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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willtheunwise: (pic#16267052)

Graveyard

[personal profile] willtheunwise 2023-08-02 11:08 pm (UTC)(link)
Will is searching the graveyard for any indication that something might have happened to a missing friend, seeing if any of the graves contain his name when he spots a girl in a very familiar uniform. He knows it only from having seen girls wearing the Hawkins High cheer outfit around the town but it’s definitely a Tigers uniform. She looks like she might be around Jonathan and Nancys age but he can’t tell exactly.

“Are you from Hawkins in Indiana?” He asks drawing a little closer. He’s aware he looks like garbage, he hasn’t really been sleeping and he’s avoided his Hawkins neighbours so they don’t ask him what’s going on (the answer is a lot.)
doomward: (pic#16628879)

[personal profile] doomward 2023-08-02 11:10 pm (UTC)(link)
[The intrusion is a bucket of icy water dumped overhead. Richard snaps to awareness immediately, berating himself for having lost focus of his surroundings in the first place. Carefully, he smooths his expression into something neutral before turning to regard the speaker. Given the warning, Richard doesn’t suspect that he was the intended recipient—until he realizes that Sasuke is staring directly at him, with no one else in the area. He pauses, mildly baffled. “It isn’t them?” he wonders, taking care not to allow his confusion to show. Only when he happens to glance back at the bust does he at last understand; the statue is no longer a statue of his father, but of Buckingham. Now, despite the need to keep up appearances, Richard recoils in shock.

A sharp pain lances his heart. The last he saw this beloved visage, it was on the chopping block awaiting the swing of the axe—held in his own two damn hands. Richard is wholly unprepared to be faced with any caricature of his executed lover so suddenly; with tears collecting in his mismatched eyes, he storms a short distance away from the statue.]


How? [he demands sharply, voice fraught with an emotion he’s too terrified to name.] How did you know? When you called out that it was an illusion, it still bore my father’s visage.

[Blinking away the tears angrily, he whirls on Sasuke. Misplaced anger and hurt darken his countenance.]

Well?
heeroics: (𝗦𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗱𝗼)

strawberry... clone trauma.....

[personal profile] heeroics 2023-08-02 11:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Heero stares. He isn't expecting an apology (though he does nothing to communicate that), but:

what? ]


What?
deathoftheauthor: (14)

C ✨ omg i'm so excited

[personal profile] deathoftheauthor 2023-08-02 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
( Recently, Louis has begun paying nightly visits to the visitor's center near the train station. He tells himself it's just routine — after all, it makes sense to pay attention to what sort of people arrive, and to check the map in case of more mysterious changes. But that isn't the truth. There is someone he's waiting for. And though he resents the small ember of hope in his chest that he can't douse with reason, he keeps the cassette tape of Lestat's music tucked into his coat pocket like a good luck charm.

He's been so single-minded in his loneliness that seeing Daniel comes as a shock. For a moment, Louis almost doesn't recognize him. The last he'd seen Daniel, he was on Night Island in the company of Armand. More crucially, Daniel had been a vampire. But he's plainly human now (again?); there is the flush of blood in his cheeks, the tang of sweat, the slight clumsiness of mortality. Louis stares, awestruck, baffled, envious—

And then Daniel kicks the machine, and Louis decides that he ought to stop lurking and introduce himself, even if he can't make sense of what he's seeing.
)

That's one thing we all have in common here.

( Louis steps out of the shadows as only a vampire can, suddenly a solid presence at Daniel's side, regarding him with open curiosity. He looks much older than the boy he had been during their interview, and far less innocent; Louis can see the years on him now in a way that he could not when Daniel was a fledgling, and he feels a pang of something like guilt for the part he'd played in it.

Still, it is an almost unbelievable relief to see a familiar face. Louis offers a small, polite nod.
)

Hello, Daniel.
dissonyance: (4)

iii

[personal profile] dissonyance 2023-08-02 11:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[ the shops are all full of... useless garbage. nothing in the way of reagents. nothing in the way of usable weapons. the books that he's come across are all empty and without any practical information. the worst part is that any spell he's attempted to cast has mostly fizzled out--- a fireball being more like the flame of a candle, weak and barely a light. icicles meant to rend and tear flesh are toothpicks and splinters of nothing, disappearing before they even leave his claws.

and so as his punishment for purely existing, he is now faced with a dilemma. ]


No.

