(july intro log) WELCOME TO THE CONTAINMENT ZONE! (for real this time.)

[vestigemods]

JULY INTRO LOG

► PROMPT 1 ► WAKING UP

Whenever you're from or wherever you were, you awaken now with the mildest of headaches in-... oh, this is new. For some people, you wake in a cabin - in a bed, on the floor, amidst boxes in the basement - and for others, you wake up somewhere else entirely. Off in the woods. Between aisles in a run-down gas station. Lying on a branch ten feet up a local tree. Perhaps even on a leaky boat out on the middle of a lake. It's mid-morning, and across the nine square miles of containment zone, a little under two-dozen people are waking up just as you are. I'm sure you'll run into some of them soon enough.

This might be your first time waking up where you don't expect to be. If it is, consider yourself lucky to have missed what came before. For those have been through a Loop or three (or five or twelve), you'll find that waking this time feels different. It's as though you've woken from a dream - and that's what those memories feel like, trapped in the semi-tangible realm between dream and reality, though if pressed you can probably discern that they were undeniably real. (Or perhaps you can't - or perhaps some of the memories are missing altogether. This is hardly a precise science.)

Somewhere in your vicinity (in your hand, in your pocket, on your chest) is a smartphone, if you're able to recognize it as such. The models tend to vary, but they all share the capacity to connect to what seems to be an overarching network, able to connect to others with similar devices via text, voice calls, or even video messages.

But the phone is likely the least of your concerns, at least for now. More pressing is where exactly it is that you've awoken and whether or not you've woken up alone.

PROMPT 2 ► THE CABINS + LAKE

As many as a dozen cabins sit in the general vicinity of the lake, some along the shore and some a bit farther back in the woods. Perhaps you awoke in one, or perhaps you're stumbling into one after dragging yourself out of the lake or through a couple of miles of woods. Either way, you're in perhaps the best place you might have ended up. The cabin's amenities are sketchy but functional, and the kitchen is stocked with food...

And let's not forget about the pamphlets.

On at least a couple of nearby tables or countertops sit a handful of them, fanned for display. They're vividly colored, depicting what you might recognize as the landscape outside, and the title reads: THE CONTAINMENT ZONE AND YOU! Within these pamphlets, a conversationally cavalier voice explains a bit about the Containment Zone, which (as it turns out) you're stuck in right at this very moment.


"THE CONTAINMENT ZONE AND YOU", summarized


• Where am I?
  Earth. Well - an Earth. Definitely not your Earth. if that creates more questions than it answers, glance to your left and right and ask any follow-up questions to whomsoever seems least confused.


• Why am I here?
  To feed the elder gods with your death and/or suffering in order to prevent any more of an apocalypse than we already had.


• Can I leave?
  Voluntarily? No. Involuntarily? Probably not.


• What do you mean, 'death'??
  Oh, calm down. You'll come back.


• I have very important shit to be doing/people to be saving/weed to be smoking back home!
  Lucky for you: If you go back, we'll put you back right where and when you left off. You won't miss a thing.


• Isn't that how you break time!? I'm pretty sure that's how you break time.
  Only if you remember this place and/or what you've learned here when you get back. Which you won't.


• Supplies?
  Cabins and gas station.


• Cabins?
  Yours. Pick one.


• Lake?
  Safe. (For now.)


• Moon?
  Haunted.


• Who even are you?
  Call us the Technicians. Individual identities don't matter. We may give you sweets and toys but we're not your friends.


• Do you at least negotiate?
  We'll consider it. Depends on what you're asking for. And, of course, on what you have to offer.


• Wait! I'm (insert emotions) and have more questions!
  How unfortunate. Expect your next pamphlet in 4-6 weeks.




Well, that certainly is... something. Lots to discuss, lots to consider. If you're the get-right-to-business sort, that could easily occupy you for a good long while.

Alternatively: It's a hot day, and you've just ever-so-conveniently learned that the lake is 'safe (for now)'. Why not go for a dip to clear your head? The water is actually impressively clear, offering visual reassurance of the lack of abject horrors lurking below.

Those who do swim find that the lake is, as promised, mostly innocuous. 'Mostly' being the key phrase, as anyone who swims out close to the center will find it getting more and more difficult to stay on the surface. As if you're getting heavier and heavier, or your limbs are getting weaker and weaker. It isn't enough to drown you (probably), but you certainly might find yourself considering how peaceful it might be if you let yourself sink.

These thoughts are simple enough to push away in much the same way you might push through the heaviness of your limbs. One could consider it more a warning than anything: Even that which is 'safe' should be treated with proper caution. (Quick and senseless deaths are junk food to the elder gods - tasty but unsatisfying.)

PROMPT 3 ► THE GAS STATION

At the south end of the containment zone sits an old gas station, run-down and overgrown at first sight. It sits alongside a cracked asphalt road, one which (as you might discover) bisects the containment zone from the east wall to the west without a single other building in sight.

You may have woken up here, or perhaps you found it at the pamphlet's behest. Either way, it's a discovery that you'll thank yourself for many a time as throughout the next few months here, for reasons that become apparent the moment you step inside.

In sharp contrast with the outside, the inside of the gas station looks... well, like a functional gas station should. Floors and surfaces seem recently-wiped, shelves seem stocked and organized... It's enough that if you're familiar with gas stations as a concept, you might find yourself reflexively glancing around for an attendant.

But no attendant seems to be present. Just shelves and shelves of goods - perishables and nonperishables, first aid supplies and whatever else one might expect to find at such an out-of-the-way pit stop, all ready for the taking. You might even find an extra surprise. Oh, and let's not forget a nice array of THE CONTAINMENT ZONE AND YOU! pamphlets on the check-out counter, in case you missed them back at the cabins.

Maybe you encounter someone here - are they friend, or foe? Maybe they're as lost and confused as you are. Maybe they're reaching for that last fucking can of Spaghetti-Os and you're serious about your fucking Spaghetti-Os. At least one person is definitely waking up in a gas station fridge... Maybe you're lucky(?) individual who spots them and has to decide whether or not you've discovered a corpse where the soda should be. The world (or, at least, the gas station) is your oyster.

PROMPT 4 ► THE WOODS + BARRIER

The vast majority of the containment zone is covered in evergreen forest, populated with wildlife that look and act disarmingly normal. It may, in fact, be a nice quiet place to stroll in order to clear your head. While large swathes of the woods are moderately dense, there are a number of paths to make your way along should you choose to. Birds sing overhead, deer occasionally bound across the path ahead... If you didn't know any better, you might be able to forget that this isn't a normal stretch of woods somewhere not far from home.

But nothing in the containment zone is truly harmless. The blackberry bushes that line many a cabin (you remember, the ones that make your mouth and tongue go numb?) are out in force in the woods, and out here they're even more of an infernal menace: While the cabin variety only cause havoc when ingested, so much as a scratch from the woods variety's thorns will induce a tingling numb in the affected area that lasts for the better part of an hour.

And let's not forget the lovely field of "wildflowers" that definitely aren't not infested with poison ivy. It's a shame, really. The flowers themselves are quite pretty, an array of pastel blues and pinks and oranges. It's almost like a painting, if touching that painting happened to make you itch, burn, and blister for one-to-two weeks.

But why are we talking about flowers? What you're truly interested in is the containment zone barrier, aren't you? That's fine, you're bound to encounter it out there somewhere. It's invisible until you touch it, at which point a honeycomb pattern ripples out from the point of contact. As a general rule, the barrier gives back what it gets: Place your palm on it and you'll receive a faint uncomfortable buzz. Run headlong into it, and it will ricochet you multiple yards back into the woods.

The barrier stretches all the way around the containment zone without a single break or point of yielding. No further buildings can be seen beyond the barrier, nor any real sign of civilization at all save for the gas station's road stretching past the barriers and out of sight. The only thing of passable interest is the somewhat concerning tree sitting at the far end of the field across the street from saud gas station, at least two-hundred yards past the barrier. At this distance, it's a bit tricky to make out what flocks in the tree's branches. Those have to be birds... right?

