countryclub | SEPTEMBER TEST DRIVE MEME!

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meme: tdm

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]

[NAVIGATION]

TDM Questions • Reserves • Taken • Applications • Full Navigation

[Jump to Comments]

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."

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

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.

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

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.

[JUMP TO TOP]

CODING

Threaded | Flat

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)

(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.]

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 dandymott or vellocet#7191 ]

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.

[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 ~~territory~~home. 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!]

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. ]

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? ]

(spoilers for nona the ninth)
i. welcome to paradise

[In terms of ways to find oneself soaking wet, being a squid has to be the absolute dullest experiences of Ianthe's life. All that time floating around and doing nothing - she felt nearly as dumb as her airheaded slut of a sister. What's... her name again?

Even having to wonder at that question causes rage to bubble up in her throat, her furious desire to be human again causing her to kick and claw her way to the surface of the water, not resisting as the tide dumps her naked body out onto the sandy bank (which gets in her mouth, which she could do without, but in all fairness she's eaten a lot worse.)

Once she washes ashore, she can only get to her feet, feeling her limbs move stiffly and unnaturally, like they're not even hers anymore. Actually, she's discovered another thing she can do, she can fall face-first into the sand. Again. More sand in her mouth

Her sister. Her beloved, gorgeous, sweet, wicked, stupid and treasonous sister. Her name. What is her name. What is her name.

The words come out of her throat as she reaches a gleaming skeletal hand out to steady herself, sickly sweet and mournful too, like remembering something she's lost.]

...Coronabeth. [She smiles, bitter and triumphant all at once.] I remembered.

[They did tell Gideon - or Kiriona, whatever name she wants to go by now, that nothing would take those memories away.]

ii. sanctuary against the sea

[Ianthe is stood at boardwalk, a whole selection of different food on her plate. It goes largely untouched, she only really took it in case it inspired some desire to eat in her. It doesn't help that Ianthe can't help but think about that horrific (but objectively pretty sexy) soup scene.

Life would be so much easier for all of them if Harrow's little ploy had worked that day.

If someone approaches her, she'll glance up.]

Are you lost? Would you like a consolation glass eye? I have about ten of them, I was going to feed them to the birds.

[Ianthe... Or alternatively, she might just look curiously at the masks available and say.]

I can't say I've been to the Black Parade. Not since I was a young boy, at least.

iii. there's always a lighthouse

[The Saint of Awe's feet kick in the ocean. She hums, contemplating the lighthouse that's caused everyone to cause a great big fuss. The light is out, ships will crash in this foreign land full of people that are not hers, food won't reach the people that need it. No doubt it has all the makings of a complete disaster. A tragedy.

And also, extremely not her problem.]

It looks a bit like a great big cock, doesn't it? Very crude. The architects should be ashamed.

[If it looks like you're planning on going into the water or fashioning a raft or stealing a boat, Ianthe will glance over, her mismatched lavender and blue eyes studying the would-be hero.]

On your way to climbing it, are you? [Why? is the unspoken question.]

iv. un: LyctorPrince
(cw for anything from the friend or foe prompt)

Hello, Trenchies. Trenchers. Trenchicles. My trenchlets.

Do bugs often show up and eat random ugly people? Fascinating sight, deeply disturbed, but very unique and artistic. I think I might be a fan of their work. I thought I'd let you know in case we had any fives and under hanging around in this backwater cesspool of a civilization.

Hugs and kisses,
Ianthe Naberius, the Lyctor Prince.

[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.

I. Standard Arrival - Initial Arrival: CW: Severe past child abuse, malnourishment, and neglect

When Ritsuka first formed on the beach, naked and shivering, he was covered head to toe in scars, some small, some large, some shaped like bite marks, all of them littered one on top of the other all over his body as he was trying to catch his breath, his tail swishing back and forth, hating that he was drenched and naked.

It's easy to count every vertebrae and rib along his thin back. He coughed up salt water and rested his head against the sand as all the memories came quickly. His fists curled in the sand as the memories that he could never grasp remained out of reach, the difference is he didn't care about not having them while in the ocean.

His cat ears perked up and he looked up when feet came into his peripheral. He stayed crouched with his knees beneath him, hating his nakedness and more hating that he was here.

His tail swished back and forth as he took a deep breath.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he whispered before lifting his head completely to face the person nearing him. "Please tell me this isn't where I think it is," he immediately asked.