[ with a deadpan look on his face, he stares at rokurou with disdain. thankfully he's still got some of those reflexes. ]

Try not putting things into your mouth that you will regret later. This should make a good learning moment for you.

[ and with the bottle thrust at him, leaks politely takes rokurou's wrist and moves it to the side. ]
triple: (08)

[personal profile] triple 2023-08-02 11:57 pm (UTC)(link)
( not... at all who he was expecting to see. and zoro, unfortunately, is not a pretty buxom lady. zoro's lip curls at the sight of him, annoyed and put out that one of the only people he doesn't really want to see is right here in front of him. though, all things considered, zoro begins to wonder if it's actually sanji.

this place is weird as hell, this is a cemetery, and it's not like it's out of the ordinary to be haunted by a vision of something troublesome. his eyes narrow and he slowly withdraws the snack and brings it to his mouth, biting off about ninety percent of it. that remaining ten percent gets flicked in the direction of sanji's forehead. )


Figures you'd show up.
triple: (10)

[personal profile] triple 2023-08-03 12:02 am (UTC)(link)
( how is that tact? a warning would be nice! because once zoro realizes what's happening, he's going to be really pissed. or, at least, mildly inconvenienced. he stares down at the cup and wonders why he even got a pink one to begin with — then again, the color likely reminded him of someone and he did it completely unconsciously.

zoro exhales a breath and then jams the spoon in his mouth. and it... is disgusting. he nearly spits it out, but that'd probably ruin the rest of it in his cup. so, he swallows it as if it's painful and then his tongue lolls out after and he makes a disgusted sort of sound. )


Gross. I'd rather have a roast.

( that... seems unusual. even he pauses after that looking slightly confused and not sure why he felt compelled to continue on. )
funburger: (1183)

[personal profile] funburger 2023-08-03 12:03 am (UTC)(link)
Nina!

[On second thought, maybe he could have waited until after she finished her coffee. She spills the cup and Tenma is already halfway out of the other seat with a fistful of paper napkins hastily grabbed, it falls off the table and Tenma has circled around it to crowd onto the bench beside her, pressing the napkins into her hand.]

Nina, be careful, the coffee is still hot—

[Which is not the point, but she doesn't need a burned lap on top of everything else. There was a mansion, and Tenma knows what that means, knows the agony she must be in right now as he wraps an arm around her shoulders tight and anchoring. It strikes him that she doesn't remember the last time he'd reached out to steady her, which is...

He'll worry about the hows and whys later; for now, his only priority is making sure Nina will be alright.]


The Red Rose Mansion... Is that where you were?
fashionably_strong: (wave)

I

[personal profile] fashionably_strong 2023-08-03 12:03 am (UTC)(link)
Bulla can't help but notice the timid blonde girl looking as if she's trying to will herself to be invisible, pressed up against the wall like that and slowly moving toward an exit. The fear is difficult to miss. While Bulla herself is uneasy about this entire situation, she's able to put it aside for the moment to try to help someone else feel better.

Without hesitation, she approaches with a friendly wave and a smile on her face. At only 5'0", she's hardly intimidating looking.

"Hi! Have you been to the shops yet? A few of them have some cute-ish clothes. I got this purse from there, too. Oh, and there's some other necessary supplies like food, too."

Priorities. Bulla has them.
petsthedog: (pic#12716679)

i.

[personal profile] petsthedog 2023-08-03 12:08 am (UTC)(link)
[He's not even really sure why he comes by the train station again. Maybe because it's been a couple months, and he's scrupulously avoided it, especially after that incident with Don's death, and he just needs to see what's there now that he is more or less convinced this place isn't all an elaborate dying hallucination or afterlife of some kind.

(And maybe some part of him he can't quite acknowledge is hoping that the reason Gregor's gone missing is because he died somehow, and Shinjiro will happen to find him at the station and be able to let Don know. Which is definitely the only reason he'd want to find him, obviously.)

It's largely a disappointment. There's no train in sight, even with the new influx of confused and unsettled individuals who clearly didn't come here intentionally, as is the case with everything that happens in this town. Food that simply appears in the restaurants without any people to serve it, supplies simply available in the various stores. Apartments that are fully furnished but vacant, and nobody ever comes to claim them. Makes sense that they'd never see the trains that bring along new arrivals.

