citycenter: (Default)
The City ([personal profile] citycenter) wrote in [community profile] citylogs2023-08-02 12:00 am

TDM: AUGUST 2023





TEST DRIVE MEME

A TRAIN COMES INTO THE STATION.
You wake up on a train.

Your phone is buzzing. It's in your pocket, in your hand, on the seat next to you. It's a normal phone, and you're on a normal train car. One of the lights flickers, a little further down. The world is very quiet. It feels like you're right where you're meant to be. On the phone's surface is a white screen and the words—


WELCOME TO THE CITY. BEGIN ORIENTATION?

▶ YES
▶ NO


Please take a moment to complete your orientation.

Once you're finished, the subway doors slide open to let you out onto the train platform. To your right, the platform continues on and eventually ends; to the left is a set of stairs that will lead you up into the station itself. The platform is quiet, clean, empty—there's no one else around, and the only sounds you can hear are your own footsteps, your own breaths, and the occasional faraway sound of a creaking pipe or rush of air. The train you disembarked will stay there as long as you do, its doors still open, until you finally decide to venture up into this new locale.


As you make your way up the stairs to your left, you find yourself in the belly of City Hall station. The station is large, a sprawling underground mini-metropolis of corridors and storefronts. Here, you may find others like you, freshly-arrived city residents from other realms (or even your own). There is also a subway map, which will give you an idea of the layout of the neighborhood, and ticketing machines, which can currently only be used to buy tickets to a handful of stations located on lines 1, 2, and 9.

If you're hungry or in need of any kind of supplies, there are plenty of storefronts inside the subway station as well—snack stands, convenience stores, restaurants, clothing stores, a pharmacy, and a variety of empty shops that may or may not have ever been in use. Everything is unlocked, and you can take whatever you need.



Characters may stay on the train platform indefinitely, and may re-board and re-disembark from the subway as many times as they like, but the train will not depart nor will the doors close. Once they go up the stairs into the train station, they may hear the train doors closing and the train departing. Another train will not arrive, no matter how long the character waits. Only once they come up the stairs into the station itself may characters encounter their fellow newly-arrived residents and take advantage of what the city has to offer.

JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS

WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD.
The station is located in the city center. It has three major exits that lead to areas of interest in the district, but there are several other smaller exits that lead in other directions around the neighborhood. You are welcome to use any of them, but may find the north, southwest, and east exits to be the most welcoming.
TO THE NORTH
The northern entrance to the station leads up into the sunlight and puts you out in a brickwork plaza. There's a modest building in front of you, three or four stories of stone with a welcoming facade. There's a sign above the entryway—it says City Hall. You may be tempted to explore, if you're interested in learning more about the city and how it functions, but prepare to find yourself disappointed—the folders in the records rooms are full of empty, blank sheets of paper, and the logbooks and balance sheets are similarly devoid of information.


Immediately to the southwest of City Hall, you will find a small building that houses the tourist information kiosk. It looks welcoming, with an inviting glass facade and a sign above the entryway announcing it as the "TOURIST CENTER." It's a humble building with a receptionist's desk on the back wall opposite the entrance, empty magazine shelves lining the side walls, and a few spinning brochure racks full of blank pamphlets. Anyone is welcome to peruse the tourist literature, though they won't offer much information, being primarily filled with pictures of the surrounding area—City Hall, the park, a statue garden, and the surprisingly heavily-featured cemetery. There are a few sentences sprinkled throughout about basic offerings of the city, such as apartment complexes and office buildings, as well as a few maps with the same limited scope as the larger version on the wall behind the receptionist's desk.


The main feature of the tourist center is the interactive kiosk installed dead in the center, right in the middle of a few rows of uncomfortable chairs that fill the small room. It's noticeably in the way of any would-be foot traffic through the tourist center, and something about the technology seems a little more modern than the computer behind the desk or the landline phone on the wall. The kiosk is a tall silver rectangle, about average adult height, and the upper half is a screen welcoming visitors to touch it to activate the kiosk. If you were to touch it, the screen would come to life with simple dialogue inviting visitors to ask it their questions.

However, residents should note that the kiosk is only programmed to assist with exploration within the available areas of the city. It may not be able to answer every question, and tampering with the kiosk may result in unreliable or inaccurate answers!
TO THE SOUTHWEST
The western exit of the station takes you up into a city park, lush and green with a very light fog still hanging about the trees. There are lampposts on the walkways and benches where you could rest, and plenty of flora, although you can neither see nor hear any signs of animal life. You walk the paths that meander idly through the verdant grass and you feel a sense of peace, some of your unease about this place easing into a pleasant calm. The air smells fresh, like it's recently rained, and you'll find the grass ever so slightly damp should you decide to take a seat.


As you make your way deeper into the park, the trees grow denser and the smell of soil and plant life grows stronger. This is the older part of the park, very nearly a forest, with ivy climbing the trunks of the trees and plants and shrubs growing riotously around their bases. As you turn a corner, you find yourself first in the statue garden, although the statues are harder to see now, choked as they are with ivy. There are many statues, some partially obscured, some fully—very few of them still stand free of the vines and clinging roots. (It doesn't feel quite as peaceful here.) If a statue's face looks a little bit familiar, you may not want to look at it too long.

Continue down the path and you will find yourself in a graveyard, one that seems centuries old. Most of the headstones are worn away by time and covered in moss, rendering them impossible to read. The few that are free of moss are blank, or bear only suggestions of names too faint to be understood. (Was that the name of—no, it couldn't have been. Could it?) Many of the headstones stand at an angle or are toppled over completely, having been subjected to either strong winds or the roots of the trees that grow up from some of the graves, spreading branches toward the sky.
TO THE EAST
The final exit of the station, to the east, puts you out on a quiet surface street. Are you hungry? Or are you paralyzed by choice? There are plenty of restaurants, offering options of almost any food you can imagine. You could try a convenience store—it's well stocked, and the items there seem free for the taking. How about a restaurant? There's no one to take your order, but when you look in the kitchen, there's something on the stove, and it's just what you've been craving. Imagine that.


A few blocks down, you come in through the lobby of a tall building and find yourself in a corporate office. The fluorescent lights are steady and unforgiving, and the cubicles and offices are empty. There are a few pieces of paper on desks, a few folders left in organizers, but everything is perfectly blank. Despite how empty and quiet the office is, it nonetheless gives you the feeling that just a few minutes ago, this place was bustling with workers going about their daily business.


You enter another building and find yourself in the lobby of an apartment complex—finally, a place to rest. The first door you try opens easily into a completely empty living room, freshly vacuumed but without a single piece of furniture. It's a nice apartment, quiet, but with a little too much echo for your taste, maybe. Still, and perhaps oddly, you have no trouble envisioning what life here would be like.

