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ɴᴀᴛʜᴀ orbiters ❰ mod collective ❱ ([personal profile] natha) wrote in [community profile] nysalogs2018-04-09 07:55 pm
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( introlog #5 ) strangerer things

You have spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Perhaps you've made some friends (or maybe an enemy or two). Either way, you aren't expected to spend all of your time on the Station. El Nysa needs you, after all, and you promised you'd help the planet thrive. Are you ready?

Submit an AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 OLYMPIA REP POINTS OR 2 WYVER REP POINTS, respectively, HERE or HERE.

THESA STATION    
All refugees on the station are called to the hangar where a large-scale teleporter has been set up; everyone will be sent to the planet together. Simply step onto the space between the arrays and wait. Before they depart, all new refugees will be given a starter kit!

You may have heard about earlier technical difficulties, but don't worry. I promise everything is in perfect working order this time. I'd say I tested it myself, but since that's not exactly possible, you'll just have to trust me! (Please.)

The older refugees will also be there to guide you to ensure no one is left confused... or behind. Make sure you wait for them — I've been detecting something odd so I'll be having them meet you at the landing site. Good luck, refugees! Not that you'll be needing it or anything...

The arrays begin to hum and glow, quickly building into a brilliant wash of light. It creates a column that travels all the way from Thesa Station to the surface of El Nysa. With the night sky as a canvas, the beam can be seen all the way from Olympia and Wyver — a view that has the natives whispering of blessings.

As a sudden but beautiful aurora splays across the sky, the refugees down on the planet receive a message asking them to travel to the landing site — and warning them to prepare for what may come of the strange readings Zasere's gotten from the teleport itself.
ON A BEAM OF LIGHT    

Traveling through the light leaves the impression of blinding starlight, a strange sense of weightlessness, and a disorienting moment of total sensory deprivation. The radiance of your teleport hangs bright in the sky above you, a shimmering aurora that reflects off the calm waters below, visible for miles all around.

You've landed on a peninsula to the east of the South Outpost. There's little here — scattered trees on spring-barren plains, with a few overgrown, dilapidated structures poking out of the brush. All is quiet save for the keening of animals and the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. This lonely desolation is hardly the bustling cities and vibrant cultures you were promised back on the station...
BY CAMPFIRE'S GLOW. But waiting for you is a group of your predecessors, and with them, a veritable tent city, with portable stoves, coolers of food and drink, comfortable bedrolls, and cheerful rings of bonfires — all that you need to make merry of the night, courtesy of Overseer Voss, who has, thanks to his interest in blessed meteorological phenomena and refugees, decided to make a holy expedition of the affair.

Settle in, meet new comrades, and enjoy yourself, for you've safely completed your journey. But don't wander too far from the fires — the dark is closing in, and there's a strange, electric feeling in the air, the scent of ozone drifting on the breeze. And what were those odd readings Zasere mentioned?



A SHEPHERD OVER THE FLOCK. The spring sun dawns on a grey morning, already burning away the fog rolling in off the sea. It quickly becomes apparent that Voss and his entourage of acolytes have been up for hours, hard at work. They've set up a brightly-draped stage and a travel pulpit, magically enchanted to amplify his voice, and as the sun breaks over the horizon, Voss is all set to do what he does best: proselytize.

As our Goddess has sent Her blessing once before to herald the coming of those touched by Her light, so She has done once again! Here you see them, those surrounded by the light of our Goddess, each of them bearing the mark upon their skin of Her holiest of hands! Do you not see? Do none among you bear witness to the righteousness of Her message? Perhaps this is why our people have shamed themselves in front of our Goddess—

[ He continues for another 15 minutes... ]

Nevertheless. See you them before us now! See them as they are, coming to our gates with Her reminder, that these people must be treated with the utmost respect and care. Thesa's divinity is not to be treated with such flagrant disregard! Those who She chooses are not ours to use as mindless fodder, to hurt, to torture — shame upon those who allowed such deeds to shame us under Her watchful gaze!

To those of you who have just arrived here on our doorstep, be not afraid! The Temples of Thesa welcome you to our home with hearts and minds open! Should you ever find yourself in need of solace, seek out the Temples, as there are no greater allies to you than those of us within the Temple walls. You are welcome all to Olympia!


As he steps away from the enchanted podium, he can be heard saying aside to an acolyte, "How was that? Heavy on the shame, but I think it went well!" While he will not leave the area immediately, his acolytes will politely turn away attempts to speak with him and remind anyone interested that they can leave a message at the Temples.
CLOSE ENCOUNTERS    

Despite going off without hitch, the new refugees' arrival isn't entirely without incident. It seems that the "blessed" beam of light that brought the refugees down to El Nysa brought something else along with it — a sliver of the Storm. At least the beam was short enough that only a small fraction managed to squeeze through.

But it's enough to wreak a little havoc around the landing site and along the road back toward Olympia and Wyver — and even, for a few days, in the cities themselves.
THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE. The Storm is an undeniably destructive force, and that's proven with this small sliver's effect as it ripples across the continent. While there's no visible sign of its presence, strange phenomena soon begin to appear, corresponding with Zasere's odd readings.

They're innocuous little things at first. A sudden silence, animals going quiet, insects stilling. All technology, no matter how advanced, ceases working. You discover when you check with a friend, the clock on your phone is twelve minutes slow even though you'd swear only a minute had passed — time missing. Walking through the woods takes longer than it should when brushing past one bush leads to brushing past that same bush again — and again, and again, the area looping on itself. It keeps you trapped, going in circles for minutes, even hours, before finally releasing you in a random direction.

Or perhaps you'll feel a sense of deja vu, like you've walked down this road, taken this turn, seen that bird fly from this branch before. This is the second time that cat has crossed your path. The person you're meeting, you already know their name; you're certain you've already met.



WE GOT COWS. The Storm sliver also ushers in sudden, localized weather anomalies — heavy storms, blizzards, strong winds, and more. Affected areas range from just a few feet wide to nearly half a mile. One minute, the sky may be sunny and clear, but the next dark storm clouds roll in, unleashing torrential rain. Small tornadoes surge along the road, kicking up winds strong enough to knock people over and carry objects away. Hail hurtles down from the sky, but only in a ten foot radius. Temperatures fluctuate wildly between one extreme and the next, from heat waves to cold snaps. Soupy fog blankets the area, thick enough that you can barely see your hand in front of your face. Good luck finding your way!



FORGETTING IS SO LONG. The visions come on suddenly and with very little warning. One second, you're carrying on as normal — but the next, you blink and find yourself (and anyone near you) somewhere else completely. You may recognize this place as a moment from the past, one that you lived through. It's a memory, your memory, and it now replays around you in exceptional detail, unnervingly lifelike. Or you may not recognize it at all. It might belong to the person next to you, or to someone else entirely — a memory that the Storm has swallowed up.

Either way, the scene plays out just as it once did, and there's nothing you can do to stop it — or escape it. The memory surrounds you to no end: every door you open leads nowhere, every hallway you turn down continues on forever, every horizon you flee toward hangs just out of reach. And linger too long or turn the wrong corner, and you may find yourself abruptly stuck in a completely different memory. It's almost tempting, then, to give up, to let the past sweep you away...

But this isn't the full might of the Storm. Look closely, and you can see that in the walls of this trap, there are minute, hairline cracks, a facade of fractured glass. Imperfections in the memory where the real world is breaking through. It seems the only way to escape these memories is to find those cracks and break through them — by force, by will, or by some other method entirely.
DECISIONS, DECISIONS...    

The time is coming to make a choice — perhaps not a permanent choice, but unless you want to spend the rest of your nights out under the stars, you'll need to pick which city you will initially spend your time in. On the horizon, you will see that people have arrived to help you make that decision...
A FORK IN THE ROAD. Refugees and the hyper-religious wishing to hear Voss speak are not the only ones out and about under the light of the aurora. Citizens of both Olympia and Wyver have flocked to a point on the road midway between the cities and where the refugees have appeared, and they all have the same goal in mind: convincing the newcomers who have just descended in the blessed light of Thesa to come to their city and not the other.

They've come with bribes — that is, examples of what their cities have to offer. If you spent much time at the exhibition up on Thesa Station, you might recognize some of what's being shown off, though the offerings here are markedly more tangible, and shown off by hawkers wearing substantially fewer clothes.

A herd of pegasi accompanies the Olympians, while a line of flying serpents is stabled at a tent bearing Wyver colors. Refugees are given the chance to experience solo flights and are told that if they prove their loyalty, they may have the privilege of owning such fine beasts one day themselves. The Olympians have also brought couture clothing, jewelry, and makeup to offer a taste of Olympian splendor, while the Wyver delegation has brought along fine weapons, sense-enhancing jungle plants, and small vials of diluted dragon’s blood (drinking confers a temporary boost in strength) to demonstrate their might. The Olympians speak proudly of the glory of the Temples of Thesa; the Wyverns speak of the Volkkran Pact and inform newcomers that they can make a pilgrimage to the summit of Namarak Mountain at the next full moon.

This is as good a time as any to compare your plans with others around you and exchange contact information before going your separate ways with people who are going to the city you are not. When you’re ready to go, don’t worry about safe passage — the natives of each city will gladly escort you there in luxury.



OF WHITE AND GOLD. The people of Olympia are ecstatic that you’ve come to join them... So much so that they’ve prepared a grand tour of the city for the new arrivals. You will be introduced to the major businesses in the city, including businesses that they are proud to point out were founded by refugees.

Refugees who have been here for some time already are encouraged to pair up with newcomers to introduce them to the parts of the city they like best. To facilitate this, they’ve made arrangements with many of the business owners: new refugees who visit their shops (and older refugees who escort them) are given discounts!

Just a few examples of many: the Wyvernest offers free desserts to first time visitors with the purchase of a drink, refugees who visit the Silk Wyrms can have one custom (though not exceedingly expensive) outfit made for them for free, and visitors to Shades Darker are offered a half-hour session with one of the prostitutes at half price… or access to a private room, if they seem to have taken a shine to one of their companions on the tour.

Lastly, tour guides will point out that over the course of the next week, the train to Flona Cove will allow new refugees to board for free so that they can experience the seaside for themselves. With the weather finally starting to warm, this is as good a time as any for a visit to the beach, isn’t it?



OF RED AND BLACK. Life in Wyver is typically a sink-or-swim sort of experience — but in light of the valor recently displayed by their predecessors, the natives are now more willing to assist in getting newcomers settled. The entire journey here they have been talking up the virtues of their city… and now is the time to show everything that's on offer.

The well-known businesses in the city are prepared for the influx of newcomers. Some are giving out discounted samples of their products while others are offering a more hands-on experience: in exchange for working a few hours, they will give training in whatever task is being performed.

At the Forged, newcomers can learn the basics of crafting simple weapons (and take one of their successes home), while visitors to spas near the lagoons are trained in the art of massage. Those who wander to Falmi’s Ring can learn the art of pugilism or how to keep (and fix) books if they're more inclined to the gambling that goes on. Newcomers interested in Wyver's dragons can get hands-on experience at the Fields of the Exalted's nursery. While they walk from place to place, a guide may point out a job posting from Highwind Hires, noting that refugees can make a name for themselves outside official channels.

The last stop on the tour is the Undergrowth. The guides speak of the jungle in reverent tones and caution new refugees not to wander too far in. They warn never to explore alone, but also urge refugees to take time to familiarize themselves with it; after all, the jungle is an important part of life in Wyver, and those who are going to be living here should understand it as well as they do.
You've chosen your path, refugee, but that doesn't necessarily make it a permanent one. Watch out for the strange effects of the Storm, which linger still in the two cities and everywhere in between for the next few days before dissipating just as mysteriously as they came, but otherwise enjoy the welcome and make yourself at home — after all, this is home now.
FINAL OOC NOTES    
An AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 REP POINTS FOR EITHER OLYMPIA OR WYVER may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD FOR OLYMPIA OR WYVER HERE AND HERE RESPECTIVELY BY APRIL 29th 11:59 PM EST.

We will no longer be providing overflow posts. In an event where the post hits CAPTCHA, players are advised to move threads to an overflow post on their character journals or create their own catch-all post. These threads remain eligible for AC, AC Rewards, and REP.

1 SILVER = 1 US DOLLAR.
lacuscular: <user name=sasscons> (pic#11054487)

juvia lockser | fairy tail

[personal profile] lacuscular 2018-04-10 06:36 pm (UTC)(link)
in training
If Juvia wants to be a successful housewife, this is something she should know, right? Then why does this feel so wrong! Touching someone else!!

[ While she certainly isn't a newcomer, the staff in the spa she's suffering at decided to let her join as an example of sorts for the refugees who just arrived. Everything was alright for the first few minutes, with Juvia trying her very best in class.

But anyone who's decided to suffer the same fate in being trained for the Art of Massage can obviously see Juvia is manhandling her volunteers rather than any actual massaging. She's giving herself, probably, the most obnoxious pep talk of her life outside the establishment as the rest of the lesson continues inside. ]


No matter what..... My marriage depends on this!! Juvia needs to be able to give her spouse a massage after a hard day at work!!!!

fishing
[ She gives up quickly on trying to become a masseuse for her future spouse. Instead, Juvia is trying her hand at fishing. Keyword: trying. With her powers, she doesn't need to fish the old fashioned way. But logic dictates she also can't rely on her powers forever, right? So then logic also dictates it's better for her to know this way, too, just in case. What if she goes on a romantic fishing trip that leads to her proposal? And she can't go because she doesn't know how to fish??? She's got the equipment already, holding it all in her grubby hands with absolutely no idea what to do with it.

