JUMP TO MONTHLY PROMPT ↓
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?
▶ 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, 3, 4, 5, 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.
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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.
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THE POISON'S IN THE DETAILS.
CONTENT WARNINGS: Monthly prompt includes the potential for body horror, including: mold or fungus; spores; and hanahaki-like symptoms. It also includes the potential for violence, mutilation, or death. Please label potentially triggering content in subject headers and interact responsibly with threads!
With the cacophony of the fun fair now gone, packed up and sent away for another year, the southern half of the park is now empty. That doesn't mean that the park itself is without attractions, though: up in the northern corner, sprawling out across the green, is a curious garden full of winding paths and draping trees, and within it, the smaller poison garden, where a variety of different flowers blossom and bloom along the gravel path. From roses to gladiolus, tulips to belladonna, this garden has many flora that residents may recognize from their homes, and some that they most certainly will not. As residents walk along the paths, observing and smelling and—for the brave—touching these plants, they will encounter a long wooden table, stretched out in the midst of fresh cut green grass.
This table has been decorated for a party, though it seems that all the guests must be late. A strange variety of different sized chairs and cushions have been set out along the long length of the table; it seems to fit at least twenty people, maybe even more. Small dishes and porcelain tea cups lay in random design across the off-white table cloth, used flower doilies and half-folded napkins tucked here and there as though someone left in a hurry. Even stranger still, there are six large, ornate pots of tea, scattered about the table, each warm to the touch and, you guessed it: full of tea. You suddenly find yourself craving a cup, and tuck into one of the chairs to pour yourself some...
...but you didn't think that it would be that easy, did you? Once you've swallowed a mouthful, or even your whole cup, your body starts to feel strange. Depending on the color—or flavor—of the tea you're drinking, you're going to experience some side effects:
| Color |
Flavor |
Effect |
| Red |
Hibiscus: This tart and fruity tea is naturally sweet. |
You will begin vomiting blood. The amount is up to your body's reaction. The correct antidote will fix you. |
| Yellow |
Jasmine: This tea has a light, floral note, and is slightly sweet. |
You will hallucinate something terrifying near you, and may lash out and attack those around you. The correct antidote will fix you. |
| Blue |
Pea Flower: This brilliantly-colored tea has a very delicate, woody flavor. |
You will gradually begin losing one of your senses (sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch). The correct antidote will fix you. |
| Black |
English Breakfast: This is a full body tea, with rich undertones and a bold flavor. |
Something very terrible will begin happening to your body: your hair may start falling out, you may become covered in hives, or your skin may start opening into sores. The correct antidote will fix you. |
| Green |
Green: This tea has a very clean, grassy flavor, like the earth. |
You will begin to transform into a terrifying creature or animal of your choosing. The correct antidote will fix you. |
| Orange |
Ginger: This is a tea with a warming, slightly spicy taste. |
After drinking, you will suddenly fall into a death-like coma. A kiss may wake you, or the correct antidote. |
In a panic, you look for something to help you. Just beyond the table, tucked away into a wall of ivy, is an old wooden shelf, the lettering nearly worn all away on it. Little packets of seeds line the tiered shelves; there are no pictures on them, but the packets themselves seem to all be different colors—and you may notice that the colors match the colors of the various teas on the table.
Ripping open the packet that matches the color of your tea, you find it contains actual seeds—will you swallow them and risk a plant growing in your stomach, just to see if it will counteract the effects of the tea? Oh, surely that's the stuff of fairytales, isn't it?
Residents are welcome to explore the various paths around the outside of the garden, observing plants and flowers of their choosing. The tea party is open to all, and the tea will continue to be brewed somehow, no matter how many people drink it. Players can choose the extent of the negative effects on their character, or have their character remain unaffected by the tea entirely. In order to get rid of the negative effects, characters must either find the correct seed packet that matches their tea and eat the seeds, or wait twenty-four hours for the symptoms to subside. The seeds will not do anything but cure the character—though they're welcome to think something awful might happen.
The tea party cannot be destroyed, and items that are moved from the table can only be moved within the perimeter of the poison garden. Characters are unable to steal things from the tea party; they will mysteriously return back to the table if taken beyond the aforementioned border. The tea party will remain there permanently, though the negative effects of the tea will mysteriously disappear after November 1st.