► MOD NOTES ►

• This log takes place from July 4th onward, arguably through whenever the event goes up - though you're welcome to toss up your own logs in the meantime. I'm gonna troubleshoot the HTML to leave a space for IC dates, but I didn't want to waste any more time on that right now.
  
• Vestige is now open for business! You're welcome to post logs + network posts of your own, post memes on vestigechat, whatever you want.
  
• This log is functionally intended to be a tour of the containment zone for new characters and players, with dashes of mild horror or discomfort along the way. Don't worry: The actual horror is rolling in later this month. (I'm tagging this under 'event' anyway, just to keep track of it.)
  
• You can literally have your character wake up wherever you want within the containment zone, even if I didn't list it. Go nuts.
  
• It's worth noting: None of the cabins are recognizable as the precise one from the TDM loop, nor is the forest fog still present. The forest is recognizably the same flora/fauna, but that's about it.
  
• You're welcome to include a network post with your top-level (or to put it up on vestigenet as per usual) - but don't forget to consult the NETWORK: USERNAMES ARE FUCKY drop-down of July's Infopost before you do!
  
• Direct any and all questions at Trace on plurk/discord or (for slightly slower answers) this top-level.
  
• My deepest most heartfelt apologies for the lateness, I failed to factor in my own godforsaken attention span.
  

Comments

Nie Huaisang | OTA

[porndealer]

OUT OF THE CABIN INTO THE TREE: (for channellings)

[It's not like Huaisang has woken up not in his bed before. The amount of times he's dozed off while painting, waking up with ink smeared on his hands or face. Or even sitting beside the cage of whatever current pet bird he's got, listening to it sing or just admiring it late in the night. Now. A tree. That's different.

And terrifying.

He almost falls out of it immediately, the shriek of abject terror as he hugs one of the larger branches he's precariously laying on echoing through the surrounding area. It he weren't so high up he'd just climb down, but it's not that simple! Or maybe he's overreacting. Maybe it's not that high up, but as he peers down it looks like miles. Where in the hell was he and how did he end up UP here any way?! Cloudy memories try to clamor over one another in his mind, but he's too afraid at the moment to pay them much attention. Instead, with no care for his dignity, he'll cry out loudly.]

Da-ge! Da-ge save me!

[Someone please come help the mass of fancy robes stuck up in the tree, thank you.]


JUST A LITTLE PIT STOP:

[Sometime after his rescue from the very tall no good tree and a good amount of wandering around. He does end up separated from his new eccentric friend. The place he finds is unlike anything he'd seen before, but he can at least tell one thing. It's run down or looks it. With some caution he'll peer in through the many windows. Some boarded up and others broken or cracked. He... doesn't see anyone at first, so maybe it's safe to go in.

Maybe something inside will explain what's going on.

Pushing the door open to head inside a bell sounds above him and Huaisang is momentarily alarmed. Well, if there is anyone in here they know someone is here with them now. Clutching his fan in his hands tightly he steps as quiet as he can, not wanting to make anymore noise, looking around curiously. It's completely different inside. Unlike the outside it looks well kept in here, even if a lot of what he sees is a puzzle to him. There's so much to take in he's not sure even where to start, but something catches his attention, a pleasant smell, and an empty stomach carries him over to where it's coming from.

Anyone who happens in will see a young man in heavy robes standing before the hot food roller, contemplating if he should risk eating whatever these strange long things might be. They look like some strange longer version of a spring roll... look, maybe he can try just a nibble.]

u kno y i'm here

[channellings]

[alright, so, klaus has no fucking clue what whoever it is might be yelling about (yelling for? seriously, he doesn't know!) but despite everything telling him it could very well turn out to be some trap, he heads toward the voice anyway. they sound like they're genuinely in distress, so why shouldn't he at least go and check it out? if it turns out he was right, he'll turn tail and run back home or use his knives to handle the situation, no big deal—

but as it turns out, he's actually quite wrong and there is someone stuck up in a tree. how the hell did he get up there???

either way, as he steps closer, klaus's head tilts consideringly, an eyebrow raised with interest.] What are you doing up there, dollface? [oh yeah, he remembers the guy, he's got one of Those Faces.] And just how in the fuck did you do it? Because I gotta say, you sure got really high in all those clothes you're wearing.

pit stop, because we need at least ten or fifteen different threads about food before this is over

[mannerless]

( and who strolls in the door (with a conspicuous ding of the bell dangling above it) but one wei wuxian, flute spinning idly between his fingers.

but that's where he stops short, brow knitting, nose lifting into the air to inhale deeply - because something smells inexcusably delicious. like bread cooked in fat, and maybe there's meat involved somehow? pardon him as he follows the scent, a vague ravenous 'hhhh' sound bubbling up in his throat, and he rounds the corner around the counter to find - )

Huaisang. ( a bright greeting grin, and he closes the rest of the distance between them to peer in at the rolling tubes now as well, examining them, picturing how they might taste. ) Of course you'd follow the smell of food. Shame on anyone who ever said you wouldn't survive on your own! Now how do we - ( get to the food, he wonders, palms setting on the glass (oh, that's warmer than he expected) in contemplation. it seems to open from the other side...

and so he's striding over to a gap in the wares (the attendant's register, not that such a thing means anything to him) and hops over the counter to the other side. ) Which ones do you want? ( the words are called over the top of the roller display, and don't mind him, grabbing one in his fingertips (carefully, after a couple of tries because it's hot) and eating nearly half of it in one ravenous bite. )

gwenaëlle vauquelin | open

[hedoniste]

the cabins.

( on principle—she has fewer of those than some people, not none—gwenaëlle is not entertaining for even a moment remaining in the cabin that she'd woken up in, disoriented and shaking off dreams-that-weren't-dreams. she can still smell smoke, can't quite tell if it's psychosomatic or not, and even if she never sets foot in the room she woke on the floor of ever again the ceiling and the smell of it will linger in her memory, so

so she leaves. pamphlet in hand, dressed for the filthy-hot summer that had been about to ripen into something much worse, a cigarette between her teeth and her stylishly overpriced backpack slung over one shoulder (containing, not that she's looked to know yet, her new smartphone with its unflattering temporary username daddyissues). this isn't the first time that she's been dumped out in the middle of unfamiliar no where with no place else to go and nothing to do but to make the best of it, and the chances of being hit in the face with the oppressive scent of decay when opening a strange cabin is at least fifty percent lower than it was in derry. eliot was in derry, and another eliot was in at least one of her dreams; optimistically, she is sort of still looking for her brother, but mostly she's looking for...anything. something. a place to stop in.

five foot three of purposeful striding is happening between cabins, but maybe there's someone already in the one she opens next. who knows. )

wildcard.

( her tiny highness will be investigating around the cabins, the lake, and the woods; please feel free to find her any of these places if you have a better idea for a starter, or hmu @ lilpantsunicorn#8828 to hash something out. )

the cabins.

[inventoried]

[ The cabin she comes up on is deeper into the forest, which is thick with insects and humidity while the sun is in the sky like that, although dense trees throw dark shade every which way. The building is stained black timber, hard angles, and an upright tree growing through the porch and the rooftop. The woods creak beneath her feet as she heads up the stairs. Glass paneling next to the window show a very dim interior, and the door is not locked when she opens it.

The dimensions are generous with good headspace, but the old fashioned seventies summer camp decorating makes everything feel a little quainter and smaller than it really is.

Also making everything seem smaller than it really is is this guy coming out from the archway of a kitchen. He is wearing old and worn jeans, flat sneakers, a hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and kind of a stupid expression that quickly firms up with wariness. He is also holding the pamphlet in both hands.

