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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"> (41)

Martin Blackwood | The Magnus Archives | Paleblood

[personal profile] gotaknife 2022-09-26 03:30 am (UTC)(link)
1. Arrival

The squid is a light, smoke grey colour, its skin almost translucent. It swims quietly through the water by itself. It's fine - it doesn't mind being alone. It prefers it, really. It's peaceful, and quiet, even if it is a little sad to be by itself, it's not so bad. It could be worse. The creature remembers that somewhere, distantly, it used to be a whole lot worse.

The desire to be more to be someone, instead of something creeps up on it slowly, and drives it to swim towards the shore. The creature is unsure, though, whether or not this is what it really wants, or if it's simply being driven by a deeper need. In the end, it doesn't matter.

He still comes to shore.

The transformation from squid to man comes easily once it's damp, coarse sand underneath him instead of simply seawater, and he mumbles a thanks to the Waker who hands him the bag and the robe he pulls on to cover himself.

Martin - oh, right, his name is Martin - sits quietly on shore for a time, watching the waves roll in while he tries to figure out where he is. It's not the Lonely, although the sea does remind him of... God, Peter Lukas, of all people. That's not who he wants to remember, though. He wants to remember his friends (he did have friends, didn't he?), his family, the people he cared about before he came here.

He notices something white and round, rolling around in the waves that wash up over his legs, and he reaches for it. A shell, or a little pebble, or perhaps a bit of sea glass, he thinks. He turns it over in his hand to take a closer look.

The eye, green and glass, peers up at him and it feels like it's looking through him, except he knows it shouldn't be able to. It's just a fake eye. He still drops it and scrambles back before the memory hits.

Jon. Where is Jon? One way or another, they were supposed to stay together. Martin lunges forward to snatch the eye back from the water again. He can't lose it now. What if that's all that's left? That can't be all that's left, some horrible eye to remind him of everything that's been lost.

His fingers curl around the smooth glass as he calls out across the shore. "Jon! Jon? Where are you?"

A Faded Memory

It's hard to look away from the lighthouse when Martin spots it. He can practically feel it calling to him to come have a look. He'd rather not, but he does anyway. He paces back and forth on the beach a bit, though, before making the swim out. It would have, he thinks, been an easier trip as a squid, but he's not a squid any more, and he doesn't particularly want to be again.

He doesn't want to risk forgetting again.

Martin hesitates again after he pulls himself from the cold water, and climbs the steps to the lighthouse. It's beyond creepy, but he's already seen plenty of things horrifying things. This can't possibly be worse, can it? It feels like it could maybe be worse.

He takes a peek inside the door, trying not to touch it, to get a glimpse of what awaits inside, and makes a face at the green blood coating the walls before stepping back, covering his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his soaked robes to try to filter out the overwhelming smell of the flowers.

Oh no. He doesn't want anything to do with this whatsoever.

For a time, Martin does manage to resist the urge to go in and explore, to climb the tower to re-ignite the lamp, even though he's sure that's what needs to be done.

It's not until someone else comes along that he gives in and looks at them, with wide eyes and says, "I, um. I - I think we're supposed to go inside."
Edited 2022-09-26 14:20 (UTC)
earthworms: (Default)

Nona | The Locked Tomb

[personal profile] earthworms 2022-09-26 03:37 am (UTC)(link)
(Spoilers for Nona the Ninth.)

i. the beach
[Nona immediately throws herself back into the ocean once she stops being a squid. Not in a dramatic "I give up" sort of way that Beautiful Ruby might have done when trying to learn maths, but in the way a tired person might fling themselves into bed.

She likes the water. All water. She likes this water too. She even like having little tentacles and swimming about like the jellyfish back home. Swimming wasn't even swimming. It was breathing.

Now she exhales a breath into the sky, feeling her lungs deflate in her chest. The stars are nice here. Most people probably would have been happy about the blue light being gone but Nona missed, a dull ache for something familiar.

For a long few minutes she floats there, thinking about Cam and Pal and Pyrrha. Did they know she'd gotten so lost she'd gone squid? Would they be angry or think it was a bit funny. Pyrrha would probably find it funny.

Then suddenly she sits up abruptly, no longer floating but collapsed onto the ocean floor on her backside in horrific realization.]