He's about to head back when he happens to spot the girl pressed up against the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible. Shinjiro's seen that kind of thing before plenty of times, back when he lived on the streets. And he tells himself it's not his business, not his problem, and yet he finds himself walking in that direction nonetheless. Before he knows it, he's standing before her, slightly at an angle enough that it doesn't seem like he's just...looming. The bonus side effect to this is his height does block her out from most other people's view, which might let her breathe a little easier.]


...You good, kid?

[Mumbled out gruffly, almost as though reluctant. His hands are still shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched a little further inward than strictly necessary, like he's uncomfortable even asking.]
fashionably_strong: (yikes)

[personal profile] fashionably_strong 2023-08-03 12:13 am (UTC)(link)
Bulla's surprised that he can't see what a tremendous threat the tiny spider minding its own business up in the corner is, but at least he's paying attention now.

Hand trying not to tremble, she points it out in the corner.

"I think it's plotting to poison us all," she says, whispering nervously.
swordhardy: (pic#15014830)

dr snakes strikes again

[personal profile] swordhardy 2023-08-03 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ An easy smile and sharp eyes, Rokurou's keen for the reaction his mark offers when he plucks the paper from the sky. That gaze narrows with hiked intensity, a new ripple of frustration with his own limits. Normally his eyesight is topnotch—especially at night. It isn't bad now but it isn't ... the same. What should be clear beads of sweat trickling down a flushed neck or the crinkle of a brow are too far to properly discern. Another lack, another wrong, something else taken from him without his knowledge or before he could even fight back. The daemon grinds his teeth for lack of anything to bite out of irritation.

At least the stranger is kind enough to close that distance. Rokurou's smile widens into a grin sharing teeth before he whistles in appreciation for that display of graceful skill, snapping out a hand to catch the balls of paper thrown back when the other man's feet find the roof like it isn't mere trash. ]


You don't like my messenger birds? I thought they were pretty clever.

[ Gaze softening, a golden eye lingers on that swoop of a pale neck before flicking back up. Even with the sudden dulling of his senses, his doodle? On point. The daemon gives himself a mental pat on the back for rendering such a good likeness.

Then he sends it flying over his shoulder. (Littering is bad, kids!) ]


I wanted to talk to you! You've been all over today, right?

[ He doesn't try to close the distance between them. Leaning to peer over the edge of the building, he eyes where the ball of paper may or may not have went flying with his careless toss. Not a soul passes by below. A perpetual state of almost and just missed that stirs the urge to chuck a few more things off the roof in annoyance. But like all things beneath his breastbone, it simmers and cools with another breath. ]

I noticed you a few times earlier. [ a trace of a scent here, a flicker of movement there, breadcrumbs triggering a scratch itch itch scratch itch demanding the taste of sᴛʀᴏɴɢ ᴘʀᴇʏ— ] You're pretty hardworking. What do you make of this place?

[ He straightens back up when returning his full attention to the other man. Smiling anew, the daemon finally takes a few steps closer while holding his hands up in deference. ]

—right. Rokurou Rangetsu, at your service. I just arrived here.
funburger: (847)

[personal profile] funburger 2023-08-03 12:38 am (UTC)(link)
Oh... is that so?

[That's interesting; Tenma had noticed how at a glance the names on the stones looked familiar—Grimmer, Braun, Bonaparta—but he'd chalked that up to his own mental state. The stress and lack of proper rest have been getting to him, after all.

But this young man sees a familiar name sometimes, which is - something. He opens his eyes again, sitting up on his elbows.]


I thought that was only happening to me. Are you feeling alright? Have you eaten recently?
swordhardy: (pic#15015003)

[personal profile] swordhardy 2023-08-03 12:42 am (UTC)(link)
[ The caustic scent of purification tickles his sinuses; the daemon's nose wrinkles as he almost sneezes, handsome face scrunching in displeasure before schooling back into an easy smile. Ugh, the worst ... this is the last kind of person he wants to meet when he's without a weapon and finding his usually oversharp senses lacking.

His stare is unwavering. Sizing up the other, he finally decides that this isn't someone with the Abbey. Were this someone who might know that man, Rokurou would have already leapt down to try and drag some information out of him.