II. The Boardwalk

Are you enjoying that treat? Are you buying something for yourself? Maybe you suddenly felt something lifted out of your pocket?

Welp, now it's floating in the air all by itself, if you reach for it, it will float even higher. If you try to use any powers it just seems to dodge out of your grasp. A giggle surrounds you with no discernable source.

"Oooiii! Give that back!" Ritsuka, now clothed in something more to his tastes, has a hand on his hip and he scowls as he looks at the person. It's easy to assume he's yelling at you, the person who was just stolen from... except, right in front of you appears a Mismagius pokemon who is causing the item she took to hover in her aura in front of her.

The Mismagius seems to wilt in sadness before giving back what she stole and moving back towards Ritsuka, nuzzling him like a scolded kitten.

"Yeah, yeah, all cute and sweet but you need to go apologize," he was stroking her... hat? well, the part of her head that looked like a witch's hat. Ritsuka came over to the person and lightly pushed the ghost behind him as if to protect her. She snickered behind her veil, deeply amused by him doing so.

"Hey, I'm sorry she did that. She got pretty mischievous while I was gone."

III. Wildcard

[OOC: Feel free to come up with a prompt of your own or you can reach me at snickersnack to plot something out if you would prefer.]

Edited 2022-09-30 03:54 (UTC)

I. ARRIVAL
[It was nice, to have people greet him and help him to the tents where he could dry off and change into warmer clothes. Everything else is crazy. But that's nice.

He decides to focus, to get himself in order. Turns his attention instead to the bag he was told belongs to him and everything inside it. He finds his hoverboard and takes time making sure it's still in working order because who knows what interdimensional travel and sand could have done to it. He goes back to the shore, wondering and hoping just a bit that he's not alone. That someone else would have come, too--would that be better? Maybe not. But he's never said he was completely selfless.

Then he ends up finding a hand sticking up out of the wet sand at the water's edge. And there's an eyeball in its palm. Not what he was expecting. He pauses, head tilted a bit as he assessed it, his brain not quite getting the fact that limbs just want up on shore. He turns to the nearest person, calm despite how weirded out he is.]

Is that normal around this place?

[But when he sees people collecting them, he's not going to stay back.]

Need some help? More arms means more carrying.

[If it's all supposed to go to an orphanage...well, yeah, he wants to see what it looks like for himself.]

II. BOARDWALK
[He could smell the food before he saw the boardwalk itself. Hard to miss food that smells like food. So he walks up and down the strip, seeing the different treats and produce. It's bizarre something like this exists in a place like this...but that makes it feel a bit like home.]

The worst places manage to thrive somehow, huh.

[He was saying it more toward himself, but it wasn't so quiet another person wouldn't hear. One of those people might even come up and offer him food in welcome, including one of those jars of fruit. Real, edible fruit. Peaches. Wow. They weren't even half bruised. He might...have to take some of these.]

III. A FADED MEMORY
What is it about that place that has people so freaked out?

[When he sees the lighthouse, he doesn't get its significance yet. Not until he realizes that it is not the one someone else had already mentioned to him. That the Trenchies react very differently when he asks about this lighthouse. It draws his attention, his curiosity, and then a need. Something is out there and it's pulling at him.

It's not like he needs someone else to get out there, not once he's repaired his hoverboard. He can make it out there on his own. But he hasn't spent all these years fighting against corruption and things stronger than himself to think you should be heading out to a mysterious lighthouse no one wants to talk about on your own.

So does he trust someone enough to ask him to go with them, or will someone else see him debating with hoverboard in hand and make the offer themselves?]

IV. NETWORK | UN: FIRELIGHT
so.
how often do they turn us into squids or is that just the initiation hazing?

V. WILDCARD
{OOC: If none of these prompts work for you, throw something out and I'll roll with it! Or you can PP me at

chocolateisbrainfood and we can talk it out.}

i. arrival: beach

[he is not himself. he is not anything or anywhere or anyone for one long flash of oblivion until he's a pulsing mass crashing against the shore, pulling himself back and inward only to thrash forward again. it's almost as if he can't quite make a decision.

but soon enough it comes and which part of him makes it is anyone's guess, even his once he's able to form more concrete thoughts.

(this indecision's bugging me)

he arrives with a song stuck in his head. and ...the sense that it's happened before.

