TDM: NOVEMBER 2023

[citycenter]

TEST DRIVE MEME

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? ▶ 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, 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. 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 center. 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. 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 IT IS THE ULTIMATE SHADOW, THE DEFEAT OF CREATION. In one section of the newly accessible portion of the city, nestled in among normal looking residential and commercial buildings, is a wide and relatively short and industrial-looking building with no windows and only one grand set of black glass doors set into one side. Above the entrance is a neon sign that plainly states ART. with smaller letters sm added to the front in metallic paint. Hopefully, this simple signage will give passersby the impression that this is an art exhibit of some kind, with a twist. DO NOT TOUCH THE ART… Once stepping through the front doors, guests will be greeted with a lobby with walls covered in vertical neon lighting that pulses in a rotating rainbow, and mirrored ceilings that make the space feel surprisingly small. To one side is a bar where various cocktails await pickup. They don't have any special effects, but being a bit tipsy might help enhance the experiences waiting for you beyond. There's also a rack of bottles behind it, stocked with the typical liquors and mixers, if you'd like to play bartender for a while. Thanks to the disorienting amount of colored lighting and dark corners, it may be easy to get lost and turned around in the large building, and guests may be surprised to find that they're unable to locate the exit (or entrance) while alone. After leaving behind the lobby and stepping into the exhibit proper, you'll find yourself walking through a central winding hallway with large rooms branching off from it in both directions at regular intervals. Some of them are more interactive than others, but all of them are dimly lit except for the "art" that guests will find themselves in the middle of, encouraged to touch and participate in creative collaboration. A few of the simpler rooms include: Hanging ropes that will light up where touched, changing color with the amount of kinetic force applied: purple for a brush of the fingers, red for a crushing grip. These pulses of light will travel out to either end of the ropes the longer touch is applied, and considering that the room is pitch black and seemingly endless thanks to the mirrored walls, you may want to find some help in lighting up the dark. A sunken floor filled to the brim with translucent plastic balls. This ball pit is a literal bath of color with every-changing light shining up from the floor of the ball pit and diffusing through the balls. A wall of cubbies at the room's entrance awaits belongings and shoes that are asked to be removed by a polite sign at the top of the stairs that descend into the ball pit. Be careful, for the pit is deep and it's easy to sink beneath the surface if you sit or lie down; you may see some shadows of people a ways away from you, but if you wade through the balls to their rescue, you won't find anyone tangible there. A small theater of benches all facing the back wall that is a single large screen. The display is a moving series of lines on a black background that give the audience the sensation that the room is moving, or they themselves are traveling through the space. Atmospheric music—mostly heavy bass and noise that's been timed with the movement on the screen—hums through the room and adds to the sense of immersion. ... IT MIGHT TOUCH BACK. One of the more interesting rooms is actually divided into three smaller rooms, each with a heavy, sound-dampening door that only has a small square window set into the top of it. Through the window, you can see that there is a red room, a green room, and a blue room. Stepping into any of them will be a different experience where guests will be entirely immersed in the color—even the window is a one-way mirror from the inside, blocking out any sights from beyond. The longer guests stay in these isolating rooms, the more disoriented they'll become, and it's entirely possible that moods will shift from the experience. Be careful stepping back out into the exhibit itself, your eyes and ears may need time to adjust. In the green room, guests may feel like they've stepped into a concentrated and unfiltered essence of nature. The speakers play a variety of animal noises layered with leaves rustling and branches creaking as they move as well as wind, rain, and other kinds of weather. Looking at yourself, or your companions if someone stepped inside with you, you see their eyes and teeth pop clearly in the bath of green, somehow more obviously animal than ever. In the red room, the temperature is higher than the rest of the exhibit, not uncomfortably so but noticeable all the same. Looking down at your skin, you can see more of the blemishes, the dark spots or pale scar tissue that contrasts much more starkly. From hidden speakers in the ceiling comes a mixture of sounds that are hard to place as they're so layered over one another, but the overall noise is inorganic, discordant, unsettling. It's hard to focus, let alone look at anyone else you might be sharing the room with. In the blue room, there is almost an absence of experience. The only sound is a low, steady hum that vibrates through you as you stand and close your eyes almost on instinct. Everything gets erased in the layer of blue that covers everyone and everything in the room, skin looking almost gray from the lack of any other colors that are so often associated with life. The last room of note is completely black and empty except for three massive umbrellas of flowers and other plants that are suspended from the tall ceiling, illuminated by lights shining on them from above. Each umbrella is about as high off the ground as the average human and varying by a few feet or so, so that it's possible to stand or crouch beneath them. Once standing in their shadows below, guests will be able to hear whispers coming from above… These whispers tell real secrets of city residents—past, present, and future—though names are never included. The secrets are told in their own voices, though, almost like confessionals to a confidant or their pillow in the dark of night. These secrets can be positive, negative, or simple fact. Some may be shocking revelations of guilt, or shy mutterings of love, or secrets spilled as if the speaker has never thought of this part of themselves before. There is a hush throughout the room, and if guests were to whisper to each other beneath the umbrellas, conversations would not be easily overheard. Residents are encouraged to meet up in the bar with friends, grab some drinks, and then head into the art exhibit. It's also a great place to meet someone new as there will be plenty of interactions happening as everyone hopefully discovers a bit of their inner child. There's no right or wrong order to exploring the rooms, but residents will not be able to find the exit without the presence of another with them—even if you came alone, you're leaving with a friend! For the Secret Garden whispers, players are encouraged to make up something scandalous to discuss with others or even have their own character's voices whisper to them from the flowers. Please remember to discuss with other players before including any information about existing and potential characters that may affect their gameplay. Inspiration for this location includes 9 Lights in 9 Rooms as well as Hopscotch. Title is from Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?. 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 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! JUMP TO TOP ↑

» navigation » network » logs » ooc » mod contact

Comments

TDM QUESTIONS.

[citycenter]

Please direct all TDM-specific questions below. If you have a general question about the game premise or mechanics, please direct it to the FAQ page. Our taken page is here so you can see who is already in the game!

As a reminder, TDM top-levels should only be posted by potential new characters. Existing characters are encouraged to tag in, but should not top level; however, players may use the TDM prompts for catch-alls in the log comm.

Please include your character's name and character's canon in the subject line of your top level. Happy TDMing!

binah ⬡ library of ruina.