She is going to have to say something first as the gears in his head are slow to turn and activate his speech centres. ]

[kingish]

[ eliot, in the interim, has remained almost completely totally positive there's no way he has a twin sister, in large part because--well, because she's so much like him where she's not the appealing opposite. like an anchor to hold him steady. (despite how intrinsically uh, wobbly they both inherently seem to be.) surely he'd know if a connection like that was out there?

then again: his counterpart apparently didn't either; maybe in one of those 39 very short lives, there's a twin. shit, maybe eliot ate his in the womb more than once, that sounds like something he'd do.

........................... moving on from that

he talls into her immediate vicinity by sheer twin osmosis radar, which he has now decided they have because who gives a shit if it's real? the only family he's ever had who didn't see him as skid marks on the saggy briefs of the illustrious waugh lineage is--is either dead, or unreachable. at the very least gwen and he can stick together and pool their remaining cigarettes. so:

eliot spots her much tinier figure on the grounds that she is the other best dressed person here, perhaps, and beelines in that direction, reaching down to grab her by the shoulders and look into her face as if they have been separated for years. YEARS, gwen!!! (is it scary that he doesn't have to fake this? that it's so easy to fall into the idea that they need each other?) ]

There you are. I thought I was going to have to live with one of these...these other people.

[ please imagine how snobby he was pre-canon character development, if this is what he's arrived at now. ]

graham casner | ota

[casner]

i. gas station

[ graham can be found here doing a number of things, chief among them frowning at the camping type supplies doing the mental math to figure out how many he can hoard stock up on without leaving anyone else in the lurch, opening and testing a lot of said supplies to make sure they aren't, you know, shit, (what is he going to do, offend the proprietor? offend you, perhaps?), fucking around with an ancient push mower marked FREE, AS IS in the parking lot, and fucking around with turning inside out t-shirts and tank tops to see which one looks the least stupid without the idiot slogans showing.

also, stealing the air conditioner from the window of the back office. he has creature comforts to secure, thank you! for. someone else, but never mind, the principle is the same. ]

ii. lakefront & cabins

[ the sights to be seen here are probably less uh, eye catching (and ear catching, in the case of the lawn mower); graham began to absolutely loathe the heat here five minutes before he actually stepped into it, so it didn't take him long to find and tentatively assess the lake as not brimming with immediate danger, strip out of his shirt and shoes, roll up the legs of his jeans, and embed himself up to the calves. his eyes are closed, though he does look less like ........dead inside (possibly outside as well) than anyone who encountered his Couch of Exhaustion; he might perhaps be relatively at peace, for all the shenanigans and goings on.

not far from the lakeshore itself, he makes the occasional appearance stalking purposefully from cabin to cabin, assessing them less (far less) aesthetically and 300% which look the least horrifying to make livable.

let's watch, won't we? ]

ii.

[chaleureuse]

( at this point, it's become abundantly, unavoidably clear that what's insane here is not graham casner but the situation that they're in. either this is real or she has completely broken with reality herself, and either way the only thing for it is forward—so it had made sense to agree when he proposed locating something that could be fixed up and sharing it, that steadiness more comforting now than it had initially been. she is—

less useful than graham, when it comes to both locating a suitable option and, probably, in making it livable. petra damerel has never lived anywhere without at least two people employed as household staff, and has been camping exactly once in her life.

(glamping. she's been glamping once in her life.)

which is to say, she's on the lakeshore beside him, and indeed still there while he's stalking between cabins; watching intermittently when he goes, unclear on whether his favouring the lakeside choices is a preference or in deference to remaining visible from where she's sitting on his shirt (and not her sweater, neatly folded). either is fine. both is fine, too, actually; she thinks nearer the lake is better than deeper into the forest, given her own druthers, and she prefers being able to at least hear the sound of his footfalls between cabins this far out of arm's reach of the only person with whom she's yet acquainted.

she keeps reading the pamphlet. you won't miss a thing, it says. but before that it says, if, and what if she doesn't? she can imagine the ifs of that scenario all too well, and when she eventually gets to her feet, hands on the back of her hips, to consider following graham to express some irrelevant opinions—it's mostly just to think about anything except what martel might be doing right now. )

luke crain. ota.

[inventoried]

lakeside;

[ This place feels like somewhere Luke has been before, or like a dream of a place he'd want to be. It is an east coast in July type heat, which tastes different than Los Angeles even before you account for the densely oxygenated forest air. There are cabins, there are tall trees, and there is a big ass lake, and he thinks that he would have loved this at some point.

Or maybe his sister would have loved it, and so he would as well. She'd want to go swim in the lake, and specifically, she'd want him to come too. She'd bully him into it if she had to.

Luke is not going to do that, probably, but that echo of an impulse from a whole other life and person compels him to take off his shoes and stand where clear water creeps up onto densely packed earth and stone. The fact that it's not very cold is a point in its favour, but not enough. He bends at the knees, and a little stiffly, lands the heavy sit at the shore. He wraps his long arms loose around his knees and stares around him. ]

gas station;

[ The man that enters the gas station has just finished attempting to leave, and so there is an aimless quality to the way he walks through the doors and stops and looks around him. He's a big dude and a little rough around the edges, with ice-blonde bristle growing dense around his mouth and neck and jaw, a pool of sweat pooling damp into his sweatshirt beneath the arms and down his back.

He looks tense, without any outlet for it.

But Luke starts moving through the gas station anyway, glancing back at the counter to account for the lack of attendant. He picks up some items and puts them down, and comes to a stop at the freezer. He opens it and stands in the rush of cold air, before reaching in and taking out a small tub of ice cream that almost completely fits in his palm.

This, he stares at too, like maybe it has something to say. Then, he unceremoniously levers off the lid, extracts the little plastic spoon that comes with it, and digs it into overly-frozen strawberry ice cream with lazy intent. ]

his cabin;

[ Or, if you're doing some exploring, come find who claimed this building. ]

cabin, ambiguously after they talk

[skittering]

( the last step in lalli's thorough scouting of the area has been to assess the unclaimed cabins. at this one he waits on the porch - listening, sensing - but it seems like it's empty, and the door (whether through negligence or a broken deadbolt) is unlocked. and so he scouts it as he has the rest, peering into each room one by one for a cursory glance.

he rounds a corner with every intention of heading for the stairs when he comes more-or-less face to face with a man, stepping through the doorway as if arriving home. at which point lalli, of course, freezes still as a statue for a moment (as one does when faced with an uncomfortable situation) before breaking eye contact to glance off to the side. )

Scouting. Didn't know anyone lived here.

( he didn't touch anything, if that helps. )

Rhys // OTA

[theprezident]

A. Prompt 1

[ Things, as a general rule, tend to not go over well for Rhys, and waking up is no exception. It's uncomfortable, especially because there's something digging painfully into his back, and that's what he notices first of all. He doesn't notice that two of his four limbs are hanging off the edge of something, and that that something is actually pretty thin, or that it is, to be precise, a branch.

So he shifts to get away from that uncomfortable thing digging into his back--

And rolls right off the branch, falling to the ground with a scream and unceremoniously landing right on his face. ]

B. Prompt 4 - after Klaus's lake party

[ This probably isn't the best thing that could happen to anyone, but Rhys feels very out of his depth. Asgard was fine. He could find use for his skills in some way and didn't have to join all those battles and stuff. This place? It's bad news, and he's not sure he'll be of any use to anyone.

Which is why his current plan is to stay close to the cabins and out of people's way for the most part, unless he sees anything he could actually help with.

Those pretty flowers lining the outskirts of the woods? He doesn't think anything of them, really. He's just taking a look at things that feel safe, scanning them with his cybernetic eye to start a catalogue of just about everything around here.

When he's scanned the flower and started moving again, though, his toe gets caught on a very thick tuft of grass, and after some very graceful arm-waving and shouting, he falls face first into the poison ivy.

The burn is instantaneous, as is him shouting some more and scrambling to get out of it. Luckily, despite the heat, he's still wearing long sleeves and pants, and one of his hands happens to be metal. But it hurts like hell, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to breathe through it. ]

Ugh, this is why I work in an office.

C. Wildcard

[ As said, he'll mostly hang out around the cabins, and also the lake, scanning basically everything he can see. His left eye is the cybernetic eye and it glows when he does the scanning thing by the way.

