziness with it. With a soft noise of disgust, he brings his arm up to cover his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his robe.

The voice that calls out draws him in to investigate further, and it hits as a surprise when he comes across the man.

Of course Martin is going to try to help him. He can't not at least try to be of some assistance.]


Oh, god. This isn't all yours is it? No, of course not. It can't be. Are you hurt? How bad is it?
martyrofduty: (g1deon!face profile; suit)

i. the beach

[personal profile] martyrofduty 2022-09-28 06:07 am (UTC)(link)
From the boardwalk, a head turns. The way the figure sat up tells her. That's not how Harrowhark moves. That's not how the Baby moves. That's all Nona. All—

Pyrrha steps up and over the railing and lands hard on the sand below. Her knees complain in the crisp air, as they have all month, but it's not pain, only the aches of blood magic. Nothing so small could keep her away. She walks with narrow minded focus, passing wakers and another squid or two ashed up on the beach.

Leaning her head over Nona, Pyrrha looks down at her. Water laps at her shoes and the bottom of her pants. They soak up the water, which creeps higher and higher up her leg. "So, what do you think of all the rubbery legs and suction cups?" Pyrrha asks, amused.
entreats: (a vacancy that just didn't belong)

a faded memory

[personal profile] entreats 2022-09-28 06:39 am (UTC)(link)
Ange stops, freezing.

This entire lighthouse deal already felt like a bad idea to her - but at the same time there was something about it calling out to her that she couldn't quite resist. An urge that brought her all the way out to it.

An urge that is now only stopped when she suddenly meets this face right outside of it. Ange stares at Martin like she just spotted an alien, her body freezing up entirely. She's so caught off guard by his sudden appearance that she doesn't even have the time or the mental energy to shift her expression into a pokerface, leaving the surprise wide out in the open.

She'll remember the lighthouse in a moment. But for now her breath feels like it's caught up in her throat, and the only word the girl manages to force out is:

".. Martin..?"
the_obedient_servant: (vkt3pxR)

[personal profile] the_obedient_servant 2022-09-28 10:57 am (UTC)(link)
Chara who was told they can't talk...... Would Chara be able to learn where their farm is and how to access it?
strikefirster: (Untitledfwaga-12)

[personal profile] strikefirster 2022-09-28 01:04 pm (UTC)(link)
There's hon-Aackhargh!

[Is about all Johnny can get out before the fist slams into his throat. There's no attempt to dodge it, no attempt to block it. He's still very much before he ever met Terry in their world. Even with LaRusso here they haven't got to the point where Johnny has been willing to give any sort of defense a chance.

He stumbles back, on hand clutching his throat before he manages a glare at Terry. And then he goes stumbling back in to try this again. Except his telegraphing his offense even worse than before.]
necroprince: (bev johnson 2)

[personal profile] necroprince 2022-09-28 01:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Woe. [She snorts at the name, which, she's sure Mercymorn would expect as much.] Well then. If we're revealing our new names, you're speaking to the Saint of Awe. Charmed as always, dear sister.

[Not very charmed, of course, and Mercy is about as much a sister as this squid infested hole is a home. But she's not interested in picking a fight, not too much, no matter how sure she is that the reveal that John Gaius named her a saint stings. Nine months and twenty two years is a lot of time to practice turning the other cheek from repugnant family members. And they say she's unreasonable.]

Freshly crawled out of the ocean's dreadfully boring womb, yes. Not sure why I bothered. This place makes the Ninth House look cheery.
Edited 2022-09-28 13:14 (UTC)
necroprince: (naomistares 3)

[personal profile] necroprince 2022-09-28 01:15 pm (UTC)(link)
You got my hopes up and everything. :(

But the bugs did ignore me. Which was odd. I'm very tasty, you see.
abornfighter: (bracelet of spiky doom)

[personal profile] abornfighter 2022-09-28 02:24 pm (UTC)(link)
I've had it since I arrived in Trench, but learning to control it properly took months of meditation and mental focus exercises. It used to react to my needs and mood. Like if I was feeling aggressive, weapons would just appear.

[Which has culminated in a weapons collection about as large as Terry might imagine it to be, given that information. She has a closet full of them. A miniature armory.

It's on the tip of her tongue to consider offering him a gas mask like the one she's wearing. However, even in the torch light, she'd seen that he's a Vileblood. She's not completely aware of all the powers of that all too on the nose blood type, but she thinks it would mean that he's more resistant to its effects than her, and they can't dally.

She continues up the stairs.
]

miyagimagic: (021)

[personal profile] miyagimagic 2022-09-28 02:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Everything that's happened.

Shit.