(if you don't want me, set me free )

that's a bad feeling - an indescribably nauseating revelation that sends gooseprickles up the squidflesh and then the personflesh

(exactly whom I'm supposed to be)

so that he's sitting naked on the beach singing to himself - the fragmented lyrics coming before the realization of anything else.]

♪--don't you know which clothes even fit me?♪

[that realization doesn't take long to catch up, though.]

Obviously the answer here is none. No clothes. Because I'm naked on a strange beach, so this is a dream and next up is ...what? Realizing I'm late to class?

ii. arrival: boardwalk

[he stumbles past, barefoot and robed, one could not seem more new if they tried, yet there's something old and terrible in the way he clutches the photograph in his hands, pressing it into his chest as if he might absorb it and its meaning and every memory it could contain.

but those are the thoughts of a crazy person, and mike enslin is surely the only sane man left.

or not, as he watches a half humanoid half writhingshadowed mass float by, trailing sorrow and separation like breadcrumbs, as he goes back to the beach again and a again, digging for more eyes in hopes of more photographs. that the right photograph will trigger the right ...memory?

(ending)

his hands are overflowing with glass eyes.]

iii. later: boardwalk

[mercifully, and almost comically, he has eaten from the jar.

stuck his finger in it right in it after being handed the cornucopia, examining it, and choosing what seemed to be the dodgiest piece of all. the mystery jar. the thing that could possibly be poison, and maybe even a one way ticket out of this place if his intuition was right.

it's a classic game of "fuck around and find out", but with food (maybe?), and the only thing that's happened is that his intuition was dead wrong and it had been a surprising bit of curried pumpkin - not quite a sauce but not quite a solid.

and so he sits, using that finger as a utensil, watching the wind whip the white linen ghosts back and forth, a puzzled but interested expression on his face, and an altogether different sort of interest as two children walk hand in hand, their faces painted like foxes.

he hums a sound of quiet disbelief, and takes what might be the first peaceful breath since arriving (or maybe longer if he thinks on that? ...he doesn't.) before he speaks aloud into a small device - not an omni, but a mini recorder - no tape inside.]

In an attempt to curry favor with my unseen, nightmarish hosts I have found that what I'd thought was poison to be a familiar vegetable of no particular malice.

[he stops, sighs, considers some cider.]

iv. a faded memory: the lighthouse

[who leaves a lighthouse without a light?

sounds like a riddle - maybe even one without an answer. and if he had the answer, how would he even know? would he remember?

one thing he does remember? he can swim.

it's in the name. it can't be a lighthouse if there's no light. it's a ...well, he doesn't know what the fuck that makes it, but what it does do is cause a dread to rise up like the crest of a wave - a wave of nausea and a tidal pull of need to see...]

What's out there? What's snuffed out the light, and can it be brought back?

[he's absolutely talking to himself as he wades into the water - is this part of the dream? because he sure is wearing his diving suit. hadn't he written ten haunted (rooms) lighthouses, for fucks sake?

(eleven, this is eleven.

even if you find the light ʇɥɓıl ǝɥʇ puıɟ ɹǝʌǝu ll,noʎ)

b̸̡̗̟͈̺̺̝͙̀͠û̶̗̭̦̲̹̦̆͜r̵̛̻̹̳̹͛́͌̌̐̈̎n̸̪͊͛͑̔ ̸̨̢͓̲̹̬̳̳̜̤̆̏͘̕m̷̙̱̤͗̔͌̿̑̕é̵͍͕̰̟̘͍͓͚̳̍̀̎̈́̔͑͜ ̸̺̭͈̅̋̐͜ǎ̶̟̳̙̭̜́͌̽͗̈́̂͂͘͝l̴̨̹̹͙̥̩̳͙͆͂͜͝ĭ̸̧̛̺͚͔͓͚͙̘̪̄͘v̸̤͉̂̅̕͘̚ę̴̛͉̲͉̰̩̆͂͆̒̐̂̕

a small man swimming against a dim, dark, resentful sea. mouthfuls of bitter and salt and flowers - an endless churn of arms and legs and eventually he reaches rocky land - leaving bloody footprints as he goes.]

v: wildcard
[if you want something else/specific hmu on

eisdamme]

I. Arrival

The sense of peace, of belonging, of at last arriving at the place where he was always meant to be, has metastasized into the space beside Jin Guangyao's weak golden core like the most unwelcome and discourteous of house guests. He cannot stand to have such an untruth told to him by his own body. In fevered state of rage and panic he will later assume was the result of acute qi deviation, he initially attempted to rip that peace out of himself with his remaining hand, and killed himself in the process right there on the beach before the bizarre placenta attached to his midsection even had the chance to fall off. An ignoble and shameful death for this lowly one; Nie Huaisang would have been satisfied.