You could even catch him scanning your character so, you know, there's that. ]

B: So which tech won the bet I wonder...

[arecompatible]

[Simon keeps hoping that if he looks around, where ever this is, the connection he seems to have to some network will eventually let him ping some kind of location. Yet nothing. No matter how long he tries. It doesn't make any sense.

The only thing that keeps him from just hiding away is that he knows Markus wouldn't, Markus would strive to figure this out. Which is how Simon finds himself in the woods and hearing some ruckus. Someone in trouble? It doesn't take long to find the source of the noise, someone who's made the unfortunate stumble into poison ivy.]

Are you alright? It looks like you've come in contact with a patch of poison ivy.

[Dealing with humans is not exactly on the top of his to do list, but it's not hard to miss that this human is not what he's used to. It's not that cybernetics aren't normal where he's from, but they're typically made to look exactly like whatever they're replacing. This man's arm is anything but that and it seems like he has some sort of cybernetic eye as well.

Alas the unfortunate mustache can't be blamed on cybernetics.]

Showering as soon as possible would be advised.

Jiang Cheng

[legbreakings]

mostly innocuous my ass - the lake

[ After ever so many loops, Jiang Cheng is used to awakening to the lumpy bed and stale air of the log cabin.

Now, he awakens to fresh air and the soft swaying of the soft surface he is curled up on in some uncomfortable crouching position. He also awakens to the uncomfortable feeling of his clothes getting progressively soaked and a small black object tucked in his hand. Oh yes, and a pamphlet stuck to his face, let's not forget that.

He opens his eyes to a whole lot of water and not a single lotus flower in sight, stuck on a dingy boat... which must have a leak somewhere because it is filling with water. Another glance confirms there are no oars. He is in the near the middle of the lake, and drifting quickly farther away from shore, as if something is pulling him though the lake seems perfectly still.

There is cursing. There is some punching of said boat - there goes another hole. And then there is some more screaming as the boat is suddenly sucked down by something as if he were dealing with a waterborne abyss all over again, and Jiang Cheng doesn't even have any breath left to curse since he is fighting for his life against being sucked down along with the boat. It is only due to being a lifelong swimmer that he manages to escape at all.

By the time he makes it to the shore, he is going to be thoroughly pissed off, thoroughly exhausted and short one phone, as well as one boat. ]

I hate this place! [ he yells, kicking at a large stone. ] I hate it!


this is fine - the gas station

[ A while after that lovely lake adventure but still sodding wet and with some seaweed tangled up in his fancy silver hairpiece - not that he is aware of this fact - Jiang Cheng can be seen stomping up the path to the gas station.

Where he will proceed to open various packages of food right there on the spot while trying to find something which looks appetizing to him, yet he is in a far too sour mood to find anything appealing. ]


wildcard

or hit me up for an individual starter

[soups]

❰ yanli has some fuzzy memories of the loops she went through, but they're like photo-negatives slightly exposed to the light. distorted, dream-like, bits and pieces. when she wakes up in a soft patch of grass outside, the first thing she realizes is that this particular ground cover doesn't smell like home. the truth of matter becomes more and more clear as she gets up, wanders around, takes everything in. this place could be anywhere, but it's no where she's ever seen.

and she's alone. after a few shouts for her brothers, or even just anyone after they don't respond, she quiets down, warily moving through her surroundings.

the trashing in the water gets her attention, and it isn't animalistic. from a distance she can see the arms flail through across the surface, indicating this is indeed a human -- friend or foe is left to be determined.

as she steps down the hill at this particular edge of the lake, the person becomes more and more recognizable, until it's so obvious she almost trips over herself as she runs to him. ❱

A-Cheng! ❰ he's wet, angry, but hopefully not as lost as she is. even if he's just as clueless, though, it doesn't change how happy she is to see him, along with her worry that he's just emerged from a body of water and kicking a rock. ❱ A-Cheng, are you alright?

lalli hotakainen, open!

[skittering]

█ three (looting the gas station)

( in the gas station today, we have a noodle boy on a quest. emil is somewhere around here, but lalli has split off to scour the shelves for items of his own choosing. medical supplies. a couple of knives, you can never have too many of those. chemicals for cleaning, because of course emil's going to want to scour whichever cabin they end up taking over.

others in the store go largely ignored (they seem, by his assessment, benign) - but maybe he reaches for the same item you do. if so, his hand recoils slightly, and he glances from the person to the item. ) Yours, ( he decides, moving on down the aisle to find something else.

or maybe you've caught him at the end of his time in the gas station. he stays a bit longer than one might expect, if only because this hooded noodle boy is on a fucking mission. a discarded pint of ice cream lies melting on the floor by the freezers, the label showing a picture of a mustard container (no wonder he didn't recognize it, he has never encountered it in bottles before), and lalli can be found in the condiments aisle with a bucket, scooping every single bottle of the offensive yellow sauce it furiously into the bucket with one arm. give him enough time and he'll even be marching the bucket outside to the middle of the road and stepping back from it, eyes closing, hands extended, chanting what sounds very much like some sort of incantation in finnish. please, intercept him before he finishes, because otherwise there's going to be a flaming bucket full of mustard bottles in the middle of the asphault. )

█ four (scouting the barrier)

( it took very little time at all for lalli to set to work scouting the barrier - a few hours at most, as long as it took to establish that things were stable enough here to leave emil and klaus unattended without immediate risk of dying.

now anyone out in the woods might spot a slim hooded figure picking his way through the trees at a brisk jog, nimbly hopping over shrubbery or tree roots. one hand hovers a couple of feet out to his side as he runs, and a honeycomb glow pattern seems to emit from his hand and ripple out into the air. (those who have already interacted with the barrier will most certainly recognize what it is that's actually happening: he's following their invisible fence). he'll stop if called out to or intercepted in any way, but otherwise not much can interrupt him.

unless, of course, you're standing along the barrier yourself. if someone happens to be standing in his path, he pulls up short to eye them, half assessing (did they run headlong into it? it seems to ricochet those that do) and half impatient (they're in his way - he'll go around if he has to, but that doesn't change that they're in his way). )

( four )

[enflame]

❰ emil has spent most of his time venturing further into the gas station, scoping out the small kitchen supply area first before stumbling upon the holy grail -- the back cooler. he spends an eternity in there, both appreciating the temperature and feeling as though he has his pick of the best selection. the things in the cooler must be somehow better and colder than the ones simply hiding behind the glass doors.

he's got a large assortment of bottles and snacks bagged when he finally goes looking for lalli, suddenly absent from the store. he wanders, so that's not at all strange. what is perhaps a little weird is that he's finally found outside, dragging what appears to be a rather large bucket of mustard, performing some kind of mage spell over it. he only knows through context, and who knows what kind of curse he can set upon such a foul--

oh. well that answers that question. he's not the only one in this relationship who can set things aflame, good to know.

when lalli finally finishes and heads back, he'll see emil standing just outside the gas station doors, wide-eyed and questioning. ❱

Was that really necessary? ❰ not that he minds setting things on fire at all, but this mustard loathing is getting extreme. ❱

Naminé | OPEN

[lethechained]

[ || A. LAKE

[ The strange alignment of sagging boards haphazardly supporting her weight is by far the most peculiar feeling that's ever startled Naminé out of her sleep. And it is a startle; she jerks awake all at once, hands naturally seeking purchase on whatever it is that's beneath her as her mind tries to make sense of what it's perceiving. Something slides down her side, landing in the shallow water at the bottom of the boat with a splash that only serves to make her flinch. The tiny vessel sways disconcertingly as she tries to get some part of herself upright, at least enough to see anything more than the unfamiliar expanse of sky above her.

But once she's seated awkwardly on one of the uneven, rotting planks and as level as can be managed, she finds no comfort in the knowledge of her surroundings. The trees are pretty enough; the cabins are picturesque. But the lake… just so happens to be all around her. Her head turns sharply, her hair unsettled from her shoulder, but looking is a fool's errand; in every direction, there's more water. And that would be fine, except for the fact that she can't swim.