Oh! I'm going to miss school tomorrow!


ii. the boardwalk
[Nona finally has gotten her clothes on (she did it by herself in one try, thankyouverymuch) and taken in the curious sights. No gas masks, or gloves, no ducked faces trying to avoid eye contact with each other. No sounds of shots.

Instead it's all just a gentle hum around her. It's comforting. She likes it. Her eyes are drawn to the various booths and the things they sell. Perhaps she can find something to ask for for her birthday...

No.

She has to go home right now! It's very very important. Except... Nona has no idea how to get home. The teacher at the school sometimes says "Ask a friend if you can't solve the problem on your own" to prevent everyone from just asking her the answer to a question.

So Nona approaches someone, not a friend, yet anyway, to ask her question.]

Hello, excuse me? Do you know how I get home? I can't tell you where I live but I know it's not around here.


iii. the lighthouse
[Nona doesn't know what a lighthouse is. But she stares at this tower and knows it is wrong. There's supposed to be something more. Something to bring people back instead of losing them in the darkness. In this place, darkness isn't a cover. It isn't careful.

She takes off her shoes in a flourish and jumps onto the sand. Getting a boat was never something that crossed her mind. And she wouldn't have taken one if offered.]


We swim for it. To bring the light back.

[Said so easily it was basically confidently.]
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (10)

ii.

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-09-26 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ The caramel dipped apple vendor gives the wandering girl a patient look, then shakes his head, pointing up the boardwalk towards the cluster of Waker tents intended for new arrivals.

"That's who you'll be wanting, miss," he says, apologetically. Something seems to strike him, looking at her, and he plucks an apple from its tray and presses it on her to take with her when she goes. She's such a small, hapless looking thing - not unlike the pink butterfly that swoops up from the crevice she had been observing the bustle from to flit around Nona's face after she moves away from the apple cart. ]


Hello! [ She says, friendly and lilting. ] Are you lost?
Edited 2022-09-26 04:29 (UTC)
dynatox: (terry // 058)

terry silver (re-app) / cobra kai / vileblood / S5 SPOILERS BELOW

[personal profile] dynatox 2022-09-26 04:11 am (UTC)(link)
1. arrival /
[ Ah, I'm here again. That's his first thought as he changes out of his squid form and back to human as easily as riding a bike. All things considered, there are worse places he could be right now. Trench wasn't pleasant, and neither was home. So was his lot in life, thanks to Danny boy and his fucking protection squad.

Now he's back in the place that branded him a vileblood. It makes more sense than it did last time he was here, as much as he hates to admit it.

Those who knew Terry last time he was here may notice something different about him. That air of feigned kindness is all but gone, even if he'll still be polite. His appearance is disheveled and the look in his eyes is intense, like a hungry animal.

Still, he nods politely at anyone who looks his way. Old habits die hard. ]

2. lighthouse / cw: toxic codependency
[ Terry goes into the lighthouse without putting up much of a fight, but once he gets inside it's easy to become overwhelmed. Perhaps because he's a little bit corrupt already, or perhaps because the blood this place is caked in seems to be vileblood like his, it drives his senses wild and makes him feel dizzy.

All of the sudden he really can't stand to be alone. It's like he'll melt into the ground or blow away like dust if he doesn't have someone nearby, so he cries out as soon as he hears footsteps: ]


Hello? Is anyone there?

[ He sits down while he waits for help to arrive, feeling the blood soak into his clothing. There's a sharp pain in his side, but he can't quite place it. ]

3. wildcard /
[ ooc: Surprise me or ping me at [plurk.com profile] dandymott or vellocet#7191 ]
broodofone: (Default)

[personal profile] broodofone 2022-09-26 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
So, if a space caterpillar who acts as a living genetics and bio-engineering laboratory were to eat one of the squids before it transforms, what might happen? Would said space caterpillar be able to extract any DNA?

On a related note, if a living genetics laboratory were to eat one of the wasps, what might happen? There are no wrong answers, especially because I'm asking terrible questions.
terriblepurpose: (020)

1

[personal profile] terriblepurpose 2022-09-26 04:27 am (UTC)(link)
Sensei Silver?

[ The boy that calls out to Terry, low and careful, is some months older than he was the last time they saw each other. His hair is more wild, his shoulders a touch broader, and he sports two flat, pale stud earrings in each ear, but beyond that, not much has changed about Paul Atreides, one of Johnny Lawrence's students.

