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countryclub2022-09-25 09:57 pm
reddosmod) wrote in countryclub2022-09-25 09:57 pm
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SEPTEMBER TEST DRIVE MEME!
SEPTEMBER 2022 TDM
STANDARD ARRIVAL
A FADED MEMORY
FRIEND OR FOE
CODING
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]
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!
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]
WHEN: First Week of September
WHERE: The Farther Shores/The Boardwalk, Koz's Orphanage
CONTENT WARNINGS: Creepy Prosthetics buried in the sand
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."
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.
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."
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
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.
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.
WHEN: Anytime in October
WHERE: At the frindges of the main districts
CONTENT WARNINGS: demonic bugs, Bug Horror, Grotesque death, Self mutilation, Bug Infestation
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.
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.
Kavinsky | The Raven Cycle | Paleblood
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
A hand came to his chest instinctively as he willed his heartbeat to slow.]
You scared the shit out of me.
[The prosthetic though? That's as familiar as anything to a man married to someone with one arm.]
I'd hold onto that if I were you. Around here you might need it.
no subject
It's not like I snuck up on you.
[Though he was good at moving quietly and all of that shit. He could go unnoticed when he wanted to. This time was different though; he hadn't even been trying.
Looking back down at the hand he held, he shrugged. He really wasn't planning on needing it or being here long enough to lose any limbs in the first place.]
So what's 'here' like? Someone go around chopping off people's hands a lot?
no subject
"For given value of 'often.' It's not uncommon for people to lose limbs."
Eddie. Varian. The last name still kicked up that old, dull ache that gnawed at his gut. I failed him.
"It's not as bad here as the last place, but it's not great."
no subject
"What last place? Life?" He wasn't going to pull the whole 'life isn't great, get used to it' thing because that'd always seemed like bullshit to him even with the kind of person he was. Or maybe especially because of it. He knew better than some how unfair life could be and it fucking sucked.
no subject
"No, Deerington. It was a real hell hole, sometimes literally. We got moved here about a year ago."
Adam rubbed his nose, sniffing against the cold.
"Also, some people here were dead before landing here. Others alive. Or in between. Its a mixed bag. Do you want some... pants or something, by the way?"
no subject
"What about you? Dead or alive?" He pointed the prosthetic hand at Adam, raising an eyebrow.
At least until he looked down at himself, like he hadn't realized he was completely naked before. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe he'd been too wrapped up in whatever the fuck had happened before he'd felt like himself again. Clothes weren't really a big concern for him though on the best of days.
"Why? You bothered by the sight of my dick?" He wasn't turning down clothes, he was just being a fucking gremlin, as was usual.
no subject
Adam shrugs. "Dead." It was hardly a secret anymore, though it was a pain point for his partner so he didn't talk about it much. "What about yourself?"
He gets a raised eyebrow for his rather crude comment, and an evaluative once-over. "No. I'm used to bigger. You do look cold."
Adam inclines his head away from the shore. "There's free food and clothing further in, if you're done playing."
no subject
He shrugged, lowering his arm. "Dead." He didn't care if people knew. What was it going to change? There wasn't much of a point in keeping it a secret.
"Well, for one, fuck you." But he grinned, all teeth. It was either a threat or he really didn't mind. Maybe it was both. "Who made you the dick expert?"
Glancing away from the shore, towards whatever was inland, he nodded. "Nothing's ever free, but I'll take it."
no subject
Adam smiled. "What can I say? I've seen my fair share. While I'm no expert, as a scientist I can certainly judge length at a few meters."
Simply being here was costly. Honestly the squid thing was the best part if you didn't already have friends or family here.
"I'll walk you there. I'm Adam, by the way."
no subject
"A scientist, huh? What do you make of this?" He raised a middle finger, slightly awkwardly considering that was the hand he was holding the glass eye in, before laughing. He was actually approaching what could be called a good mood right now. "I'm just fucking with you."
Nodding, he gestured with the prosthetic hand, and started to walk inland. "Kavinsky," he replied, "I appreciate the company." He would have been fine on his own, he was sure, but the point was, being around other people drew him out of his own head.
no subject
He steps back from the shoreline to give Kavinsky some space as he climbs out.
"'Palebloods' have the skills of what you might call a psychic or telepath in some worlds while 'vilebloods' tend to associate with poison."
He shrugged again. "All in varying degrees of course, and we're still learning new things about each."
He tapped his lips, making a show of examining the proffered finger. He glanced quickly down at Kavinsky's dick and back again, pushing his glasses back up with a decisive nod.
"Yes, about 100 milimeters, I'd say."
He broke out in a smirk belying his own piqued humor, actually taking off his jacket and tossing it to the newcomer.