[arbit]

 — i.

( by her estimations, the older her would've had the lay of the land mapped out by now. perhaps she would've even brushed elbows with the unrecognized denizen or two to see what they may know through.. friendly enough conversation. this iteration of her doesn't seem to mind one way or the other. to her, either she will find out more in due time, or she will be returned to her previous post to resume her duties. it seems someone saw fit to loosen her leash, so she'll walk.

which is how she finds herself here amongst the greenery and filtering sunlight, teacup in hand, basking in the steam and steeped leaves as if the elaborate spread was indeed laid out in this greenhouse just for her. she has some notes about the selections, one she's keeping track of somewhere in the back of her mind, all so she might offer her insight later.

for now, she sits unbothered despite any who might approach, her attention still mostly on her cup even as she's taken it upon herself to greet whoever it may be. voice low, in a pace of her own: )

Might I pour you a cup? This particular blend would pair well with company.

---

 — ii.

( an exhibit. how quaint.

she skips the drinks entirely this time, opting to keep both hands free beneath her fluttering coat as she peruses through the gallery. half expecting the heavy tinge of blood in the air, it's almost odd to find it lacking no matter how much she wandered. not that she thinks it a requirement, her more recent exposure to the arts certainly lacks it as a medium, but it did still seem to be the overwhelming preference back home.

🠶 perhaps you find her (or more accurately, bump into her) in the dark room filled with stringed lights. having been curious, it seems the strange woman has actively opted to avoid brushing against the lights at all in her search for the next area. a belated and unintended scare, perhaps someone should tell her halloween's over.
🠶 or maybe she's staring at the light show of shifting perspectives, asking for your thoughts on the piece. unless you're looking particularly motion sick, in which case she will do so from a respectful distance away.
🠶 then there's the canopy of flowers, whispering overlapping secrets. a veritable cacophony of confessions, unceasing and dissonant. maybe there's a few of her own in there, maybe not. maybe she'll hear a familiar voice? a question, then, for an onlooker: do they think there's a grain of truth in these? how interesting, if so.

whatever the adventure may be, what fun they will surely have. )

---

 wildcard.

( oooorrrr if none of these work, feel free to dm me or toss whatever my way. she's a very chill lass. let her make fortune cookie words in your direction. )

i.

[limbical]

[Hm. This isn't a face he knows, but then it's not like Daan's been looking to keenly as of late. Still, he pauses at the concept of tea.

Well. At least it smells like black tea.]

Been awhile since I've had a proper cup. Any idea what the blend is?

i

[icanfixer]

[ her outfit is... almost like some others she's seen, but it's the peculiar cadence that draws don's curiosity more; the tea area has more good memories than bad for her, but it's still stunning to see the thing intact again after...

anyway. the city is unusual as ever, normal in its own way, and don truly doesn't mind company as she plops onto a beanbag and takes a teacup to reach out for a pour. ]

T'would be a pleasure, fair lady! What have we to drink today? I rather like all the teas, though I must warn they have... ehm, some side-effects from time to time.

[ or did, anyway. she hasn't tried them this month. might be nice to try some of these without the threat of bleeding out or experiencing boils. ]

i.

[yyds]

[ hong lu considers this with the gravity of someone who's just been asked the question to the meaning of life. and then, of course, because this is hong lu - he beams. ]

Of course. I'd like a cup. [ he shifts into the empty seat across from the young lady. there's an air to her, hong lu thinks, as he puts down on to the table the plate with seventeen different flavours of danish, politely sliding it aside to receive the tea as it's being poured. she reminds him a little of the fortunetellers back at his family's estate, the ones that seemed to know all the secrets of the world. it's why he asks: ] How does this tea pair well with company? Does it do something different, or tastes something different, when two people drink it as opposed to just one?

ii flowers / combo breaker

[unimportant]

A grain of truth? Yeah, probably. This city has a way of pulling people's secrets out of their head, no matter how close to the chest someone keeps their cards.

[ She's been here long enough now not to doubt the veracity of what is presented to her. It's annoying, but most true things are. The flowers continue to chatter between quiet whisps of air, though Yuki realizes there are some voices mixed in that she recognizes even if she can't make out the words. ]

Hm... these ones are borrowing voices. Interesting.

Wanderer | Genshin Impact

[featheradrift]

I. The Train Station

[ He wakes to the cloying smell of metal and oil, of grime and pollution, to stifling air accompanied by an even thicker silence. He is seated, back against the chair and head tilted down in rest. He's comfortable, somehow, content to stay in place, mind peacefully blank for once—but an annoying buzz filters through his ears, ringing until he can no longer bear to ignore its source.

Eyes open to harsh fluorescent lights, and with a jolt, the Wanderer stands, realizing that he's in an unfamiliar environment. A closed room, seats lining its sides, several doors on each side, and windows to an unfamiliar outside—but what really gets him is the design of the room. In his long years, there's hardly a place in Teyvat that he has not set foot upon. And though he cares little for the architecture of each region, it would be difficult not to see patterns, after centuries of travel.

This room? Not even the Abyss comes close to resembling anything within.

Perhaps what most sets him on edge is the tickling feeling that he ought to be here—like he belonged, somehow, to this room of weird shapes, odd designs, deafening silence that is wholly not Teyvat. Not his world (and that he feels it should be his, still, despite everything is a thought he shoves back into the deep recesses of his mind, never to be touched upon again). He doesn't like this—not one bit.

The buzzing finally draws his attention to a rectangular device laying on the seat next to the one he'd occupied previously. The device shines, and he reads the words upon its surface as he leans over it. He scoffs, and proceeds to ignore the device as he takes time to examine the rest of the room, before he eventually meanders back to the device and attempts to answer to the negative.

But nothing happens, of course, and he's left with the unfortunate reality that he must play to the whims of whoever sent him here if he wants to proceed anywhere. So he completes the orientation, albeit with a few attempts to give nonsensical answers, and the doors open, letting him out to the platform.

Here, he finds the place just as alien and unfamiliar, and he thoroughly investigates the area, trying to understand exactly where it is he finds himself today. Unfortunately, the results aren't illuminating, and with an annoyed sigh, he begins the trek up the stairs into the station proper. There are people here, in the station, but it doesn't take a genius to observe that a majority of them seem to be confused about their sudden arrival to this place, the "City" as the device had called it, and the Wanderer opts not to initiate conversation.