For one: he still bows, bringing booted feet together neatly and bending neatly at the waist before he straightens, readjusting the strap of the back slung over his shoulder. ]


Do you remember me?
Edited 2022-09-26 04:28 (UTC)
broodofone: (Default)

Abathur | StarCraft 2 | Paleblood

[personal profile] broodofone 2022-09-26 04:48 am (UTC)(link)
1. Arrival - Metamorphosis. (CW body horror)

A small, dark shape lies on the sand, tentacles limp and motionless. Whether it is approached or not, it will inevitably grow. A formless mass the size of a human body, tentacles thick as limbs. A dark gray thing shot through with glowing green, three times the size of a human. It begins to twitch, tentacles growing fragile, translucent bone. Bending under their own weight.

It keeps growing, until much of its bulk is hidden in the waves. Two pairs of clawed, three-fingered hands dig furrows in the sand. Four long, scything limbs flex new joints. Myriad smaller legs writhe as the creature struggles to right itself. Green sacs of fluid boil up beneath a crest of exoskeleton. A mind within it reaches out, groping blindly for other psionic projection. Any capable of response.

Four lidless green eyes stare as it rises up to consider this new world. A gaping vertical mouth splays open to taste the air. Flesh vibrates oddly as it breathes out a deep, rumbling sound.

Nothing else like it has washed up on the beach. It is alone.

2. Arrival - Observation (CW injury, body horror, eating calamari)

Abathur turns his expressionless face toward the sea, clicking thoughtfully. Terrans infest the beach. They are uninteresting. The local fauna have his attention. Similar body plans, but individuals vary greatly. They function poorly in the surf and worse on the sand, but they are attempting to swim ashore.

He is vaguely aware that he was one of these things, not long ago. A dramatic metamorphosis. The energy requirements, unfeasible. Yet it occurred.

He must learn more. Begin with observations.

New arrivals may awaken to find Abathur looming over them. Those already walking the beach will find him impossible to miss.

Left to his own devices, he will begin to experiment. Leaving small, precise wounds on sleeper squids and observing the effects. Lifting up a partially formed squid and placing it back in the surf.

Finally, inevitably, he will attempt to eat one of the squid. Then more. He needs at least three for a useful sample. Hopefully more.

3. Arrival - Off-target analysis (CW prostheses)

Enough data has been collected for now. Abathur arches down and dives into the sand, as easily as other organisms might dive through water. Specialized muscles vibrate at just the right frequency, efficiently liquefacting the sand around him. He will burrow, seeking a suitable lair.

Something solid buzzes against his exoskeleton. Then another. Then more. He can sense their shape in the dark. Small, hard, jointed things, that do not try to flee him. He catches one in his mouth, met with the immediate taste of artificial polymers. He surfaces just down the beach, perplexed.

With a wave of drool, he spits out a prosthetic leg.

4. Friend or Foe (CW body horror, insects, more bad dietary decisions)

The city is full of strange scents. Strands that match nothing Abathur recognizes. Tantalizing.

He crawls through the streets, laboriously dragging his full bulk over the stones. If he is to remain mobile, he will need to alter himself. And he is likely to require mobility--he has not become feral yet, but the absence of a strong mind guiding the Swarm may soon lead to more instinctive behavior. Once a shelter is established, he can put the biomass to use.

For now, he will collect more samples to analyze during the burrow construction. The sound of screaming draws him in, scuttling closer to watch a swarm attack a target. Efficient. Excellent eusocial cohesion and aggression. He must sample.
dynatox: (terry // 101)

[personal profile] dynatox 2022-09-26 05:03 am (UTC)(link)
Mr. Atreides. Of course I do. [ He returns the bow, though his is more of a nod. ] Ah, how long has it been, if I might ask?

[ He's relieved that someone here still recognizes him, and that it isn't Johnny himself he's confronted with even if it is one of his students. Paul seemed like a sensible kid aside from his inexplicable attachment to Sensei Lawrence. ]
pumpkinmagic: ([giggle; aren't you silly])

Blair | Soul Eater

[personal profile] pumpkinmagic 2022-09-26 05:46 am (UTC)(link)
[Arrival]


[Hide the cash folks, a stray purple cat washed up on shore. Look at the poor thing, all drenched and covered in some salt and sand. It'll take a while to rub this off! Yuck! The waves gently touched the back of her legs and tail, yet the strange cat doesn't flinch the fact it was water. Instead, her expression was peaceful, like a child napping on the beach. Her journey was smooth, and here she was, sound asleep. Give her a moment to wake up or... poke the kitten.