The second door you open leads to an apartment that feels lived-in. Why does it feel lived-in? It's fully furnished with items that seem to go together perfectly, true, but the feeling is more than that—the room feels like someone was just here, maybe standing right in the kitchen only moments before you swung the door open. The air is a perfectly comfortable temperature, and it somehow smells like home despite that you've never once set foot here before. The refrigerator is stocked, and the cabinets are full of spices and flatware and kitchen utensils.


As you look around the living room, you find that there are pictures in frames on the walls and some of the flat surfaces—a seascape, a field, a shot of a city park bench. In each of the photos there's something just slightly wrong with the angle, as though the photographer were aiming for a subject that can no longer be seen.



Characters are welcome to explore the district around the City Hall subway station to their heart's content. The City Hall building itself contains several floors of offices and file rooms, but none of them contain any particularly interesting information. Nonetheless, characters may wish to team up with other newcomers and try to find some hints about the nature of the city. They can also spend a while in the park, the statue garden, or the graveyard. In the blocks surrounding the station there are plenty of options for food and housing, as well as office buildings, storefronts, and alleyways to look around. There are no workers in any of the buildings, and there does not seem to be an honor system for payment, nor any consequences for taking food from the stores or setting up camp in an apartment or office building.

JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS

I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM.
Have you ever visited the ice cream parlor located in District 2? It's a pretty quirky little joint!

When you walk in, what you'll likely notice first is the colors. Everything is bright, almost oversaturated—the pink of the leather seats, the teal of the walls, the red of the menu sign hanging over the counter. By all rights it seems like these colors shouldn't go together, but somehow they do, or maybe that's just because being in an ice cream parlor puts you in a good mood. It smells like waffle cones, and overhead, there's music pumping through the speakers at just the right volume, providing some nice background noise to your decision-making process.


Wait, music?

There's a jukebox at the far end of the shop, which seems to be where the music is being chosen. As you head over, the song comes to an end and the jukebox machinery shuffles through its options before landing on a new one. The song sounds sort of familiar, doesn't it? And the longer you listen, the more the lyrics really seem to speak to you. It costs money to pick your own song, so if you happen to have some coins on you—or if you're really, really determined—you can choose the next round of tunes.

When you're done at the jukebox, you can go check out the serving area of the shop. Behind the counter you can see milkshake mixers and waffle cone makers; there are ice cream cakes in the freezers that line the wall; and when you approach the main counter you can see the tubs of ice cream in almost any flavor you can imagine.


Pick a flavor, whichever one's your favorite! Do you want it in a cone or in a bowl? There are regular cones and waffle cones, and all kinds of toppings—sprinkles, syrups, gummy candy, mini marshmallows. Decorate your ice cream however you want, the sky's the limit when it comes to choices! You can even come back for seconds if you want, or thirds. Who's going to say anything about it, after all?

But the more of your ice cream you eat, the more you start to feel… strange. Maybe you're starting to get angry, or sad, or giddy—maybe you feel romantic, or feel like you want to tell a secret to a stranger, and you're not really sure why. You also can't quite seem to stop eating your ice cream, and the more you eat, the less worried you feel about whatever's happening to your emotions. After all, why be concerned about that when you have something so delicious in front of you?

Flavor Effect
Strawberry You find yourself compelled to seek out strangers and tell them a hidden truth about yourself
Rocky Road You find yourself compelled to seek out strangers and convince them of some egregious lie
Vanilla You are overwhelmed by a sense of total calm, and can only speak in aphorisms and platitudes
Rainbow Sherbert You are overwhelmed by amorous feelings towards whoever is near you and try to cuddle or kiss them
Chocolate You feel suddenly morose about something in your past and cannot stop crying until someone consoles you
Bubblegum You become uncontrollably giggly and giddy, and can only speak in rhyme
Caramel Ribbon You become angry and perhaps even violent, trying to attack anyone who comes near
Mint Chocolate Chip You suddenly have a common but exaggerated phobia (for example, a fear of heights where the step down off the curb is too much)



When characters first enter the ice cream parlor, they may notice that there's music playing overhead! That's from the jukebox, and the lyrics of the song may sound like they're particularly apt for a character's circumstances. Players are welcome to choose their own jukebox songs for their characters—it doesn't need to have appeared in canon, but characters from modern times are welcome to recognize the music being played. (Players can also feel free not to pick a real song at all, and instead just describe the overall sound of the song and content of the lyrics!)

This is an ice cream parlor, so of course there's also ice cream to be had. Characters can serve themselves whatever flavor combination they want, but shortly thereafter will find themselves suffering certain emotional effects depending on what flavors they chose. These emotional effects, shown above, will last for roughly an hour before slowly dissipating, and their intensity depends on how much ice cream the character ate and whether they were able to recognize what was happening and stop eating. Not every flavor has an emotional effect, so players can also choose to have their character eat a normal scoop and go about their day.

JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS

WILDCARD.
The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. There's no rush in exploring, so feel free to take your time looking around and peering into various nooks and crannies and alleyways—and don't worry, you're not very likely to find anything peering back.



If none of the above prompts appeal, feel free to check out the Locations and Maps pages and write your own freestyle prompt using one or many of the available locations.

JUMP TO TOP ↑



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nichocolatine: (pic#10160391)

i scream :)

[personal profile] nichocolatine 2023-08-02 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[ badou hadn't been standing too far off when the other man suddenly rounds on him, brandishing a cup of a kiddie scoop like it might somehow explode the second it's consumed. (badou has enough tact, at least for the time being, not to voice out his own suspicions that it may very well do worse.) ]

No idea. Pink, maybe?

[ no i am not picking the flavor for you ♥ ]
limbical: (who who tried to sing)

[personal profile] limbical 2023-08-02 06:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Welcome to the shitshow, then.

[There's the slightest hint of mirth in his voice, but otherwise Daan's tone is dry as he continues to work on a specific stock. But he is still talking and glancing at the stranger, willing to answer his questions.]

There's actually very little I can tell you, but I'll try.

The city we're in... rather, just the piece of it we're in has no name that we know of. You'll find a lack of wildlife outside, and I mean all kinds. No birds, no bugs. Not a damned thing but people. No files to explain where we are, not even at the welcoming center.