So, to any other newcomers, or to non-newcomers visiting the station, a man with a wide brimmed hat may be found examining the station in its entirety, keeping to himself instead of asking people questions. ]

II. City Park

[ He should have noticed much earlier that his Vision had gone inert. The unsettling, alien city, the unfamiliar sights and smells, everything—it should not have distracted him so much that he did not realize this immediately. But it hadn't been until he attempted to command the power of Anemo to fly that he realized he could no longer feel the swirling energy around him, comforting like a soft, airy blanket that he could push and pull at whim.

It's the Gnosis all over again—the panic, the desperation, the impending loss that he must suffer (again and again, why must he suffer loss)—and before he knows it, his feet have taken him out of the station and into the sprawling city of tall, imposing blocks and windows. It's nothing like Sumeru—nothing like anywhere in Teyvat—but the thought doesn't register as he keeps moving, walk changing into run, until he finds himself surrounded by greenery.

Here, in the calming space, his pace slows to a stop. Familiar it was not (because none of this looked like Sumeru's flora, but it was still flora and that had to count for something, right?), but the emotions swirling in his heart lessen slightly, releasing his chest from its iron grip, and he takes a gulp of air like a drowning man. He stands still, hand placed upon the dull, colorless Vision laid atop his breast, as he continues to will himself back to calmness.

Anyone who wanders into the park will find him in this exact position, eyes closed, completely unmoving. ]

III. ART

[ It's not until a few days after his arrival that the Wanderer approaches the bizarre art installation with curiosity. So far, the city had turned out to be relatively harmless, as there were no monsters, Abyss creatures or anything, really, that threatened its inhabitants. It was just somewhat unsettling, and he was not going to give the bastard that threw him in here the satisfaction of seeing him cowed and afraid.

In the dreary sea of grey and grey and grey, the neon signage had stood out, like a siren beckoning him to enter, and who was he to deny the call? So enter he did, much to his regret, as he loses the entrance and exit both, and now he's stuck wandering this strange building filled with— with— it's not art (and it's not like he ever subscribed to the Akademiya's view on art but this? This is definitely not art. It's an assault to his eyes is what it is.)

You might find him at the ball pit, glaring sullenly at said balls, like his eyes might set them on fire. Or you can find him in the red room, where it seems as if lines have been drawn upon his skin, particularly around his knees and elbows, outlining the joints of a doll. Here, his eyes are closed and brows wrinkled, the discordant noise almost too unpleasant to bear.

Alternatively you're free to encounter him in any other room in the exhibit and set up a different scenario! ]

▶ IV. Wildcard

[ If nothing sounds appealing, you can set up a completely different scenario! ]

ii.

[excaliburden]

[For Altria, too, the flora is... reassuring in its own way. It reminds her of Faerie Britain, and while that's its own can of worms, there's something about the familiar that will always be reassuring, regardless of her own feelings on it.

... Point is, she stumbles upon Wanderer not too long after he stops there--and pauses. Should she...? No, he's absolutely having a moment to himself, right? It'd be super rude to interrupt, probably.

Even though she's really, really curious.

She should probably just... quietly... try to move around--



Instead, she trips over a root she doesn't see because her eyes are fixed on him instead, and while she doesn't faceplant, she does stumble with a quiet little yelp. Nice going, Altria.]

hong lu / limbus company.

[yyds]

i.

Excuse me.

[ there's this very specific encroaching feeling one gets when one is being mistaken for the worker of an establishment that you very much don't work at. it comes first with the weight of an expectant gaze prickling along the back of your neck, next with the soft clop of approaching footfalls that are just a little too purposeful for your liking, and then the little jolt of a thing when you realise that you are, in fact, against all odds and indeed possible existing wishes beneath the stars of this godsforsaken land, being addressed. the feeling sinks much in the way of cement shoes when a pair of mismatched eyes gleam at you from the pall of green that's cast across this room, congealing with the prayer affected by misidentified individuals everywhere: oh fuck me.

one deep dark purple, the other a glinting gentle cyan: both are rife with untenable expectation as with a gentle tilt of his head hong lu beams. ]

This exhibit is lovely. I've never seen anything like it before. Can you tell me what the thought process behind it is? Or what the artist was trying to achieve? Or maybe you can tell me about the history of it. If you have a script, I don't mind hearing the whole thing. I promise I won't be bored. [ with that calm, pleased lilt as hong lu casts his gaze across the gentle green wash of the walls. in the lighting, the colour of his one, cyan eye seems overly saturated somehow, like someone went into photoshop and went to the moon with the curves. he continues, happily, with the earnestness only found in newborn kittens and some conartists: ] For example, is it that there is very little nature in this city, so this is a way for the lower classes to enjoy the calming effects of the scenery? It's nothing as expansive as the view from my bedroom window, but I can see they've put a lot of work into it.

[ question posed, hong lu carefully tucks his hands behind his back, and beams as he waits for an answer. surely this tour guide (you) (i'm so sorry) will have a perfect answer for him! art exhibitions sure are fun. ]

ii.

[ this is it. this is the bad place. for everyone else, that is. because you're walking into a restaurant and you're met with this: hong lu, standing there looking radiant but confused at what appears to be an entire buffet spread across the counter behind him. what's on display - curries of all imaginable colours, an ice-cream soda, nine different types of waffles and a whopping total of sixteen kinds of beefsteak (there are not that many types of beefsteak in existence? there are now).

hong lu is lifting beefsteak number seventeen off the stove right now. the only difference between number sixteen and number seventeen is that there are onions. he looks up with a smile. ]

Well, I couldn't decide how I wanted the dish... hm. The menu said that another side you can have is mashed potatoes. I wonder what kind of potatoes they use in it. My family only uses the one that grows in sandy soil with the ocean's scent; they should have it here, right?

[ beefsteak number eighteen plates itself. the stovetop gleams with it. the mashed potatoes tucked away next to the slab of meat look terribly accused.

hong lu hums. ]

Do you want to give it a try with me? [ he says, hopefully. ] I can't carry all this back to my table myself.

iii.