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A DROP OF BLOOD OR A DROP OF EGO.
At the apex of the path that winds around the poison garden is a large greenhouse that looks like it has seen better days. The panels are filthy, covered in dust and dirt and grime, and the doors creak on their hinges when you open them. Inside, the air is hot and musty, but the smell of herbs and spices fill your senses, letting you enjoy the atmosphere. The greenhouse is clearly separated into two different paths: the one to the left has a hanging sign which reads "DEADLY BEAUTIES" and the one to the right has a hanging sign which reads "BEAUTIFUL DEADLIES".
Heading to the left, you decide to observe the various plants there. Shelf upon shelf of various potted plants watch you as you go past; some of them snap at the air, veiny teeth grasping for the delicious meat of fruit flies and ants, and some of them threaten to touch you, with vines that roll and curl outward for just a shivering touch. Overhead, tangles of vined plants and spiked ivy mix together, an oppressive shadow that makes you feel as though you're trapped in this place as you walk through. Be careful: these carnivorous plants might be beautiful, but they won't hesitate to get a little too friendly with you. The floor is caked with dirt, but some of those brown stains might not just be from mud and dust, smeared by shoe heels and work boots. These plants might want a taste of blood.
Heading to the right, you find yourself in a beautiful space, the flowers so large they seem almost overwhelming. Have the plants gotten bigger, or have you simply gotten smaller? Gorgeous purple blossoms, pink petals, bright blue flowers and speckled white flowers cower and bend to cast you under them, like a flower-patterned umbrella sheltering you from the rain. The further you walk under them, however, the more you get the feeling that they're not just there to watch over you: they're there to explore you. At first, it's just a few gossipy whispers, so quiet you might not think they're real; then it's full-blown voices, the flowers bending and twisting as though to speak to each other in harsh, judgmental tones. What are they talking about? Well, they're talking about you—your secrets, your opinions, the things you don't want anyone else to know. These flowers are spilling your tea, and anyone walking along with you is going to hear it.
The back of the greenhouse—if you make it there—has the same doors as the front. They open back out onto the winding, circular path of the poison garden, where you can head back home...or experience the whole thing over again.
The greenhouse is rather large, and characters are welcome to walk through it along any path they wish. The carnivorous plants will possibly nip and bite at your characters, or try to restrain them, but they aren't very strong and can easily be broken away from. Feel free to imagine as much of a struggle as you wish, but they will not inflict any kind of mortal wounds on characters.
The giant, oversized flowers will tell your character's secrets or their deepest darkest opinions—this is open to player choice. The flowers cannot be attacked or hurt, and the only way to get them to be quiet is for someone OTHER than the character they're talking about to scold them or tell them to be quiet. Alternatively, if you can walk the path hand in hand with another character, this will also cause them to go quiet.
Plants cannot be taken from the greenhouse or killed, and they cannot be dug up from their pots. The greenhouse itself also cannot be destroyed, and any fire lit in the greenhouse will be immediately extinguished by an overhead sprinkler system. This place is meant for enjoyment and admiration, not crime!
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WILDCARD.
The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. There are even some places that other residents have created! 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. We highly recommend checking out the Character-Run Locations as well - they might be great places for new characters to get started!
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citycenter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
citylogs2023-10-01 08:38 pm
pharmacy
...and, in the distance, the distinct sound of boxes hitting metal. it's a surprisingly foreign sound, now; he isn't used to it. most people grab armfuls and take what they can and leave--immediately, his head twists, chin angled down against his shoulder to get a read of the pharmacy with the blur of the six eyes. two aisles down, there's a gentleman--he thinks--and a cart full of supplies. with a curious head tilt, he brings the bottle of tea with him, carefully sliding until he's at the end cap of the aisle.
there, like the cheshire cat, he slowly curls around it: the stranger holds up a box to him, as though in offer, and immediately, he breaks out into a slow grin. sure, he hadn't wanted to be around anyone, but by the looks of it, this guy's pretty banged up. burns, maybe, judging by the bandaging and the ointment in the cart. )
For me? No, you keep it. ( he slinks around the endcap and moves down the aisle towards the man, uncapping his tea to take a long, slow pull from the bottle. ) You'll need something to pay me back with, though, since I'm going to take care of you.