And as you say, this place is well-stocked. That's because it's automatically refilled by whoever brought us here. Once a week, I think? And the food is restocked daily. Something like that. I'm sure none of that makes sense, but we have no idea why we're here or who is responsible. Ain't that a pickle.
burstmodes: (pic#12995401)

prompto argentum / final fantasy xv

[personal profile] burstmodes 2023-08-02 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)
arrival.
[ it's definitely warmer than he remembers it being.
 
maybe that's supposed to make him feel better, standing on the edge of the platform of the station and trying not to freak out. he takes a few deep breaths and slowly works his way out of his coat, shaking off some of the snow that's (somehow) still stuck to the faux fur of the collar. his head hurts, but that's... how long had he been unconscious? had someone just tossed him onto yet another train and — prompto's thoroughly given himself enough of the creeps to start walking, hurrying along and trying to take note of anything that might be important. or necessary. 

all he notices is that it's empty. even his own breathing is starting to sound annoying in the silence. 

by the time he makes it up the steps, having taken two of them with each stride, there's some relief upon seeing another person. well, several. they're wandering around like it's normal, not so much paying attention to him as they are the skyline and the city that slowly sprawls out in front of him. and unable to stand still, he wanders towards someone with an almost sheepish smile on his face. ]
 

Hey, uh. Can you tell me where I am? I swear I didn't think there was any place like this that close to where I was, but I'm not that great at directions sometimes. [ he's rambling, and yet, he still continues. ] Or, like, this crowded, I guess. Seems nice though. 

[ and his expression melts into an awkward kind of grin, dragging a hand through his messy hair. ]

i scream, you scream: strawberry.
[ he's less panicked now and more curious about the city itself. for some reason, parts of it remind him of home, which eventually make him homesick and then peoplesick. is that a thing? missing people so much it makes you nauseous? prompto is certain of it, wishing he could see noct and iggy and gladio, maybe explain himself a little better and why he'd struck out on his own after the whole train thing...

at least the ice cream is sort of welcome, deciding that a shake is probably the most convenient, and unable to decide on flavor, he just goes with something mysterious. strawberry is kind of nice, and at least it's not vanilla. which is fine, but it's a little boring without adding more to it. he's just taken a sip of it when he turns and accidentally bumps into someone. 

rather than apologize, what comes out of his mouth is, ]
 

You know... I don't really think I'm a person. [ shit. why had he said that? he frowns, but the words just keep coming. ] I mean, I am a person. Not just, uh, my own person? I was someone else, and now I'm not. I dunno. It's all pretty confusing. 

[ and afraid he'll say more, he slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from talking. ]

network. (un: chocobro)
[ as if he wouldn't find the network and a way to distract himself. ] 

hey so uh i guess i'm new in town and stuff!
thought i'd make a little intro thing and say hi
sooooo

hi i'm prompto ✌️

definitely not from around here haha 
if you wanna be friends let's be friends 
wouldn't mind having someone to talk to anyway cuz i'm sort of missing my bestie and my other friends too 

which reminds me 
anyone like to play games?? 🎮 
tell me what you're into right now and maybe we can make a day of it 😘

wildcard.
[ please feel free to run into him (literally) anywhere else listed in the locations! he'd be scoping things out and trying to get a feel for stuff after his mini-freak out about not being home. or choose any of the flavors as well! (he would be the worst crier, please hold him.) canon point somewhere after his DLC but before the timeskip; i'm flexible! pm if you want to plot or want me to write something specific for you! will match style also c: ]
whatsamada: Pixiv User: 463466, P4AU (Fine Great)

[personal profile] whatsamada 2023-08-02 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)
So you can hear it.

[It wasn't just him imagining hearing a song that his leader used to listen to. With a sigh, he places his hand on his face.]

This place is getting weirder and weirder by the minute. How did they know that I know this song...?
syncopathic: (so well that I believed it)

I just found out these two have the same Japanese VA holy shit

[personal profile] syncopathic 2023-08-02 06:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[That condescending look earns Richard a defiant one in turn. Dito raises himself to his full height-- not much-- and lifts his chin, his entire posture fairly daring Richard to say anything about his short stature; his youthful countenance. He is, after all, fully aware of how ugly he is.

The other man(?) is easy on the eyes, Dito has to give him that. His features are soft enough that he looks either like a very pretty man or a vaguely masculine woman. Sort of like Cent without the muscles. Dito wonders if he's equally as stupid. Pretty people like him usually are.]


Oh? So you regularly indulge in incestual fantasies in public? Tch. You'd fit right in with my former mistress. She was just as much of a freak.
funburger: (382)

[personal profile] funburger 2023-08-02 07:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[Wow, language. No, that gets a barely-there huff of amusement out of Tenma—it doesn't seem like people here are in completely dire straits, so he'll take that as... an alright sign. Not a good sign. But a "fair enough" one.

He sets about ordering the stuff in his bag while Daan explains the utter nonsensical nature of this town, offering a few "mm"s and "oh"s throughout. No wildlife: strange. No files: worse. Restocked supplies: fascinating? At least they won't starve, he supposes, although that's only a drop in the bucket.]


You could say that again. [the pickle. but yeah it doesn't make sense either.] I'm sure someone has to be pulling the strings.

[And for a sickening moment he has to wonder if this is somehow another Ruhenheim, if this is somehow the next great slaughter, but it can't be, it can't be, it can't be—

He blinks, and moves a bottle of antiseptic in his bag to more efficiently stack some boxes of short splints. Not that he's nosy about what Daan is collecting over there, but let's be real, normies don't stock up on much more than band-aids and ibuprofen... hm!]


Are you a doctor?
doomward: (pic#16628880)

oh my god WHAT ARE THE ODDS highfive dude

[personal profile] doomward 2023-08-02 07:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[Freak. Richard’s countenance becomes frigid—frozen over with contempt in an effort to conceal the deep ache such an insult incurs. He hears his mother’s voice, high emotion scraping it raw, as she calls him a demon again and again. Was she wrong? Self-fulling prophecy indeed.]

What a foul mouth you have. [He does not likewise lift his chin; instead, Richard gazes coldly at Dito from beneath thick lashes, having mastered the effect of looking down on people without actually needing to do so.] Have you never kissed family before? I have to question what your “mistress” had you do, that you would find something so commonplace “incestual.”

[Still, a male prostitute at this child’s age? Well, there are certainly the true freaks who would pay for such an opportunity. That said, Richard wonders if he isn’t underestimating the stranger; the young man might be older than he appears. Buckingham was, after their first few initial meetings.]
Edited 2023-08-02 19:20 (UTC)
petsthedog: (pic#12817833)

2 but wildcard flavored

[personal profile] petsthedog 2023-08-02 07:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[Two months in, and Shinjiro is...adjusting is the wrong word, but he is slowly growing less reluctant to explore his surroundings. Especially since he's happened to bond with a couple of people against his better judgment, and since he's been helping Don look for Gregor since his disappearance ...

Well, he at least figures he can take a look in the damn ice cream shop. If it's anything like the bank, he might have to deal with something stupid, but --

...