It isn't until she's actually rented a boat does she realize the extent of her problem. So here she is, loitering around Fiona Harbor at the busiest intersection in some kind of stupor, her fishing gear strapped over her sun dress. While she doesn't necessarily stop anyone who's passing by, anyone who haunts long enough near her will be asked probably the most self aware question Juvia has ever thought of. ]


Do you think Juvia was a little too hasty with her decisions today...?

wildcard
[ if you want to hash out a different scenario, please feel free to hmu at [plurk.com profile] enoshima or respond to this top level with your own! c: ]

peter

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fakers: (pic#8353862)

archer ↣ fate/

[personal profile] fakers 2018-04-10 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
I. CAMPFIRE'S GLOW;
[ all things considered, this could have been much worse. the arrival went smoothly without any unnecessary drama or explosions... which, given prior history, seems to be a win. the camping is a bit of an inconvenience, but it's hardly anything to complain about.

though between his first arrival here, and his forced sojourn into the woods after leaving olympia previously, archer has probably spent more time camping outdoors than actually living in a city. ]


I'm getting too used to this...

[ that said, he's still going to take up a post by a fire, preparing some sort of stew with supplies he received from others and things he managed to scavenge after arriving. while it doesn't look like anything special, the smell is actually quite captivating... and despite archer's gruff demeanor, it's obvious enough from the amount he's made that he's not planning to eat this alone. ]

II. FORGETTING;
[ the landscape in front of his familiar... it's one he's seen all too often in his dreams. it's less a memory and more a visualization of his thoughts... is this even something that ever actually happened? he's no longer even sure.

but all the same time, the sky is red, and the ground nearly matches it, riddled with corpses and covered with blood. the corpses are embedded with multiple arrows each, their cause of death obvious. swords liter the ground, oddly implanted in the rough dirt. the scenery is more surreal than anything else: if not for sensing the presence of another here, archer would have simply dismissed it at his mind wandering. ]


What are you... [ the fact that someone else is here means it must not simply be a dream - but what then? no, perhaps it's better not to question things at all. so rather than inquiring, he'll simply crouch down, taking a seat on the ground. ]

Just wait it out, this should pass before long.

III. RED AND BLACK;
[ when it came to deciding between olympia and wyver, there really wasn't a choice: though he hadn't looked into it too much, he was fairly certain he still was no longer welcome in the city of olympia.

upon returning to wyver, he finds himself in the place most familiar to him: Forged. he had never visited the place before, though he had heard of it by reputation. he had no need of weapon crafting for himself, but he couldn't deny he was curious to see the master artisans at work.

upon arriving he can't help but be disappointed. while their creations are impressive, the requirements are a little... odd. ]


...this doesn't make any sense. What do these materials have to do with making a weapon?

[ look, he knows he's a cheater and how he makes weapons isn't exactly normal... but why does making a sword here require so many fetch quests? ]

IV. LOCKED to [personal profile] offtune;
They've finally let us descend.

[ their attempt to use the teleporters before had failed, but at least now they were able to get off the station. even though he hadn't been stuck up there for long, he had started to develop a sense of cabin fever all the same. ]

And it seems they aren't wasting any time trying to manipulate the newcomers.

[ he'd listened to voss's speech, and one of the overeser's acolytes had already approached archer trying to convince him to seek salvation in olympia... or something like that. archer was all too quick to brush him off, and a stern glare was enough to send the man scurrying on his way. ]

How anyone could believe any of that nonsense is beyond me.
offtune: (#daniel —)

hi

[personal profile] offtune 2018-04-10 08:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Looks like they forgot who you were.

[ isn't he still an enemy of olympia or something? is that what they mean by seeking salvation? zero had no such luck, though; perhaps she's beyond saving at this point, and that is a sentiment she understands and agrees. but well, they've stayed the night, they've braved the boring speech. it's time to get going again. ]

Well, let's head out. The sooner the we leave, the less likely we'll have to run into these preaching pricks again.

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III.

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godwins: (“I do not wish to suggest”)

bucky barnes / marvel comics / ota

[personal profile] godwins 2018-04-10 07:32 pm (UTC)(link)
I. Millions Like Us

[ Bucky has come to the campfire to greet the new refugees, figuring if it was anything like last time, they were gonna need it. But they didn't, it turned out. Everything went off without a hitch, and now there's nothing to do but stand around with hands in your pockets, listening to Voss speechify.

To his dubious credit, Bucky keeps himself from snickering, and his face might even blanch when Voss gets to the part that mentions all the torture. When Voss is finished, with a trail of acolytes following after, Bucky leans in to whoever's standing next to him. ]


I swear, we don't all go on like that.

[ He offers a piece of— it looks like chocolate, that he's been eating. ]

II. The King's Speech

[ This is the memory: high above the ocean, in a golden airplane of exotic design, a man is showing you his foot. He is wearing nothing but short green swim trunks made of iridescent scales and his eyebrows are plucked higher than Carole Lombard's. This is Namor the Sub-Mariner, Prince of Atlantis. He has tiny wings on his ankles, and that's what he's pointing to, rather forcefully. ]

My superior Atlantean physiology is what grants me the strength of many, Barnes, but it is my hybrid nature which grants me the wing-born power of flight!

[ Somehow crammed into a single cockpit seat is Bucky and whoever got dragged in here with him. For his part, Bucky's got a queasy look on his face, even as Namor continues giving a speech he's clearly heard already. He remembers what comes next. ]


III. The Big Red One (cw: torture)

[ This is another memory, an underground bunker in Moscow, the only light coming from a single bulb overhead. Behind, there are three men standing behind a glass panel, their faces obscured by the glinted lamplight. Two are wearing nondescript black suits. One is in uniform— a Soviet officer, with red stripes on the epaulets.

In front is a man with sandy hair and blue eyes, sitting on a stool, begging for his life. His mouth is rimmed with blood and there are two teeth on the floor, ominous. I have a daughter, I have a daughter, he says in Russian.

Bucky is standing in front of him, his present day self, whole and confused. He blinks once, then turns around to stare at the men behind. ]


What is this?
Edited 2018-04-10 21:04 (UTC)
ukase: (All business)

iii. The Red Tide

[personal profile] ukase 2018-04-11 04:05 am (UTC)(link)
[There was nothing quite like being dragged into the old Soviet underbelly where military sanctioned torture was so common it seemed to be a staple of life here. However, the uniform was different from anything he had come across; World War II was long done before he had been born. The Cold War had been a childhood fleeting memory and nothing more.

He was standing far at the back, leaning against the wall with his thumbs hooked into his belt loops and one foot drawn up to rest his boot on the wall as well. He was likely the most casual of everyone present. Torture was nothing new to him; he existed in a world where it was perfectly normal to endure it, witness it, cover it up.]


Question and answer period, I would say, especially since he's pleading with details of his life thinking they'll mean something.

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II - Because Namor

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because namor!!

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guidetoblivion: (♞ 015)

Riku | Kingdom Hearts

[personal profile] guidetoblivion 2018-04-10 07:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A – By Campfire's Glow/Shepherd Over The Flock ]

[This is the third wave of arrivals that Riku gets to witness since arriving himself, and given the troubles they had during the last two, he can't help but feel a little tense now, even though they are allowed to wait together peacefully (will Sora be among the arrivals, will he have woken like Terra said he might? Or maybe, has Kairi finally opened her eyes again?).

He sits by the edge of the fires, listening with half an ear to Voss' preaching about Thesa… it's interesting to a point, but…]


…I wish he'd get to the point.

[Like really, that's the third time in a row he picks up the phrase "touched by Her Radiance" or something similar enough... It's getting a little repetitive at this point.]


[ B – We Got Cows ]

[The winds are worrying… they almost remind him a little of that night. The hail on the other hand, is really unnerving – a weather phenomenon that he has never seen before and that, even confined as it is, reminds him too much of the mountains. The fog though… well, not really seeing anything doesn't bother him, not while he wears the blindfold anyway.

He reaches out to the person next to him, to touch their arm, confident in what his sixth sense is telling him, as he nods down one direction:]


Come. The camp is that way.


[ C – Forgetting Is So Long ]

[Except there is no going back, or at least not immediately… instead Riku suddenly freezes up as the environment shifts… and regains form of what looks exactly like a place of his memory.]

…What?

[It's not the first time this happened here – he's owner of a memory ball after all, but it's the first time he isn't going into his memory deliberate. So he can't help but wonder…]

How is this real…

[How is he suddenly at…?]

[ooc: Leaving the C prompt deliberately vague – ping me via PM or on plurk ([plurk.com profile] icelyy) so we can figure out which memory your character is getting: I'm open for everything from BbS, KHI, CoM and Days! :3]
icingonthecake: (don't tell me that)

C: hit me with your best shot!! seriously i'm good for whatever memory you're jonesing for.

[personal profile] icingonthecake 2018-04-11 09:04 am (UTC)(link)
First there's the endless walking in circles, and now there's fog so thick it's like that time Larxene deliberately used up all the hot water in the bathroom by turning on every shower full blast. He can tell somebody's nearby, though--even unable to see, he can sense that there's someone within earshot. Actually, if he concentrates, he's fairly certain he recognizes this particular aura's flavor of Darkness, and when the fog pulses and begins to clear, he can't help but grin when he sees he was right.

"Thought that was you," he says, firing fingerguns at Riku a couple of times before the distracted look on the younger man's face registers. When he takes a moment to consider the sudden change of scenery, though, Riku's apprehension makes a lot more sense. Having experienced this whole unexpected, uninvited memories gig already, though, he just runs his fingertip over his lower lip uncomfortably. "Well," he says then, clearing his throat, "this is probably about to get a little awkward."

Damn, and just when he felt like he'd been making a bit of headway with Riku, too.

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ooohthatsnice: (✥ 33)

judith / tales of vesperia

[personal profile] ooohthatsnice 2018-04-10 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
close encounters;
[ well, that certainly had gone a little better than she had expected. the mass teleport goes off without a hitch, and the land beneath is placid and calm. glancing around, it seems as if all of her fellow refugees have made it as well, and none the worse for wear. good.

best yet, the air here is fresh and clear and so very welcome; beautiful as the view from the station had been, judith feels much better now that her feet are on solid land.

first up on the list, a walk! she wanders from camp and through the scrubby trees as the sky grows dim and the wind rustles, and while she does not go too far, she goes far enough to enjoy a little calm quiet - though, goodness, that's very quiet, isn't it? like a light switching off, the space around her is suddenly absolutely, entirely still and silent, as if time itself has stopped. a gentle breeze remains, but the birds and insects have hushed, all the natural sounds of the land extinguished. judith does not panic, but she's certainly ready to pull her spear if necessary. ]


.. Well that's strange, isn't it?


we got cows;
[ it's good to know that the little bit of storm they have to deal with is relatively harmless (in the grand scheme), but it's certainly made for difficult travel, when poor weather can crop up anywhere, at any time.

like now. when she's meandering down the path toward the fork in the road, alongside her fellow refugees, when a thunderstorm splits the previously clear, blue, sunny sky and a torrential downpour opens up.. directly to her right. sorry, whoever is walking beside her. she smiles. ]


Oh. That's unfortunate.


fork in the road;
[ there's nothing wrong with a little national pride and spirit, it's perfectly natural to want to aid and praise and tout your beloved homeland, but there's a limit where it just becomes, you know, obnoxious.

why does she have to choose, anyway? can't she just live in the woods?? this is getting pretty old. with a sigh, judith folds her arms and frowns, glancing toward whoever's available. ]


What do you think?


obligatory city catchall;
[ judith won't be making a solid decision just yet i don't think, but she'll definitely check out both cities to see them for herself. feel free to find her about any of the establishments, sampling the local fare, playing with dragons or pegasi, cruising the red light districts or practicing her spearplay. anything goes!! ]
offtune: (#zephon —)

we got cows

[personal profile] offtune 2018-04-11 12:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ zero has been separated from archer at this point; doesn't know how she got here, but it isn't long before she catches up with one of the people she'd met at the station. the woman is someone difficult to forget; the way she handles her spear, her precision — not to mention the fact that she merely speared her head in the process, but zero realizes there isn't much to be done when it's her fault for sticking her head where she shouldn't.

still, she owes her a bow. it's probably what she had been bothering the woman about as they tread through the lonely road. ]


— Besides, I doubt I could be killed by your spear if you tried, but I liked that bow, you know --

[ before she can finish her sentence, the storm cloud manifests right over her, pouring rain all over her person. she's drenched within seconds; she couldn't get this way if she jumped in a body of water herself! through her rain, which she tries to step out of but to no avail, she can see the smile, which only irritates her. zero reaches out to grab her by the arm, attempting to pull her into the rain. ]

Come here, you —!!!
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we got cows.

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anders | ota

[personal profile] judicia 2018-04-10 08:42 pm (UTC)(link)
forgetting is so long, part one

( You blink and the open field before you becomes the edge of a great lake. You're standing at the edge of it, surrounded on all sides by water, and behind you, a grand tower juts up toward the sky. There are the sounds of children playing, of more than a dozen kids around you dressed in heavy silk robes. Some are young, not more than six years old, while others are older, like the blond, gangly boy standing in front of you. He's a troublemaker, but the templars standing guard over the children don't seem to be paying him much mind.