[ wildcard me! i'm chill, i'm voicetesting, bear with me ahahahhaaaa. ]

iii, grips

[icanfixer]

[ it can still be the art exhibit, don't worry, it's just while hong lu is peering at a particular piece there is

most certainly someone peering around the corner at him, following him wherever he goes... there's been all manner of phantoms and false images of her fellows, so don quixote has to be absolutely sure of hong lu's existence. he doesn't seem crazed. seems normal, even. seems... hong lu-ish, and a lightness lifts her heart and feet as she races over to slam bodily into his back with a sobbing cry: ]

Hong Luuuuu! It truly is thee, is it not?! Thou art not a physical phantom, are thee?! Ohhh, I have missed thee so!!!

[ incomprehensible, moreso than usual -- but she's clinging, and if not for that familiar dialect she could be mistaken for a normal girl with the sweater weather casual she's got on rather than their uniform. cat print sweater... ]

nicolas brown | gangsta.

[hagure]

SHELTER.

[ he lingers in the second apartment he enters for far longer than is probably considered polite. the lived-in nature of the space makes him curious, when so far he hasn't seen another soul in this city since he'd awoken underground. other areas he'd explored gave similar suggestions of life, but something about the intimacy of walking into someone's supposed home keeps him from overlooking this particular space. there's something a little more personal to this area... something a little more tangible to hold onto.

he decides he doesn't really like it.

hand itching for his sword and knowing it won't be at his hip like it should be, nic opts for the heaviest blade he can find in the kitchen's knife block. he tests the weight of it and decides it'll do — but for what, he's not quite sure yet.

a door opens behind him, and though he doesn't hear something in the back of his mind itches for him to look anyway, and so he turns with a sharpness in his gaze that can only be described as feral. ]

ART.

[ stepping into the art building was, categorically, a very stupid mistake. nic relied a lot on his sense of sight, after all, so having his vision so thoroughly bombarded by shifting shadows and pulsing lights was disorienting at best, and maddening at worst. he loses track of the exit almost immediately, and no amount of free cocktails makes up for the fact he's quickly getting overloaded and angry about it. there's only so much a caged animal can take before it breaks.

though he can be found accidentally wandering into all the rooms, two rooms of note would be:

in the red room, nic will have divested himself of his blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his plain white button-up. sweat has already begun to claim that shirt, making the large tattoo spanning the upper portion of his back slightly visible. but just as notable are the various scars (some new, some old) littered all across every inch of visible skin.

the flower room is of no particular interest to nic, though he does stop and stare at the hanging blossoms as he walks under them. you might even catch him rising up on his tip-toes to try and get a sniff of a flower or two. honestly, compared to all the other rooms, this is downright pleasant! but that's largely because he has no fucking idea about the whispers following him around, spoken in his own low, gravelly voice, revealing secrets he hasn't thought about in years:

• i'Ve LoST cOUnT hOW MANy pEOple I'vE KIlLED.
• i DiDN'T lEArn how TO reAD TIl i WaS 12.
• I RUIneD the LIfe of ThE oNLy FRieNd I'Ve EvER KnoWn.

ETC.

( please note that nic is deaf, though he can still communicate using sign language and sPeECh. both options will be shown visually as they were just now, but feel free to shoot me a pm if you have any questions! you can also hover over any spoken speech of his to read his text normally, in case the sticky caps is too off-putting.

also totally open for any wildcarding if none of the options strike your fancy. )

art. red room

[excaliburden]

[It's toastier in here, and Altria is still covered head to toe in her outfit, gloves and boots and all. She's uncomfortable, of course, wiping at her forehead with her sleeve--but even so, she makes no move to even take off her gloves.

She pauses when she sees him, gaze flicking from scar to scar, and then hastily lowers her arm from her forehead sheepishly.]

Oh! Um. Hello! Weird... uh, place, right?

[why is it so hot in here.]

altria caster | fate/grand order

[excaliburden]

a. snackies

[It isn't as though she actually has to eat (she thinks). But you see... when there are just a bunch of mysterious and exciting new snacks, all set out for free... she's going to take them.

As many of them as she can hold. Like a deranged squirrel.

She has stuffed some of them down her shirt. She crinkles with the sound of many a plastic bag shifting against each other as she walks. She's got a bunch in her arms, too.

One of them might be falling out of the back of her shirt.]

b. graveyard games

[Eventually, Altria makes her way to the southwest. The park feels like more familiar, stable ground, and so she goes deeper and deeper, without much hesitation, but also without much direction. She's wandering, pure and simple, without any idea of where she's going.

Eventually, she makes it to the graveyard, and it is a glimpse of a name that causes her to double back and--crouch in front of one of the gravestones, squinting at it intently?

If she hears any sign that someone else is around, she immediately looks up and tries to wave your character over.]

Hey! Can you do me a favor? What does this gravestone say?

c. the ball pit

[The art museum is extremely strange, but not the weirdest thing she's ever seen. Once again, she meandering from exhibit to exhibit without much drive or direction, drifting from place to place with her head tilting from one side to the other as she absorbs it all.

But when she makes it to the ball pit, she freezes--and then immediately wades in.]

H-hang on! I'm coming, I'll save--! ...?

[... Okay. There's definitely nobody there, and now she's halfway through wading into the ball pit and looking very confused and foolish.]

d. wildcard

[Feel free to hit me up with any of the prompts or PM me if you're interested in playing out something else! ♥]

a.

[halbird]

[ ............

is she starving,

sinclair shouldn't but. he's staring, for a little bit. watching altria waddle along. wondering if she knows they won't all disappear, technically. wondering if she knows she's about to lose some. wondering if he should

ah

a bag falls, dropping to the floor. he moves to pick it up. ]

Um, sorry, you dropped one. Here—

[ and then when he outstretches it to her, he realizes. ]

—Where should I put it?