Daniel was so caught up in the idea of Terry Silver being here at all that he didn't quite consider this part yet. Terry could be from absolutely any time. Johnny only remembering things from about nine months ago proves as much. Which means that what the other is refering to here could be anything, from maybe just their past, to the tournament, to maybe even something Daniel doesn't know about yet in the future.

It's a card Daniel absolutely can't read. He stares at the other man like he might find a sign of something there, but it seems like they're both holding their cards extra close to their chest here. Daniel realises that - if not for a moment - he has the advantage of Terry also not knowing what Daniel knows.

Like the most messed up game of poker. ]


When has leaving you alone ever helped anything or anyone?

[ It's why he fires off the more vague statement first, trying to desperately ignore the way his heart is racing with anxiety. Trying to buy time. To think. ]

Besides, I think you need to be a little more clear. [ It feels like he's fumbling with every word, but Daniel keeps his best to stay strong, keep his face in check. Don't give too much away.

Try to peel the information out of his hands before showing him any of his own. ]


You do know people come here from different points in time, right? And it's not like we've been through just one or two things. You could be talking about anything.
broodofone: (Spin strands)

[personal profile] broodofone 2022-09-28 02:26 pm (UTC)(link)
The 'squids' were interesting. They seemed to be like Zerg larvae. Highly mutable. Capable of many metamorphosis end points. Many, to his annoyance, became Terrans. But he was vaguely aware that he had also been one until very recently. He had many memories that indicated he had been Zerg before that, but memory was a biological function, one that could theoretically be transferred. Perhaps he was not actually Zerg.

It was irrelevant. He was Abathur. He was imbued with the memories and mission of Abathur. If another Abathur existed elsewhere, their purposes and existence were not in conflict. "Collect novel sequences. Assess. Spin into Zerg strands. Improve Swarm."

He refocuses on watching the hive as well, observing their behavior. "Elaborate on Vileblood toxicity."
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (06)

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-09-28 03:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Ianthe claims her own holy name in Mercymorn's presence, and the older Lyctor is stilled, her foot on the sand itself inert, a single straight line drawn up through it into the rest of her. She is nearly as much a tower as the lighthouse she looks out to. ]

He made it official, then.

[ There is something odd about her voice, something dammed and diverted. She wiggles the craft once more, the strange sea waters sloshing about its sides. ]

I hope it swallows you back up, and never vomits you back out. [ It could so easily be cruel; she could so easily be cruel. She isn't, which may be worse. ] I'm sure you're doing quite well for yourself. You always did have a survivor's knack.

[ That is not a compliment. ]
strongroots: (ground)

the orphanage

[personal profile] strongroots 2022-09-28 06:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Getting the parts to the orphanage is the hard part. Or rather, awkward, and it's not the weight of the prosthetics inside the sack he's carrying them in (though, a couple of arms and a leg isn't light); it's the parts that protrude, a heel that had been pressing into his shoulder lingering, even after Robby's made it to the building. He's rubbing at the spot, lingering to wait for the kid who's taking each piece carefully to the Lost and Found to come for the few false hands left in the bag.

That's how Billy interrupts him, doing his milling around; hand behind his shoulder, and head turning to look at him, eyes going from his face to the frame being held up. ]


No...? [ He hasn't been here long enough to pay attention to odd happenings, and figures- ] Was it in your bag?
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (06)

cw: gore, insects, body horror

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-09-28 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)
That’s all interesting, she thinks, still at a certain remove from the whole affair. Novel sequences, assessments, swarm, Zerg - it all begins to compose a kind of sense. She’s never needed to be handheld to her conclusions.

The other insects are still hard at work. Soon, they’ll be boring into the meat they’ve secured themselves, following the unusual pattern of behaviour she has been observing. She should care about that, too. She should care about quite a few things.

“It’s variable.” She does not hold out her arm for inspection. “Which is another way of saying inconsistent. All the samples I’ve taken would induce death, if ingested, but applied topically, they act as a numbing agent - and evidently, they interact differently with Palebloods, but I’ve yet to get my hands on one to test that out myself. Is a Zerg what you call yourself?”
necroprince: (naomistares 3)

[personal profile] necroprince 2022-09-28 11:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[God, what a miserable woman. There's only one time where Ianthe's seen her in quite so pitiful a state, and it was when Augustine held her in his arms as she wept, as they looked out the windows and into the Empire they had condemned to die. Ianthe can't even bring herself to hate her eldest sister or blame her for the mess she left in her lap. She should. Wants to, even. But she doesn't. At least not as vehemently.]