That was a mistake. It doesn't take long for the blond boy to wade out into the water, slippers and robes and all, and make his escape. He's already out of reach by the time the templars scramble up to the shore, donned in full plate mail. The younger Anders laughs as he hears their shouting, knowing that they won't be able to catch him. )


They stopped letting us outside after that. ( Anders says, appearing beside you looking older and much more real than the version of him swimming out into the horizon. )

forgetting is so long, part two

( The scene changes to the chaotic streets of Kirkwall, to the sight of the knight commander and the grand enchanter surrounded on both sides by mages and templars.

Anders watches himself stand between them, watches as the sky lights up with the explosive rubble of the Chantry. He has not seen this happen. That much is certain in the way he stands there, frozen still in shock and disbelief. Hawke comes to him after the fighting is over, after Orsino runs off and the templars all lay dead on the ground around him. And he does something Anders does not expect — he spares him. He asks him to fight for the mages, and Anders — the real one — can't help but look on in awe.

The walls begin to crumble around them after that. Anders doesn't want to stay. He wants to get out as soon as possible, so he begins tearing at the walls himself, using nothing but his hands. )


wildcard

( if there's another memory of Anders' that you want, hit me up at [plurk.com profile] raykes or pm me )
inaurare: (Turning)

Forgetting part one.

[personal profile] inaurare 2018-04-11 03:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[he startles a moment at the voice and presence beside him, and the gentleman's comment. Then he sees the scene as well? Linneus had had enough hallucinations of the previous month - he was half-convinced for a moment it was happening again, even though the Daughters told him it was over with.]

After that...?

[an uncertain gesture - at the shore, at the water, at the robed children and the... guards?]

What is this?
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part two

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whatisright: Humanized Justice (Okay we need to talk)

Justice | Dragon Age | Memories all day e'ry day

[personal profile] whatisright 2018-04-10 08:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Ruins of Arlathan

This is not anywhere normal. The ruins of a grand building, not unlike a city hall or even a palace, are split into pieces that float in greenish nothingness. The imprints of people with pointed ears fall from the edge over and over again, repeating in grim memory that has yet to fade. There's a new sense, a knowledge of what they were thinking of when they fell, the rush of fear, the 'no no no no' that radiates from the place.

A creature that looks vaguely like a woman with pointed ears staggers up the broken stone steps. She has no face, like it's been blurred away, and half of her is missing, replaced only by bright blue glow that looks vaguely humanoid but not fully realized form.

The glow is the same color of Justice's eyes. He follows the creature, frowning as it fumbles. "I do not remember this," he says, hesitating with every step behind the creature.

On top of the steps, a purple creature that seems fully realized and yet also without concrete form, humanoid and glowing, is observing the specters of death falling from the edges of the building. The blue creature says, "Wisdom, where is everyone?"

The purple creature doesn't face the blue. "They are gone now, and they will not come back. Find the rest of yourself and forget that they were ever here."

Death of Innocence (CW: implied baby murder)

The sky is green and peppered with mountains that float over nothing. The ground is a rolling desert. A vulture with wings made of ice that oozes despair lurks over a great rock. Under the rock are the screams and cries of what sounds like babies.

Then a great blue dog tackles the vulture, gnashing its teeth and taking a bite of its wing. The vulture screams, its beak tearing into the dog's back, but the dog does not release the wing, shaking its head as if to tear its wing off.

Justice is mostly ignoring the conflict between the animals, instead peeking under the rock with a frown. Beneath it, there's a pile of infant souls crying. A white, glowing, faceless child is draped over them, but the glowing child is falling apart at the seams, like it can't really hold the form for much longer.

"Why are they here?" Justice wonders aloud, frowning.

The Apprentice

This is the real world, with a blue sky and mountains and bushes, and also the bushes are on fire.

A young girl is in the middle of the fire, crying as she pulls her own hair. "I don't know how to fix it! I can't control it! Tell me how to fix it!"

Suddenly, the young girl's eyes glow blue and her entire demeanor changes. The way she holds herself is very similar to Justice, and when she speaks, her voice deepens and echoes. "Panic is the enemy of control. Magic is the influence of the Fade on the waking world. Banish the Fade's influence, and so too will you banish the magical fire."

Justice, who's watching the exchange with a bewildered crease to his brow, murmurs to whoever is next to him, "I have no memory of this."

Obligatory Dream Sex

The sky is green, peppered with floating rocks and mountains, and there are literally miles of people having sex. Not even normal sex, either. There are impossible contortions only attainable in dreams, strange costumes, toys, animals, entrails, every perversion from the odd to the evil on full display, and there is no end in sight.

A blue knight is walking across this orgy field as much as possible, but it's difficult not to step on someone when it's like the floor is made of people. When it's forced to reckon with a mob of peacocks running away from naked mortals clad only in tar, it stops in its tracks.

The knight puts its hands on its hips and turns its head upwards. "Desire, I am not searching this entire plain for you. Make your presence known."

Justice, observing the whole scene with a note of exasperation, shakes his head. "Finally, something I remember."

Wildcard!

[Make a prompt of your own or PM me for a personal one!]

fade sex

[personal profile] judicia 2018-04-11 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
( Anders has been to the Fade before, not only in dreams, but with his soul having been ripped from his body. He doesn't go there much anymore, not unless he has to, but he's been there plenty of times before. Never has he ever seen anything quite as perverse as this.

He walks among the throng of bodies like a man who has just seen the ocean for the first time. He doesn't even register the sight of Justice, standing there among the crowd in incorporeal form until he hears him speak. )


I don't know how you could forget. ( He says, to the version of Justice he knows that can hear him. And just as he says that, his eyes catch on someone doing something very peculiar with a feather boa. Hmm. He should get a better look at that. )

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verflair: (035)

x'rhun tia | ffxiv | ota

[personal profile] verflair 2018-04-10 09:01 pm (UTC)(link)
FORGETTING IS SO LONG:

A ♦ the Fall of the Crimson Duelists
[ The memory that suddenly snaps into place transports X’rhun back to his homeland of Ala Mhigo, to the sprawling landscape of the region of Gyr Abania.

It is night, and the usually clear sky is streaked with smoke, thick and oily black, rising from the ruins of magitek creations. From broken husks of great suits of armor or airships that lay smashed and smoldering against the sand-colored stone. It is yet the early days of the Garlean invasion, but for all the broken pieces of Garlemald’s technology that litter the landscape, there are far more broken and bloodied bodies of Ala Mhigo’s children. With the nation already ravaged by civil war, they have been left with precious little resources or manpower to defend against the sheer numbers and technological prowess of the Empire.

Among the ruined, scorched landscape, a single figure moves. Though he keeps to the long, deep shadows cast by the moon and still-burning fires, his red garb is easily apparent. It is X’rhun, twenty years younger than the present-day counterpart that stands off to one side to watch the scene. The younger X’rhun seems to be on a set path, a patrol, and his trail is leading him back to the Ala Mhigan Resistance’s base of operations.

He knows this day. He knows what he will find when he returns. He could never forget it.

X’rhun – the X’rhun of now – turns to whoever has ended up next to him in this. ]


If you are squeamish, I would suggest that you look away.


B ♦ With Heart and Steel
[ The Weeping City of Mhach lives up to its name. It is a desolate place of sprawling ruins, strange architecture crumbling after centuries of nature slowly, oh so slowly, seeping in to reclaim the structures. This, interspersed with strange, jutting crystal formations that shine bright, unearthly blue in the otherwise grey pallor of the place would already make it seem unwelcoming, but the ruins are also swarming with creatures. Deadly wild animals and demonic voidsent alike have claimed the Weeping City as their home.

It is here in this haunted place that the memory starts, an airship cutting through the thick, ash grey clouds that hang low over the ruins. When it docks, X’rhun emerges, looking little different than he does now, clad in his usual bright crimson in stark contrast to the grim surroundings. One other disembarks after him, a mage of the red as well as evidenced by the rapier at their hip, but beyond that, their features are indistinguishable. X’rhun knows well the figure, his one-time pupil, the Warrior of Light, but an effect of the incomplete fragment of the Storm has left them hard to discern.

X’rhun, the real X’rhun, watches with his arms folded over his chest as the scene unfolds before him. His past self and his companion rush into the ruins, blades drawn to fight their way through packs of otherworldly monsters, ghosts and demons made flesh, until they reach their ultimate destination. There, on a wide, open platform among the ruins towers the massive form of Lilith, the voidsent queen. Off to the side, held aloft by swirling, sickly purple light is a young lady, her own garb bright red, blonde hair swept back, and eyes screwed shut in pain.

She is the reason they have come to this desolate place, the reason he and his friend face down a demon easily four times their size.

They mean to save her. ]


C ♦ Wildcard
[ Feel free to come at me with a memory of your own, or request a different memory than the ones above. Options include: facing off with the man who killed his comrades; a random adventure or battle either before, during, or after the war/invasion; or something much more low key like a quiet moment with friends! Other prompts are welcome as well!

You can hit me up at [plurk.com profile] exposition if you’d like to plot! ]
diplomatie: (2483720-4)

a!! gimme dat sad history lesson

[personal profile] diplomatie 2018-04-11 07:09 am (UTC)(link)
[ The lands of Ala Mhigo are unmistakeable. Alphinaud has seen them plenty already, and it's somewhat easy to tell he's in them once he's here. But something else that's unmistakeable is the whirr of magitek. He's been around that more than anything, with all the battles he's gotten up close and personal to. It's a bit of a shock to the system to see it after how long he's been in El Nysa. His feelings toward it have not changed — it's a source of fear, frustration, hatred. It's the enemy.

The scene is decidedly horrific, but it snaps him out of things when he hears X'rhun's voice. It's almost a comfort to hear a familiar voice in this setting, and it proves that the younger man he's seeing is in fact him.

His voice is somber when he speaks, careful. ]
I have an inkling of what may transpire, then.

[ What might ... happen. Nothing here is leading to anything good. ]

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ettersberg: (Default)

thomas nightingale | rivers of london

[personal profile] ettersberg 2018-04-10 09:11 pm (UTC)(link)
forgetting is so long
[ as many others, nightingale had gone to greet the new arrivals. as many others, surely, he's looked for familiar faces in the crowd — but neither peter nor molly are amongst those being transported planet-side. he tries not to let it dishearten him. they are alive, even if they are in stasis.

still, his steps are a little less purposeful on the way back — and then, no scent of magic and no warning, he isn't walking along the path anymore but standing inside an old building in regency style, together with whoever was closest to him. nightingale recognises the building immediately. ]
Ambrose House. [ he offers. ] Home to Casterbrooke school.

[ it's where nightingale learned magic, but there are no children running up and down the two staircases now. there is only one figure, dressed in a suit and leaning on a cane, limping slightly whenever he moves, slowly and painstakingly carving something into the wall by one of the staircases.

closer inspection will reveal that figure to be thomas nightingale. he looks a little older than the man watching, though that might just be the exhaustion set heavily in his features, the defeated slope to his shoulders now he thinks he is alone and no one is watching. he's carving names.

nightingale now offers another elaboration, tone soft. a little pained, still, though it is an old wound for him. ]
The names of the fallen.
originallutece: hour to hour (robert; sometimes you have to live)

[personal profile] originallutece 2018-04-10 09:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[One moment, tipping her head up to catch sight of Thomas as he wanders down the path. She opens her mouth to call to him, preferring company when she's out in the wilderness like this, and then suddenly--

Where? She isn't sure. Some countryside, and yet entirely unlike the one they were just walking through. She glances around, but it's the building that catches her eye first-- and then, a moment later, the hunched man in front of it.

She'd be a fool not to realize who it is. And once she has . . . well. She isn't sure what this is, a simulation or a memory or a hallucination, but she thinks she can guess at even a little of what's happening.]


How many?

[She says it softly. Her eyes are trained on the man in the memory, studying the way he limps, how he holds himself, grief-stricken and exhausted. Rosalind takes a step forward, eyes narrowing until she can read those names.]

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arcreact: (miracle elixir of the gods)

tony stark | mcu

[personal profile] arcreact 2018-04-10 10:08 pm (UTC)(link)
i. arrival
[ To say that the arrival is disorienting would be putting it mildly. Tony, in his heart of hearts, wants desperately to find this straight-out-of-Star-Trek teleporter technology as incredible as it is, but it's impossible to enjoy the experience when it's so much of your worst nightmares.

He sits heavily once both feet are planted on solid, unmoving ground, and rubs irritably at his temple. ]


Jesus. [ He offers the barren (if scenic) surroundings a long glance. ] That sucked, and so does this.


[ Shortly after the initial traveler's fatigue has warn off, you can find him poking his head into various abandoned structures or parking himself on a tree stump, taking apart the flashlight that had been given in every starter pack. He strips it down to its bare components, pockets them, and doesn't hesitate to make eye contact with anyone nearby who may stop to see what the hell he's up to. ]

I'm accepting donations, if you're not using yours.

ii. make yourself at home
[ By the time the crowd has made its way to Voss's gathering, Tony finds the situation much easier to grapple with. As he moves through the crowd, he's never without some beverage in his hand (and he somehow manages to make that beverage look fancy, no matter what it is, even if it's been pulled out of a lukewarm cooler in the woods) and he doesn't hesitate to strike up conversation with everyone and anyone. ]

Not bad for a party in the woods, right? [ He gestures with his drink at the assembled merriment. ] Quaint, y'know, like cub scouts. Except we're not getting badges for it and they gave us a rations kit like this is gonna turn into Survivor at any minute.