When he reconstitutes again on these same shores a second time, he heaves dry, wracking sobs into the sand like an abandoned child. Then, composing himself, he applies a veneer of calm across his face, picks himself up, and immediately trips over a nest of sea turtle eggs.

No--not eggs. Eyes. Letting out a cry of shock, he staggers back from them so quickly that he loses his footing and ends up sprawled in the sand again.

II. The Lighthouse

Possessing an eidetic memory has been both a blessing and a curse for as long as Jin Guangyao can remember--and he can remember quite a lot, in excruciating detail. In this instance, it provides him with a clear recollection of each time he has glimpsed that lighthouse on the Farther Shores through fog or rolling mist. Never, he knows with certainty, from where he stands beside the canals.

He leverages every shortcut he recalls from his brief tenure in Trench to make his way to the Darcmouth docks, where he feigns wide-eyed concern and distress in the face of each sailor who refuses his attempts to cajole and compliment them into providing him transport across the water. ~~The cowardly fuckers.~~ Resigning himself to the necessity of expending his precious reserves of spiritual power on a glorified fact-finding mission, he seeks out a pier that seems to extend far enough out into the murky waters, and unsheathes Hensheng from its new location at his right hip. He lays the sword flat against the docks and places a tentative foot on the flat of the blade, frowning.

Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen could journey across the entirety of the cultivation world on the strength of their golden cores and their spiritual weaponry. Surely even a weak cultivator such as himself can cross a single channel without humiliating himself. Yet he still hesitates to draw upon his strength and take to the air, suddenly and inexplicably paralyzed by uncertainty.

I. ghost ship

[Reigen Arataka stands on the beach looking out at the lighthouse and pretending very hard that he isn't still varying degrees of damp and sandy in places he'd rather not be damp and sandy. There's a noticeable smear of sand on his cheek and neck that he's apparently the only one not to notice? Busy as he is staring out to sea and trying very hard to look windswept and intelligent about it, he's been distracted.

Some of this is to purposely take his mind off whatever the fuck just happened in the sea, nope, not thinking about that, none of that happened at all and his socks are not wet with saltwater in the slightest from when he dropped his backpack full of goodies in the low tide and nearly cried about it—

But also: there's a weird lighthouse out there, and he doesn't like the way it feels to look at it. The pull is bad, too? It's all very bad. He's either sweating or lightly dripping seawater (both terrible), and the way his mouth twists and brow furrows betrays a powerful anxiety about All This Shit, before he clears his throat loudly and turns businesslike to whoever is nearby.]

Well, it's obvious: that lighthouse is haunted. Really high-level haunted; you should leave this to the experts. [you are complete strangers. he gestures with both hands, to aid somehow in his next explanation:] Don't get me wrong, as someone completely overqualified for a job of this level, I'd go myself! But then who would stay behind to protect the beach? So, let's get out of here. You hungry?

[mhmm.......]

II. around town!

[You'll find Reigen in the busier parts of town, mostly, where he's set up what appears to be a... plastic child-size table? It's tiny and he's far too tall for it and the teeny stool it comes with, and if you spot him unfolding it to set it up, you get the bonus sight of seeing him grimace and shake beach sand out of the plastic hinges. Do not perceive this, he's already suffering the loss of his cool sign, which he's had to replace with a simple folded bit of cardstock, sitting on the table in front of him:

REIGEN ARATAKA SPIRIT CONSULTATION!!!

(On the back of the card he's written SPIRITS AND SUCH and scribbled it out, since he's had some inopportune feelings about brand value but also the absence of his employees. This is fine.)

Anyway, he's sitting on the tiny stool, at the shitty little table, making egregious eye contact with every passerby and waiting for someone to take him up on this... this? Whatever this is.

If you stop to give him a shot, he immediately springs up from the stool and gestures to it excitedly, already midway through an elevator pitch that ends in:] —Take a seat!! I, Reigen Arataka, am ready and able to take on the burden of your spiritual problems!

[... But if you just want to stop and Witness, you might just catch him when he's feeling the doldrums of nobody caring about his little business and like, balancing a pen on his nose... He startles out of his distraction upon noticing someone there, outrageously fumbling the pen, and:]

Eh- ah— You're here for a consultation? Yes yes, of course you are, I can see the spirit now, right... there!!