He was running rather low on Saints, wasn't he? [There's a tinge of bitterness to her own tone. Contempt, even.] Only natural he'd bring out the spares and dress them up.

[But the unhappiness is gone quickly, and Ianthe lounges back against the docks, lying on the stiff wooden boards. She has been doing quite well. That's a fact. It's not something anyone can take away from her. Without her, his empire crumbles. Without her, the Nine Houses crumble. Without her, he's about as defanged as a toothless kitten - whatever a kitten is.

It really should be enough. It isn't.]


Someone has to. [She smiles wryly, staring up into the blood moon.] Death is for suckers, after all. I'd much prefer to live.
survivalthroughhate: ([Other 3] Sketch White)

[personal profile] survivalthroughhate 2022-09-29 08:47 am (UTC)(link)
Yes, you mustn't let your guard down for a moment or this place will take the opportunity to bat you around like a cat with a mouse.

[Maul begins to glance around the room for a way out when he notices the blood staining Terry's clothes.]

It appears you're bleeding. Were you injured by anything before I arrived?

[Best to take care of that before they go anywhere else. Maul doesn't know how much use Terry might be for what they have to face next but it is always better to have safety in numbers here than to go it alone.]
dohaeris: (ahahaha...)

[personal profile] dohaeris 2022-09-29 07:51 pm (UTC)(link)
more annoying animal questions:

what might a leopard seal see/experience if they went out to lighthouse (with a human soul inside)?

would the local ravens know anything about the wasp/zealot situation??

OH AND a little silly but can the pictures have more than one other loved one in them?

thanks!!
Edited 2022-09-29 21:28 (UTC)
monsterwife: (seventh)

cws: dubiously consensual intimacy, themes of violation and control continue

[personal profile] monsterwife 2022-09-29 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Everything that hurts them hurts them both, and this is no exception. He does not understand. Is it a human thing? The humans tell Alecto that she understands so little, and that is why she is frightening, and not at all like them. But they have it backwards.

Another way, then. Alecto uncurls her fists, takes his hand, and tries to stand on shaky legs. It is like the old days, which means she has to try to remember what John taught her. (She doesn't want to remember. She doesn't know why the idea of remembering at all is so terrifying, but she feels it still, buried deep in some part of her flesh that she cannot locate.) ]


The water.

[ The appendage at the end of her horrible, long, stick-limb is a foot. She is supposed to anchor it into the sand, and then put the other in front. ]

The water hurts. Can't you hear it?
burnyoudown: (060)

Kavinsky | The Raven Cycle | Paleblood

[personal profile] burnyoudown 2022-09-29 11:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[ooc: I'll match format if you prefer prose! :3]

i. Arrival [CW: mentions of suicide]

[Kavinsky was dead. He knew he was dead. He'd stared down his dragon until the last moment, unflinching. Yet here he was, standing knee deep in the ocean on a beach. He was something else- but he'd always been something else. This was a different sort of thing than what he'd been before but- he didn't know how he felt about this. Something, someone maybe, had given him another chance. Or he was in Hell. He wasn't ruling out any of the possibilities just yet. Everything was strange but was it stranger than being able to pluck whatever he wanted out of his dreams?

Slicking his wet, dark hair back from his forehead, he waded the rest of the way to shore. He stopped when he stepped on something hard in the sand and looked down, expecting to see a rock or a seashell. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of a glass eyeball staring back at him. At least, he assumed it was glass because it sure as hell managed to stay intact under his foot. Stooping down, he pried it out of the sand, brushing it off a little, and tilted it this way and that.

Henrietta might not have had beaches, but he'd grown up in New Jersey and he knew for a fact that glass eyes weren't a common sight. Looking around, he caught sight of a prosthetic hand a few feet to his right. Logically, he went over to pick up that, too, brushing sand off of it.

Glancing up when he heard or saw someone approach or walk past, he said-]


Hey, you need a hand? I've got an extra.

[He didn't smile. He didn't laugh. There wasn't any mirth in his dark eyes. He wasn't as okay as he seemed but he could fake it with the best of them.]

ii. Lost and Found

[Eventually, Kavinsky took the things he'd found on the beach to the Orphanage, handing them over and expecting that to be that. Except the kid came back with a photo and handed it over. The sight of it was enough to make Kavinsky freeze for a moment before taking it.

He'd know it anywhere, remember when it was taken no matter where he was or how much time had passed. He didn't usually do selfies but he'd allowed Prokopenko to take a picture of the two of them once or twice. This was one of those photos, the pair of them pressed so close their foreheads were nearly touching. Proko flashed a grin while Kavinsky flipped the camera off goodnaturedly.]