[ He takes a looong sip from his drink. ]

But, aside from that. Quaint.

iii. a fork in the road
[ Tony isn't entirely impressed by the pageantry of the cities' residents - which may just be him being difficult for the sake of it, but if asked, he'll be sure to lay out all the reasons getting dropkicked onto a primeival hostile planet is, in a word, bullshit. Still - he pays attention, at least well enough to know Olympia is the clear choice if he hopes to maintain his own sanity. Business, technology, a proper city; it's a long way from perfect, or even preferable, but it's the clearcut winner nonetheless.

And so it is that he's on his way to the white and gold city, not at all shy about flagging down anyone who may be going in the same direction. ]


You're going this way? [ He doesn't wait for an answer. ] Neat, me too. Let's speculate about what dire fate awaits us at the end of the yellow brick road.

iv. wildcard
[ hit me with anything!! ]
maipokerface: ([075])

II

[personal profile] maipokerface 2018-04-10 10:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah, it's thrilling alright. The lectures are the best part.

[That sarcasm though. Honestly she doesn't mind this woodland excursion once Voss finally shuts up.]

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flashystyle: (but sometimes)

dorian pavus | dragon age

[personal profile] flashystyle 2018-04-10 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
i. of white and gold cows

[Dorian is a walking advertisement for Olympia. He's dressed in white and gold garb and a pin of the Institute on his breastpocket, actively reaching out to anyone around camp that seems they might hold interest. Olympia is the key to advancement, he says, despite the terribly politics that might put their homelands to shame. At some point, he may take you by the shoulder and ask if you're willing to carry a basket from camp.]

There's a glowtree, not far from here. I've been meaning to try their apples, but what they're selling them for in the market is a crime. We can talk more there, let me show you...

[The weather, is in fact, not perfect. You're an hour into the forest, and the tree is glowing on the horizon, but now it's hailing. Just seconds ago, it felt like the two of you were going to boil alive, so the cold is sharp and the winds blow right through. Dorian manages to groan over it, lifting his basket overhead as a shield.] Lovely weather we're having, my ass!

ii. scully you're not gonna believe this

Fascinating. [You've probably heard Dorian say that before, in that exact same tone of voice: ecstatic. He's been wandering the looped area for awhile now, trying different forms of magic to stress test the circumstances: once, he set fire to a tree only to see it revert back to its uncharred state, tried to record himself walking and talking only to find his gallery empty. At the moment, he isn't quite looking where he's going as his gaze searches for an anomaly, so just shortly after he's made his interest vocal, he runs into you.

Again. He steps back, blinking several times as to try and ward off the overwhelming sense of deja-vu.]
I'm terribly sorry, you're... [He should know your name, but he simply has a terribly attention span.] Yoooouuu... are...

iii. this kid is alright i guess

[The scene before you is like something like a time-lapse. You aren't in one place too long—once, you're walking the wide expanse of a historical estate, with stone walls and high ceiling that seem to stretch on forever. A child is ahead of you, dragging a wooden duck on wheels behind him. Or perhap you're on a boat far from a summer home shore, sun blazing down servants manning the boat as a woman looks through the window at her son rather than join him. Or perhaps you're in a solitary confinement room of an extravagantly furnished school, with the voices of irritated sounding teachers arguing the attitude of a student. There is one consistent factor in each room: there is a young Dorian, and he is utterly alone. The memories do not last long because they are too empty to form a false reality.

Eventually, one seems to stick, coming into greater detail than any of the rest. You hear the yelp of that Dorian as a woman holding strong resemblance to him drags him off of a rich party floor by his earlobe, scolding him in a language that isn't quite decipherable. They come to a halt at the door, and after proclaiming she's going to find his father, she walks off. That's when Dorian notices you, and how horribly out of place you are.

His voice is pitches higher than the man he is in the present, but it seems his tongue is even sharper than before. In a tone that's matter-of-factly:]
You look all matters shit. Dog, cow, that fat man around the corner... Should I go on?
diamondize: (I just told my bowl "sorry")

III

[personal profile] diamondize 2018-04-11 12:05 am (UTC)(link)
[The wash of memories is fascinating as Diamond meanders along, taking in everything with a curious, but detached air. They don't know whose memories these belong to or what anything they see really means--they have no context to even begin to compare it to--but they're kind of just enjoying the ride.

When something sticks and holds, it actually gets their attention and they follow idly behind the pair until Dorian notices them. The insult...flies completely over their head. They don't even know what 'shit' is. Or what a cow is... or a dog (the closest to a dog they know they've been calling a 'woof woof.' Don't ask.)

Instead the insult is met with a giggle and Diamond leans in slightly, smiling brightly to say:
] You're so cute! [It's said completely genuinely too, not even a hint of mockery or sarcasm.]

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fullylicensed: (9)

poe | altered carbon

[personal profile] fullylicensed 2018-04-10 11:56 pm (UTC)(link)
I. general storm wackiness
[You know how old joints act up with the weather? Well all of Poe happens to be an electronics swarm, and being around a supernatural space storm complete with insane weather has done nothing for him. If he looks particularly stressed or strained even outside of the pockets of weirdness and bad weather, it's because it takes all of his processing power to literally hold his body together while the forces of that bit of Storm touch down on the planet.

For the most part, he just looks tired, maybe a little pale - a little sheet-white pale, with even his fine suit looking more gray than black, like he's gone grayscale for a couple seconds. He seems to be avoiding speaking, as well, nodding emphatically and gesturing a lot to express thanks and other friendly asides when people look his way.

And then he... flickers. A hand, first, maybe an arm up to the elbow, but as much as he tries to hide the offending limb in his suit jacket, more than one full-body flicker, like he's suddenly missed a few frames of movement overtakes him.

That's probably not strange to some other refugees, or people who heard him talk about being an AI up on the Station, but for the locals who've come out to see this blessing... it's starting to look suspicious. Please allow him to hide behind you, thanks.]
II. you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave, literally you can't go, sorry
[don't quote that whole title at me in the subject line

Here's the memory you've walked in on: you're in a hotel, in the lavish lobby decorated with an obvious theme—ravens, mostly, although the whole room is draped in rich, dark colors with flashes of gold. Even the floor sports a purposefully intricate, winding design, reminiscent of the complex designs of M.C. Escher that might just get stranger the longer you stare at them. But you probably won't be looking at the floor, not when the patron of this hotel is standing calmly behind the counter, his hands folded in front of him, smiling amicably. Meet Poe.

Besides the fact that the hotel is deserted and Poe hasn't said a goddamn word since you walked in the door - when did you walk in the door? - this all seems very normal. Besides the fact that there is no other living soul in this building, and somehow you can tell, the way you can tell with some innate sense that the building itself seems to be yearning, desperately lonely and so, so tired of the yawning emptiness of its rooms. It's overbearing; suffocating, even, as you make your way up to the counter where Poe stands. With every step that dismal loneliness seeps into your very skin, and even the kitschy goth raven decor seems chipper and bright comparatively.

At the counter, Poe continues smiling, gesturing to a screen that asks you to pay him somehow, although there is no register in sight. Look closely and you'll see one of those spidery cracks back to reality start to splinter across the countertop; just for a moment, before Poe calmly - but decisively - places his hand down to cover it up.]


Please, [he says, perfectly calmly, while something in the building creaks despairingly.] I'm afraid I cannot allow you to check out without first receiving your payment.

[But it's probably safe. That isn't a shotgun behind the counter (just kidding, it is).]
III. the goofy prompt that isn't mildly spooky/Even More Nysa Swag
[Or: of course, Poe takes full advantage of the free stuff the natives want to hand out. You might find him deeply engrossed by his fifth advertisement by a shopkeeper in a row, or asking his fifth question that another shopkeeper can't even come up with an answer to because he's so weirdly specific, or collecting free samples just to have them... He is everywhere, doing everything. For maybe ten minutes he's been trying to express to a tailor from the Silk Wyrms that, yes, he is actually requesting an exact replica of the same suit he is currently wearing, what is the problem?

His enthusiasm bubbles over into pushiness, until finally several shopkeepers just won't talk to him anymore, leaving him more than a little crestfallen. Truly... the saddest grown-ass man you've ever seen, he looks like a kicked puppy. But make eye contact with him and he will be there, ready to converse!!]


Greetings and salutations, my friend. Would you happen to know the most expedient way to acquire real estate on this world?

[It's Free Real Estate]
buck wild.
[hello...... it's [plurk.com profile] jojoveller, you should plot with me]
flashystyle: (what do you think you're doing)

you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave, literally you can't go, sorry

[personal profile] flashystyle 2018-04-11 01:05 am (UTC)(link)
[what was that, copy and paste the whole title,

Dorian might not know the word hotel, or really understand the weirdly modern yet raven covered architecture of the place, but he does know ye olde inns enough to know he supposedly spent the night in this fake memory... place. What would possess anyone to stay at a place so... drab, and probably haunted, he doesn't know, but he can roll with it.

He doesn't have any money on him to play along, but he can roll with it. He greets Poe with a pleasant smile, rather than acting on the intuition that this place is so shady.]


I'm afraid I would have to go withdraw from the bank, my good man. Hard times, these days, dipping into my savings and all. I'll be a... [He hums thoughtfully, glancing away from him for an exit,] ... few hours.

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III, swag swag swag swag

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iii aka here's the cr you wanted

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regives: (pic#11517920)

leanne | resonance of fate

[personal profile] regives 2018-04-11 12:01 am (UTC)(link)
campfire's glow.
a.)

[ As familiar as she is with trouble following a new batch of refugees, especially in memory of their first landing, she doesn't complain in the slightest when their travels so far manages to be relatively peaceful. She's also become increasingly more comfortable with camping as a result, catching onto it as quickly as she did a gun back in her old world. So after she's settled in she's walking around and help in what ways she can.

Having trouble with your portable stove? She's your girl. ]


Did you need a hand with that? [ She probably just... pops out of no where. Sorry. ] I know those things can be a little tricky.

b.)

[ And once she settles down to relax, keeping herself warm near the fire, she looks to the person beside her with a bright, beaming smile: ] So, have any good horror stories? And don't say "my life's a horror story"! I've had enough of that.

the truth is out there.
[ Leanne swears that Chandelier is a much more difficult maze to navigate in comparison to the paths in El Nysa. However she's certain that they passed through that tree with a noticeably broken branch at least twice now, and by the time the see the creak a bear will appear and... ]

It's going to sneeze.

[ And the bear sneezes.

In turn, Leanne raises a brow in confusion. Last she checked she didn't have any future telling abilities. ]
... What's going on? This is, like, a fever dream.

forgetting is so long.
a.)

[ A majority of Leanne's life is a mystery to most and that's honestly for the best. She speaks fondly of the people she's metaphorically begun anew with—Zephyr and Vashyron—as both her best friends and guardians. Opening up of the first twenty years of her life is... difficult, something she'd much rather avoid due to the fact that she feels as if she no longer harbors the complicated emotions that come with remembering those lonely days.

However when she blinks away their world and she and someone else are somehow within the walls of the laboratory, there's an evident amount of shock within her expression. A conversation is heard not too far from where they are, coupled with footsteps before the pair (a man sporting glasses and a girl sharing the same face as Leanne) finally appear in the hallway. The memory plays in her head before it happens right before their eyes, and when she opens her mouth to speak over Juris when he mentions the last year of her life her throat is coincidentally dry. Lacking preparation, her brows curve and her lips pull into an uncomfortable frown, eyes narrowing as she finds herself flustered with what to say next.

She attempts to relax and steel her composure, clearing her throat. ]
We should go.

b.)

[ If you're lucky, however, you might stumble upon this memory. The very beginning of a terrible day, where Leanne was forced into an ugly headband and flower face paint to match that coincidentally ended in her first (and last) modeling gig.

Whoever is with her is going to immediately notice the desperation in her eyes when she yells: ]
Forget it! Forget that ever happened! You didn't see that! You're dreaming—... by the way, you're real weird for dreaming up something like this. [ Reverse psychology. It has worked somewhere. ]

wildcard.
( you're free to throw in your own prompt if nothing works or yell at me to make us something! )
Edited 2018-04-11 00:03 (UTC)
ausuben: (pic#11829265)

forgetting is so long b.

[personal profile] ausuben 2018-04-11 09:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Lancelot blinks, slowly glancing at her from the side, lost somewhere in a range of emotions as how to react because she has a lot feelings she's projecting right now, doesn't she...

He smiles nervously (he will not laugh, he's not going to do that to her... he hopes.), unsure what to answer her on first.

Of course, looking at her as she is trying to convince him that he's the one who dreamt this up... he almost fails because that's... really pretty endearing in a hilarious way? It's a valiant attempt. He doesn't think he's ever had an encounter with someone like this before... nevermind a first.

...But no okay, this young lady is clearly in distress over this regardless of how big a deal it is.
]

A... ah. P-please calm down, it's not so terrible as you make it sound...?