B or... Meet her at the tent. Like any kitten, Blair was curious and... felt somewhat naked with her favorite hat and collar nowhere to be found. How cruel! Who would steal something from Blair? Luckily, someone gave her directions where the tent was, and off she went. She carried something in her mouth, something she found in the sand along the way, thought someone lost it. It looked pretty important. First thing which caught Blair's attention were the robed people. She looked up curiously, head slightly tilted to one side. Huh, strange. That didn't stop her. The crowd was pretty, busy but it was easy for Blair to maneuver around for being small.

Blair scanned for a person who didn't have their hands full. When she found such an individual, her head perked up making sure they would see eye-to-eye. Ah, but first, let's set the finding down in front of her.]


Excuse me. [She'd give the person a moment. They probably didn't see her yet. That was the trouble with this form sometimes, people didn't look down right away. She proceeded again.] Yoo-hoo! Down here! [She'd paw their leg next. Come on, it shouldn't be that hard to find a cat. What was the thing she found earlier which was close to her? A realistic eyeball. Don't worry, it was fake.]

[Boardwalk Season]


[Now with her gear equipped, it was time to take a look at her new territoryhome. Blair wasn't aware yet, she splashed just in time for the spooky celebration. To be fair, the Trench felt more like her world. Halloween theme was very norm to her, she had to glanced up at the sky a couple times. Like... what's with the moon and sun? What happened to their eerie grin? Enough dwelling on that. She'd get her answer later.

Blair's attire fit her right in with the holiday spirit. Her witch hat was up, she decked herself with her witchy dress. Whatever was happening at the boardwalk, it looked fun. Blair locked her fingers together behind her as she strolled curiously. Her topaz eyes scanned left to right, observing every person her high senses could pick up. The only thing trivial with cats, their five senses are damn sensitive. A pin dropped to the floor would send her ears twitching. Well, it was difficult to see her ears at the moment.

The attractions looked fun, the activities were booming and yet... there was no one to share it with. Where's a Sugar Daddy when you need one? Whether you're alone or busy, male or not, young or old, Blair had her eyes on you. She reached out and gently touched the person's shoulder.]


Excuse me. Are you by yourself? [Greet with a smile. No, no one plotting here.]

[Friend or Foe]


[Someone probably picked up Blair for a brief moment, or knell down to brush their fingers gently under her chin. No one could resist a purple cat with a witchy hat. She was adorable, and Blair had her cute charm on. Yes please, pet Blair. Blair wasted no time; she'd nudge her chin, marking them with her scent like any cat until---

Someone screamed? Maybe it was close or faint. If it was faint, Blair definitely heard that. Her eyes are on alert and her ears reached up high. She jerked her head towards the direction with a small nyaow?]


What was that? [Has Blair informed this person she was able to... talk? Well, the cat is out of the bag.]

[Wild Card]

[PM me idea or tag it here!]
survivalthroughhate: ([TPM 62] Yellow eyes)

2

[personal profile] survivalthroughhate 2022-09-26 07:28 am (UTC)(link)
[Maul doesn't like this place one bit. It makes him feel off-balance like he can't quite feel the Force with the usual intensity that he can. It's as if one of his senses has been muted to an unhealthy degree.

When he hears someone call out, he heads towards where he can hear them. His eyes take in the man. Oh yes, he'd run into him once before in the Jumanji jungle. He'd been freaking out badly then and doesn't look very stable right now either.]


Is this place getting the best of you?
abornfighter: (alarmed)

2

[personal profile] abornfighter 2022-09-26 12:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[The sense of forboding if the lighthouse wasn't lit was enough to push Tory toward confronting whatever horror awaited. The fearful attendant handing her a torch didn't exactly help alleviate that.

When Tory approaches, she's barely recognizable, clad in the local style, and sporting a gas mask on top of that. There's a sword neatly tucked into a sheath at her hip. Still, in the light of the torch's flames, her eyes and hair can clearly be seen. And despite the gas mask distorting her voice a little, it's recognizably her.
]

Sensei Silver?