[ girl has really got NO ROOM ]

fig | original

[boon]

yo i don't even have a cat

[ at any point in the day, you'll notice it. you, innocently enjoying the privacy and comfort of your home-away-from-home, blissfully unaware that at any point in time your peace could be ruined.

like right now, when suddenly you hear the light pitter-patter of quick feet scurrying across your fake hardwood floors. don't worry, it's just fig, currently making himself comfortable on the softest possible surface in a room you aren't currently occupying. he'll lift his head to glance your way whenever you decide to pay him a visit, eyelids heavy with sleep. ]

Could you shut the door? You're letting a draft in.

the void stares back

[ he heard murmurs of a graveyard not long after he gathered he arrived. he'd made a point to ignore it for as long as he possibly could, lasted even a whole four days before — well. you know what they say about curiosity and cats.

he's not even sure what he expected. obviously her grave would not be here. she doesn't even have a grave, after all. still, something stupid like hope dared to blossom in his chest when he heard, so here he is, scanning tombstones like they might actually mean something to him.

he sighs, reaching out with a foot to kick over a vase holding wilted roses. the sound of ceramic shattering isn't nearly as satisfying as he'd like. ]

Rest in pieces, huh?

if it fits

[ fig decides he has a love-hate relationship with the art building. the lights and shadows? fantastic, amazing, gorgeous, world-stopping. 10/10 would chase them around again. the colored rooms? the whispering flower hangings? hate them, he'd burn the whole exhibit down if he could.

but one area in particular quickly gains his extended interest, to the point if you yourself decide to partake in the interactive portion of it you may soon find a pair of shockingly bright eyes watching you unblinking. fig, buried up to his chin in plastic balls, judging you with every fiber of his being. ]

Can you stop your flailing? [ were you even flailing? fig's so still, that it's very possible any sort of movement would count as flailing in comparison. ] It's ruining the atmosphere.

[ or maybe you happen upon him when the vibes were just right long enough that he's taken a break from judging people, and has fallen dead asleep. curled up into a loose ball, half-buried among smaller ones, snoozing soundly......... with just the occasional twitch of a paw i mean hand. ]

etc

( open to wildcards! fig is an ex-familiar of the feline variety; more info & lore can be found here. because of his past he is generally distrusting of everybody, but he is quicker to warm up to women than men. )

if it fits.

[excaliburden]

[She was absolutely flailing around in the ball pit, so he is so right to scold her for it. Unfortunately, she was flailing in an attempt to reach for one of the shadowy figures she thought she saw, and so:]

Hey--help me grab that guy! He might be drowning in these... ball things!

nikolai lantsov | grishaverse

[korol_rezni_nikolai]

I. STATUE GARDEN

[ Nikolai has recently become sadly familiar with waking up in unknown places with no memory of how he arrived there. In the past, though, the places themselves were never all that strange; a goose farm, a little village, some scrap of nowhere where he would regain consciousness bound and covered in blood. His new little routine.

But this does not fit that pattern. His friends are nowhere to be found, and the train is unlike anything he has ever seen before. The buzzing of the phone on the seat beside him startles Nikolai badly. He spends a few minutes figuring out how to work the little thing with ever-increasing delight. It is so unlike any technology that he has ever experienced that he makes the assumption, at some point in the process, that this must be a dream. Confident in this assumption, he answers its questions with uncharacteristic honesty before tucking it in his pocket.

When the subway doors open, Nikolai chooses a direction at random and makes his way southwest. He drinks in the silence and solitude of this place; time alone is a luxury in which a king can rarely indulge.

It is not until he reaches the statue garden that something snaps him out of his pleasant reverie. As he is walking by, out of the corner of his eye he spots a statue that looks like... but, no, it couldn't be. Nikolai's first reaction is to look away, keep walking, deny it. He makes it only a few steps before stopping in his tracks, turning reluctantly, a small tendril of fear uncurling in his stomach. He returns to the state in question, approaching slowly as his heart thuds harder in his chest.

The state is overgrown with ivy, pitted with age, streaked with dirt. The rustle of the wind in the trees above intensifies as he approaches, inexorably. Nikolai peels at the ivy growing across the statue's face with the increasing certainty that this dream might be becoming a nightmare. Underneath is a human face... mostly. Most of the statue is carved from grey stone, but the eyes are inlaid with something else - black, shiny, without pupil or iris. The statue's smile is lopsided, its lips mostly closed. There is only a gap about the width of a finger between them, showing teeth that have been carved to look too needle-sharp, too long to be human.

He hears the sound of approaching footsteps and whirls around to see who is nearby. The sense of overwhelming shame and foreboding at finding the statue with this monstrous version of his own face make it difficult for him to speak, at first. When he does manage, it is a croaked question. ]

This... isn't a dream, is it?

II. ART

[ Once Nikolai has well and truly accepted that this place is real, he feels adrift. Surely he should be looking for a way to return home. His country needs him, his people need him. The last thing Ravka can afford right now is for her king to simply ... disappear.

And yet, the feeling that keeps welling up inside him, unwelcome and unacknowledged, is not a desire to escape. It is relief. No one here knows who he is. No one here is scrutinizing him, asking him to make huge decisions, relying on him day and night to save them. Here, he can walk into a room and not cause a single head to turn.

It reminds him of his days as a privateer, hiding under his disguise and his false name, running from his family and his responsibilities. Isn't it maybe better, asks a small voice in the back of his mind, that he be lost here? Ravka deserves better than whatever kind of demon he has become.

He drifts from place to place, entering the art exhibit by whim. He could wait until tomorrow, to try to get home. Just one day to himself in this strange place isn't too much to ask...

Nikolai spends close to an hour in the theater, staring at the abstract display on the screen with open astonishment.

He enjoys the various rooms of the exhibit, until he makes it to the room with the red lighting. At first, he goes to pass through it quickly, unnerved by the strange noises that seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere. Then, he catches sight of his naked hands underneath the red light. The black, twisting scars along his fingers and hands stand out starkly against his pale skin. Darker and more vivid than he's ever seen them before. In normal light, they are only visible up to the heel of his palms - here, he can see them extending further up, snaking along his wrists, encroaching.

Nikolai gets stuck, then, standing still and staring at his own scarred hands, scared to breathe or even look away. What if he did, and he looked back only to see that they had grown, up his forearms, to his elbows, further and further? Dimly, he is aware of the sound of his own breathing, thin and rapid. ]

[scowlish]

[After the number of warnings he's received about them, Onni is hesitant to go into the newly opened areas of the city. That is, he's told, where all the strange, weird things happen, the creepy things he wants nothing to do with. Not that he'd had a choice the last time one of them had opened and done something weird - the Haunted House was a nightmare he's not glad to repeat anytime soon.

So he's restricted himself securely away from the new area, still wandering the two parks most frequently, enjoying the trees and plant life, enjoying being surrounded by nature, even if it's manicured nature. This is where he's been living, setting up camp under the trees and lighting his fire to cook and sleeping on his bedroll. But he doesn't often go to the cemetery or statue garden, not after seeing his sister's gravestone there when he'd first arrived. It has a bad feeling about it. So he's not sure why he's there today, other than curiosity to see if that gravestone is still there.