"All good. You're not my first, Kravinsky. Let's get you fed."
no subject
Nodding while he listened, he was more interested than he seemed. He was also doing his best to commit these little details to memory- they'd probably be important at some point or another. "How do you figure out what you are? Do the powers just happen on their own at first?"
He wasn't thinking there was anything actually different about how the blood types appeared, though he did glance at one of his hands, considering the possibilities. He wondered why the different 'types' had the names they did and what exactly determined their powers. What was he? Was he anything? Did it matter?
Grinning at the response to his rude but playful gesture, he nodded. He could appreciate someone who wasn't easily offended and who could, seemingly, put up with his bullshit. The next moment though, he was shaking his head as he caught the jacket, juggling the eye and hand in one, well, hand, so he could get it around his shoulders.
"You're not even gonna be a gentleman and drape it around my shoulders for me?" He appreciated it though, even if he was bad at saying 'thank you' and had already used up his one expression of gratitude for the day.
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cw: mention of drugs
II
If it's familiar to you, it likely just showed up here. Trench has a way of doing that.
no subject
He was somewhere between holding onto the frame with white knuckles and treating it delicately like it would break if he held it too tightly. Which left him constantly shifting his grip on it.]
And how the fuck does that work? In my experience, shit like this doesn't just show up.
no subject
If you would consider how you came to be here, it's a rather easy jump of logical reasoning. [He may not be used to casual cursing, but he is used to casually suggesting that someone is being an idiot through tone alone.
He sighs, subtly waving the child off. He could deal with this, they shouldn't have to.] Things from our homes have a way of washing ashore or simply manifesting at times. You should get used to it if you'll be staying.
no subject
[Sure, easy. There was nothing easy about how he'd gotten here, he didn't think. Trying to figure out how to explain it to anybody made his brain feel like it was going to melt. Good thing everyone who was here had already been through the same thing, he assumed.]
What if I don't want to stay? What if this whole thing seems like bullshit?
[He got it, though he wouldn't admit to it right now. If people could show up here and go through whatever he had, why couldn't objects do the same? It was probably easier to pull in objects than living things. At least, that was always how dreaming had worked for him.]
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You're welcome to think whatever you want about the whole thing, but if you're meant to stay there's no leaving--at least none we've found.
[There was the whole matter of there being another Trench in the past month--but that's a complication even he doesn't fully understand.]
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[He got the picture that leaving or staying wasn't up to him though, and it made his pulse spike. Not with anxiety but something closer to anger.]
Do some people not stay?
[On his best days, he could keep himself composed. This was not one of his best days. It wasn't even a good day. He felt a little like a ticking time bomb about to go off at any moment.]
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[Because that's the best answer to give someone with a clearly short fuse. Smart choices.]
The time people stay varies. Some are here for months...I know some that have been here for at least a year now. Others mere weeks. I don't think anyone has figured out why that is.
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[It was completely deadpan because it was absolutely not cool.]
Guess no one knows where we go if we leave either, huh?
[He didn't know if he wanted to go back to how he'd been before. It somehow seemed like an unpleasant option now that he'd been given life again.]
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[He hadn't counted himself among them until recently. He'd prefer to stay, should he ever be offered the choice.]
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[Nope, that wasn't really great, either, but it at least made sense. It was better than getting whisked away to someplace even worse, he guessed.]
So what kind of dangers are there?
[He hadn't managed to get a straight answer about that yet, besides the fact he might end up losing a limb at some point. It wasn't really comforting.]
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For the more tangible, there are the Beasts--inhuman creatures that will gladly tear you limb from limb. Then there is the threat of corruption, where your own blood is tainted. Apparently, that can lead to Beasthood if you aren't careful.
...For the less tangible, there are the Pthumerians. They are responsible for gifts and curses alike in this place. The afflictions you can be affected with change as frequently as the weather some days...It's best to either do the research yourself or make friends with someone versed in the history of this place if you want any chance of avoiding trouble. Though that can't always be helped...
[He's had his fair share of afflictions in this place. Though he has, for the time being, avoided Beasthood.]
And then there's the whole manner of how death works for Sleepers...
[Please, do ask him to elaborate.]
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[Nope, it was absolutely not cool, but talking about beasts just made him think of animals like lions and tigers and bears, all of which would attack people (probably) if given the chance. So it didn't sound too much different than being lost in the jungle or something.]
The fuck's Beasthood? Do people literally turn into monsters if they're corrupted or what?
[He both was and wasn't the research type. He could probably be persuaded to pick up some books himself, but it might also be faster and easier to just make friends with someone who was information savvy.
He waved a hand vaguely, but then, of course, latched onto the last statement. There was no chance that he wasn't going to ask.]
We just come back, don't we?
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