[She's grateful for the mask in this moment. It helps to hide her reaction toward seeing him. It also means he can't see when she mouths 'what the fuck'.]

What happened? How did you get that?

[With her free gloved hand, she gestures to his bleeding side.]
terriblepurpose: (100)

[personal profile] terriblepurpose 2022-09-26 02:38 pm (UTC)(link)
I[ Usually, Paul would think that makes this easier, but Silver doesn't seem to be in an improved mood for his familiarity with the place - but if Paul were in his position, he doesn't imagine his state of mind would be sanguine, either. ]

Since I last saw you, half a year.

[ He unbuckles the mouth of his bag, but doesn't go rooting in it yet. He doesn't know what Silver might yet need. ]

Sensei Lawrence is still here. I'm sure he'd welcome you at the dojo. [ Johnny can explain the change of name, Paul decides; it wouldn't be appropriate coming from him. ] Especially since La-

[ Paul cuts himself short, shaking his head slightly at himself. ]

We should see you settled first.
wordiness: (002)

billy kaplan-altman ( marvel )

[personal profile] wordiness 2022-09-26 02:44 pm (UTC)(link)
BOARDWALK
[ billy is a reality-warping witch, so he probably looks a lot more put-together than most people coming in off the shore. he's already perfectly dry, his hair styled, and he's clothed, and there's a shawl draped around his shoulders that looks like it could have been cut out of a whirling galaxy. stars drift lazily by on the fabric, and the effect is slightly dizzying as it shifts and folds with his movements.

he's polite as he accepts the cornucopia, smile a little confused still, but the kind one he so often uses as the emperor's consort. once the figure hurries away to hand out more, though, he lifts out the little jar and shakes it with a rueful expression. ]
I guess it's asking too much to hope this is kosher? [ sure, he's pretty lapsed, and he lives in space most of the time, but he tries when he can. ]


THE ORPHANAGE
How-- [ billy's voice dries up in his throat as he accepts the framed photograph, fingers feeling numb with surprise. ] How did you get this..?

[ the photo itself is one he doesn't remember specifically, but since it was clearly taken at he and teddy's formal wedding, it could have come from any one of their family members, friends, or other guests. it looks like their first dance, their arms around one another, billy's head thrown back in a laugh at something teddy's said.

he rubs a thumb fondly over teddy in the photo, then glances up at someone else milling around returning a prosthetic. he lifts the frame, brows arching. ]
Do you have any idea where they get these? [ if there's a crack in the multiverse somewhere, maybe he can widen it and slip through. ]


WILDCARD
[ feel free to use one of the other prompts, encounter him elsewhere, or pm for a personal starter. ]
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (06)

4.

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-09-26 03:06 pm (UTC)(link)
When Abathur arrives at the source of the screaming, he is not the only observer. A human woman is also there, small for her kind, wearing ill-fitted, indifferently pale-colored clothing that drapes over her like a dust cover. Her peach-tinted hair and skin have the same peculiar pale quality as her clothing, as if she has been painted in all one dilute watercolor. This is except for the dried splash of green Vileblood around the gash torn in the fabric of her left sleeve, the rent showing through it no sign of a wound that could have produced it, and certainly not in these lavish quantities.

She watches the insects work through a tangled veil of her own unbound hair. Her right fingers twitch at the same instant that the screaming stops, the bound figure slumping into unconsciousness from the inexplicable plummeting of its heart rate and blood pressure.

She glances up at the massive insectoid creature beside her with an emotion far too dulled to be curiosity, and she waits to see what it might do.
necrolord: !- (every good intention)

ii.

[personal profile] necrolord 2022-09-26 03:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ John Gaius stands with his back to the boardwalk and his gaze on the sea. She stepped back into the water hours ago; she's gone; he is left alone amid the roar of a surf-tormented shore, et cetera. He might like to kill something, or cry, or give up catastrophically. He might like to wade out himself, and never mind if it washes him up like pathetic flotsam. He stands on the brink.

Instead comes a voice that is not quite familiar, and he turns.

Everything pretty immediately stops making sense.

He sees her body; he sees her eyes; he sees the way she holds herself, which is not like the way anyone has ever held themself, bright and easy and open. Lyctoral masking cannot hide her from him, except— he doesn't— what?