He doesn't even really hear the song. He knows that face, and suddenly his heart is racing an olympic marathon in his chest. That has to be him, doesn't it? It can't possibly be a coincidental resemblance. But if it's true...then it's been years, hasn't it? Just like that other person had said about their own death, and their friends coming from a time well after they were in the ground and being able to tell them about it. He'd thought the most awkward thing that could happen to him would be Akihiko showing up and crying over him, but this ...

His throat feels terribly dry, and suddenly all he wants is to turn around and flee before the kid sees him, but he's rooted to the spot. It's a good thing his hands are in his pockets, so he doesn't have to try to keep them from shaking.]


...Amada?
Edited 2023-08-02 19:40 (UTC)
limbical: (because a cat's the only cat)

[personal profile] limbical 2023-08-02 07:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Of that much a lot of us are certain. I've heard a lot of theories, but no definitive proof to behold yet. Is this the afterlife? Maybe an experiment? Really, by now, I almost want to hear something more absurd just to laugh.

[Oh ho! The question gives him pause, then he nods once.]

I am. I have a temporary office set up. Are you in need of one? Or... hm.

Are you a doctor as well? [With such a keen eye, he suspects as much.]
disunity: (013)

[personal profile] disunity 2023-08-02 07:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's such a relief to hear that name. Nina. Having just recently been bombarded by strangers calling her Anna, it's a comforting reminder of who she really is. At least, who she knows herself as. Just before arriving here, what had she been doing? Who was she with?

There was a mansion.

It's still foggy. Tenma looks clear enough to her, yet he's lacking the usual urgency when saying her name, and that's enough to furrow her brow as she hurries over to him. Is there something he's learned that she doesn't know yet? ]


I'm— I'm fine. How... how are you...?

[ Nina had been wondering if this city could be a dream. What else could it be? There was nowhere in the world that could exist without animals, without insects. It is the quietest city she's ever known, and it's a place where she shouldn't be left alone with her thoughts. ]

Are you real?

[ Without even thinking, she reaches up to touch his cheek, at the last second going for a gentle pinch. Or, was she supposed to pinch herself? ]
fashionably_strong: (cute)

Bulla Brief | Dragonball GT

[personal profile] fashionably_strong 2023-08-02 07:43 pm (UTC)(link)
NEIGHBOURHOOD

a) Train Station

On one hand, there's an underlying feeling that she should be here, but what's confusing is that Bulla cannot remember for the life of her as to why that would be. Nothing about this place is familiar. Nor does she remember boarding a train. She has nothing on her but the clothes on her body and lip gloss in her pocket.

It's almost eerie, seeing all of these empty shops with their wares on display. It doesn't feel quite right to just take things, but there's nobody here to pay for anything, either, and she is going to need some supplies if she's in a strange location. She settles this moral quandary by grabbing a notebook and pen from one store and tallying a list of supplies she's helping herself to with a note to please send the bill to Capsule Corp, attention: Bulma and Vegeta Brief, including the corporation's full address. It's the best way she can think of to alert her parents of her location.

She leaves similar notes in every shop she visits as she helps herself to a big purse, a couple of changes of clothing, a little makeup and personal hygiene supplies, and a staggering amount of snacks. It would almost seem like hoarding if it wasn't for the fact that she's eating as she shops, careful to toss out the garbage in the bins where it belongs.

"Do you remember getting on a train?" she asks the nearest person right after getting off the train. "Because I don't."

"Hey!" she greets one person while holding up two shirts. "Which one do you like better? The pink or the purple one?"

"It's so weird that they don't have anyone here except for people that just got off the trains, don't you think?" she asks someone else as she writes down her list for the latest store she's browsed.

b) To the East

Bulla explores the offices first, noting that it's very clean in here, despite being abandoned. Her hope was to try to find out some viable information about this place, but the few folders can be found have nothing helpful in them. It almost seems like everyone up and packed up practically the entire office within the last 24 hours.

"Weird," she muses out loud. Upon realizing that she's not alone in the office, she turns to another explorer. "Hey, have you seen anyone around who didn't just get here today? I wonder what happened to the people who used to work here."


2. ICE CREAM

a) Rocky Road

Bulla has downed several large bowls of ice cream with no ill effect, so she thinks nothing of helping herself to some rocky road. Though she's only 5' even with a slim build, she can easily eat enough to make a family of 6 feel completely stuffed.

Once the rocky road has begun taking effect, she approaches someone and cheerfully announces "I think it would be so much fun to take over the world."


b) Mint chocolate chip

It's just a teeny tiny spider, its entire body including leg span only taking up the circumference of a standard HB pencil. The little arachnid is up in one corner of the ice cream parlor, spinning its web and minding its own business. Despite this, Bulla is visibly distressed by its presence.

"How can you be so carefree about eating here?! That spider is going to kill us all!" she declares. "We should all get out of here now."
beautifulboy: (Default)

daniel molloy | the vampire chronicles

[personal profile] beautifulboy 2023-08-02 07:50 pm (UTC)(link)
A. [ This is not the first time Daniel has been jostled awake by the rock of a train car -- only, this train car isn't moving, and where Daniel would usually have experienced the same dull drop of cold resentment down his spine as recognition whisked him from sleep that he is so, so accustomed to by now.. instead Daniel experiences relief. Unmedicated and unmasked relief, for the first time in months, since he left Miami, since he lost the game of cards and the watch on his wrist and the money in his wallet.

He sits there for a long moment allowing his body to become used to what belonging feels like. He could have sat there all day, if the little parasite of his own self awareness didn't lead him to wonder what was beyond this strange train car he did not remember getting on. He squints at the walls of the station, looking for a name he recognises. The subway in New York he knows like the back of his hand so he knows he isn't in New York; this thing looks nothing like the Metrorail so that's out... could it be the L? He hasn't been that far for a while, and the last time he went he can't remember a lot of the details, so..

City Hall station. He reads from the sign outloud, as if forming the words will jog his memory. It doesn't, and he makes a face that muddles between confused and annoyed. At least there are people here, right? He looks around, but just as it always is... it's a sea of people he does not know.

No better time for an interview, right? Daniel doesn't have his tapes, but it wouldn't be the first time he's done this from memory. He might even be able to pilfer a pen from someone and scribble on the empty pamphlets if he gets lucky enough to pin someone down. He grabs a handful of them just in case, then spins to collar the person nearest to him. ]


Hey, you got a minute to answer some questions?
B. [ Daniel doesn't realise he's hungry till he's infront of the vending machine, scratching his stomach idly through his dirty sweater as he automatically lifts his hand to stick his fingers in the change deposit, hoping to find some left behind quarters he can use to buy a snack. But there isn't a change recepticle, and when Daniel looks a little closer, he can't find a slot to put change into if he had any. He frowns, gives the machine another once over, then experimentally presses a button. The machine whirrs in life, depositing a chocolate bar neatly on the waiting shelf below the glass of the machine.