[He points with the pen. It's Right There.]

III. network

un: 21stcenturysgreatestrisingstar

NOW HIRING!!!!

[That's it that's the post.]

IV. wildcard

[like............you know]

① ARRIVAL open to all

[ figures he'd be reborn from the ocean.

ryouma has always been a slow starter, though, and something about the feel of the ocean and the sound of waves on the beach feels... familiar? another beach, in another time, in another place. somewhere, he recalls part of a melody. yosakoi! yosakoi! ryouma is pretty sure he's never heard it before, but it feels like he's always known it.

even so, this particular sleeper lingers here longer than most of the others. he has got to become somebody, but that takes time! you can't just wake up and have it all figured out!

the only problem is the rest of him has decided that's not the case and has already abandoned his original squid form, so it's quite possible that you find a fully-formed man sleeping (naked) on the beach. one of those really excellent naps too...

② BOARDWALK open to all

[ or, you might spot him on the boardwalk later, taking in all the sights and sounds (and aromas). this might be a frightening world, but ryouma was literally born yesterday, and there's a lot to see! that lazy guy on the beach? totally replaced by this busybody.

ryouma has clearly been talked into getting his face festively painted because he's absorbing the culture around here. ~~after all, it's supposed to be his culture now too.~~

at some point, someone has also given him one of the cornucopias and informed him of a cool fact. ]

Wait. So it's made of bread?! [ this man has never even met a bread bowl. ] So I can eat the whole thing?

[ that looks like a challenge. ]

You can eat the whole thing!

[ oh. he's talking to you now. in case you didn't know. ]

③ A FADED MEMORY open to all

[ getting drawn out to that lighthouse was inevitable, especially with no one willing to talk about what happened there. which… is a mystery. and ryouma is a big believer in seeing things with his own eyes. besides, he might get to see some ships, which is what he's really excited about. ~~there is no way this is an excuse to see ships.~~

he pauses at the threshold, suddenly uncertain — the sheer amount of blood all over everything will do that — and obstructs anyone else who might've been trying to get in behind him. ]

Oh. Haha, I guess when something's a "juicy secret" they really meant it in this case, huh?

[ he never claimed to be funny. ]

④ WILDCARD

[ ooc; want something else? hmu @ koutenko to plot or throw me a starter! ]

I – Standard Arrival

A sense of self began to fill it as the waves washed it ashore. Something began to fill it- her, alongside it.

She can feel it, the faint tug and- ah… air. Another doorway has opened itself, but where too? She’s home, or close to home, not her home. Not Salem, not that she could tell. Not her world. Tendrils and suction cups began to writhe and work themselves. Twisting and moving.

Slowly, at first, until they caught themselves underneath her and gained newfound strength and structure. She was now walking- standing. A squid now standing weakly on the sand, growing ever larger and with ever shifting form.

Right, her limbs. Her limbs were… they were now there, no longer slimy, or they are. Gone quickly is the hideous, dark, twisted, mollusk form. Tentacles twisted themselves to reveal arms and legs, a naked body. Organs shift and reform and form anew. Air filled her lungs.

With long, pale hair cascading down her newly formed skin in its own, makeshift robe, covering her unhealthily, pale flesh.

Red eyes stare down at the picture of someone… a friend, friends? Lavinia and… Master. Right… no, there was no need to be a good girl here, is there? A darkened keyhole finally formed in her forehead as she stood there.

Face blank. Pondering what she should do in this newly arrived world. What door had been opened. What the “original” thought of this. A troubling smile, one filled with teeth, began to slide itself across her lips.

“Ah- so this is my new home?”

A giggle.

II – Arrival (Boardwalk)

Gone is the forehead hole, white hair and pale skin. In its place is vivid, blonde hair and blue eyes. Clothed in a dark dress and decked out in bows, Abby was currently perusing the booths at the boardwalk. These smells… the food and drinks… it’s fall! Her eyes were pinpoints of excitement as she peeked up over one of the counters, drooling as she looked over the candied apples, the donuts, the waffles!

Ah-! It all looked so very good and her tummy rumbled with anticipation to be filled! She wants some so dang badly! Mm, but you have to pay for all of this, right?

Blue eyes stare longingly at a fresh apple….