Panic rises briefly in her chest as she double-checks over her shoulder, just in case there was somehow less liquid that direction. That goes about as well as could be expected, and with that option exhausted, Naminé remembers the only other information she's been presented with so far. Glancing down, she has to shift her legs out of the way to spot the phone lying on the decrepit wood making up the base of the boat, miraculously spared the fate of sliding through the nearby gap and sinking into the depths of the lake. With some hesitation, she fishes the device out, looks at a loss for a moment, then finally elects to carefully wipe it off on her otherwise dry dress.

Which leaves the question of what to do. Because she has to do something, doesn't she - and a cursory re-search of the area informs her that there is a paddle for this boat, it's just... floating on the surface of the water some distance away. It doesn't get any closer when she stares at it forlornly for a moment, and so begins her rather nerve-wracking effort to maneuver her weight in some way that won't tip the boat over as she tries to reach for the only method she has to get herself to shore.

It might be a bad idea to distract her. Her balance is looking pretty iffy, there. ]


[ || B. GAS STATION

[ There's ice cream.

This fact shouldn't be surprising to anyone who's ever been to a gas station convenience store, but looking at this girl, you'd think it was some kind of tremendous revelation. She's certainly been standing there staring at it long enough, lingering in front of the cooler like some kind of pathetic, sad-eyed wraith cursed to be forever unable to open doors or process dairy. Naminé looks the part, anyway, with her vaguely damp white dress and skinny, empty-handed limbs. Seriously, you'd think she'd have picked up at least a few other things by now, but it seems she's rather distracted with the concept of sweets.

So. Hope you didn't want ice cream, because she's kind of in the way. ]


[ || C. WILDCARD

[ Choose your own adventure! It can be related to these prompts or something else entirely. She'll be wandering around a lot, so go crazy. ]

lake

[skittering]

( oh, he definitely shouldn't distract her. that much is obvious even from the shore a decent distance away. but whether or not she knows him, he can't shake the - need to make sure she gets to shore safely.

and thus begins lalli's first runo in a just under a year. hands lift out to the sides just slightly, eyes closing, and under his breath he recites finnish that i'm far too tired to translate and naminé can't hear regardless - beseeching ilmarinen to lend steady breeze along the water's surface to assist the boat in travel.

perhaps naminé notices him as he casts. perhaps she only notices something has changed once the water around her ripples, her ramshackle boat beginning to drift toward shore with or without her aid. it's not terribly quick-moving, but it's something at least.

lalli, meanwhile, opens his eyes to squint out at the boat. is it moving? yes, it does seem to be moving - a fact that has an unanticipated wave of relief washing through him, as if some part of him had doubted himself a mage after all this time, or doubted his gods might hear him so far from home. it's enough that the slightest smile curls his lips, though that's long gone by the time naminé comes anywhere near the shore. )

number five | open

[callidus]

waking up + cabins

[ between his work and being home with his siblings, he'd gotten used to waking up not choking on dust and dirt. he'd grown pretty damn fond of it, actually. aside from the fact that it was a far more pleasant way to wake up (sleep was unpleasant - was, is and probably always will be, at this point - so it's a little nice when at least waking up is half way decent), it was a reminder that he'd left the apocalypse behind.

not that his current situation exactly screams apocalypse. no this feels more like he drank a little too much and passed out (something that dolores would be both pleased and disappointed to hear him admit where she still with him), right down to the headache.

five gets up from the floor of the cabin (apparently) and brushes some of the dust from his face and hair, heading outside to look around, grabbing one of the pamphlets along the way. he stops a few feet from the cabin he woke up in to actually have a look at the information he picked up ]

Goddammit. Diego?! Allion?! [ he calls out to (some of) his siblings as he crumples up the pamphlet and tosses it on the ground.

did he seriously just trade apocalypses? ]

the gas station

[ the pamphlet said there are supplies in the gas station, so sometime over the course of his first day, five has made his way to the gas station. he searches around inside, nothing particular in mind as the object of his search except for something useful. he stuffs some things in his pockets, like medical supplies and some non-perishables, alternating between walking to the things that catch his eye and teleporting in a quick flash of blue light. the items that he takes particular interest in, however, are the switchblades. he grabs one and opens it up, peering closely at the blade, then testing the edge with his thumb. it's not the best weapon he's ever had, but if he needs to use it, it'll do what it needs to ]

wildcard

[ feel free to also run into the obviously poor lost child anywhere between the cabins and gas station as well. or anywhere else if you have an idea you'd like to run with! ]

gas station

[subroutined]

[ Green had read that there were supplies in the gas station, too, so that's where he had headed. He hadn't actually expected to see anyone else there, so when he sees the figure of a teenage boy from behind, he walks up, starting to speak up to him. ]

Hullo, there, are you--?

[ --And then the boy disappears in a flash of blue light. Green stands there, a bit dumbstruck. ]

...Alright, then.

emil västerström ▶ ota

[enflame]

▶ 𝕠𝕟𝕖; 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕚

❰ how many loops has he gone through at this point? it's enough to make him groan when he cracks his eyes open, hoping that he'll eventually wake up and see the ceiling of his home in asgard, pristine and bright. no, emil receives the gift of dreary, dark, rotting wood. the visual, the smell...he'd really like for whatever this is to be over.

at least he's awake on a seemingly innocuous bed this time around. it's a toss up whether or not he'll wind up in the tub, the porch, the fog itself. waking up in the bed is always a good sign because at leas that means he can lay there and avoid movement, touching anything, and embrace just existing horizontally.

there is something different this time around, though. he cranes his head upward without moving the rest of his body, curious about the weight sitting on his chest. it's a sizable grey device, smooth and heavy despite it almost fitting between his pectorals. a hand lazily picks it up, emil squinting into the darkened mirror of his new cell phone's screen. not that he knows what it is, but it's a good enough distraction to kee[ his mind focused for the moment. ❱

▶ 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖

❰ emil was distracted enough leaving his starter cabin to skip over the pamphlets on the dining table. you would think the gas station would offer even more things for him to stare at, enough so that reading is the furthest thing from his mind, but that's actually why he picks one up with the hand that isn't holding sour cream and onion kettle chips. he's taking everything in; some of the foods and items are familiar, and it's a fun game to see what he does and doesn't understand. not that he wants to let willingly slip that he's on shaky ground here, but...

well, after the first sentence? that's unavoidable. he scans it four, five times. then goes to the next bullet point. it's impossible to remember how many he actually gets through before the visible shaking starts. ❱

This is a joke. ❰ who knows where lalli went; as far as emil knows, he's talking to the air. actually, does he even know he's talking? ❱ A Tyr prank or something. I'm not dying--

❰ the 'again' catches; at this point he does hear himself as the ringing in his ears has calmed down. the pamphlet is crumpled up, tossed to the ground. emil is still strongly of the belief that big, bad things are much more manageable if you keep them at the edges of your mind, even if this particular scenario? that's proving very impossible if his face and body language are any indication. ❱

who ordered a gremlin

[skittering]

( lalli, for his part, wakes up in a cramped and dusty space trapped tight between boxes and the wood grain of a wall. there's a brief moment of panic (emil might hear the slightest hint of it in the form of an almost frustrated-sounding huff muffled directly below him, if he's paying attention) before he orients himself, swiveling onto his stomach to push at the boxes.

they scrape across the wooden floor in a way that very much sounds like some sort of alarming beast clawing its way out from the shadowy recess - but what emerges instead is a dusty and disheveled finnish mage, peeling himself through the small gap he's created.

the moment he's out, he's scrambling to get his feet underneath him and peering sharply around and - oh, it's emil. that makes this much simpler. eyes instead zero in on the phone (whether it's still in emil's hand or he's dropped it in alarm), narrowing slightly. ) What does it do?

connor | ota

[metanoias]

◦ wake up

[ There's a man laying on the living room floor of one of the cabins. Dead, probably — at least that's the impression he gives off. He's eerily still, doesn't appear to be breathing, and his blank eyes stare fixed on the ceiling.