He blinks at it. He bends to pick it up. As he straightens he notices someone standing nearby, and he gives them a look that screams guilty even as he assures them: ]
I didn't steal this. It fell out of the machine.
C. [ Hungry for knowledge, it's no surprise Daniel quickly finds his way to the Tourist Center. The relief he'd felt on the train car has been fast disipating as more and more elements of this strange new place fail to make any sense to him. Daniel feels like he's in an episode of the Twilight Zone; everything is painfully normal whilst being off slightly in places like a picture frame that needs to be straightened, or the description of an American city with none of the actual grit that Daniel equates with the places he's grown up in.

It's weird. It's fucking weird. And that is exactly what he's telling the big silver box that answers his questions so perfectly without giving even the slightest bit of useful information, to the point where Daniel feels like he's going nuts. Is this a him problem? Is he the only one freaking out about not being able to find out what state he's in, what country? Is he just asking the wrong questions, does he need to phrase them differently? There's only so many words in the fucking English Language, he tells the machine before he kicks it and then immediately regrets doing so as his foot sings in pain. Ladies and gentlemen, no need to fear the man bullying the kiosk, he is completely mentally sound. Probably. ]


Jesus, fuck, I just wanna know what the hell is going on..
D. [ Everyone loves ice cream, right? Daniel has something of a sweet tooth, so when he discovers the source of the phantom familiar music wafting out over the district is an ice cream parlour, he can't say he's disappointed. There's people inside too, though they all look as befuddled as he feels, so he watches the mulling crowd for a long moment before making a move. If no-one approaches him, he'll move forward to the - apparently - self service freezer.

Daniel returns to the spot by the wall he was leaning on with a cup of oozing caramel ribbon, and scoops a large mouthful up as he watches the next person select their flavour. ]


Armand.. [ He says without meaning to, reaching out for what he needs to stop himself spiralling in this strange new place. He gets no reply verbally or mentally but that isn't immediately worrying, because Armand has a nasty habit lately of making Daniel work for even the smallest response, like the little shit is much too busy to respond when Daniel knows full well he's sitting in his mansion waiting for the moment Daniel makes contact again. He grunts in frustration, looking around for anything to distract him from thinking about that immortal idiot. He tries focusing in on the music, but even that drives him mad because he doesn't recognise it and that makes him feel alien and wrong in this place. He can feel a tightness in his skin, his fists begin to ball. When someone passes just a little too close to him, Daniel dashes the rest of his ice cream on the floor and claps the stranger on the shoulder. ]

Hey, why don't you look where you're going, huh? Who do you think you are?
WILDCARD. [ daniel is always getting his nose into stuff he probably shouldn't and is very nosy so if you want to assume he's eavesdropping or outright staring at your character, go for it in a wildcard! or anything else really, i'm up for whatever!

for anyone familiar with TVC i'm taking daniel from before the events following the devil's minion chapter in QOTD. so, before the concert. daniel's info is here. any questions please pm this journal, thanks! ]
funburger: (679)

[personal profile] funburger 2023-08-02 08:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[The afterlife—surely not, he feels fairly certain of that one, but he doesn't have any other ideas... yet. So,]

I am. [And he can even say it now without the crushing, misplaced guilt, so that's something! He brightens a fraction - only a fraction, he's tired - to be talking to a colleague; that's what they are now, as far as Tenma is concerned.] My specialty is in surgery, although I haven't noticed any hospitals around. I'd be grateful to see your office.

[It's a relief that someone has set up something, besides this empty pharmacy. There's nothing quite like a real, properly equipped hospital, but in the meantime... Well, it's good. It's an indication of a community looking out for each other, which is enough to ease Tenma's nerves a decent amount.

As long as people aren't wantonly killing each other! Aha.]


Ah, how about this one? This is all a set for someone's film project.

[Is that absurd. Is that wacky enough. It's not, ahem, anyway,] My name is Tenma.
syncopathic: (you only have time)

Mitsuki Saiga just talking to herself in this thread

[personal profile] syncopathic 2023-08-02 08:10 pm (UTC)(link)
[Dito shrugs, bringing his hands behind his head in a stretch. He doesn't appear to notice how the atmosphere has gotten several degrees colder.]

Heh. You have to have family first to be able to kiss 'em. Never had any of those-- at least none that I can remember. People might point to that being the reason I'm so fucked in the head, and maybe they're right.

[He doesn't say this as if he's ashamed of it. Quite the opposite-- there's a certain note of coquettish pride in his voice, as if he were mentioning some sort of innate talent he possessed.]

Probably still wouldn't go around making out with statues, though. That's a little too out there even for me. Where'd you even find a statue of your father anyway-- this your garden or something?
funburger: (348)

[personal profile] funburger 2023-08-02 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[Something's wrong. Tenma has developed a keen eye for things being wrong, being off, over the years—and he can tell when something is wrong with Nina quicker than most. He wouldn't have expected her to be... well. "Happy" is cruel, he would like her to be happy—he wouldn't have expected her to be over the moon is closer to what he's thinking. After everything...

But she's disoriented. Upset on a level he doesn't understand, asking him if he's real—? It's all he can do to stand there and let her touch his face, although-]


Ow, [he says, although it doesn't hurt. It's confirmation. His hand not holding his bag comes up to cover hers, gently guiding it away from his face.] I'm real. I'm here.

[They should sit? They should, and he guides them over to one of the booths, ice cream mission put on hold for a moment. There's some of that patented Tenma Urgency back in his voice when he asks again, more insistently:]

Are you alright?
justlethal: (003)

a.

[personal profile] justlethal 2023-08-02 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)
[From behind, she may look normal enough, if one doesn't catch a hint of the colour of her skin. She is fairly covered, wearing a jacket over her tank and pants with boots. Her hair may be deemed to be dyed, although it is actually her natural colour, that ombre from dark to a purple-ish pink. The question has her turning though towards the masculine speaker, and the full extent of her difference may become a lot clearer.]

You can ask.

[As depending what the questions are, Gamora may or may not have answers for him. Most likely, she won't have satisfactory answers. It seems to be a theme of this place - a lack of information.]
whatsamada: P4AU (Rainbow in the Dark)

[personal profile] whatsamada 2023-08-02 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)
[The more that Ken thought about it, the more he wondered just what this city was doing. There was no way that they played this song by pure accident, they had to have known what kind of world he was from. Were they playing it because he was here in the parlor or was it some kind of trick? He didn't know but he really couldn't be overthinking it.

And yet, could anyone blame him?