Then he scans over the ofuda lazily, feigning disinterest, but his attention lingers too long before returning to meet the stranger's catslit pupil. The man having wandered into his side of the graveyard is just as strange as the city itself, pushing the daemon away with the disgusting blanch of cleansing but drawing him back in again with that wrongness that just hits right for a creature like him. A wax and wane that whets his appetite. ]


Typical. Do we all just want to eat people all the time? [ he rolls his eye, unimpressed. ] Even if you don't look too bad.

[ He shows his teeth in mock-aggression, petty enough to give them a little snap before nodding his chin toward the tombstone in a pointing gesture. ]

I don't feel them, but why would I?
guujis: (pic#16125392)

un: "fried tofu with all the frills"

[personal profile] guujis 2023-08-03 12:42 am (UTC)(link)
Hello there. Prompto, was it? That's quite an unusual name. Well, if you're looking for someone to talk to, I wouldn't mind. I could use the practice with these interesting technological devices.

Would you just be friends with anyone who asked? Aren't you picky at all?
justlethal: (017)

[personal profile] justlethal 2023-08-03 12:50 am (UTC)(link)
[There are few people who can strong-arm Gamora into doing something. She has her weak spots, pressure points which Thanos had exploited, but they aren't obvious. If anything, he might get a lot of blunt I do not knows from her. Perhaps a few answers, if he was lucky.

But her brows arch as he freezes. That alone speaks volumes. There are many different species where she's from. Then again, it is not like there are many of Gamora's race running around the galaxy. He'd likely have a similar reaction to Nebula, if he ran across her, although her sister has more modifications than Gamora.]


That's not a question.
guitarpicks: (102)

i scream

[personal profile] guitarpicks 2023-08-03 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
[ eddie munson does have a sweet tooth when it comes down to it all. he's known to stuff handfuls of cocoa puffs cereal into his mouth and stress eat.

free ice cream is a treat and, well, nothing can go wrong with ice cream. it's not like a bank vault where something from the worst day of your life can find you -- famous last words though. right?

he's got a double scoop of rocky road ice cream topped on a waffle cone and, like the animal he is, he's taken two big bites out of it so far. he startles when he's talked to and tilts his head, looking at the sample of vanilla that the other dude seems to be about to try.
]

Uh. Like cake. [ wait --- what. ]
worldbent: (Won't look down won't open my eyes)

[personal profile] worldbent 2023-08-03 12:59 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, not all the time, [Matoba agrees patronizingly,] Sometimes you want to kill them and be done with it.

[He turns to face Rokurou fully with his neck craned up, arms folded into the sleeves of his kimono. No doubt, there's no trusting a magic-user whose hands you can't see; it might be up in the air for Rokurou whether or not everyone is as disarmed as he is, but... does he want to risk it?]

[Rokurou tries to feign disinterest, but Matoba notes the way that his gaze lingered on the eyepatch. Curiosity, he supposes, for of course an ayakashi can feel it. Even animals could feel the tug of that curse, and kept their distance.]


Not you, hm? I'll take that remark as a compliment. What's your business with the dead, then? [A beat] The hypothetical dead. As we have not yet established that these graves are filled.
swordhardy: (pic#11145483)

[personal profile] swordhardy 2023-08-03 01:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ They take stock of each other at the same time. Hands empty, Rokurou can only drop them in disappointment (for the lack of finding his sword) as he studies the other man. It's one of the few times the daemon's without his trademark smile: his thin lips purse with the bottom one threatening a quiver, his eyebrows knit in desperation, his drooping lashes drooping even more with those pathetic puppydog eyes he's sporting. ]

"Too"? Ah, so they got you as well ... that means we're brothers in loss.

[ Rokurou sighs, crossing his arms as he strides forward to close that distance between them again. They're fellow sufferers of a great injustice so it's only natural that they should stick together. Whoever brought them here seems intent on stealing their swords and, not only that, they're too damn cowardly to come face them.

The other man seems thin, but Rokurou knows better than to judge another swordsman on appearance alone. His skillset must be something different from his own... ah. The daemon blinks, then shakes his head; he didn't mean to oogle another man while he's putting his clothes back into place. ]


Sorry about that, I got carried away. [ his expression smoothes over a bit and he finally offers a little smile, ] Our blades must be safe, it's just a matter of finding them. How big can this place be? If we work together, we should be able to do it.