...

Are you waiting for him to do something? Well, he does — eventually. After about thirty seconds of silence the man suddenly bolts upright into a sitting position, swift and almost mechanical in the way he moves, as if springing to life. He blinks, brow furrowed, then notices the other person in the room. ]

Oh.

Hello.

[ He's calm, as if he hadn't just woken up from his best impersonation of a corpse in the middle of an unfamiliar house. ]

◦ pit stop

[ After the shock of waking up and so on and so forth, Connor finds himself at the gas station for no reason other than sheer curiosity. He has no need for anything this place has to offer but he still studies the aisles carefully, committing each item and their locations to memory.

Eventually he winds around to the fountain drinks and spots someone eyeing the slushie machine. Connor knows by now that humans have a penchant for things that aren't necessarily good for them, and he tries to understand that, but old habits die hard and he can't help but offer a bit of advice. ]

Did you know that a large frozen slush typically contains around 84 grams of sugar? [ he begins conversationally in lieu of an introduction.] I saw bottled water on aisle one. It would be a much healthier alternative.

◦ for north

[metanoias]

[ Connor finds himself in a state that's becoming more familiar than he'd like — one in which he has no idea where he is, how he got here, or what he's supposed to do now. This isn't Deerington. He can tell that much. It feels different though if pressed he'd have a hard time explaining why. He deals in facts, figures, things rooted in the real world. The notion that "this place just doesn't feel the same as the one I was just at" is too abstract a concept for him to fully verbalize.

He wanders, because what else is he supposed to do? After lecturing people at the gas station about the sugar content of slushies he winds up at the barrier and throws a rock at it with enough speed and velocity to kill a man. Watches said rock bounce off and disappear into the trees. Tries to determine what this barrier is and fails. Gives up. Heads back.

He'd avoided the cabins at first because he's really only prone to breaking and entering with the mission is at stake or... you know, that time with Hank, but now he's starting to think committing some light trespassing might be fine if it nets more answers.

It's perhaps fate (Connor doesn't believe in fate) that the first cabin he chooses appears to be occupied. Or, rather, that it appears to contain another light trespasser. The cabin itself looks vacant so the movement he hears in the adjacent room might belong to another hopeless looking-for-answerser like himself. Or maybe a bear.

(Just kidding, it doesn't sound heavy enough to be a bear. Also, no bear sounds. It's definitely not a bear, probably not a wendigo either. Wait, wrong choice-based game.) ]

Hello?

[ He'd rather avoid a fight if he can so he takes careful steps towards the door, listening carefully for more movement, ready to back off and negotiate if he hears anything that even sounds slightly uh... aggressive? Defensive shuffling? Look, he's a very fancy android, he can definitely tell if noises in another room are defensive or not. ]

Is someone there?

Jonathan Crane | Batman (Nolanverse)

[timetoplaynow]

i. arrival
Well this is all certainly... interesting. It all feels like an experiment he'd much rather be on the other end of. And if there's a way of contacting these Technicians, well... they are willing to negotiate, they said.

Jon tucks the pamphlet into his jacket pocket and heads out for a stroll. Maybe he'll meet someone interesting. Unlikely, but possible.


ii.the gas station

He'd been hoping to find some further supplies at the gas stations-slash-general store that he's managed to make his way to. The food seems to be the basic stuff they have in the pantries, along with some soda and various kinds of alcohol. Neither of which he drinks.

At least he might be able to pick up a change of clothes, but the first shirt he grabs has a picture of an oyster on it and reads SHUCK ME, SUCK ME, EAT ME RAW. "Oh -- dear god, no," he sighs and lets it drop to the floor.

gas station, lmk if crane wouldn't respond because i'll absolutely edit

[skittering]

( on this day, in this gas station, lalli is in unfortunate possession of two things:

eyes, overly sharp eyes in fact, which can easily read the shirt the man grabs from near the other end of the aisle,

and one idiot friend who would probably never forgive him for not bringing home that shirt.

soooo don't mind a slim hooded scout, padding quietly down the aisle and surreptitiously reaching past the man to collect the discarded shirt. he has every intention of turning to slink away without a word... if the man affords him that luxury. )

Joel Miller | OTA

[shivving]

gas station

[ He wakes with a groan, squinting against the light. It's full daylight, which doesn't make any sense, because he'd drawn the curtains -

In his house, where he definitely isn't right now. Instead he's lying on the ground outside of an abandoned gas station, which at least explains why his back is killing him. It doesn't explain anything else, though. Like where the hell he is, or why.

With a groan, he gets to his feet, walking around and trying to get his bearings. When he tries the door of the gas station, it's unlocked, but what's inside makes him doubletake. Rather than the overgrown, abandoned, trashed space he'd expected, it looks almost...new. Clean, intact, and inexplicably well-stocked. He doesn't hesitate to help himself, taking whatever looks potentially useful off the shelves and shoving it into his pockets until he runs out of space. Shit. His pack's gone too, of course, and he scans the store quickly, still unnerved at how it looks, trying to find a replacement.

Unfortunately, there's not a lot of choice. Joel stares grimly for a moment before sighing internally and grabbing the biggest backpack he can find - still comically small on him. Hopefully he'll be able to find his own again before long.

But first, he's gotta figure out where he is and what's going on. A stack of pamphlets on the counter catches his eye; he grabs one and scans it, but rolls his eyes at the contents before reflexively sticking it his new horrible backpack and heading out the door. Time to see what else is out there. ]

cabins

[ The next structures he finds look more like they should - that is, dusty and old and rotting away. Joel pushes open a door carefully, on his guard, but there's no sign of infected, or anyone else.

He pokes through; there's not as much to pick up here as there had been in the gas station, unsurprisingly. But when he opens the fridge, purely on reflex as he goes through every door and cabinet in the kitchen, he stops in his tracks.

It's working. The little light goes on, there's electricity here. And more than that...it's full. There's food, real food, and not just cans and granola bars. Fresh produce. Commercially-packaged milk. A block of cheese wrapped in plastic. This isn't just weird, like the gas station had been. This is impossible.

He reaches out, tentatively, for the milk, as if expecting it to bite him, or crumble to ash at the slightest touch.]

What the hell.

wildcard!

[ Go nuts! He'll be confused and paranoid, but at least he's unarmed for the moment...? ]

cabins

[backpacking]

Yeah. Took the worst right out of my mouth.

[ Hey, Joel. Ellie is in the doorway, arms crossed, dressed as she was when he last saw her. She's trying to adopt an unimpressed, fatigued expression, but there's definitive concern there that he'll pick up on. ]

Nobody's here. [ She shrugs, pushing off from the threshold where she'd been leaning. ] I checked the place. But...it, uh...feels like somebody lives here.

[ Not just because there is food and it looks lived-in, but because it just gives off that impression, somehow. In a funky way that she can't quite articulate. Ellie frowns, staring past him at the fridge. ]

...Know what I mean?

ellie ; ota

[backpacking]

001. waking up

[ This is the second time in a few weeks that Ellie has come into awareness to find herself...somewhere else. The last time, she'd woken up in one of the cabins of this world, but none of them are in sight at the moment, and she doesn't yet realize. Instead, she finds herself in a rowboat in the middle of a lake and wakes with a start, wide-eyed and panicked, because. Water. ]

Shit. [ No time to wonder what the fuck is going on. Shore isn't too far away, but there's a little water in the boat already. As she works to keep herself under control, Ellie looks for an oar, or a stick, or...something to help guide her back to land. Barring that, she sticks her head out for a second to try and identify how deep it is, but even though the lake is crystal-clear, its depths are...indeterminate. She swears under her breath and leans back, trying to decide what the least risky thing to do is -

When she sees someone on shore, close enough that her voice would carry. They could be a fucking psycho, and her breath catches as this new factor comes into play, but she swallows hard, determined, and calls out: ]

Hey! Can you hear me? I can't swim!