The man she's asked for directions stares at her, then turns to look out at the sea as though it'll cough up answers, then turns back to stare at her again. There is something complicated happening in the scrunch of his brow, the worry lines around his eyes, like he is trying to work backwards through a puzzle. ]


Annabel?
dynatox: (terry // 091)

[personal profile] dynatox 2022-09-26 04:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's hard to forget someone like Maul, even if they've only met once. Of course he'd have to run into the same guy at a low point twice in a row. ]

Ah, my friend, I'm afraid you keep catching me at the worst of times. [ But now that he has a companion he rises to his feet again; he's not so overwhelmed by everything now that he's not alone.

He takes a look around at all the vileblood caked on the walls. It makes him feel dizzy all over again. ]
That's not my blood, is it? [ He shakes his head, trying to get his senses about him. ] No, no, I couldn't lose that much.
dynatox: (terry // 057)

[personal profile] dynatox 2022-09-26 04:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Half a year? That's...almost right.

[ He went home for a few months, not quite half a year, but the difference isn't too disturbing. ]

I'm glad Sensei Lawrence is alright. [ No, he isn't, he really isn't, but he also knows enough to burn his bridges after he's crossed them. He needs to get back on his feet here, and Paul is loyal to Johnny, so he'll keep his true feelings down.

His eyes narrow when Paul cuts himself off, but one syllable isn't enough to make a judgment call on just yet. ]
And I would appreciate that very much. My visit home was not fortuitous. I'd rather be back here.
dynatox: (terry // 019)

[personal profile] dynatox 2022-09-26 04:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Miss Nichols. [ Not someone he's thrilled to see, given everything, but he knows time is funny here. If she knew what he knew, she'd probably be a bit more hostile towards him right now.

And besides that, he'd even choose his traitorous student over being alone right now, so he doesn't want to blow it. ]


Oh, this? [ He lifts up the side of his shirt. There's a tattoo, identical to the one on Kreese's arm, and it's bleeding as if it were freshly done. There's a brief sense of wrongness when he looks at it for the first time, but that fades fast.

Of course he should have it. He and John got them as a matching reminder of all they'd been through. Why would he ever want to be rid of it? ]


I've had this for fifty years now. We got them together, Sensei Kreese and I. After the war.
monsterwife: (Default)

alecto | the locked tomb | major spoilers for nona the ninth

[personal profile] monsterwife 2022-09-26 05:10 pm (UTC)(link)
0. genesis. closed to john gaius.
[ In the beginning, the world drowned.

She is given another body, but at least it is not nearly as ugly. She is soft-bodied and many-limbed, and if left alone, she will grow to swallow an entire ocean. The salt tastes right, on her tongue. (It is wrong that she has a tongue.)

Ordinarily, the sea is a comforting thing. The weight of the water bears her instead of that horrible spine. But this time, the sea betrays her, because she loves it. Because it loves her. It misses who she was, and coughs up this thing that she is not.

Upon the shore lies an ugly sack of meat, curled on her side, as if holding her toy. She is not alone. ]


Is this morning?


1. boardwalk. cw: mild gore (teeth-related).
[ If you're in line for a caramel apple or donut, you might get to see a middle-aged, ordinary man accompanying a tall, statuesque blond in line ahead of you. When the blonde is given her cornucopia, she regards it with a look that is mostly dispassionate, as if she has seen this sort of thing many times before. ]

You appease them through me. [ It's not a question. ] You reek of detestable intention.

[ The woman turns to you, and fixes her golden eyes on yours. ] You are not hungry for what they are offering. Your appetite cannot be bought or sold.

[ Whatever that means! ]

[ Or, you might find her on the shore, accompanied by the same ordinary man. This time, she's quiet, her focus intensely trained on the waves. She does not move until a metal hand washes up on the sand. The hand barely lays there a second before she picks it up and bites into it, with the terrible crack of teeth breaking. She mends them. She chews. She swallows.

She takes another bite. ]

(ooc: these threads have the opportunity to be three-person threads with alecto, your character, and john gaius! let me know if you'd like to include john in the thread.)


2. a faded memory. cw: blood, gore.
[ You've reached the lighthouse. And you're not alone.

The wind howls through broken glass like a girl in mourning. Shards of that same glass litter the floor, mixed into that sickly-sweet blood. The person who loves Alecto would call that fruit punch; Alecto is proud that she remembers the silly name. She hates the silly name.