He's passing through the statue garden toward the cemetery when he runs into the blond man standing staring at a statue of something that appears to be not quite human, looking for all the world like he's just seen his first troll. Onni falls to a halt as the man asks him if it's a dream, and shakes his head.]

No. I thought that at first too! But it's not. This is real.

[A pause, and he looks at the statue again, uncertain what makes it so distressing for the man, uncertain why he's staring so blankly. Then he turns his attention back to the man, reaching out to take his shoulder and turn him away from it.]

If it bothers you, you should stop looking.

[Practical. Unsentimental. But he remembers how Tuuri's gravestone had made him feel - out of place, surreal, like something was very wrong, almost betrayed in a way. It's best not to look, if this man is feeling that way too.]

yi sang | limbus company

[reflexio]

i. to the north, tourist center.

[ At every turn, he is thwarted in his mission to uncover more information on his whereabouts. His trip to City Hall had been utterly futile. Blank sheets of paper, empty logbooks, barren balance sheets -- nothing, nothing, and still nothing.

The tourist center is similarly abandoned. Not a soul stirs within its walls. Yi Sang might consider this ominous, had he not been fully focused on the task at hand. He leafs carefully through the pamphlets, scrutinizing each one for hidden information.

It is too bad, then, that they are nothing more than folded sheets of coated paper.

On the other hand, the tourist literature is more helpful despite its barebone offerings. But given its competition is as stiff as a wet tissue, he's quite grateful for any information. The occasional picture and vague sentences on locations throughout the City are a treasure trove compared to his earlier efforts.

...ultimately, it's not very helpful either. Perhaps he'd gone about this incorrectly, seeking information from print sources as opposed to the locals. But as far as he can tell, this city is barren, devoid of any residents.

That, certainly, would explain the dire lack of tourism information. No tourists to do the touristing. Of course.

Satisfied (but disappointed) with his inspection of the tourist literature, he turns his back on the rest of the center. He fixes his attention upon the map behind the receptionist's desk, taking in each detail scrawled upon it.

He certainly would not notice were one to approach him from behind. ]

ii. do not touch the art...

[ It's too late for Yi Sang by the time he realizes this is, most definitely, the worst possible exhibit for him to visit. He'd simply sought someplace to sit. The little theater seemed innocent enough with plenty of welcoming benches. There was no reason not to take one of them.

So he'd settled down on one, turning his attention to the screen of moving lines. The hum of heavy bass throughout the room echoed in his ears, like the sound of static buzzing in between them. It is as though the noise were absorbing him into the screen, leaving him feeling as though he were drifting out of his own body.

His head pounds and his stomach churns. He should leave this place, he thinks, but his legs feel unsteady, akin to that of a newborn deer. Instead, all Yi Sang can do is squeeze his eyes shut and hunch over, pressing the heel of one of his palms against an eye.

It is said that art is capable of moving viewers. Right now, Yi Sang thinks the display might be doing that to him, literally.

Give him a minute or two and he'll surely be back on his feet to find an exhibit more agreeable to both his head and his stomach. ]

iii. wildcard.

[ Anything is good!! Feel free to hit me with another prompt or PM me if you'd like to hash anything out o7 ]

me flipping a coin for which bastard. i. the worst tour guide ever.

[fauned]

( there really isn't that many people around that it makes it particularly hard to realize when a new flock filter into their ranks. the telltale sign of confusion (and frustration, in some) is also pretty indicative of ones who have been recently plucked out of their usual everyday. she's not really one to go out of her way to be of use to the newcomers, but when the opportunity to fuck with someone presents itself to her on a silver platter, who's she to spurn the universe?

oh, how focused. how serious. it'd be a shame indeed if some unmannerly boor were to sneak up behind him. )

If you stare at it any harder, you might just set it on fire.

( boo. )

Chell | Portal/Portal 2

[aperturesubject0001]

i. train station

Huh. A train.

Huh. A train. When did the facility acquire a train?

Wait. She was on the elevator. She was headed for the surface. Right? Maybe -- did she transfer to a train?

Huh.

Chell blinks down at the phone in her hand, sighs, hits yes. Maybe it was optimistic to think GLaDOS would just let her out. She killed Caroline, after all. What else would've stopped her from giving Chell one last test?

The train stops with a gentle squeal of brakes, the doors hiss open, and Chell steps out onto the platform cautiously: a trim woman made taller by the odd spring-heeled boots she's wearing, who looks like she's been thrown through several walls, run a marathon, and possibly briefly visited the vacuum of space in the last forty-eight hours. She stops on the platform, looking around, and -- waits.

Looks at the phone for further instructions. Waits.

Begins to look impatient. Are there instructions for this test or what?

ii. city park

After some amount of wandering the underground station, Chell concludes this is not, in fact, Aperture Laboratories. (Excellent deductive powers, as Wheatley might say.) But unfortunately, that means she has no idea what to do next.

She's trying not to worry about that too much as she climbs the stairs under the sign marked EXIT. One foot in front of the other. She'll figure it out. She always figures it out. Right--?

At the top of the stairs, she stops dead. There's warmth on her face. A breeze tugging her hair. A breeze, not a fan, fresh air, not recycled -- and before her is green. A park. And sky, blue sky, with clouds, even, so much sky that she hasn't seen in so long that she suddenly feels -- frozen. Like if she takes a step too hard, the long-fall boots might propel her into that sky and she'll float off into nothingness.

Hope no one needs to use these stairs, because this former test subject is gonna be having a mild attack of agoraphobia right here for a few minutes.

iii. an extra hour in the ball pit

Okay, assume some amount of time has gone by and Chell has gotten over some of the overwhelm of being face to face with real human people with real human flesh who are real human alive. She has gotten some food and drink and maybe even some wet wipes so she looks less like she spent the last couple days being put in a pear wiggler and violently shaken.

(Though she's still rather bruised up. John McClane at the end of Die Hard only had it worse because he had no shoes and she has these sweet boots.)

Point being, she has made it to the art gallery, where you can variously find her:

• IN 👏 THE 👏 BALL 👏 PIT
• Standing directly in front of the screen in the small theater, alternately poking at the screen curiously and trying to figure out how to get into the projector booth.
• In the green room, sitting in a corner staring up into the light and apparently basking in the sensation of nature. She's been here for ... kind of a concerning length of time.

iv. wildcard/cyoa
[ ooc: Want something else? DM the journal or hit me up at AdivaCalandia!