[ If they're going to shoot at her or something, then she'll have to try swimming, but...she might have to do that anyway if this stranger isn't able to help her out. In the meantime, she ducks down a little to peer at them from a distance, eyes narrowed.

Still no time to wonder how she got stuck in the middle of a lake without being aware of it... ]



002. the barrier

What the hell...?

[ Ellie removes her hand from the barrier, shaking it to rid herself of the unpleasant, nearly shock-like buzz. The honeycomb wall extends far above her, and out on both sides, and she spends a full minute staring at it, trying to make some sense of...well, anything. Waking up in this place not once, but twice, without any real answer is - disquieting. She'd seen those same cabins in her travels from the lake into the woods, had peeked into the windows enough to recognize them from before. Unfortunately, perhaps, she hadn't ventured in, and therefore hadn't seen the pamphlets, instead opting to continue on into the forest in hopes of finding some kind of recognizable landmark. ]

How is this a thing? [ The question is actually more "why," but that one scares her. Why would someone make a big...human zoo (??), complete with electric force-field? It absolutely sounds like something out of a comic book, and she shivers a little in the face of this terrifying unknown.

Ellie steps back a bit to start chucking rocks at the barrier, watching its reaction. When she feels like there's no more information to be gleaned, she continues on, wandering along the barrier's path to try and find an exit, even as the little voice in the back of her head wonders if it's just wishful thinking that there'd be a way out.

Well, if there isn't one here, I'll make one. Even if it means tracking the people who put her here and 'persuading' them to let her out. ...Somehow. ]



003. wildcard

( feel free to leave your own prompt! )

~Waking Up

[singularwidower]

[The lakeshore draws him toward it off and on, now that he has awoken and claimed a cabin. Something about the peace of the water and the, ah, higher likelihood of spotting someone nearby in a place where there are longer sight-lines. The notion to keep watch pays off--though not in the way he had previously anticipated.

There's a boat.

And someone calling for help. He isn't quite sure he trusts anyone here at the moment, not yet, but their voice seems...young. That's enough for him to gently start to tug the boat shorewards with Craft.

As he telekinetically starts her in his direction, he slips his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. Then he calls out:]

Are you alright?

Fran Bow | Fran Bow

[keeperofkeys]

i. arrival

When Fran awakens, the first thing she does is check around her for Mister Midnight. After everything that's happened, he's still the first one she looks for; she'd rather not risk losing him again.

But the black cat is there, curled up on the end of the bed and sleeping soundly. Fran breathes a sigh of relief.

Now that she knows Mister Midnight is with her, the strangeness of the place she's in starts to settle in. A cabin, it seems. She wanders, opening all the cabinets to see what's inside -- food! "Whoever brought us here has been very generous to us, dear," she says over her shoulder as Mister Midnight blinks awake.

Then the door creaks open, startling them both. But being curious as she is, she can't help but go to investigate...


ii. the gas station

What a fun place to explore! There are snacks a plenty, it seems. And there doesn't seem to be anyone at the register, even though she's called out a few times. Which means you can simply take things, right?

So anyone stopping by to gather resources will find Fran nibbling on a chocolate bar, looking through the shirts for something fun.


iii. wildcard
[hit me!]

Gas Station!

[singularwidower]

Exploration has thus far netted Daemon very little intelligence about the place that he's been deposited, but he--and even in the privacy of his own mind, the thought is very, very dry--lives in hope that it might. As such, he's at the gas station, pushing in through the door to the tune of the little bell that announces his presence. Past the threshold, however, he halts, bemused. This is, ah, a culture he had not experienced before; from the technology that powers the lights to the type of packaging, nothing is familiar. He'd had an inkling from the cabin's amenities, but.

Ah well.

Upon discovering that there is no attendant, he pokes around the glassed-in cool storage until he finds a beverage that is not a lurid shade of orange or green, and opens it up to drink while he investigates the rest of the space. He doesn't get far, not when the rustle of fabric draws his attention.

"Hello there," he greets the person shuffling through shirts. His eyebrows rise toward his hairline at the text splashed across some of the shirts, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. With genuine curiosity, he asks, "Have you found anything appealing enough to wear?"

Vanya Hargreeves | OTA

[misplayedmelody]

PROMPT ► WAKING UP + LAKESIDE

After nearly destroying an impossible cabin on multiple occasions and running uselessly in circles into the fog trying to escape, Vanya must have finally gotten so tired she passed out... because she jolts awake now, the ringing in her ear louder than ever. Rolling over onto her side to try and muffle the sound (obviously ineffective), she takes stock. Waking up this time feels different, but she's also no longer in a cabin bed. The ground is damp and smells of standing water. Her white violin still near at hand, and she's still dressed in her concert clothes (now stained). So things are different this time, but not too different.

And then Vanya remembers she's not out here alone. She sits up abruptly, pulling leaves out of her hair and looking out over a clear lake. Farther along the shore, she sees cabins. She's not really in a hurry to get stuck in one again, but it's the best chance to run into someone (and maybe get a change of clothes). After taking a moment to read the pamphlet and investigate the cell phone, she pockets these items and picks up the violin.

Instead of rising right away, Vanya stares at it a moment... then raises it into position. As she cautiously draws the bow over the strings, and as she focuses on the sound, the ringing in her ear begins to subside. Unhurried, she decides to take the time to tune the instrument, eyes closed to block out any other noise.

Then Vanya begins to play softly... slowly... calmly. A ripple runs across the surface of the water as if with a strong breeze. She plays for a little while, not sure exactly how long, until the ringing in her ear is nearly gone--or until she is interrupted.

Then she stands, brushes herself off, and heads towards the cabins.


PROMPT ► THE GAS STATION

A white concert suit is really not holding up to outdoor living, so eventually Vanya finds her way to the gas station, hoping for some ill-fitting but way more comfortable attire. Not concerned with fashion in the slightest, she does okay, although the t-shirt leaves something to be desired. It's not naughty like most of the other options, but it's the only one in her size, and the irony isn't lost on her.

She carefully wraps her violin in the stained suit and places it into a backpack she's found. And with all that taken care of, time to "shop" for some necessities. Vanya glances up frequently to see if the station's attendant will show up... or anyone else, for that matter. The quite is eerie.

PROMPT ► WILDCARD

[ Got something else for Vanya? Go for it! ]

Lakeside & Impromptu Concert Audience~

[singularwidower]

Daemon has taken to sitting on his porch and watching the lake, his cabin just far enough back into the trees that he is more likely to see anyone wandering about before they see him. A truly awful romance novel from the gas station in his hands and his chair tipped back, this time he hears signs of life first.

A string instrument. Bowed, if he was not mistaken. Curious.

With a thought, he vanishes the book and and picks himself up off his porch to investigate. His meandering path down to the lakeshore does not take him overlong, but long enough to get a sense for the talent of the player, and when he arrives he does not interrupt her. Instead, he merely observes, hands in his pockets, and takes in the sight of her in her suit...and the water rippling as if in breeze.

His attention sharpens at that. Ever more curious.

When she finishes playing, he pulls his hands from his pockets and offers polite applause as well as the compliment: "I'm sure you already know, but I must say. You are very good."

Hannibal Lecter + OTA

[poisonlittleboy]

i. arrival
Even Hannibal knows that a three piece suit in summer weather is a potential recipe for disaster. Especially in the middle of the woods. Overheating, tearing -- any number of mishaps could befall either he or his suit.

So the suit is carefully hung up in the closet, and he starts scouring the cabin for other clothing options. What he comes up with is a red flannel shirt that certainly smells like it's been in the woods for a while, and a pair of blue jeans that have a hole in the knee.

Delightful.

Both are a little too big, but at least he still has his suspenders.

He steps out of the cabin, already feeling worse than when the day started. With a sigh, he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and heads out to explore.


ii. the gas station
Food is another issue. Hannibal isn't sure why he thought the pit stop would have fresh ingredients, but hope springs eternal, he supposes.