Without his teammates to help him, he was all on his own here. While there were others in the same predicament as him, it felt a little awkward asking them for help when they had their own issues. Not when he knew that he could take care of himself just fine. However, in the midst of his own thoughts, he heard a voice. He could have sworn that he was hearing things. With the song playing in the background, it would be surprising that his own mind was tricking him.

But when he looked up? His face suddenly turned white. Not way, he thought, it couldn't be...]


Aragaki....san?

[What was he doing here? He shouldn't even be here! ...Should he?]
Edited 2023-08-02 20:29 (UTC)
doomward: (pic#16628879)

what an amazing mental image

[personal profile] doomward 2023-08-02 08:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[The nonchalance with which the stranger says he’s “fucked in the head” is almost admirable. Almost. For the most part, Richard just wishes he had his sword or dagger on his person; anyone who so freely admits their own insanity is hardly worth trusting.]

“Making out,” [echoes Richard, a touch of confusion punctuating the repeated words. He clearly isn’t familiar with the term.] …In any case, this isn’t my garden. The statue—

[As he speaks, Richard moves to the side to afford a better view of his noble father…except, when he glances at the bust again, the former king is startled to find it now represents a woman. Beyond the length of hair, there’s nothing similar between the caricature of his father and the statue as it stands now.]

…Black magic, [he surmises grimly. Eyes narrowed, he gestures to the shapeshifting statue.] What do you see when you look upon it?
anthropophagite: By asdagfsd (DNS) (Normal - ffff002)

Ken Kaneki | Tokyo Ghoul

[personal profile] anthropophagite 2023-08-02 08:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[ ooc; please beware Kaneki comes with several content warnings, but specifically cannibalism. ]


WELCOME (cw; blood)
[ kaneki was one of those who waited and waited and waited for the train to leave or for another to arrive. He probably waited a bit too long, but he didn't want to be here - wherever here is - and he just wants to go back home. The last thing he remembers, he had been kidnapped, and while that wasn't a good situation either, it felt easier than whatever is happening right now. The whole place feels creepy and eerie, and Kaneki is not comfortable (not many would be anyway).

Eventually, he leaves the train station to find someone and maybe explore. He does want to figure it out, and in the end, the isn't the type to stay still for too long. Once he is out of the train station, he looks around the city and quickly realizes this is not Tokyo at all. Too silent. Too quiet. Too empty.

He tries the kiosk but is very disappointed with the lack of specific answers - where is this place? How can I go home? How can I leave? - which does not surprise him because if they wanted him to leave this soon, naturally they wouldn't even have bothered. As he exits the kiosk, finally kaneki remembers: his clothes are covered in blood.

The white shirt he is wearing has blood near the stomach and by the looks of it, a lot. It is indeed Kaneki's blood, but it will be hard to explain since he is very much alive and not dying from a stomach wound. He looks around a bit nervously, before he pats his shirt. Right right right - ]


... a store. [ there must be one around, he assumes. Or at least someplace with clothing. It will be really awkward if this is all he will have while staying in this city ]


COFFEE TIME : supermarket
[ Exploring the city seems like a good idea, but in truth, Kaneki isn't even sure where to start. The maps he has seen seem to be somewhat accurate, but can he trust anything in this place when he knows nothing of it? He doesn't really think so.

It's perhaps silly, but the first place he goes to is the supermarket. He looks around for a while and eventually finds coffee, which does not surprise him since this place seems perfectly stocked. He takes one can... then two, then three, and then many. Kaneki had no intention of stealing since he has no idea what the consequences for that are, but it seems like that plan went out of the window and he has decided that the best way to re-focus is by having as much coffee as possible.

Anyone passing by may notice how weird this guy is, but also how nervous he is because now he has another thing to worry about: ]
How... how are we meant to pay for things?


FOOD TIME: restaurant (cw; cannibalism)
[ He is not particularly hungry, thankfully. But after realizing just how devoid of the general population this place seems to be, something does start to worry Kaneki: what about food? He doesn't expect to stay here longer (expectations don't always meet reality. though) but he knows he must be more proactive regarding that particular topic.

A ghoul can not go hungry.

A hungry ghoul is dangerous, even if it's only just Kaneki. He doesn't want to go through what he went through before and do the horrible things he did before. Even if he didn't want to do them, he still did them. So he needs to get himself together and try to find a way to fix things.

He could go to the cemetery... but something seems to call for him. A familiar smell. It's not coffee, it's... it's what it is. And it calls for him. Kaneki's mind is racing but soon he is racing too, running after that smell that takes over his whole body: it leads him to a restaurant, specifically the kitchen.

Despite the building being seemingly empty, Kaneki does call out a small "Hello" before he wanders inside the kitchen only to find... meat. It looks like normal meat. It is not. But there it is, right in front of him, as if that's what is expected. Kaneki swallows dryly before he suddenly grabs it and throws the meat against a wall, clearly frustrated ]


What is going on!? [ the whole thing is starting to get to him ]
Edited 2023-08-02 20:28 (UTC)
disunity: (002)

[personal profile] disunity 2023-08-02 08:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Sorry!

[ But it is him!

She stares at the hand holding hers, then reaches out to grasp it with both of hers to look it over as if once again double checking that it's really him. The relief is palpable in how her shoulders slacken and she steps even closer as if almost hugging his hand to keep herself grounded in the moment. She has been feeling so lost, and any time she's gotten close to an answer she's only found more questions. She wants to ask him what he knows, only there's something lurking deep in the fog of her memory.

Nina releases his hand when he moves them to the table, following his guidance naturally. It's a comfort to follow his lead, even if she has often gone against his wishes. She's always grateful he still has a kind hand for her. ]


Part of me wondered if this was a dream. This place can't be real, can it? You're the first person I've seen, and I haven't seen or heard any animals, have you?

[ With her purse dropping onto the bench beside her, Nina folds her arms across the table's edge and turns to gaze out the window at the empty street. ]

It's as if we're at the end of the world. The end of everything. [ Is...this what he...? ] Did Johan do this?
swordhardy: (pic#13862316)

rokurou rangetsu ―〈 tales of berseria 〉

[personal profile] swordhardy 2023-08-02 08:57 pm (UTC)(link)
      ɪ. ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴʟɪɢʜᴛ: ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴀʟ; sᴜʙᴡᴀʏ
[ Acrid.

The daemon inhales deeply as heavy eyelids raising to a haze of dull neon and screeching tracks. Rust, singed wires, overheated metal settle on his tongue in the next breath as he leans forward, flexing fingers gone stiff from sitting for who knows how long. Cracking his jaw on a yawn, Rokurou stretches and draws upright, a cascade of sunset shade kimono and scraped up armor. A mismatched gaze flicks here and there, body languid as though the situation has nothing to do with him—until a habitual hand reaches back to grasp the pommel of his sword.