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versianvirtue: (01)

Asseylum Vers Allusia | Aldnoah.Zero

[personal profile] versianvirtue 2018-04-11 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
[A. By Campfire's Glow]

Disorienting is an apt way to put her descent onto the surface El Nysa, but perhaps not for just your typical reasons. It was comparable to touching down upon Earth for the first time. Strange, then, that the last place the martian princess remembers being was Earth, and yet when she finds her footing on this grass-coated soil, she finds her body nauseatingly heavy, her head floating the opposite.

The gravity here is a lot like Earth's, she comes to realize. She also begins to suspect that she must have a penchant for catching gravity-related afflictions! As such, her sensitivity causes her to feel a bit under the weather.

She remains in her tent most of the time, but when she starts to feel cold or lonely, emerges to join in on a bonfire. She sidles up in front of the flame, giddy as she reaches her hands out to feel the heat lick them.

"Ahh... It's so hot...! This is nothing like a candle..."

[B. We Got Cows]

Speaking of under the weather! For someone who isn't particularly used to dealing with it, having it hit hard and heavy like this is like trying to kill a bee with a warhammer: overkill. Her experience with rain on Earth had been nice, breezes pleasant, but these torrents are chilling, nightmarish, and have the power to knock her off her feet.

Sunshine breaks under the weight of thick, angry clouds gravid with rain. Asseylum has already been the shoulder these stormclouds want to cry on, and she doesn't want to deal with any more meteorological sob stories. She learned what this sudden dark spell means! That's why the moment the sun is subsumed, she begins glancing about the plains for something, anything to take shelter beneath, looking quite worried as she tries to pick between settling between her closest options: a dry shrub or a young tree. ...No, these won't work, will they?

"A... Again?"

She then notices you. Frantically, she takes your hand as though hoping to urge you to action.

"Quick! We must take cover!"

[C. Of White and Gold]

Olympia is so much more beautiful when she can feel the streets beneath her feet, see the sky above her head. Besides the sky, though, there's so much else to see! It's a bit overwhelming, even dizzying in some respects. Whether that's vertigo or overstimulation is anyone's guess.

But look at all these shops and businesses! She's never seen anything like it before. When she was on Earth, it had been struggling under a cataclysmic war with meteors and Kataphrakts, so there was nobody left to live in their own homes, much less tend to their shops. This is what she had been picturing of a peaceful city all these years.

And she has to discover it all. Gazing at one of the many locations (your pick!) with curiosity flickering in her eyes, she asks, "What is that, exactly?"

[D. WILDCARD]

((Wanna plan something not listed? Feel free to contact me via Discord @ paingel#4140, PM, or [plurk.com profile] wingything! Or you could just ask me to hit your thread up if you'd like; I'm flexible with pretty much anything.))
Edited (feet the streets) 2018-04-11 01:13 (UTC)
offtune: (#camael —)

a

[personal profile] offtune 2018-04-11 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
Zero has settled on the bonfire near the tent this girl had occupied... to which she had no idea of until the girl moves next to her. Briefly, she considers leaving. This child doesn't seem like the kind of person she would get along with, but she's nearly finished making her... "smore" or whatever the fuck that is. She's currently toasting a marshmallow.

She scoffs at the girl's reaction to the flames, uncertain what to make of it. "What do you expect from fire? Of course it's hot, dummy," she finds herself saying — it's the same kind of thing she would say to Mikhail, and perhaps she mistakes the naivete for him for a split second. "Keep your distance. Wouldn't want to burn that pretty head of hair of yours."

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winecasks: (pic#10819395)

Grantaire | Les Miserables

[personal profile] winecasks 2018-04-11 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
1. Rise up shepherd, your flock has roamed far from the hills

[ Grantaire actually listens to the whole of Voss’s speech. He listens, and he smiles, looking amused with the man’s proselytizing. When it’s through, he rises and gives a slow, sarcastic applause. ]

A fine drivel! I wonder, what good it does to shame criminals in the name of something which surely does not exist? Goddesses can inflict pain just as well as any human. Consider Athena. Wise and kind though she may have been, she still turned Medusa into a monster. And Hera—Zeus’s wife was not a stranger to torture and punishment.

[ He smiles still, but there’s a graveness behind it. ]

What solace is there to seek within the Temples? The deed has been done, the damage stands, the hurts have been inflicted. What good will it do?

[ It seems as though Grantaire has found some beliefs beneath the guise of his lack of beliefs. ]

2. The Cow One

[ The fog has grown thick when Grantaire begins making an attempt to get home. Squinting through the blanket doesn’t help at all, and it’s all he can do to walk with a hand outstretched in front of him.

Unfortunately, that means it’s a perfect setup for someone’s face to collide right with his palm.
]

Oh, hello.

[ He chuckles and smiles kindly, if his features are visible at all through the mist. ]

I would apologize, but I’m afraid it may happen again very soon. I’m not one to comment on the weather, but this is worth it. I shudder to think of what may be next. Fire is surely all that’s left. Then I would shudder no longer.

3. I Forgot to Remember to Forget

[ Those who see Grantaire’s memories will find most of them hazy, as though viewed through the fog of wine or sleep. The first may come across as somewhat dull to some, nothing of any particular importance, but it must be important to someone. It’s a somewhat small back room of a cafe, crowded by a group of students discussing politics. It’s hardly worth mentioning, in comparison to other memories, but one may spy Grantaire in the mix, listening to their conversations, but not partaking, a bemused smile on his face as he drinks from his bottle of wine. ]



[ This memory is the haziest. Half of it has already been long forgotten, apparently, because you’ve been thrown into the aftermath of one of Grantaire’s drunken rants. It’s fine; the rant itself was unimportant, but Grantaire sits near the window in the upper level of a wine shop. On the street below, a barricade has been built, formed largely of furniture and held mostly by young men.

“Grantaire!,” someone shouts from below. “Go get rid of the fumes of your wine somewhere else. This is the place for enthusiasm, not for drunkenness. Don’t disgrace the barricade!”

“Let me sleep here,” he begs, leaning through the window, his expression growing soft as he gazes down at someone austere and golden-haired.

“Go and sleep somewhere else,” comes the harsh response.

“Let me sleep here, until I die.”

“Grantaire, you are incapable of believing, of thinking, of willing, of living, and of dying.”

“You will see,” Grantaire responds, his tone grim. He makes a valiant attempt at a few more words, but fails as the wine takes hold. He rests his head on the table and as he falls asleep quite abruptly, the memory fades.
]



[ This is the only memory that is clear. It begins in silence, though the room is far from empty. The floor is strewn with the corpses of young men, all of them far too young for the fate that befell them. There are twelve artillery men, guns at the ready, all aimed at the one figure who remains standing, golden-haired and upright, armed only with the barrel of a broken gun.

Perhaps unseen at first, perhaps assumed to be a corpse himself, a second figure, dark haired, lifts his head from a table in the corner of the small room. The sergeant seems prepared to repeat his order, but the second figure rises from his seat.

“Long live the Republic!,” Grantaire declares. “I’m one of them.”

He strides across the room, sober and confident.

“Long live the Republic,” he repeats as he places himself in front of the artillerymen and their guns, right beside the golden-haired man. “Finish both of us in one blow.”

He turns to the other man with a gentle smile.

“Do you permit it?”

The question isn’t answered with a word, but with a smile and a gesture. The other man takes Grantaire’s hand in his own, and deafening gunfire resounds throughout the room.
]

4. Wildcard

[ Come at me with whatever you like! Just grab me here or at [plurk.com profile] muttonchops ]
Edited 2018-04-11 01:20 (UTC)
idealisme: (tricoleur)

PAINFUL NOISES

[personal profile] idealisme 2018-04-11 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
[Grantaire and sickness have finally brought him to admit that rest is what he needs. Well. Some degree of rest. His blanket is covered with papers and books, which he reads until he dozes before waking to cough and work again. He suspects Grantaire may be smuggling them out of the room while he sleeps, he'll have to watch more closely.

When he finds himself in this memory he thinks it is a dream. He doesn't question that he sees things as though he is Grantaire, watching himself fold his arms in defiance of the guards. There is still so much life in that frame, he thinks absently. There is no trace of fear, though he remembers how he felt and fought against it.

Then comes the expected (still unexpected!) cry. How strange to watch his own expression of surprise! Where is the relief he felt, because all he sees now is pleasure, a fond smile- the opening of the mouth (he has been told many times how disdainful his lower lip is. There is no disdain there now) but the gunfire cuts off his reply.

There's silence then, as his bedroom returns. He stares unseeingly across the room. Is it the sickness or the memory which make him sigh so heavily? He cannot help but finish the interrupted thought his memory-self:]
Gladly, with all my heart.

[Is there someone else present? He has not realised it.]

wOW SAME

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I DO KNOW

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3. you know which one

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otiosity: (back to back badass)

Marian Hawke | OTA

[personal profile] otiosity 2018-04-11 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
i. Campfire's glow

[Well, isn't this familiar? Sitting around a campfire in a rather strange place with drinks and a slight bit of apprehension? Sounds like a Wednesday for Hawke. She's leaning back casually against a stump and sipping her drink.]

So is this where we share deep dark secrets with each other to bond? Or tell horror stories? Though "everyone you know is dead or frozen" is sort of hard to top. Maybe if we're all ghosts or something? Ghosts and we don't know it. Spoooooky.

[She doesn't find it that spooky CLEARLY.]

ii. We got Cows

[It goes from familiar to unpleasant. As it always does. Soon Hawke finds herself trapped in a chilly and seemingly impenetrable fog. She lights a glowing flame into her right hand and raises it high above her head to try and light her way. But the fog is so thick, she's still forced to resort to sticking her left hand out and groping around in front of her to make sure she doesn't run into anything.

Also her nose is running in the cold so that's great.

If she stumbles into you, or she stumbles into you, she'll try and grab you to make sure you don't run into her hand that's currently holding a ball of flame.]


Need a light? [She pauses.] And pretend my nose isn't red and running and instead I delivered that line like a real hero emerging from the foggy distance. You know, a real entrance.

iii. Forgetting is so long.

[The scene takes place in a forest, much like this one, in a small clearing. There's a girl with long dark hair and bright blue eyes and a man with a beard and the same color hair. In the distance is a small house, more like a shack, where two younger children, also of dark hair, play together with sticks.

The girl, Hawke, is being trained by the man, her father, in the ways of magic and the world. He tells her to defend herself against his blows. To attack, to fight back, to stop him from grabbing her. She tries. But it's hard to attack her own father, he's so fast and so strong. She waves the small staff she holds and lightning crackles in the air and shoots towards her father. He blocks it easily, throws a flaming ball at her, and uses her attempt to dodge as a chance to grab her around the neck.

"The Templars you meet will show you no mercy. Don't hesitate. Your mother and siblings depend on you. Now try again."

He pushes her roughly to the ground. She tries again. The same scenario repeats until she's bruised and bloody. Eventually one of the younger children, the girl, runs over to young Hawke who is trying to get to her feet, and runs a hand over a cut on her arm with a soft green light. It heals instantly.

Her father goes over to her and helps her stand before pulling her into a hug. And she knows he's proud of her and there's nothing in the world that could make her happier.]

The scene changes

[Suddenly Hawke is no longer a child, she's a grown woman, the age she is now, and she's no longer in the woods. Instead she sits in a lavish house with fancy decorations and elegant wood carvings and elaborate tapestries. She sits alone in front of the fire. She wears nothing but a red dressing gown over the white bandages that cover her entire torso. Her face is pale, slightly grey, and she's thinner than usual. Clearly she's recovering from some previous injuries.

In her hands she holds a shining silver medal with the insignia of her city and the words that read "champion". ]


What am I supposed to do with this? It doesn't go with the decor. Or my fashion style.

[She sighs and leans back against the couch, staring out into the darkness of a house that seems far too big and far too empty.]

ix. WILDCARD

[Let me know if you want anything specific or to plot anything! You can always reach me at [plurk.com profile] mythal]
illuminescent: (Lucy - not that dumb)

i;

[personal profile] illuminescent 2018-04-12 12:43 am (UTC)(link)
[She's tired, very tired, and she's been inching closer to Hawke every moment. She hopes that Hawke won't notice; but considering she's about two inches from her intention - which is to lean on her - that's highly unlikely.

But still.

She looks up, and extends her hand to that fire.]


I think we should know if we were dead. Would we not remember it?

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sharklicious: (🦈 hand weighing motion)

Sidon | botw

[personal profile] sharklicious 2018-04-11 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
[ ★ — BY CAMPFIRE'S GLOW. ]

[ Is there somehow a ten foot shark in your group? Well you're in luck, because if you haven't already then you're about to meet the ESTEEMED PRINCE SIDON.

It seems no one was quite prepared to be welcoming someone the sheer size of Sidon, and so he's currently happily swaddled in three different bedrolls, cozy as can be. He's a bit off from the fire, not at all cold and in fact a little worried about drying out, but he's happily listening to the conversation and bustle all around him. New people are so fascinating! He wriggles from bonfire to bonfire, sticking an arm out of his bedroll cocoon to introduce himself to anyone willing to give him the time of day, chatting a while, then moving on to the next group.

Presently, he's found his way to you. Yes, you. ]


Hello there! I am Sidon, Zora prince! Is this not the most wonderful expedition? Tell me, have you heard of this marvelous invention known as 'lotion'?