[ Famous last words; he hasn't even gone above ground yet. Still, the daemon lifts his chin up, growing more spirited in finding a similarly bereft swordsman wandering around. At least he isn't alone! ]
kampfgeist: (shock | not that again)

i. » just outside the station

[personal profile] kampfgeist 2023-08-03 01:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ the last couple of weeks have been so abjectly hellish that it almost doesn't surprise heine to catch a glimpse of familiar wings from the corner of his eye. so much else has gone awry—what's a little light hallucination to boot, and why not nill? like the cherry on top of the fucked-up sundae of his life, yeah, sure. there's no way that nill could actually be here. this is just his subconscious tormenting him again. heine gets it.

...right?

five steps later heine doubles back and stops, looking down the street he'd just passed. he searches all the shadows of awnings and signage until he spots it again: that pale flutter, white feathers against dim brick. his eyes widen. fuck. heine would know those wings anywhere. ]


Nill? [ not even loud enough to be heard, probably. it's just that heine is afraid of hoping. if nill is here that means she's not (he thinks) there, back home. where they're all balancing on the edge of a blade, ready to be hurt no matter how they fall. he would almost rather she be here, where he and badou can look after her, although he also hates himself for thinking it.

heine moves, slowly at first, then more quickly as he becomes more and more sure that he's not imagining things. ]
Nill!

[ ooc: hello pls feel free to continue using prose if that's what's easier for you, i'm super flexible! ]
swordhardy: (pic#15014828)

cat wife ...!

[personal profile] swordhardy 2023-08-03 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
[ Now that he's actually had a moment that isn't sugary disgusting terror assaulting his tastebuds and bubbles (why are there bubbles), Rokurou offers the stranger a little grin and weak laugh. Way to lose face with someone immediately ... but it doesn't matter. He's just a daemon, anyway. Something like this should be expected.

Clearing his throat, said daemon returns to his senses and promptly throws the bottle away. The Mountain Dew fizzes somewhere off to the side, as though expressing its anger at being thrown like trash. ]


Haha, well ... normally mountain dew is quite nice, isn't it? I didn't know if it was me or if there's a problem with the mountain it came from. The wildlife there can't be doing well if that's what the water is like.

[ A learning moment, huh? No chance. Rokurou takes back his hand and slowly closes the refrigerator filled with garbage drinks, turned off from trying another. ]

Apologies, did I get you? When I ... [ spat. ]
nyanxiety: (13)

[personal profile] nyanxiety 2023-08-03 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
"Brothers"?? Hmmmm...

[Nansen's eyes narrow again, and his own lips purse in a markedly less pathetic manner than Rokurou's- the deigning of a cat to pay something any mind. He's already sort of got brothers, technically... But none of them are at the citadel, and they're definitely not here, or he'd be getting bullied left and right. Sigh.]

[Whatever; this guy has a weird vibe to him, and that half of his face almost reminds him of an HRA sword, but he doesn't seem to be an enemy. He'll just have to be on his guard.]


...It's gotta be, but if someone ends up melting them down... [Nansen groans and falls to a squat at Rokurou's sandaled feet.] --Nononono, don't think like that!! [He grips his fingers into his hair and shakes his head; the little curls at the sides make a mock sort of folded-over "ear" that flips and flops around his fingers.] Nyaaaa, someone around here's more likely to pick it up and try to use it, right?? So, I just have to follow that feeling....

[Internal crisis managed in a matter of rollercoastering moments, the blond leaps back to his feet in front of Rokurou, a springy motion with the heels of his dress loafers clicking on the subway tile.]

Alright!! If you're gonnya be my "brother", then you're the little brother! Nyeh heh heh! [Nansen reaches out and gives Rokurou, who has a full head on him in height and at least two in thickness, a hearty slap on the back.] You can call me "aniki" whenever you want! Consider yourself lucky, for not everyone gets this honor!
culver: goodjobself @ dw (just one yesterday)

[personal profile] culver 2023-08-03 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
[Considering the way her life has gone so far, one would think Nill would have learned to pay closer attention to her surroundings, and not completely ignore them when something catches her attention. But the grass is so green, so beautiful, and she can't help but fight with herself about whether or not she should touch it.