The first ripple in a placid lake. ]


Oh, man…

[ Gone. As are the swords at his hip. Frustration mounts on that hollow pang, a slow ache building from the base of his skull in the upheaval of memory. Mildew, rocking seas, creaking planks—then blank. No matter how he scours he can't recall why he'd wake up here.

A solid hour is wasted scouring the train car for his weapons only to find a small vibrating brick. The questions on screen are swiftly answered before he tosses the thing into his pocket, leaving it immediately forgotten as he darts off the train and into the belly of subway system.

Hallways and turnstiles, doors and storefronts. It isn’t another prison—his initial instinct—but no less confounding despite colored maps plastered against the walls. Where the hell is he going? Where the hell is this?

But it isn’t an exit he’s looking for now. When Rokurou spies a face he skids forward on the heels of wanderworn sandals to snare whatever poor soul he’s found by slapping one gloved hand and one ungloved and palm-scarred hand down onto their shoulders so they can’t flee. ]


Hey! Hey, hey. Have you seen a sword around here? Not just any sword, it’s a longsword—about twice as long as a regular sword—you really can’t miss it! [ the eye unobscured by a thick cut of inky bang is as bright as a coin struck by sunlight, violent intensity melting into amber hues, ] I had it before but now it’s gone. Swords don’t get up and run away from home on their own, you know?

[ Assuming y’all haven’t slapped him off by now, he’ll go ahead and shake his poor victim by the shoulders. Sword!!! Where is it!!!!!! ]


      ɪɪ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ sᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪsᴛᴇʀɪᴀ: ᴄᴇᴍᴇᴛᴇʀʏ
[ Petrichor cuts away the scent of steel and smudges down the anxiety spike of missing Stormhowl. The daemon exhales, lungs expanding with fresh air. He's found his way to the earthy trails and leaning trees leading to the grove of the graveyard. Statuettes watch his path from alcoves of overgrown vine, their gazes heavy. Rokurou glances over his shoulder once, twice, fine hairs along his arms prickling before relaxing again. And again. Stone remains unchanging over and over; there are no shadows hiding amongst the marble silhouettes. ]

Finally found where the locals hang out, huh…

[ Naturally drawn to the cemetery like a wraith to remainders if its corpse, he palms over the face of one of the tombstones—but the name doesn’t become any clearer. Useless anyway, it’s not like he’d have known any of the dead here … Rokurou pushes back up from his squat with a narrowing gaze.

Another itch creeps up his arms, spidering along the nape of his neck. A different itch.

Time passes and the cemetery falls quiet. Leaves rustle and water trickles down along the grooves of carved stone. Maybe you’re wandering, maybe you’re lost, or maybe you’re visiting just your favorite haunt since you’ve settled in. Regardless, a raspy voice from up high will drift over when its owner spies someone else tread across the grass. ]


Do you think they’re all dead? The locals.

[ Don’t worry—it’s not a ghost. Just a young man lounging across a thick branch up in one of the trees closest to the plots. A languid creature, one foot is propped to keep stable while the other swings, the gesture rippling soft hues of purple and orange cloth that fall around his figure.

He peers down from his perch with an easy smile. A tumble of dark hair falls over his shoulder with the incline. ]


Or did I finally find one of you? [ the tone tilts in teasing as he sizes up whoever’s come by below. the amber of that single visible eye is warm and good natured as he laughs gently, ] Hi there.


      ɪɪɪ. sᴇᴇᴍs sᴏ ғᴀʀ ᴀᴡᴀʏ: ɢʀᴏᴄᴇʀʏ sᴛᴏʀᴇ
[ A sad handful of gald, no weapons, zero materials—the daemon rubs his neck idly as he wanders around one of the small supermarkets eyeing unattended goods. It’s like they’re asking for people to steal.

He would steal anyway, but it’s the first time it’s felt so easy. Is it even stealing at this point…? After a glance toward the front counter where an open newspaper and half-finished bottle of water sit beside the register, he shrugs and reaches out a sinful hand…

A crack resounds in the quiet of the store as the top of a bottle is unceremoniously twisted open. Rokurou considers himself a daemon of taste, a self-proclaimed alcohol connoisseur, but after scanning the labels of the bottles and cans filling the refrigerators he quickly realizes that he knows only a few at best. Maybe even less than that.

The names are strange. Twisted Tea, Spiked Monster, Sourpatch Kid Vodka Lemonade, Whiteclaw … none of them are sake and there’s not even a bottle of whiskey to swig. He's never even heard of an alcohol distilled from the claws of a white beast.

Finally having selected one—something called a vodka bourbon Mountain Dew—he takes a taste…

… and hopefully you’re not too close by, because if you are? He’s spitting that mouthful all over you with tears glistening in his eyes. If not, enjoy the sight of a young man clearly not from the golden era of slamming down the Dew with a chalupa having an intense moment of suffering. Far more suffering than when he woke up in a strange city without warning or memory. ]


Ugh! Ugh? Ugh!! [ aggrieved, he locks eyes and forcefully holds out the bottle like it’s an explosive, ] Taste this!

[ No wonder they’re giving it away for free. It’s shit! ]


      ɪᴠ. 月に遠くおぼゆる藤の色香かな: ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛs
[ Dusk’s purple begins to settle across the city, the sky a flood of melting color. Orange flickers, its fingers spreading out from the line of the horizon. Pink melts. Clouds curl, catching different shades in an overlaying silk drape.

A young daemon sits on the precarious edge of an apartment building’s roof. Dark hair flickers in the wind, a wild mane that sweeps out toward the dying dapples of light. The length of bang covering his face breaks, a ghost of crimson peeking from behind black before vanishing like nothing more than a trick of sunset. That dimming gold washes over his figure, warming wheat colored flesh in one last surge of day.

Deft hands move across folded paper. Press crisp seams. An art prokect that, when finished, results a flying paper crane soaring across the gap between apartment buildings. Maybe your window is open and the crane floats inside, or perhaps it drifts on a gust toward your balcony. Maybe even far below, along the street, it's flown unfettered until falling to the sidewalk in wait to be found.

It’s plain paper nicked from a convenience store. Unfolding the crane reveals a line of lettering in broad strokes. The inky scent of sharpie lingers on the page, fresh.

    ∆∏∆⊡∀∆ ∆∁∆∏ ∆∀∏∏?

If spied, the daemon cracks an inviting smile and raises a hand in greeting. If not, or maybe even if his prey finds him, a second crane joins the first. No lettering inside this time; instead, it's a nonsensical doodle of your likeness with a profound question mark beside it.