( yeah, he's just decided this now. ) We can wheel this into the back. They've got one tiny exam room, back there.
no subject
Do you take credit? I'm short on cash since I got here. ( It's a joke, though it likely falls flat with that stiff computerized voice. But there is some truth to it he's sure the other knows as well. He doesn't have anything on him since he arrived here. Though he's sure he can come up with something to return the favor. Still, he watches the other for a moment as if he's considering accepting the man's decision.
He is a stranger, but he can't deny he needs help, especially without his feathers to help with the process. And he knew he'd have to ask for a helping hand anyway.
Hawks glances down at his phone, typing again. )
Are you sure? It's not pretty.
( Between the few deeper cuts that are still healing, bruises and scabs, not to mention the sight of the base of his wings... It's not an easy sight to see if you don't have a strong stomach. His top hides the worst of it, but if Gojo looks closely enough, he'll see the small rises on his back from what's left of his wings as an indication of what might be beneath those clothes. Besides his own physical discomfort as the injured party, it doesn't both Hawks, though. He's seen enough bloodshed to know it could be way worse. He can't say the same for others, though. )
no subject
Oh, I'm sure we can think of some way for you to pay me back.
( it's a playful, drawling sort of voice, and not without implication--though as to what he's implying, it's not entirely sure. he could either be flirting or demanding information; it could go either way.
with a playful breath, he tosses his now-capped bottle of tea into the cart with the rest of the supplies the man has gathered. they might not need them, depending on how badly he's injured, but he'll need to see what's underneath the bandages before he does any work. he's not talented like shouko is, but he might be able to figure out a way to help. )
I've seen worse. I've done worse, honestly. You're in safe hands.
( is that reassuring? foreboding? either way, he approaches the cart, only so that he can put his feet up onto the end of it, holding onto the end of the basket as well, like he's about to get a ride. )
Come on, let's go~. This way, this way~.
no subject
Those words are met with a playful tilt of Hawks' head and a wink of one bright eye as his thumb moves and the device in his hand says for him: ) I'll make it worth the wait. ( That mechanical voice can't fluctuate like his own voice would, but his expression and the words themselves are just as playful. Though it does prompt the question of what he can do in return for Gojo. There's not much he can offer in ways of a physical exchange, and he doesn't know enough about this place to be particularly useful just yet as far as sharing information. That just leaves the lingering idea of owing a favor, something that always make him wary. Especially when it comes to a stranger.
He takes a step towards the cart to put one hand on the handle as Gojo perches on it, and he's outwardly entirely unphased by that declaration. Seen and done worse. That could go either way - for good or bad. He knows not to let that lighthearted demeanor distract him from a possible threat. Still, there's nothing outward that indicates he's spared those words much of a thought before a couple nods of his head. ) I'm glad. There's not much I can do to defend myself like this. ( A partial truth. He doesn't have his wings, but Hawks is far from helpless even in his current condition.
Still, he puts his other hand on the handle and starts to move forward and towards the back. He only pauses as they pass a small cooler, brows go up slightly, and there's the smallest rustle of the fabric on his back as if his wings might have been perking up if they were there. There's a nod towards the cooler as he steps away from the cart in favor of opening the clear door to fish out a can of sweetened coffee and a couple bottles of water. And then he's back to the cart, depositing the items into the cart with what might be a smile judging by the way the marks at the corner of his eyes shift again.
But before he starts pushing again, he offers a quick note of introduction. )
I'm Hawks.
( And off they go again. )
no subject
he'll see what's under the bandages, truly, soon enough. for now, he's going on a little ride, dipping one foot down to both help push and steer the cart as they move down the aisle.
the man--hawks, is his name, which might tell him more about the person he is--grabs water and a can of sweet coffee, which immediately gets his favor; anyone who can drink that stuff black cannot be trusted. with a grin, he bows his head in a playful sort of nod. )
Gojou Satoru. Your parents didn't name you 'Hawks' did they? I might have to go shake them if they did.
( likely a codename of some kind? maybe a nickname? it explains the hard, golden flicker of his gaze: he feels like it watches the room like a hawk, itself. )
Right up here, this is our stop.