Alecto sits cross-legged in the center of this mess, damp with saltwater and covered in that same sticky green blood. Her ugly blond hair hangs in wet clumps, threaded through with seaweed and glass and bone. Her golden eyes are offset by a ring of pale, and in her arms, she cradles what was once a skull. Someone's meat-without-their-meat. She thinks of Anastasia. She would like to see Anastasia.

Whoever is trudging up the stairs is not Anastasia. Alecto greets the unwanted stranger with a scowl and a tilt of her head, as if to say: why have you come? ]
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (06)

2.

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-09-26 05:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Numinous yellow eyes meet dead flower dark ones, the hazy subtlety of their shade lost in the dimness of this gore-filled tower.

Mercymorn stands before God's first beloved as a pallid impression in the doorway, wan as one sickened unto their deathbed. The pastels have been drained from her flesh, her listless tangle of hair fit to match the womanthing in the tower, and she may barely be distinguished from the swathes of loose fabric about her body. The only vivid stain on her is blood, a virulent hue that soaks her slippered feet and splashes up to her knees, that slicks her hanging palms.

She is dressed like a sick child or a mad adult, bereft of button or fastening to snag the skin or frustrate the fingers. No long, thin ties for her feet, or pins in her unbound hair. She is dressed like someone else has done it for her. She hates this, among the many things she hates, in dull and distant fashion.

As if this horror cares one bit about fashion. ]


There you are, First.

[ She says, with a quiet and terrible satisfaction, her heart stuttering dumbly in her chest next to a hollow where only the faintest gleam of anything burns. She holds herself together at the fingernails, at the mouth, at the creases of her knees. ]

At the end of all things.
terriblepurpose: (100)

[personal profile] terriblepurpose 2022-09-26 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Paul doesn't know Silver well enough to pry into his affairs, or to put down the coiled tension in him to anything more than what the man says. It seems he had a difficult time in his own world, and Paul, judging by the sympathetic twist of his mouth, understands that. ]

And we're glad to see you back.

[ It's the right pleasantry, and it's even true. The dojo can always use more teachers - and, Paul thinks, with a tinge of optimism, it might do Johnny good to have a steady hand around besides his own. ]

Do you have everything you need from here? If you do, we can go. [ He offers a little smile. ] You have good timing, for what it's worth.
dynatox: (terry // 046)

[personal profile] dynatox 2022-09-26 07:12 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He wonders how many people will actually be glad to see him, and how long that will last. He returns the smile, and it's a little half-hearted but he'll chalk it up to being old and tired. ]

Yes, I've got everything. [ On the second time through, he's more prepared than he was the first time. ] Good timing? Why's that?
terriblepurpose: (035)

[personal profile] terriblepurpose 2022-09-26 07:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[ One of the many problems with being involved with problems, Paul is learning, is having to talk about them. His face falls somewhat as he resecures his bag and pivots on a booted foot, motioning Silver to join him as he starts walking. ]

It was a difficult summer. [ The carefully couched understatement of the year. ] After we defeated the Leviathan, it was quieter, for a while, but then - I don't know if you ever met him, the black-eyed man who was healing people at the camp? The necromancer.

[ Paul looks at the rooftops of the city, studiously. ]

He tried finding out what was in the ocean. The ocean didn't care for it. There were storms, and the floods - most of it has been cleaned up, now. [ He half-shrugs. ] There's a lull of sorts, at the moment. You never know how long those last.
necroprince: (naomistares 3)

ii.

[personal profile] necroprince 2022-09-26 07:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[It's been a day. Washing up here, in the midst of this weird fucked up dead planet, and really, they keep thrusting food at her like it'll solve anything. She's been taking it, eating it, and feeling altogether like a cat that fell into a bathtub and landed in someone's elaborate tentacle fetish turned into a planet.

And then this girl shows up, her eyes as bright as Dominicus itself, with her skin and hair and height and flesh and bones exactly the same as the girl she's been looking for. And yet, she regards Ianthe with the passive unblinking stare of someone staring at a complete stranger.

Incredulous, she furrows her brow.]


...You know Harry, if you keep letting people crawl into your body free of charge, you might get a sluttier reputation than you're prepared to live up to.

What's your name, niblet?

[Because that's definitely not Kiriona.]
Edited 2022-09-26 19:33 (UTC)

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