She doesn't get the chance to decide, because when a woman's voice comes from behind her, she loses her balance in her crouch and falls almost face-first into the grass. Her wings flare, but they're too small to really stop her from tumbling down. Her palms press into the grass, and the new knowledge of how incredibly soft it is cuts through her initial wave of surprise.

Well yeah, it better not be poisonous.

After a few seconds of marveling at the grass beneath her fingers, Nill remembers that she isn't alone. She scrambles up to her feet, briefly noticing that there are now green stains on her skirt. Her attention returns to the woman, and she almost freezes--almost. Nill has spent her entire life learning how to read people, to note the smallest details about them. It's the only way she knew to anticipate what people were thinking or what they would do. To keep herself safe.

She sees something in this woman's eyes that make the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She just doesn't know why.

Nill's face falls into a practiced, neutral expression. But there's caution in her eyes. Not the same kind of caution she reserves for men she doesn't know, but more of a general wariness. She's in a place she doesn't know, and hasn't seen anyone she recognizes. Coming out to this park was probably a bad idea in the first place.

Still, she bobs her head in acknowledgement, in thanks--for letting her know that the grass isn't dangerous. It's just... grass, but that doesn't make it less wondrous to her right now.]
swordhardy: (pic#15014830)

[personal profile] swordhardy 2023-08-03 01:29 am (UTC)(link)
You're right, you're right. [ he nods, as though this condescending exorcist had said something very wise, rubbing his chin in contemplation. ] They could all be completely empty caskets. Maybe there's nothing beneath the earth at all and it's all just for show.

[ The smile remains to accompany those disingenuous platitudes as the bird hops down from the branch of his tree. He sees little reason for there to be a mass graveyard without any bodies. Aren't there names on the tombstones as well? Even if the name he rubbed his thumb across earlier still stirs a strange feeling beneath his ribs. ]

Aya, I know! Why don't you dig one up? [ he holds his hands up innocently, ] I'd do it, but, you know. I might not be able to resist eating the corpse if we find one. I can tell that a good man like you wouldn't be able to stand the desecration of a body.

[ Since that's what his ilk do, right? Blergh. ]
petsthedog: (pic#15324092)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2023-08-03 01:36 am (UTC)(link)
[Something frankly short-circuits in Shinjiro's brain when Amada starts crying. He's already the kind of person who feels desperately awkward when someone cries, unprepared and ill-equipped to offer anything like comfort, but this is on another level. His first instinct is a sort of panic, a hand sort of half-stretched out in an aborted attempt to set it on the kid's shoulder before vehemently thinking better of it.]

Ah--hey...don't--

[Fuck. Shit fuck. He doesn't know what to do, and somewhere in the midst of his mind racing it suddenly slams into him like a truck that the tears are about him, and that grinds all of his ability to think coherent thoughts to a screeching halt. It just -- he can't twist it into a shape that makes sense. Amada had looked horrified when he'd been dying back then, yes, but Shinjiro had assumed (had convinced himself) it was just the shock of the situation, the adrenaline of having almost been murdered. The kid had every right to hate him. The idea that he did made it easier for Shinjiro to stand himself, most days.

He doesn't deserve his tears, or his grief, and Shinjiro honestly can't help but feel a sense of frustration well up once he realizes what's happening. He can't stop messing up the kid's life, can he. He's clearly had years to put all this shit behind him, and here Shinjiro is to rip it all back up and make him relive it fresh. He's so tired of himself.]


...Shit.

[It's too late to run now, and part of him regrets it. He wonders if it would've been better to simply avoid him, but on some level he knows he couldn't have. That's why he came back to SEES, after all -- there was no escaping the sense of obligation he had to the kid, no matter how uncomfortable with himself he might feel.

At length:]


I don't have anything to say. I shouldn't be here still breathin', but I am. Doesn't stick here, for some reason. If you never wanna see my face again, say the word and I'm gone, I swear.

[He'll just. He'll ask Kitsuragi to look out for him. One favor, and he'll never ask anything of him ever again. Kitsuragi's a good man, a kinder man than Shinjiro's deserved. He'd do it. He's sure he would.]