Even if he knew that the cellphone in his pocket is much more convenient it’s not like he knows how to use it. It’s been long forgotten, anyway. ]


▉▉▉

      ▶ feel free to wildcard or give any of these prompts a wildcard flavor; if you'd like to hash out some details send me a PM!
petsthedog: (pic#12716762)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2023-08-02 09:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[Well then.

Shinjiro decides, then and there, that his old theory about this being some kind of purgatory or afterlife can go fuck itself. He'd already had his doubts at this point, considering the presence of immortals and demons from hell and such, but much more importantly, he doesn't want it to be true anymore. Not if Amada's here.

The trouble is, even with that decided in the privacy of his own mind, he truly has no idea what to say to him. When he'd been bleeding out in that alley, he'd gotten out everything he wanted the kid to hear from him, and he was supposed to be out of the kid's life, giving him some god damn closure. That was about the only thing in his life he'd felt he'd done right, and yet here he is now, face to face with the kid whose life he ruined, now apparently older. There's a part of Shinjiro that wants to know how he's been, if the group succeeded in stopping the Dark Hour, what he's doing with his life now, but it's not as though he has the right to any of that information. He's nothing more than a phantom, a dead man walking beyond his expiration date, and he should be firmly in Amada's rearview by now.

He still wants to run, and maybe the kid would think he just imagined it, a trick of the light, manifestation of anxiety in this strange abandoned city that is a little too reminiscent of the emptiness of the Dark Hour.]


Guess it'd be bad taste to say you look like you've seen a ghost, huh.

[...]

[Well, he hadn't anticipated the first thing to come out of his mouth to this kid to be that stupid, but at least now that he's gone and embarrassed himself they can get on with this and hopefully Shinjiro can steer him toward someone responsible enough to watch his back and then yeet himself back OUT of his life, like he belongs. It's fine. He's so fine.]
Edited (bury me in typos) 2023-08-02 21:06 (UTC)
whatsamada: P4AU (Chop Suey)

[personal profile] whatsamada 2023-08-02 09:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[Ken didn't hear what Shinjiro said at first. All he could do was stare at him as he wondered what this city was trying to do. Was this a figment of his imagination or was he truly here. As he continued to stare, he didn't know what to say. There were so many words he wanted to speak but he just couldn't. Not when the dead had somehow risen from their grave.

Unconsciously, he found himself getting up from the table and walking toward him. Face still pale as he felt a cold sweat. In the back of his mind, he wanted to say that Shinjiro wasn't here. His mind was playing tricks on him and yet, a part of him desperately wanted to believe that he was truly here.

It wasn't until that Ken got closer that he finally said something.]


Is...Is that really all you have to say when you're here? H-How am I supposed to react?

[He said in a low whisper as if he still couldn't believe what he was seeing. And yet, he could feel his eyes starting to swell up. He really couldn't be here, he just couldn't. Was this city just playing on his emotions and haunting him? Or were they giving him another chance to make amends with his teammate? And if that means the dead could also be here, what does that imply?

He didn't know but he couldn't think about it for long. Not when he found himself crying. Mumbling to himself, he wiped away the corner of his tears.]


This is so embarrassing...

[So much for trying to appear mature for his age, right?]
mercurialnesses: (little bitch disease patient zero)

elan ceres (enhanced person no. 5) | gundam witch from mercury

[personal profile] mercurialnesses 2023-08-02 09:27 pm (UTC)(link)
i. orientation
[There's a boy sitting on the train. He seems very concerned about the sway and rumble of the train. Any time there's an off sensation, he seems to brace himself, as if expecting something terrible to happen. Once he seems to ascertain that nothing is going to kill him, he relaxes.

Eventually, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the phone. Elan cocks his head and looks down at this bright screen that's so... flat. There's no layers. Nothing to manipulate. All he has to do is select something...

He turns you, another person on the train and waves the phone overhead.]


Did you figure out how to work this thing? It's so outdated.

[It seems like. Maybe. Just maybe. How it works is not actually lost on him and he just wants to see what you say.]


ii. graveyard
[It's funny that he makes to the graveyard. He wasn't going there. If someone pointed it out on a map, Elan would have turned on his heel and purposefully walked the opposite direction.

But he's here now and so it makes sense to look.

He moves through the graves, entire body weighted with trepidation, but he doesn't seem hesitant. It's a fear that he'll find what he is looking for.

But he doesn't and he doesn't know how to feel about that. A dark smile twists at his lips.]


Of course, she wouldn't be here. What would they have buried...?


iii. you scream i scream ice cream
[Elan wanders around the city, looking for something to do. None of it is familiar, so he figures might as well try to find something interesting.

Normally, he wouldn't find ice cream all that compelling but he'd been digging for scraps since food is harder to find when everything is a pile of wreckage.

The shop is so quaint in it's over the top colors and it makes him nearly laugh at the idea that anyone would find such a thing compelling. Yet, he enters anyway, somehow entertained by the idea of entering such a ridiculous place.

Elan ends up with an combination of impulsive combination of rocky road and strawberry and is taking slow spoonfuls before he looks around the parlor and actually decides to notice the other patrons. No one familiar. Still, might as well have a conversation now that he's apparently off his chain.]


Did you know I'm a CEO back home? My company is one of the most profitable and successful technology manufacturers both in space and on earth. My, I wonder what my stocks will do without me.


iv. wildcard
[Let's go wild! feel free to message me at [plurk.com profile] worldtype]
funburger: (542)

[personal profile] funburger 2023-08-02 09:29 pm (UTC)(link)
[She's upset, but she's lucid; another relief. Much as Tenma would have preferred she and the others be left in peace, he can't deny it's good to see a familiar face. If nothing else, he knows for certain that there's someone here he can trust—someone to rely on, no matter how, ah, bad he's been at that in the past...

Still; seated at the table he hefts his bag of groceries onto the booth bench and rummages through it, moving aside bread and sandwich fixings to try and find one thing in particular. He's about to address the bizarre lack of non-human life, but Nina asks about Johan, and Tenma's fussing with the bag stills. The end of everything, like Johan wanted...]


No, [he says, resolute.] No, this isn't one of Johan's plans. I can't deny that I wondered that myself, but... This doesn't feel like him.

[It couldn't possibly be, unless it was something left in place well before the events at Ruhenheim, like some kind of twisted insurance policy if one town's massacre didn't go how he wanted it to. Tenma resumes looking in his bag, a new question surfacing at the forefront of his thoughts: Does Nina... not remember Ruhenheim?

Hm. He takes from the bag a thermos from one of the stores and starts to unscrew the cap. Hmm...]


But I think this place is real. And no matter what's really going on, you're not alone here, Nina. Here- [a delicious thermos cup of coffee, slid across the table.] Let's just talk.