[ ★ — FORGETTING IS SO LONG. ]

[ The deafening roar that fills your ears sounds like the crashing of the ocean, but it's just rain. You stand on a long walkway, all glinting silver and polished stone, dark skies emptying themselves in a torrential downpour. It physically beats down upon you as you stand there, the rain, soaking you through in an instant. The walkway is empty, pale blue lights guttering, save for a solitary form huddled against the railing as though for fear of washing away.

It's a little boy, not of any race you've perhaps seen or are used to, but clearly a child all the same. He's wide-eyed and sullen, staring off at the far end of the path, away from the glittering lights of the city behind him. Every once in a while, his tiny form gives a shudder, a hiccuping sob, though the sound is drowned out by the rain. When he notices you, he gives only a slow, despairing blink. To Sidon, this is surely a miserable, dreary, unhappy dream. ]


Have you seen my sister...?

[ His voice somehow cuts through the storm, sharp teeth tugging anxiously at his own bottom lip, glancing back down the path before up at you again. ]

Did you come from there...? Did you see her? My sister, Mipha. She hasn't come back. Please, she... She hasn't come back.

It's only been three days. I have so much to tell her.

[ Voice wobbling, he wipes at his face with both hands as he wills himself not to cry. ]

She... She didn't tell me what to do with all the things I want to tell her if she doesn't come back.

[ ★ — OF WHITE AND GOLD. ]

[ Are the trains to Flona cove running yet? THEY ARE NOW. So here we are in this idyllic body of water. The sun is shining, the breeze is gentle on your face, the sand warm beneath your feet. Drawing near the water, you notice something... red? And shimmering? And fast? Before you can puzzle out what it is one way or another a head pops out of the water, followed by the enthusiastic wave of a hand. ]

Hello there! Would you like a ride?
thunderblight: (☀ 12)

White and gold /o/

[personal profile] thunderblight 2018-04-11 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ The sand and sun is about as close as she's going to get to being home - despite the comforting warmth of the sunlight and the familiar shifting of the dunes underfoot, Urbosa's brow is furrowed a little as she watches the waves further out.

And further than that... what is that? Some kind of weird fish, or--?

Oh.
Welp. That's definitely a weird fish. ]


Ah... sarqso, but I'm afraid I'll have to pass.

[ Half because she has a somewhat irrational dislike of water, and half because Urbosa would MOST CERTAINLY sink like a stone considering all the gems and metal on her person.

dafuq is a random zora doing out here tho... ]

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lotion.

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Of white and gold

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Forgetting!!

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lotion...

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lotion...

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white & gold

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White and gold

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of white and gold

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sharkbucks

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triplerose: (Default)

i

[personal profile] triplerose 2018-04-11 02:30 am (UTC)(link)
[ Loras came with other refugees, to meet the new ones and help them along the journey. It's the least he can do, he thinks, considering that something always tends to happen. He'd like to try to help make the transition as easy as possible.

When he comes across a man taking apart the flashlight, he watches, because he's never seen what they look like inside. He's still not entirely sure if he likes flash lights. They're useful, but so are torches with fire.
]

Why do you take them apart?

[ He doesn't have one to give up, sadly, or he would. ]
presses: (pic#11546546)

eugene sevenstark | gundam: iron blooded orphans

[personal profile] presses 2018-04-11 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
Camp's Glow.

( there's no scrabbling for survival or shelter that greets any of the refugees this time around — a suspiciously merciful act on behalf of their gracious hosts, a benevolent reprieve from what's undeniably been a constant deluge of the kind of chaos that accompanies any fight for peace. they've made a ritual out of hospitality, inundating with all sorts of information dumps and platitudes of hope. it's a sell, of course — one that's already been made by the time the storm's cleared and needs to be sealed by the rest on and off the station. eugene looks up to a veil of warmth that hangs low in the quiet sky, curtaining a gradient of greens and blues vividly over the night, imbuing the atmosphere with a surrealism that's far more dazzling than anything he's seen back at home. sprinkles of colors and dust scattering across the heavens usually meant destruction, explosions, funerals. tonight it's a show.

he's quiet as he approaches the row of bonfires, somehow quaint and bustling at once, their vision giving a picturesque comfort of camaraderie and elan. drawing nearer seems as if he'd be intruding on some sort of fancy picture, and there's a defiance in his step due to it. with every motion forward, every planting of his heel, there's an annoyance that blossoms and blooms throughout his gut and up his chest, showing itself as an increasingly disgruntled frown.

whatever camp these unfamiliar faces have set up, whatever stories they're regaling comrades with by the fire's glow, whatever delicious minimalist food they've got ... is interrupted with encroached space and angry gesturing at the beautiful scenery of it all. )


Hey, what the hell is this!?

( is that a smile he's pointing at? someone's general happiness or relaxation? or maybe they're exhausted by recent events but simply wanting to help new refugees? he looks unhappy about it all. )

Is this how the new refugees are treated!? Tch, where's the uncontrollable falling?? The weather that will freeze your ass off and shatter it like glass, huh? I — jeez, I don't even see any blood! Or injuries!

( a displeased noise gets strangled out of his throat somehow, making him sound very Old Man Yells At Cloud. )


So this is how it is. Pretty colors and lights and a show in the sky?? They're all going to be soft! It wasn't like this when I first came here, I'll tell you that—

( he's just rambling and walking around, complaining about this preferential treatment. what the hell! he might be hangry, just feed him or shut him up some other way. )


The Truth Is Out There


( a fact about eugene is that he enjoys making himself useful. while this not make his incessant griping tolerable, it certainly gives it a redemptive quality and reveals it all for show. his blustering dies down eventually, giving way to a pernicious disorientation that creeps up on him. it doesn't dawn on him until after a few minutes that it's gotten eerily quiet, enough that every slight of wind against his ear sounds like a scream, and that he's very sure he just encountered the person he's crossing paths with again a minute ago. and then the minute before that, with an awkward apology offered and a sidestep out of the way.

it's actually... the fourth time he's running into them, and the firewood he's gathering in his hands seems to keep resetting. he keeps collecting plenty, walking around, then realizing his load is lighter. and while slowing his pace and trying his best not to think of it, logs and kindle clutched to his chest, Eugene pivots and turns to the retreating person. )


I hate this place!

( he blurts out, dramatically tossing the wood and letting it roll toward the other refugee, hoping for some agreement or level of deep understanding. of hating the same things. )

I've seen you!!! We've seen each other! Something shitty is probably about to happen.



Raindrops Keep Falling

( with his head ducked down and his shoulders hunched, eugene is the picture of futile resistance. no matter how he ducks and quickly sidesteps, a heavy and contained rain follows him wherever he may go. and being soaked to the bone? doesn't quite help when strong winds push at him, arctic-cold and unforgiving.

if that isn't enough, a small tornado somehow opens up in the sky. right above him! and though it only tosses him a few feet, it's also torn his clothes quite a bit, which he's grasping at and trying his damnedest to hold together. there might be shreds of his clothing left, but his dignity? gone.

he's just fallen to his knees now, trying his best to not move and somehow make things worse, staring wide-eyed at the ground beneath him as a puddle forms from. more rain. )




Forgetting Is So Long


Le Moribond

( a memory embedded with unsettling silence. several minutes somehow fit themselves inside of each second, distorting the space around those who bear witness, their words and their hope violently ripped from their hearts. the view is from inside of a battleship, lodged in the cold liminality of space, its vacuum swallowing the loud screams of metal twisting and burning that one would expect with such destruction.

the ship's monitor shows a single mobile suit in pieces, reduced to debris, its cockpit detached and exposed to open space. the pilot inside's anguished screams could be heard over the intercom before deafening silence annexes the scene, with a couple of shaken and hushed whispers of disbelief from the ship's technical crew. this was supposed to be their winning shot — with it, they could secure survival, secure victory. even safely retreat without adding on to the overwhelming casualties they'd been amassing.

but it's as if the failure has lanced through the ship the memory resides in, sucking out all morale in the process. the blond in the captain's seat says nothing, gaze fixed ahead with a gravity of pained acceptance.

"Somebody go get him!" a man says beside the blond -- his superior, and the one who they all valiantly followed into this war.

"Aye, sir," an unquestioning affirmative from the crew. eugene tenses in the memory, clipping a protest before any action can be taken.

"We don't have time for that!" he says calmly, in a way that he hopes leave no room for argument. their accompanying ship's timer was about to go off. soon it would jam all communicators and they'd be untraceable, giving them their only chance to retreat in a battle they're far outnumbered in. "Hurry up and tell the mobile suits to fall back."

the crew visibly flinches in wounded surprise at any rejection of a rescue mission for their comrade, and the man beside eugene attempts to further his case, voice breaking. "What about Shino?"

eugene's fist is quickly curled around his tie, pulling him forcefully down with a yank and meeting him at eye-level in his seat.

"He risked his life for us to have this chance! We can't waste it."

the deputy boss makes a call that leaves his leader looking speechless and shattered, and has a crew of children turning away from the scene in grief as they follow orders and pull back, leaving their friend on a dark and lonely battlefield, attempting to make meaning in a sacrifice of a man who might be hanging on to the last seconds of his life.

watching the memory, eugene bristles, uncomfortable at the thought of anyone judging his decision to leave his best friend to die, to not recover the body, so the rest of his crew could have a chance to escape a catastrophe. not wanting to think about if that decision was worth it. not wanting to revisit how he had to let go of hope to make the choice he felt was necessary, a call nobody else was willing to make. )


Hah, we ended up losing anyway.

( he folds his arms, trying to look away from it all. )

In war, we say and do all kinds of things in hopes that it'll mean something later.

( this is. not nice. )

I guess "meaning", "sacrifice", that kind of thing's saved for the winners.

( an understatement. )


C'est L'amour [cw for: embarrassing, nsfw, sex work]


( a memory far worse than anything he's experienced in battle, truly.

eugene, on the cusp of eighteen and a circuitry of nerves going haywire, is visiting his first brothel at the behest of said best friend he'd ended up having to leave in space.

her name is rouge and she's incredibly gentle with the young man, giving him a warm embrace he's never received and attempting to still his trembling with whispered encouragements. eugene of course crumbles, eyes filling with tears quickly, hugging the hired woman with unsteady arms and burying his face in her breasts. he's realized what he wants in life, and it's love. somehow this................ made him realize .........it ...

non-memory-eugene, meanwhile, is trying to wave his arms wildly at the memory, as if swatting at it and hitting at it will distort it and censor it properly. better yet, make it disappear altogether. )



Okay, that isn't me!!! Hahah, what the hell is up with this stupid thing? Is it broken?



Wildcard

( idk hit me up with anything. mess hall, campfire, foodie stuff, animal attacks, or PM me if you need a starter. )
Edited 2018-04-11 03:05 (UTC)
exaomori: (🐍 27)

C'est L'amour

[personal profile] exaomori 2018-04-11 03:40 am (UTC)(link)
[Well, this is awkward. It's bad enough going into someone's else memory, even worse when it's this kind of memory. It's kinda gross, getting to see some guy losing his virginity to a prostitute, but whatever. There are worse things out there... probably.

But really, the worst part of it was said kid, now more grown up, desperately trying to deny that it was him in the little scene. Shura's nose crinkles, and she looks away obligingly, mostly because she really doesn't want to see any of this.
]

You're makin' it worse, y'know.

[No wonder he had to go to a hooker if he's acting like this as an adult...]

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offtune: (Default)

zero / dod3

[personal profile] offtune 2018-04-11 02:55 am (UTC)(link)
a.) a fork in the road
[ the journey here has been an unfortunate one. she'd battle bloody beasts and tear down an army of men any day, but nothing makes her feel more vulnerable than people knowing her. her past is not a pleasant one, and now a few more people have seen her.

... well, she is less than satisfied with the events that had unfolded, but at least she's free, and they've finally reached the checkpoint. zero has parted ways with archer since the storm and memory traps, but she figures she'd hang around here and wait for his presence before she continue south... not that she is savvy about directions. the starterpack is in his possession, so she can't even access the map. she wouldn't even know how to read it...

so, she decided she'd fuck around with the dragons. or, uh, flying serpents in this case. it's been a while since she'd ridden mikhail, and because these damn things don't seem to care about listening to orders (or maybe she just completely sucks at it, that's a huge possibility), but the serpent is currently spiraling out of control. she's clinging on for dear life, but it's only a matter of time before she falls... ]
What kind of... stupidass—!!