POTENTIALLY IMPORTANT NOTE: Chell is physically mute, but hearing, and will be communicating via American Sign Language or her device! ]

City Park

[featheradrift]

[ He's been in the city for a few hours now. Had his meltdown over his Vision, explored a few places around the station, started getting his bearings on this strange city. At some point, he comes back to the train station, because it's one of the few places he's actually seen people in this ghost town of a city. Strange, blocky buildings tower over him, blotting out the grey skies and warping his sense of direction at every corner and turn. It would be hard, he thinks, to find people elsewhere.

And perhaps it's because of his past, but he knows he must be cautious in picking allies—so who better to pick than those new to the city like him, who either aren't its original inhabitants or haven't been here long enough to have any vested interest in dangerous goals? Though they won't prove useful now, it's the future he has to plan for.

So for a while now, he's been sitting among the tree branches, lazily watching the exit to the train station, judging the people who walk by. It's almost interesting, trying to guess what kind of person they might be based on what they wear and what they do.

But this one. This one's been standing still for a while now, wide-eyed look on her face. Panicking, maybe. Why, he's not sure. But here, he thinks, is an opportunity. And so he takes it, adopting the gentle persona he often used in subterfuge. ]

Hey. Are you okay?

akihiko sanada | persona 3

[mazios]

one — city hall.

[ Okay, so. He woke up on a train. There was a phone next to him that required him to answer some questions and now he's — he's here. And trying his best to figure out where exactly that is.

It's why his footsteps lead him to City Hall, searching for some kind of answer to where he is and what he's doing there. He doesn't know what this could possibly mean but, well, here he is.

After digging around to try and look for some answers, he hasn't found much of anything that isn't obvious so Akihiko will be found standing outside of City Hall after his rummaging and looking conflicted. This is probably not an unusual sight for those already living in the City so, hey, come say hi to the newbie? ]

two — the welcome diner.

[ Eventually, a boy needs food (and information). So he's ended up at the corner diner, looking around for a hot meal and discovering exactly what he's looking for here. He's going to be at one of the booths, eating a plate of mapo tofu and looking through the pamphlets so helpfully provided by the residents.

But he's still feeling a little uneasy so as you pass by his table, he's going to reach out to get your attention. ]

Hey! Uhm, have you seen a boy around? Quiet, blue hair, wearing headphones? Or — or a girl, strict looking, long red hair that goes over her one of her eyes? Just... just wondering.

three — green room.

[ He doesn't know what leads him there but eventually, Akihiko finds himself at the museum. The place is surreal and unsettling and Akihiko isn't quite happy being here. He passes through the initial rooms with hesitation and discomfort until eventually landing in the green room.

It... doesn't help with the discomfort. The noises feel like they're ramping up, the more he lingers in there and when he spots someone nearby with sharp teeth and beady eyes, he startles, jumping back.

Possibly jumping back into you and when he touches you, he's immediately swinging around and launching his fist in a punch. Better duck out of the way! ]

four — wildcard.

[ Up for anything else as well! Akihiko will be around, feel free to make something up or shoot me a pm. Thank you! ♥ ]

Winter Diner

[whatsamada]

[Here, Ken knew better than to eat some strange and mysterious food from this place. Not after dealing with eating ice cream and knowing how it was tampered with. And yet, he also knew better than to just starve. Walking around the area, he was going to grab something quick before heading back home until he heard someone.

As he turned his head toward the sound of that voice, he just stared before blinking to himself It certainly was Akihiko and it was him from the past. If it was anything like Shinjiro's meeting, just his presence alone was probably enough to freak him out.

That said, he just tilted his head to the side as he wondered just how he should approach his senpai...]

Uh...

Noah Czerny | The Raven Cycle | OTA

[foreversmudgy]

[ooc: I'll also match prose if you prefer that <3 I'm also sick and I'm basically voice testing, round 2, so apologies if I'm rusty!]

i. A Train

[Noah didn't remember having fallen asleep. He hadn't slept in seven years, so he thought it was the kind of thing he should remember when it happened. But he didn't.

He stepped off the subway, unfamiliar cell phone clutched in one hand, and looked first one way and then the other along the platform. He was overall a little rumpled, pale hair mussed and high school uniform wrinkled and uneven.

He supposed he should have been more- he didn't know- afraid? about waking up in a strange location with no memory of how he'd gotten there, but there were more pressing matters on his mind. The most important one was the fact he felt real and solid. He hadn't been real or solid for, well- seven years. It was enough to make him shiver, the sound of his own footsteps when he started walking actually spooking him. He kept looking over his shoulder like he expected to see someone following him but there was never anyone there.

As soon as he'd made it to the top of the stairs, he froze, less like a deer caught in headlights and more like a rabbit hoping the wolf wouldn't see it if it didn't move. He wasn't the only one in the station and he didn't know what to do about it. He couldn't help but stare, slowly sliding the phone into his pocket. When he realized the other person was looking at him- actually looking at him and not through him- he startled.]

Can you see me?

ii. City Park

[The park was surprisingly nice. Not that he, by default, thought parks were bad, but he'd expected- something different, when it came to this one. A spooky subway station with a non-spooky park? Color him surprised. In fact, the longer he lingered along the paths, the more relaxed he felt. He could almost believe no one and no thing was going to jump out at him.

The lamp posts were a nice touch, too, and he choose a bench by one of them to settle onto. Almost immediately, his knee started bouncing and he tapped his fingers along it. He might have felt more relaxed than before since entering the park, but he still felt like he was going to rocket out of his skin at the slightest provocation.

So, when he heard a noise behind him- a footstep, a twig breaking, someone clearing their throat, whatever- he shot up off the bench like it'd suddenly caught on fire. Whirling around to see who or what was there, he nearly tripped over his own two feet.]

Sorry!

[...What was he apologizing for?]

iii. The Graveyard

[After leaving the park, he'd discovered the statue garden--which he'd promptly fled from thanks to how creepy the whole thing had been. He'd figured that, surely, the path would eventually lead back to the park, so he'd kept following it. Except it hadn't looped back around after all, and instead he found himself in a cemetery.