III – Faded Memory

She was curious, sue her. Large, black, and twisted keyblades in hand, Abigail began to look around her. Everywhere there was that viscus blood and smell of death, decay and the delicious scent, and sound, of fear.

In her current state she didn’t look all that perturbed. Not as much as a girl as young as her should be. She looked more… amused? Curious? There might be a hint of worry mixed in there. “Ahaha~. Now I wonder what could have happened here?”

Spoken in a sing-song voice as her naked feet padded around lightly. Looking things over with her red eyes, keyhole present on her head and large, black hate tilted back. Bad girl Abby mode had been activated ever since stepping on the rocky outcrop. Distantly she could hear her Father, her Lord, whispering something to her.

Another giggle.

“Ia… Ia… ehehe~! How exciting this is turning out to be!”

IV – Network Post (Image / un; Abigail Williams)

[WILDCARD]

[You know what this is~. Don’t see anything you like? No worries! Feel free to contact me, or hit me up with whatever you’d like and I’ll play along! Contact forms are – discord: billbill#6387 plurk:

mr_cynicalperson

tinker, t[a]ilor
[standard arrival]

[ a young man - eighteen, if barely - sits on the boardwalk, prosthetic arm in hand. it's mechanical, though hardly advanced, a simple system of gears and pulleys configured for specific gestures. he's taken it apart, down to its inner workings; he takes each gear out, one by one, gently cleaning it on the arrival robe he's been given before slotting them back in.

if approached, he doesn't notice. if spoken to, he starts, nearly dropping the arm before delivering a stumbling apology: ]

Sorry! I'm! Sorry?!

[ he's not even sure what he's sorry about. but he's pretty confidently sorry nonetheless. ]

[b]ugs all over the shop
[friend or foe] CW: blood, religious mention

[ venus brings the light.

it's not the most impressive of powers. his skill with a radio's always been... well, his skill with a radio's alright enough, it's actually fighting that's the problem. he doesn't like it. tries to avoid it at all costs. and if it were just him that was being targeted, he could leave it at that - get beaten to hell and back and grin and bear it like always.

the problem is that it's someone else. so even though he knows this might do nothing - god's not answering, after all, that special frequency brings nothing but empty static - he grits his teeth, holds the receiver in hand, and stabs. his radio whines, wriggles, throbs; a pillar of light erupts from the tip, searing and golden and hot. he murmurs scriptures under his breath, feverishly- our father who art in heaven, and as i walk through the shadow of death, and hear not the devil, for he is but shadow cast by god's light-.

and when the light fades, and he opens his eyes, the wasps are gone - reduced to ash before him. a hook flies by his cheek, cutting just deep enough to bleed; he stumbles, crying out as he reaches up to cover it. what is this? what's happening? he turns towards the now-freed victim-

and freezes as another hook shoots towards him.

this is too much. this is something for the real scouts - the real heroes. someone like him never had any place being out here to begin with. ]

just [c]hecking in
[network]

hey! um. this is venus
i guess that probably doesn't mean much to most of you but. that's just who i am, so. you know. haha.
uhhhhh
this is probably going to sound kind of crazy? and maybe a little heretical. idk i hope it doesn't at least

is anyone else... having trouble getting in touch with God?
like. not like our pastor used to talk about, getting lost in sin and stuff like that.
like literally unable to hear Him speak.
that's not just me, right?
because i double checked my radio and even though some of it got wet it's dried out and the saline content shouldn't have messed with the circuit THAT much
and i thought it might be the crystal, but i checked, it should still be getting enough reach, so

sorry. just ignore all that it's probably not relevant.
all i need to know is...
is God listening?

He's still here, right?

wild car[d]
[ooc information]

[ ooc: first things first, venus is a trans girl by the end of canon but has not reached that point in her development yet! as such, i'll be using he/him in-character until she comes to her epiphany. second, we know the devil is a weird and esoteric canon, so if you ever have any question about what something means don't hesitate to let me know! finally, as always, i'm open for customized starters if you want one. just reach out to me at beelzebae and i'm happy to help out!! ]

Edited 2022-10-13 00:49 (UTC)

📻 I. arrival

[The last memory that Harry has is something akin to a dream.

Oh, dying was vivid in his mind. How could it not be? The sudden stabbing he'd suffered, bleeding out, and his last thoughts being oh, I don't want her to find me like this. But it was almost like there'd been more, walking, blood left behind, leaving his bedroom... No, that had to have been a dream, surely.