Ah well. While he's here, he might as well look at the t-shirts, though he's never worn one a day in his life. And, of course, all of them are terrible. Nothing plain, only with ridiculous sayings.

He won't even touch the tank tops.

The OA | OTA

[hierophante]

i. cabins + lake

There's something about the smell of the place. Earth, wood, moss. Damp earth, sun-warmed. It's beautiful, it's strange; it coaxes from the depths of the OA's mind the memory of a shattered window, of the sound of a living body tumbling heavy down a spiral staircase, of the shocking warmth and solidity of that body against her palms as she'd pushed. Her own body remembers. That scent marries the moments: she is here, gazing out over the lake, sleep-addled, pamphlet clutched tightly in one hand. She is also there, in that long-ago and elsewhere place, charging blindly through the forest, desperate to be anywhere else, for an escape.

It's this echo, this note of repetition that has left her so incandescently, helplessly angry. The words on the pamphlet -- painstakingly parsed, in places sounded out -- did not frighten her, they enraged her. Or maybe... maybe that is fear, maybe she's afraid that it's only this, that it will always be this, across dimensions, across lives, across time. Always living hip to hip with death.

If it's a joke, and it might be, then it's a bad one. One that hits a little too close to home.

The scintillae of light dancing over the surface of the lake blur and spread into pools of brilliance; OA ducks her head to swipe the furious tears from her eyes and in doing so catches the silhouette of an interloper, another wandering shadow. Much as she'd favour a few moments more of solitude, she manages a watery smile, brushing at her cheeks with her thumb.

"Hi, um." She clears her throat. "Sorry, do you know where I could find some different clothes?" She looks down at herself, at the fitted, white suit -- expensive, which doesn't matter, and definitely not ideal for a place this wild, which does. Looking down reminds her of the pamphlet clutched in her hand, and she flashes that too. "And did you get one of these?"

ii. the woods

It isn't necessary to love the place. A gilded cage is still a cage. If one is to rejoice in it -- and it can be done -- one must nonetheless come to know it. It had been easier before: three paces could bring her from one wall to another. She'd known that space with perfect intimacy: the glass, the rock, the stream cutting a sluggish path through it. Her lumpy, too-hard bunk. The scratchy, fraying blanket that had, when she arrived, smelled of someone else. Her own microcosm, her universe.

This task is more daunting, but still, once she's equipped herself with a more suitable outfit and what gear she can find (or thinks to gather in the first place), she begins her forays.

The trails are lovely. There's no denying it: there's something distinctly beautiful about the forest, this panoply of life, however dark and close it may grow. It is, at best, ambivalent to her presence, and that too is lovely. Disarming. Whatever her mood when she set out, walking seems to distance her from it; in short order, she's craning her neck to look up through the tangle of branches to the patches of sky above, filling her lungs with forest smells.

One hand comes out here and there to brush the trunks of trees as she passes, not with fingertips but with knuckles. It's a habit, a holdover: one who reads the world with fingertips had best preserve them from harm. That's why the blossom of pain when she reaches out to grasp the stem of a berry bush and angle the heavy clusters of fruit towards the light is so startling.

"Ah, fuck!" she hisses, jolting and pulling away. It tingles, just shy of a burn, a sensation she can't shake out. There's a strange note of wonder in her expression when she seats herself heavily at the edge of the path to watch a bead of blood well up where the thorn had pricked her.

iii. wildcard
(Feel free to surprise me, or reach out to me at v__ or viveri#0501 to plot!)

David | Alien Series

[goingtobefun]

i. the gas station

The milk in the fridge is spoiled. Which wouldn't really be a problem for David, he supposes, if he drank it. He could process it just fine. But Weylend Industries had blessed him with taste-buds, too, and spoiled milk simply doesn't taste right.

Luckily, in his explorations, he'd found what looked to be a convenience store of some sort. Or a gas station, given the pumps outside. And no attendant inside, which is fortuitous, given that David has no sort of currency on him.

But there is fresh milk, and bars of chocolate, and David is pleased.

Perhaps this new place won't be so bad after all.


ii. the lake area

Sunset has always been his favourite time of day. Sunrise as well, but he hadn't arrived in time for the sunrise. Tomorrow, perhaps.

For now, he stands at the edge of the lake, watching the sun go down. Admiring the colours the fading light paints across the water, complimenting the greens in the reflections of the trees.


iii. wildcard
[Hit me!]

ii. Lakeside at Sunset~

[singularwidower]

Tucked away among the pines at the treeline, Daemon putters about in the dying light, tidying up his tools and scrap from the repairs he'd been attempting to make on the sagging porch. A witchlight, burning red, bobbed along at his shoulder so he could at least see his hands as he finished. Tomorrow was another day for making his cabin livable. Out of new, paranoid habit, he cast his awareness across the lake, looking for more new arrivals by the spark of mental presence and found nothing. Or at least nothing unusual.

It wasn't until he went to sit and used his actual eyeballs on the lakeshore that he realized that there was a person there. One he hadn't sensed.

Well, that was cause for some investigation, now wasn't it?

Daemon sauntered down the little path he was already carving from cabin to lake and toward this new...phenomena.

"Hello?" he called, politely. In the evening light, they certainly looked precisely like a human.

Technical Boy | OTA

[brandnewtech]

► PROMPT ► WAKING UP

Tech Boy's reintroduction to consciousness is painful and abrupt. He falls a small distance and lands heavily on something hard like a rock or a branch. The white light of pain disorients him for a moment... then he blinks his eyes open and rights himself quickly. Because he is a literal god of technology, the sudden shift from a(n external) wireless network he'd grown familiar with to... whatever this is... is all the verification he needs that he's not in Kansas Maine anymore. He takes stock quickly of his new possessions--smartphone and pamphlet--swears colorfully, then stalks off noisily through the woods towards any indication of civilization he can find.

A few text messages have popped up as he makes his way, and he responds without even a second glance at the gifted cellphone. This is going to be annoying, he thinks, but at least I'm not here completely alone.

He's frowning, looking severely pissed off as he stomps through the underbrush. Gotta find K. Then gotta figure out what the fuck is going on. They can't seem to catch a fucking break.

Cabins. Gas Station. Many places to look. Many possible allies to uncover.


► PROMPT ► THE BARRIER

Not unfamiliar with this sort of game, Tech Boy is careful to avoid all enticing-looking plants, juicy berries, and friendly wildlife. Clear water is suspicious before analysis (despite the assurance that it's "currently" fine), but investigation is entirely necessary.

He can sense the barrier before he hits it. But he hits it anyway--with a balled fist that crackles with sparks when he strikes the invisible wall. The impact knocks him off his feet and sends him flying a little. Scrambling upright, he snarls, furious.

Changing tactics, he makes a slower approach this time. Placing a hand gently against the barrier allows him time to read it... and to discover nothing immediately of use. But it's a start.

With a yell of frustration, knowing full well what will happen, he strikes it again.


► PROMPT ► K (closed)

At least there's one thing still working like it should. Tech Boy reaches out over the mental/technological link that binds himself to the only important person in his life. It connects, meaning they are not too far apart.

Looking for you, K. Location?

[obeir]

Almost there.

And coordinates relative to Tech Boy's current position are provided, indicating that K's down at the lake. By the time the god reaches him, assuming he doesn't try using his instantaneous method of travel, he will find K's coat and outer layers of clothing neatly folded on the shore. K himself is wading through the water at about a waist-deep level, still wearing his pants, an undershirt, and of course his shoulder holster with his loaded gun; he knows better than to leave himself completely vulnerable... though apparently didn't think better of diving into the 'safe (for now)' water.

It wasn't with pleasure in mind. He is, in fact, carefully tracking the movements of things within the water, and trying to identify their species. Something that maybe that survival guy Graham could help with. Or Tech Boy, if he's lucky enough to have access to any sort of wider internet, but K isn't holding his breath on that count. For all intents and purposes, they appear to be captives once again.