[ please tame the serpent, or maybe catch her as she falls... maybe she's already fallen. just send help ]

b.) white & gold
[ shocking to no one, zero has zeroed in (hah) on the brothel. well, she's not here to seek physical comforts (though that may be a possibility); rather, she wanted to see the state of the place. she was far younger than most of the people here when she was sold to a whorehouse. here, people seem to do it willingly.

well, it's got her curious, so she mistakes you for a whore and asks abruptly: ]
Hey, how much are they paying you?


c.) wildcard
[ wyver is her last stop, so feel free to wildcard the journey back down there or something... ]

offtune: (#barachiel —)

@yusuke; cw: mentions of abuse, blood, etc

[personal profile] offtune 2018-04-11 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ she wishes she doesn't have to remember this place. the cell was where she had spent the last of her days as a human her name was "rose" back then — and she's not alone. she's lying on the side, face-to-face with another girl, who's been beaten bloody, dying or already dead, but her mouth still twitches and her blood-red eyes remain open even in death. some say that it's a sign of injustice, the lack of closure. makes sense, zero thinks.

zero resents the fact that this red-eyed girl is nearly identical to her sister, "one." acted the same way too, always spewing nonsense about injustice in the world. how it wasn't fair. these children don't know that life is always unfair, and they die thinking they could have changed it.

and it's why zero doesn't feel pity, at the state of the girl or even herself. rose is dying also, not as bloody, but she still had gone through the same treatment as the other, muttering to nonsense to herself as if anyone's listening. zero and the boy before her sit outside of this cell watching the scene unfold, though to be honest, there isn't much to be seen. she remembers this moment, precisely because she'd been reminiscing about how she'd gotten here in the first place. seventeen years of bullshit treatment, of being robbed of money, her life, and her womanhood; of being betrayed by friends and family and just fucking greedy sons of bitches. rose is right to have cursed the world then, but why the flower had chosen her as a host, she would never understand.

she hadn't been the only person in midgard that felt this way, that hated the world — so why her? ]


Quit gaping. [ her command is a stern one, only because yusuke had been quiet the whole time. there's only the small pitter-patter of the rain — haha, that's right. it had been raining the night she died, the night the flower found her. ]

This is fucking ridiculous... [ despite her composure, she feels helplessness. are they stuck here just to die once again? and why is this kid stuck here with her? she leans her head back, the back of her head supported by the wall. she can't help but look at her dying self in the memory, so she combats this by keeping her attention fixed on yusuke instead. ] You have something to say?

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@akira; its just groundhog day

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a.

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sorry for the delay!

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uglybug: (how can i ever change)

Mantis | MCU

[personal profile] uglybug 2018-04-11 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
by campfire's glow
[Along with many of the 'older' refugees, Mantis travels to the area and helps set up the tent city. By the time evening comes and most of the new arrivals are settled, Mantis is carefully picking her way through the tents, offering a quick word of encouragement (or even a meal) to anyone who looks like they might need such.

But as the evening grows darker, she grows more restless and most likely seek out companionship, rather than offer a quick word of courage and then move on. She pauses at a campfire.]


May I sit and join you for awhile?

we got cows
[What should have been a simple walk turns into something far from what Mantis had expected when sudden and very localized weather patterns sweep across the road with no warning at all. There's a sudden gust of wind -- strong and cold -- and then heavy fog envelops her and the people around her.

She reaches out toward the nearest person, fingers clumsily snagging what might be a sleeve.]
Keep going forward. It will be fine.

forgetting is so long
[[cw: child murder]]
[One moment, she's walking along the road, chatting with new and old refugees alike. She's wearing her ring from Wyver, so even some of the Wyvern natives have approached and held pleasant conversations with her.

The next moment, she's back on Ego's planet, in his opulent home. Down the hallway and out of sight, a child can be heard wailing in anger and fright. Mantis' hands are clasping together, knuckles white in her attempt to keep from wringing them. She's younger in this memory and the fright that is so clear in the child's voice is reflecting in her eyes.

Footsteps echo along the corridor and Ego -- his expression set in disgust -- waves a hand in her general direction. "Shut that thing up. I can't think with all that racket."

She raises her eyes to him and dares to ask a question. "Did he--"

Ego stops, scowls. "Just as useless as all the others." He reaches out and fondly raps his knuckles against her cheek. "Not like you, little one. Go on, make yourself useful. I'll take care of the rest once he's quiet." He drops his hand and turns away; Mantis stares down the corridor, drops her gaze, and makes her way toward the room that the child is in.

The frightened crying only stops when Mantis lays her hand up the child's brow -- a small boy with wide green eyes and light-colored hair. She catches him as he falls asleep and allows herself to cradle him in her lap for just a moment; she doesn't dare whisper the apology that is caught in her throat. (She knows that Ego will be waiting nearby. He likes to get these things over with.) A light touch smooths his hair and she lays him down on the small bed. When she opens the door, Ego is leaning on the wall across from it.

"Good girl," he says, then shoulders his way past her.

She stands in the doorway and wrings her hands.]
ukase: (Intent)

Forgetting is so long

[personal profile] ukase 2018-04-11 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
[Walking was a good way to watch people, see who had personality and who was shy in the new scenario. He didn't make much in the way of conversation unless someone else started it, but he caught sight of Mantis and was draw closer not only because of her very odd appearance but how chatty she was. Aliens were still enough of a novelty to earn his quiet observation.

However, the sudden change of scenery to an obvious alien planet shook him where he walked, and he stumbled a bit. It seemed as if it were just the two of them, and based on the way her expression changed, he could tell she knew this place, knew this scene. Was it a memory? It had to be; it was so damn vivid.

He followed along with the scene, apprehensively curious why there was a child crying and why that bearded asshole seemed so pissed. He knew the look of someone frustrated by failure enough to glance at the weird large-eyed alien, and he found himself drifting in her wake as the scene played out before him. He was cynical enough to understand what putting the kid to slept meant based on the rest of the scene, and he came to stand up beside the antennae-bearing creature.]


Killing kids is never supposed to be easy.

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forgetting is so long;

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forgetting is so long

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emblazes: (pic#11719303)

keith / voltron: legendary defender

[personal profile] emblazes 2018-04-11 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇs
[It starts somewhere vague.

The surroundings are ambiguous. It's a feeling more than anything. Solitude, though he's not alone, not entirely. He's got his dad, a weapon, a strange fascination (obsession) with cryptids. Maybe that's what leads him to the Garrison, or a strange yet-unknown draw to his ancestry. He joins, finds merit in growing alongside an unrelated brother. It doesn't last -- there's an accident, a punitive dismissal. He's on his own again, preoccupied with theories and conspiracies, mothmen and lions.

A shack unfolds into a castle. Bonds are formed and yet, there's a state of longing. If it's not one thing, it's something else. You fight like a Galra soldier. It sticks with him, reinforced by Allura's contempt for him proceeding an unexpected revelation. The Altean princess doesn't mean it, he's assured, it's just that the Galra have destroyed his people, and he's suddenly a bridge between the warring aliens, if not a reminder of something distasteful. He's thrust into leading a team that doesn't belong to him -- he's not a leader. He's a recluse. He finds comfort in being disposable, The Blade of Marmora offers a cold sense of reliability and mostly everyone involved resembles something in his cryptozoology magazines.

There's an explosion of light. He's here on Nysa; his earliest memories entail him nearly being eaten by a spider. Fast forward some, he's dabbling in a lagoon, behaving Strangely with Lance.

You monster, you cannot be here.

It's Allura, possessed by some unseen forced. There's a tussle -- The princess earns the upper-hand with ease.

You were no Black Paladin.

The scene goes dark, remains blank though a different voice begins to talk. It's Lance, suggesting they ought to start keeping journals, lest one of them ends up leaving this planet unexpectedly -- it'd happened to friends, it happened with Allura. It's an idea he rejects. Hasn't he been abandoned enough? It isn't about that, it's about them, but it's still taken personally. In real time, Keith's got his back pressed to something firm, wide-eyed and uncertain of the memories playing out around him. They're legitimate, but none of it's anything he's in the mood to confront, for better or worse.]



ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴅ
[Hello hi, Keith works here and can weaponz orders or help out, I just kinda wanted to provide this as a wildcard/alternative to his bogus memory thing. Feel free to hmu at [plurk.com profile] gilboat to plot anything super specific etc..!!!]
adelphoi: (🍰 ᴘᴇᴀɴᴜᴛ ʙᴜᴛᴛᴇʀ)

memories;

[personal profile] adelphoi 2018-04-12 01:34 am (UTC)(link)
[ she does not know keith well, had known him only tangentially through lance, but still she couldn't help but have felt a sense of.. camaraderie with him. they are quite similar in many ways, she can see many of her own mannerisms reflected in his behavior. birds of a feather, right?

so of course, when she stumbles into a memory to find him backed up to a wall, nearly petrified, she does not hesitate to assist in whatever way she can. there's no other option.

alisaie approaches slowly, and speaks softly. ]


It will pass, soon enough.

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dRaMa

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seagoing: (pic#11955372)

Isabela | Dragon Age 2

[personal profile] seagoing 2018-04-11 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
a. A Fork in the Road (only open to newcomers please!)

[Both Wyver and Olympia might be bringing out their finest to sway the new arrivals to their side, but Isabela hangs back to examine everything with an inscrutable gaze. The first time they’d tried to pretend nothing had happened and everything was fine was after the riots, which were dangerous and hardly safe to disregard but she’d disregarded with a sense of building distrust and a decision to stay out of both of their affairs. It had nothing to do with her or anyone else the Natha had decided to save and reawaken, and she was hardly one to jump into someone else’s problems without much incentive for a benefit.

Which of course, is when the kidnappings started up. Even strong as she is Isabela had been taken and tortured under interrogations for either answers she didn’t have or wouldn’t say. It had been a rough time, and some of the effects linger with her even now. Like how she gets defensive at being suddenly surprised by someone, or the cold that lingers inside of her and causes her new penchant for jackets and waistcoats. Even then did they still not give them any sort of heartfelt remorse, only a ring that had gotten her a fair share of the the good life.

And again, now they’re trying to pretend like each side is perfect and hard from scrutiny or shame. She almost wants to roll her eyes, looking at it all. She spots someone near her looking curious and surprised at the various showcases and animal mounts, all with the unmistakable look of someone new. Normally Isabela would leave them to it much like she had done herself, but after almost freezing to death she should at least give the person a more accurate rundown of things. She walks over in distance of the closest lost person with an amused smile that’s only slightly bitter, but chuckles as she looks them and the display over.]


Don’t be too blinded by their show of smoke and mirrors. Well...some of this is like that, like the mounts and some of the plant life being shown off. You'll want to be careful of that last bit though, the jungle is hardly friendly to anyone.

[And then she speaks a little quieter but just as truthful in her words, mature but curious and not wanting to drawn the wrong attention to herself.]

But...if you want a real rundown on what’s been going on down here while you’ve had a nap I think I know a few things to share. Only if you’re wanting a tour that’s off the beaten path anyway.

b. Forgetting is so long

i. memories best forgotten (only open to CR)

[It’s night in Antiva City. You see the port city in all its splendor, yet peacefully quiet given the hour. But maybe it’s too quiet, as the room you find yourself in next has a younger looking version of the Isabela that’s become well known speaking in hushed whispers to someone else who might be familiar if you know her well enough. They exchange knowing glances, her nodding in a direction before kissing his cheek as they go their separate ways, him down the hall and her into the boudoir of her room. She sighs, but she looks determined as she gets to gathering what she can in a travel bag; jewelry, money, clothing, other valuables worth money...if it looks expensive she’s grabbing it, taking it for herself in a brisk but calculated pace. Almost out of earshot a muffled shout might be heard, which just makes her move faster to gather what she needs. She pauses only once, hesitating on putting a set of necklaces in with the rest of her haul to look them over in consideration.]

I can't believe I've had to sit through a whole year of this farce of a marriage. At least your penchant for trying to shut me up with pretty things had it’s benefits, but not even money will save you in the end. Right, Luis?

[She pauses to look around the lavish room she’s in, the chairs all turned to face the wall and everything else a general whirlwind of a mess before placing the jewelry around her neck, detaching her skirts to reveal the trousers she’d been wearing underneath as she heads to the the window. It would be less suspicious if she walked through the front door, but the possibility of running into unwanted people was too high. At least this way would bring her closer to her goal, to the ship that lay waiting in the docks. She'd have to get a hold of Zevran somehow to give him her thanks, for now she cherishes the dagger he'd given her while muttering aloud to herself as she looks ar the door across the room. He'd come tonight on a contract, and coincidentally enough she was ready for him and ready to go. Funny how these things happen.

But watching all of that is Isabela of the present, frowning with a stern yet conflicted look on her face as she watches herself jump out of the window to head to the docks.]


He was murdered that night, assassinated. And before you ask no, I still don't regret having a part in his demise. [But despite that she looks away, feeling vulnerable and defensive of her younger self.] I hope that bastard's suffering long into the afterlife, if there is such a thing.

[It's far from the sore spot it used to be but it's still she's not comfortable with it being just out there like this, walking up to try and interact with the well loved vanity.]

ii. to become better than you were (ota)

[The ship she’d managed to get aboard rocks against the waves, the city of Kirkwall on the distant horizon. A few days ago she’d made off to head to Ostwick to finally wash her hands of the whole ordeal that had left her stranded in the other city so long in the first place; A book once stolen by her, then lost to the sea and taken by another before she’d managed to get it back for herself. It belonged to the Qunari, some important relic of their people she didn’t care much to know about beyond the fact that returning it to Castillon would take the potential of her death off her head and give her a chance to start anew. She’d have to start from scratch though, a whole new crew and a whole new ship to acquire before she could really call herself a captain again. She runs a hand over the binding of it, turning it over in her hands.]