How did you get this? [He raised his voice, not quite shouting but talking loud enough for anyone around to hear.] How the fuck did you get this? Is he here?

[Maybe someone should step in and distract him from accosting a small child.]

iii. A Faded Memory

[Don't ask him what compelled him to swim out to the lighthouse. He sure as fuck didn't really give a shit about the potential of any ships running aground. Maybe it was spite, after being turned down by various fishermen. Maybe he wanted to do it because they were so opposed to the idea of anyone going out there.

He knew going out there could mean death; he wasn't an idiot. Back in Jersey, he'd heard plenty of stories about waves or riptide or sharks or just sheer exhaustion killing people. Yet he went out anyway. Except when he got there, when he'd hauled himself up onto the lighthouse steps, he sat for a moment to catch his breath. It wasn't that he was out of shape- that would imply he'd been in shape to start with. He was just a skinny teenager so thin you could practically count his ribs if you wanted to.]


Fuck me, this is stupid.

[He muttered. But he couldn't be the only one out here, could he? Surely, he wasn't the only one stupid and determined enough to swim out here. He'd find out if he sat there long enough, probably, or when he finally got up to explore the lighthouse.]

iv. Friend or Foe [CW: bugs, bug horror, death, gross stuff]

[Of course, following the sounds of screaming was a logical choice. Kavinsky was an asshole but he wasn't completely heartless. Except he stopped still when he found the source of the screams, as if not moving would save him. And maybe it would. The poor fuck the bugs were attacking was already done for, he could tell that much. Maybe if he'd had a weapon that felt like it would have been appropriate, he would've tried to step in. But all he had on him was a lighter and that was going to do jack shit.

So it was more out of self-preservation than a lack of empathy that made him hold still. And yet, he caught sight of someone else, looking like they were going to go in for an attempted rescue.]


I wouldn't do that. [He warned.] It's too fucking late for them, anyway.
monsterwife: (seventh)

cw: discussion of dysfunctional relationships

[personal profile] monsterwife 2022-09-29 11:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Alecto likes those eyes, as much as she likes anything anymore. They are easy to understand. She lowers her hand, as if the child has passed a test, and she nods.

Humanity. Of course. They must be terribly loved. ]


John made me. And I made John.

[ Alecto meets humanity's creature with her own near-monotone. This is how a person with a voice tells a story, is it not? ]

Do you love them? Humanity?

[ She hears the voice of humanity's creature, and to her, it sounds like love. It would only be right to love who made you. She loves John, and John loves her. ]
necrolord: <user name="thebutt"> (laying borders as tall as towers)

additional cw for one-sided attraction and just terrible vibes

[personal profile] necrolord 2022-09-29 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She climbs unsteady to her feet, and she holds his hand all through it. This does something to him he cannot put into words. John is her anchor, and he takes to that duty with breathless intensity: he waits til she has risen, then he levers himself up to follow her, careful not to pull her down.

It's easy. It's so easy, stumbling up newborn and pitiful at her side. She doesn't move like a human being, not even a little, and he could cry just from watching the way she sets her feet in the sand. It's love or despair; there hasn't been a difference for a long time yet. There hasn't been a difference ever.

He has his own feet under him, his grip tight on her hand, when he realizes. The water hurts. John's expression flares to alarm, then a sick and guilty fear. ]


The ocean. [ He hesitates, hedges. He puts it behind the sheepish tilt of a smile, fake, but the creases between his eyes are real and anguished. ] She's not friendly... she put us here.

[ Trapped us, he'd say, but he knows how rich that'd be. ]
earthworms: (who could do this to her)

[personal profile] earthworms 2022-09-29 11:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[Nona steps back. Though it's funny. An odd sensation of falling backwards l. Like her mind jerked away first and her body followed like a puppet on cut strings.

She doesn't look into his eyes. She very purposefully, very carefully, does not look into his eyes. She attempts to play it off like shyness, like how some of the Tinies at school address the teacher.]


No. I'm Nona.
earthworms: (who could do this to her)

[personal profile] earthworms 2022-09-29 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm not "Harry". I'm Nona.

[She says, rather indignantly, but certainly she has the right to be so after everyone has decided to call her by names that aren't hers. Or... even Nona may not be her proper name, she's attached to it!]
necrolord: <user name="thebutt"> (laying borders as tall as towers)

[personal profile] necrolord 2022-09-29 11:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[ This makes, in his opinion, no fucking sense at all.

John looks at the ocean, again, this time with his incredulity threatening to splinter into despair. This can't— but she isn't— what did Mariana do? ]


Nona. [ Slowly, like he's sounding out the name, trying to slot something into place: ] Nonagesimus?

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