Yet, for all the thoughts of dreams and death, he's very much cold and damp, shivering as he pulls his shirt on after having found it, then reaches for his coat. Worn out, familiar, seems right. At least there doesn't appear to be any blood stains. He'd almost believe that he really dreamt up the whole thing if it wasn't for the scars he'd found on himself.

Blinking slowly, he looks up, trying to determine what to do next. This isn't anywhere near home, nor does it look to be that damned town either. So what then? Where is he?

Those thoughts are quickly stifled when he notices something on the shore. Is that... a an arm?

When he approaches, he's relieved to see that isn't the case, though he honestly isn't certain how tense he'd have been to see a real body part. A prosthetic is almost novel.]

Huh. [Absently, he picks up the arm, giving it a look. It could be lost, but that's an optimistic thought. Probably disposed of. Well, worst case scenario, he can hang onto it ~~like the weird protagonist klepto he is~~ for now until he finds a place for it.

Should you be in his vicinity, he awkwardly holds up the arm and says:]

Can I give you a hand...?

[oh god why did he say that please laugh jesus christ help]

📻 II. you wouldn't bee-lieve it

[Some people might hesitate even a little bit upon seeing someone covered in a swarm of stinging insects. Maybe it's old instinct of seeing some truly horrifying things when he'd been about 18 years younger, but he doesn't even really hesitate: instead, he's picking up the closest thing he can grab (tree branch obtained) and he's rushing in to help.

Swatting away at the insects, Harry is reaching in without thinking, grabbing for the swarmed person to free them.]

Come on, I have you!

[Only, he's thanked in probably the worst way possible: the victim lashes out, practically growling at Harry, but it's a weak enough swat that even someone of Harry's age is able to dodge, albeit clumsily.

Instead of being horrified at being attacked, instead Harry lets out a sigh and mutters with the most tired voice possible:] Yeah, of course.

[Well. He squares up, and holds up the branch like it's some kind of baseball bat.]

📻 III. network

text | un: radioshow
Hello.

Sorry, I've never been big on using the internet to begin with so I'm not really sure what's the best way to go about this.

My name is Harry.
I'm checking to see if my daughter is here
That's the most important thing for me to know.
Her name is Heather
Short blonde hair
She's a teenager just turned eighteen
Thank you for your time.

i. so long and good night

[it's hard to tell how long helaena lies there on the sand, staring at the sky. she sits up, picks up a glass eye, and laughs, dropping it.]

I'm out of the dance.

[she turns around. there is a massive purple and blue dragon resting on the beach. helaena beams and runs up to her somewhat haphazardly.]

Dreamfyre!

[the dragon lowers her head and helaena flings her arms around her neck, still naked.]

Dreamfyre, we're out of the dance––the song entire. We're free.

[the dragon gives a small (loud) noise of assent, and helaena disentangles herself. a passing waker nervously holds out a robe from a basket, and helaena beams at her too.]

A robe of black. Mother won't like it, but I had wanted one.

[despite this helaena resolves to never wear green or black again. she slips the robe over her head and sits on the beach with her dragon.]

ii. things are better if I stay

[helaena has managed to acquire elaborate dragonfly face paint accented with a lot of iridescent glitter. she has been given a slightly worn blue and purple dress and a pair of narrow wings. they contrast somewhat with the beat-up secondhand boots she was given, but it doesn't appear to bother her. she twirls.]

I'm the princess of dragonflies!

[and doubles over laughing as if this is some kind of hilarious joke.]

iii. what's the worst thing I can say

[helaena is sitting, still in her blue and purple dress, among the demonic wasp creatures. one has landed on her hand and she examines it. a zealot screams in the background.

her omen has manifested as a foot-long dragonfly in the same colors as her dragon dreamfyre. it hovers near her shoulder.

if you approach, helaena will not stop examining the wasp.]

Is it a true face, or a false one?

[this question appears to be addressed to no one in particular, except perhaps the wasp.

"The fish on their hooks spill rivers of blood," says her omen in the voice of a little girl.]

iv. un: helaena; voice

[it took helaena several tries to make the omni spell her name right, it is perhaps sheer luck that her username didn't end up helenaaena.

there is some rustling noises and the sound of breathing, and she does seem to be holding the omni too close to her mouth.]

Where might I find a dragonpit? Dreamfyre is cold.

[a somewhat overlong pause.]

Thank you. My name is Helaena Targaryen.

Edited 2022-10-16 01:36 (UTC)

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