I can’t believe all this mess is over some silly book. Of course it’s only when my life depends on it that everyone else has a need to have it. The guard, the Qunari-

[Hawke...who’d actually risked the chance of actual war breaking loose to help her find it to save her life at the potential cost of countless others. She’d bolted with it instead, as soon as she’d realized this time the lead was real so she could get it back as soon as possible, sparing only enough time to leave a note behind and explain why leaving like she did was necessary. She’d gotten herself into this mess by being a good person and not the monster she was being set up to be to sell innocent people into slavery, the cause for all this mess in the first place. Hawke, Varric, Anders, Fenris, everyone had taken the risk that she wouldn’t cut and run. But she couldn’t drag them any further into her affairs, not when she was so close to being done with it all. The less they knew the better, and she knew everyone else made for a killer team. Surely they could just kill the Qunari and be done with it all, the book a passing thought rather than of any importance. And yet-

And yet here she was, book in hand as she stood atop a ship headed back to the port she’d been all too eager to leave from in the first place. She’d made it at least half way before turning tail and deciding if they’d given her this many chances already she might as well not let them down when it really counted. She sighs, turning the book over in her hands a few times. Damned Hawke, this was entirely her fault. ]


I better not hear one word about my loyalties after I’ve come so far. It’s just...I rather like some parts of Kirkwall more than others, and I’d hate to see that all lost to those ox headed beasts. [A frustrated sigh leaves her lips as she looks out at the waves.] Why must doing the right thing be so hard?

iii. mistakes of the past (ota)

[Things shift again to the feeling of a steady rocking motion; the sea, who is far less gentle than she usually is has the entire crew scrambling about t secure anything not bolted down and work to keep the wind in the sails. The signs of an oncoming storm no doubt, but it’s hardly anything that has her concern with the amount of years she had under her belt of living at sea. Besides, she was a Captain now, with much more responsibilities than a deck hand or one of the lower crew mates on the rung of command while having a fancier hat and jacket. The decision of sink or swim lies in her hands now, and currently as she watches over her crew milling about hard at work she thinks there’s one ship she’d like to sink for sure.

Castillon she thinks with a angry hiss in her mind, turning to head back down to her quarters. She’d said after the last time that she’d been absolutely disinterested in matters of human trade, wanting to be as far away from being implicated as a slaver. It wasn’t the kind of life she wanted to be a part of, much more proud of her accomplishments at rising to a rank like hers with blood, sweat, tears, and not simply sleeping her way to the top. She should have known better when he offered to do all the work of boarding the cargo and simply giving her a vague destination to head to, she should have known better as she realizes that getting dazzled by the figure promised to her for a safe arrival had a hell of a catch.

The catch being her cargo hold was full of people who looked at her with terrified eyes. People, elves, children, all huddled up and looking at her with a mix of confusion and fear. One child, a small elf girl gets the nerve to speak before likely her mother immediately shushes her, but noe before she asks: “You’re taking us all somewhere safe, away from all the nasty skeletons and bad sickness right?” It makes her stomach turn as she assures her with a smile that “Of course dear, you’ll be so far away from the Blight you’ll have little worry of it ever coming your way again.” before turning and going back up to the deck.

This was no rescue job- The pay was too high and the directions too unclear for carting off that many unspoken for people looking far too hopeful for a chance at freedom. Dread sits in her gut at the potential of what Castillon had planned for them, and she goes up to the wheel with a fierce determination.]


Alright, listen up because we’ve got a sudden change of plans. I know the weather is against us right now, so let’s aim to take a breather at the next stretch of land we see, yeah? [Not the most thought out plan but it was better than what she’d had to do before when people had caught onto what she’d been doing. All those dead.] I’m probably going to have to work you hard to pull this off sooner than later, so ease off on the booze until we get this done. Do that and I’ll pay for a night at the Perfumed Spring for each of you myself.

[She heads back to her quarters then, slamming her hands down on her table covered in charts and maps on her table while angrily biting her lip.]

Slaves, really? Damn it Castillon, I told you I wanted no part in this!

c. Wildcard!

[If you'd rather me come up with a starter for you in a different prompt or just have your own idea of a thread you'd like to do, hit me up! PMs work here or you can also come excitedly yell at me on [plurk.com profile] batterwitch!]
originallutece: (rebecca-444_zpscf73a222)

memories; 1

[personal profile] originallutece 2018-04-11 04:08 am (UTC)(link)
[Somewhere, distantly, she feels vaguely guilty for having seen all this. Even when she doesn't quite realize what's happening, she feels guilty, because she'd despise Isabela seeing something so intimate of hers. But still Rosalind watches, compelled by forces beyond even her powers. Her eyes drag over the jewelry, the frantic way the younger Isabela moves, the dagger . . .

By the time her companion speaks, she thinks she understands. But it's still good to have the confirmation-- and funny, isn't it, that she's more shocked by the fact Isabela was married than the fact her husband was killed.]


I wasn't going to ask that.

[She watches her.]

I was going to ask if you were the one who was his assassin.

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murdered husbands ahoy

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to become better

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torchwoodteaboy: (wtf something is off here)

Ianto Jones | Torchwood | OTA

[personal profile] torchwoodteaboy 2018-04-11 03:07 am (UTC)(link)
BY CAMPFIRE'S GLOW;
Ianto has always hated camping. He should have known that's what it would come down to when they were given the starter packs and sent down on that beam of light to the planet below, but he had hoped, given the state of the station he'd woken up on, to be proven otherwise.

He's had some bad experiences, for one. For another, he's dressed in a suit and tie. It's hardly appropriate attire for campfires and kumbaya-ing. He's always been a city boy at heart and the dark of the unfamiliar countryside settling around him is. Unsettling, to say the least. There's something in the air that's setting him on edge, and he doesn't like any of this at all.

Ianto wraps his arms around himself, huddling closer to the fire and trying not to think too hard about what might be out there. Trying, and failing, for that matter. He jumps slightly at movement beside him, glancing up and trying to cover the startle with a cough.

"At least it's warm by the fire..."

WE GOT COWS;
As if the camping hadn't been bad enough, now they're expected to hike to their destination. The least they could have done was give them a change of clothes, Ianto grouses, to no one in particular, as his shoes slip in the mud again. He hadn't been dressed for this nonsense, he'd been dressed for the Hub. For the streets of Cardiff, not the roads of wherever the hell he's found himself now.

His mood had dampened considerably with the flash flood of rain to follow and he'd been torn between removing his jacket to try to see if he could keep it dry and keeping it on on the offchance he wouldn't freeze to death like this. As it were, he'd done his best to find some shelter from the elements and wait it out, but he knows the importance of reaching their destination before dark so he valiantly presses on.

For all the good it does. Soon the fog is so thick around him he can hardly see his face, let alone several feet down the road. With no idea of where he's come from or where he's going, Ianto digs the torch they've helpfully supplied out of his pack and tries to make sense of this predicament.

That is, until he sees movement in the fog before him.

Ianto holds his breath, wondering whether it's better or worse to call out to the figure before deciding he'll probably be spotted in the end anyway.

"Ehm," he starts, before clearing his throat and trying again. "Hello! Is somebody there?"

FORGETTING IS SO LONG;
There's something in the air. Ianto should have recognized that things are about to go seriously wrong just from that. From the strange weather and the way that the air seems to go thick and dark around him, but he doesn't put two and two together until he turns a corner on the road and the path is suddenly metal planking underneath his feet and the Hub stretches out before him. Only the lights are dimmed, the emergency lighting casting the room in an eerie red glow, and across the metal planking a figure steps forward.

Ianto takes a step forward across the plank toward her before he recognizes himself doing so. Even though he knows what she is -- who she is, yes, but what she is as well. Even though he knows that she's dead, and that this is wrong, and that if she is here he should run like hell and not be moving closer to her. But it's also Lisa and if he can only try. If it will only work this time. Is she here? Is this really her this time?

"Lisa..."

There's movement on the planking behind him and Ianto turns to look over his shoulder.

"Stay back!"

A FORK IN THE ROAD;
They've got pegasui, but Ianto feels as though all he really needs is a change of clothes, a stiff drink, and a decent night's rest. He's supposed to be making a decision now that he's come this far but he wishes that they'd honestly just spell things out for him. He's rather done with all of this beating around the bush at this point. The perks are fancy enough, but if he finds out if there is no running water in one over the other, there's the decision made for him, for instance.

Running a hand over his face and through his hair, which he's not going to even imagine the state of at the moment, he does his best to find a quiet corner for a moment's silence.

"Flying horses," he mutters to himself, incredulously.
willrevile: ( commission / dnt ) (0210)

cows!

[personal profile] willrevile 2018-04-11 06:49 am (UTC)(link)
Shapes in the fog form, bouncing off the light from the torch, shadows cast from it, looming over, around, and towards him-- something flickers, perhaps menacingly.

Nope jk. "Ianto? Is that you?"

Out of the gloom is Jim, outfitted properly for the terrain, the light on his shoulder usually suited for cave exploring or climbing - it's not really doing anything to combat the thick weather, but it's trying valiantly. At least he's got his hands free. He approaches the other man, giving him a once-over as if checking for any visible injuries.

"You look like you went swimming," he points out. Unhelpfully.

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a fork in the road;

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We got Cows!

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breakthehabit: by <lj user="anangrym"> (frankly im disgusted)

cullen rutherford | dai

[personal profile] breakthehabit 2018-04-11 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
a. can i get another amen

[ Years of living within the Chantry's clutches have prepared him for standing and listening intently to sermons. Some mothers were long winded, others preferring to keep their preaching of Andraste and the Maker to a minimum. This Voss seems to be somewhere in the middle, though his message of shame makes him feel distinctly awkward. Maybe it's idiotic to hold to a faith that subsequently doesn't exist anymore with the destruction of Thedas; Cullen has a feeling he'll remain Andrastian either way.

Old habits die hard.

Though once Voss finishes, he curiously asks someone nearby, who may or may not be listening: ]


How widespread is the faith here?



b. x-files

[ The first thing he notices when things have started to go awry is the silence. Despite having moved past a lot of the more world-threatening work with the Inquisition, he's kept his skills sharp. In the event that Thedas decided it wanted to shake itself apart again. So the silence falls over the campsite like a blanket. The white noise of animal sounds disappears, highlighting just how loud the crackle of fires are or even just breathing.

Cullen tenses where he sits, going so far as to steadily get to his feet, ready to draw a sword.

But then nothing bursts out of the woods. The sky remains where it is, dark and angry looking. Tension remains in the air for minutes, though it feels much longer. That's when he notices the fire– it's flickering. Not in the usual way, but like it's on repeat, wood cracking and popping in the same pattern.

Expression drawing into a frown, he starts a loop of the camp, intent on patrolling the area for anything strange. It takes much shorter than he expects; five steps in and he's exactly where he started. ]


Something's not right here.

[ Understatement. ]



c. thanks for the memories

[ If you happen to bump into Cullen near the edge of camp, you may experience one of the following memories. TW: mental trauma/torture, death, blood, violence/fighting, claustrophobic situation, demons, ptsd. ]

>>> i. [ Light from the magic prison leaks off the walls, casting everything in a bright glow. Every flicker of it makes the walls feel like they're getting closer, as though they're moving, boxing him in, intent on weighing him down until he's nothing. The feeling is jarring enough to recognize that this can't be real. Isn't real. He lived through this once, this searing prison. It still presses against his mind, his skin, his bones.

Is it real? Did he just never leave? Did he just imagine the Warden breaking him out?

Cullen shies away from the bars, tension running like a live wire down his spine. Outside of the prison, the sounds start filling in, the flash and sizzle of magic, hurried footsteps, the creak and clank of armor, crashing swords, obvious scuffling as the fighting makes its way up the stairs and into this area. The stairwell is close enough to hear yelling, voices indistinct and distinct all at once– he recalls them all, in clarity, in his memory.

A scream shocks through the air and then another, only drowned out by the unmistakable shrieks of mages turned demons. Shakily, he takes a step forward again, peering through the gaps. It isn't pleasant, the view. A couple of Templars had turned down this way but had been cut down, blood seeping out from under their bodies and onto the stone. Sulfur and ozone fills the air as a demon slinks past the prison, dragging a dying Templar with it and leaving a streak down the hall.

He closes his eyes. ]


This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't–

[ Maybe you can convince him. ]


>>> ii. [ Early morning dawns, sunlight peeking through the window and slanting its brightness across the floor. He's already out of bed, so many years of waking before dawn drilled into him. Cullen's started on chores, sweeping out the kitchen, an easy quiet in the air. Outside, the town nearby starts to come alive, the telltale sound of wagons rumbling past, the shuffle of people along the stone and dirt path.

There's the click click of nails along the wood floor as a dog comes padding into the kitchen from the nearby room, tail wagging. He follows the broom sweeps back and forth, long strides making it easy to keep up with. Cullen laughs, purposefully darts the broom bristles along the floor, inciting a happy bark from the war hound turned domestic pup. ]


I know, we'll go for a walk later. Go on now, haven't you a paper to fetch?


d. wildcard

[ Got another idea or prompt you wanna toss at me? Feel free to hit me on plurk [plurk.com profile] vaulkner or PM me on this journal! ]
thunderblight: (☀ 26)

GIMME DAT DOGGO

[personal profile] thunderblight 2018-04-11 03:40 am (UTC)(link)
A little overkill for just fetching papers, don't you think?

[ GUESS WHO'S HERE TO BE AN EYESORE IN THIS IDYLLIC SETTING.
It's her. Did you guess huh didya?

For real though, Urbosa certainly sticks out like a sore thumb despite looking very relaxed where she's politely leaning against the door leading outside (and subtly attempting not to smack herself on the too-low doorway, tbh).
Aside from giving Cullen a polite nod in greeting, she's quite curious about the mabari and what in the hell kind of breed is that did he just... domesticate a small bear or something?

Still, bear or no bear, she's more than happy to just be nosy about this glimpse into a different world. Even the mundanity is pleasant as far as memories go. ]


Sav'otta. I didn't mean to intrude.

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