( he eases down off the end of the cart so that he can close the few steps between them and the little waiting room outside what likely used to be the active pharmacy, here. there's a long counter with registers and separators and a bank of medicine behind it; he avoids that, aiming instead for a closed door, just off the few sturdy chairs set in the area.
he pulls open the door and tilts his head-- ) I bet the cart can fit in here. After you~.
no subject
It's nice to meet you, Gojo-san. And not exactly.
( His parents hadn't given him the name, but the Commission had. Not that they count as parents but they're the closest he's had to a real guardian. But that's neither here nor there. Something he doesn't plan to go into with a stranger.
Reaching their destination is a welcome relief, though. It gives them something else to discuss instead. And honestly, he's looking forward to taking off some of these bandages even just for a moment. He can feel the way some of them are sticking to his skin.
He nods when Gojo opens the door for him, pushing the cart inside. He parks it neatly to the side - within reach of the exam table but still enough space for them to move around.
Setting his phone on the edge of the table, he lifts himself easily onto it, legs dangling over the edge as he looks up at the other man. There's a tilt of his head at Gojo, brow going up. Waiting patiently for the other man to join him. )
no subject
with a bright grin, he turns on his heels to face the exam table: and hawks, who has hopped up onto the end of it, legs dangling slightly. honestly, it's a cute look: he hadn't realized quite how short he was until this moment. )
Okay, let's see here~ Let me just get my supplies, I'm without a nurse today, so...
( that means he's rummaging around in the small set of cabinets in the room, ones that are attached to a standard sink--he finds a box of gloves in one of them, immediately snapping one, then the other, over his large hands. honestly, this is all just for show, really: but even if he does manage to expend some of his reverse cursed technique on hawks to heal him, he still shouldn't be groping around in any open wounds with his bare hands, infinity or no.
then it's a matter of approaching the table and getting a knee onto the edge, tossing his leg over it to straddle the table. he puts himself at hawks' back, half an arm's length between that and his own chest; he'll need a little space to start feeling for the seam of the bandages, after all. )
Okay. Now you strip.
( yeah? it's that easy? )
no subject
He doesn't ask. Instead, he makes a soft, rough sound that's meant to be a short laugh as he hears the taller man settle behind him. Those nubs under his jacket give the smallest flex again as if reacting to a sound the remaining tiny, rumpled and clipped feathers are trying to pick up on. It feels like little more than peach fuzz, but it is a start.
The order is obeyed quickly, though, and Hawks let's himself glance over his shoulder with a playful wink before he's turning his attention forward again. The mask he's wearing is the first thing to go as he lifts his hands, easily undoing it to set it neatly aside. He should hesitate when he goes for the fastener of his jacket, given he has a stranger at his back, but he doesn't. He undoes it quickly, sliding out of it carefully with only the softest sound of discomfort as he goes. Jacket off and set aside, he reaches for the hem of his shirt to pull it up and off just as carefully as he'd slid out of his jacket.
When it comes off, Gojo will be met with the sight of Hawks' back - wrapped entirely in bandages that crawl over his chest, stomach, and neck. Though the most noticeable thing is the two padded spots between his shoulders - the base of his wings carefully wrapped and padded to protect what little had managed to survive the burns. )
I'm all yours, doctor. ( He says, but his voice is rough. Hoarse and painful as his healing throat struggles to let out those sounds. )
no subject
with a faint smile, hands on his thighs, he nods. )
Don't mind me. ( with a soft murmur, as he leans a little closer--his arms come up beneath hawks' arms, large gloved hands groping gently across his chest to find where the bandages are tucked into the seam. his thumb fishes out the end, and carefully, he starts the arduous task of unwrapping him, leaning back and passing the bandages back and forth between his fingers in order to get it all off at once. the closer they get to his skin, the more the bandages stick: part of it is the medicine, braced between damaged skin and bandage, and part of it is the blood and plasma and scabs, stuck and pulled a little as he slowly leads the rest of it off.
by the time he's gotten the bandages off of hawks, from waist to neck, he's fallen completely silent, studying carefully what he's got here to work with. )
Oh, right.
( there's also the matter of the bandages around his neck and head: those come off a little more easily, and he tosses all the used bandaging off the side of the exam table; it makes a bloody, dirty, stained pile on the floor. )
Are these going to come back? ( with a tilt of his head, as he takes a moment to examine hawks' back; he doesn't sound particularly surprised, just matter-of-fact. ) I mean, should we maybe leave them out to...grow?