He froze as soon as he realized where he was, blinking and looking around slowly. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, a sensation he hadn't felt in years. Shaking his head slowly, he said out loud-]

Oh. No. No way. Not a chance.

[This place gave him the creeps.]

iv. Alcohol Before Art - cw: underage drinking

[Noah held a miniature snowglobe in one hand as he entered the art exhibit building. The globe had glitter in it instead of snow; he'd picked it up at one of the convenience stores, since there hadn't been anyone around to stop him.

The lobby was...not what he'd been expecting, but he was starting to get used to that by now. It was still a little more disorienting than he would have preferred, with all the neon lights and the mirrored ceilings, but- his eyes kept going to the bar. He looked around, looked at the bar- rinse and repeat- until finally, he went over.

Carefully, he set his little glitterglobe down on the bar-top before stepping behind it and rooting around until he found a bottle of vodka. When he turned back around, clearly intent on drinking straight from the bottle, he saw he wasn't alone and stopped short.]

Uh.

[He tipped the bottle invitingly.]

Did you want some?

i.

[reaperrabbit]

[Speaking of rabbits. While the young man watching Noah appears perfectly human, no tail or animal ears or even fur-patterned clothing, something about his coloring and the ribbon tied around his head gives the impression of a little white bunny. His disinterested frown ruins the overall cutesy effect, though.]

Yeah.

[The 'duh' is implied. Brook checks himself, though, and tilts his head slightly. All sorts get brought here, apparently. He's learned that much in the few weeks since he arrived to the City himself.]

Why? Should I not be able to?

Michael | The Good Place

[eudaimonikos]

i. arrival

[Well! This sucks!

Upon shutting his eyes for a moment on a completely routine train trip out to the Bad Place, and opening them to find himself on a subway train in the middle of freaking nowhere, Michael's quick to disembark and head out into the city. It's empty and unfamiliar. The latter's not too surprising - how many cities does he know well? - but the former rather is.]

Janet?

[Nothing. After a beat, he calls out again, louder:]

Janet? [...] Bad Janet? Neutral Janet? Disco Janet?

[His tone gets increasingly flat as he goes.]

Well, shit.

[What should he do, then? This place is pretty freaking dead. The old man doesn't seem all that distressed, in spite of everything, but he's certainly annoyed. He's just gonna start wandering down the street and poking his head into random buildings until he finds someone!]

ii. art

[The museum is, easily, the most interesting place Michael's seen in this city yet!

For a little while, he hangs out in the lobby, putting together a large drink for himself that seems to include many different kinds of alcohol. If he catches anyone watching him, he asks:]

What, you want something? I can do that. I was a bartender for like, two days once. Two separate days, two separate continents - people really don't ask bartenders a lot of questions.

[But of course that doesn't last long before he heads off into the exhibits themselves! He can be found in all the rooms, but particularly in the ball pit, wading quickly through the balls after what ultimately turns out to be a shadowy phantom, and also the secrets room.]

Oh - yeah, I love the drama! Who are we talking about here, what's going on?

ii, Ball pit

[reaperrabbit]

[Brook watches the lanky old guy power through the translucent balls from outside the pit with a vague expression of distaste. Finally, he speaks up.]

Don't kids pee in places like that?

[Not that there are really any kids in the City, but still.]

Ophilia | Octopath Traveler | TDM

[starseeing]

Arrival— Modern Marvels

[ To one who has never traveled by train before, the sound of steel wheels coming to a halt over the tracks is both astounding and grating. The high-pitched shearing sound of the brakes causes the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end, and she wraps her arms around herself for comfort until the train comes to a complete stop. It takes her more than a few moments to work through the questionnaire— more because operating the device is a whole other predicament rather than the questions themselves— but when she is free, she rushes out of the train car, turning back only to gape at the vehicle. What an amazing but terrifying means to travel. No horse could ever travel as swiftly!  

Later, after regaining her bearings, Ophilia finds herself walking past a series of vending machines.  Font face="Courier New">S O D A, one of the signs reads, and the containers inside are clearly marked as beverages. Suddenly finding herself parched, and having come from a world in which no such thing exists, she would be remiss to not try it. After obtaining one and leaving the station, she sits herself down on a nearby concrete bench, smoothing out her skirts. It takes some intuitiveness on her part in order to open the tin contraption on top, but when she does— pop goes the can, and she startles, holding it away from her. ]

...Oh! [ It's bubbling? She takes one sip. Pauses, and then takes another. The liquid is cool, but it is frothing. But how?

Oh, never mind that, it is positively delightful. Ophilia takes another gulp. ] By the flame.... [ She whispers, holding up the aluminum can, and it's then that she spots you. Smiling sheepishly, she gives you a small wave, then points to the drink.  ]

It prickles. [ A giggle bubbles to her voice, airy and charmed. ] Have you ever tried this?

Graveyard

Well... this won't do. [ There is an earthly charm to nature reclaiming the stones of a cemetery, but also melancholy. Those that are buried here should not be forgotten, and— she believes— the headstones should at least have a proper dusting and polishing. Besides, these surely must be the people— the architects, the builders, the engineers, the bankers, the teachers, the physicians— that built this grand city of metal and glass! Their names shouldn't be lost to time. ]

Ah... [ Yet as she pulls some moss from a headstone, using the edge of her skirt to wipe away the dirt, she notices that what's written is already too faded to read. Ophilia sits back on her heels, bringing a gloved hand to her chin. A frown, small and worried, tugs at her lips. ]  Centuries should wear stone, not... [ She murmurs to herself, finding herself puzzled. Centuries should wear stone, yes, but so much else of this city seems at least relatively orderly, if only in need of a little tidying. Why, even the apartments seem to be freshly swept!

Setting the mystery aside for now, she instead brings her hands together in respectful silence. Uttering a quiet prayer for the deceased beneath her breath, she then stands, brushing the excess dirt from her cleric's gown. Perhaps, then, you happen to join her in the cemetery. ] It's sad, isn't it? It seems they've been abandoned.

Art— Last room

Did you hear that? [ The other rooms before this had been anywhere from incredible to beautiful to disturbing. This final room, though, seems to wish to claim itself as the champion of Unsettling Things.  You and her stand beneath one of the umbrellas' shadows. ]

Whispers... [ Naturally, she lowers her voice as if anything louder would overtake the sounds of the exhibit. ]

Wildcard

[ Have an idea? PM this account, drinksteapots, or Jade294#6977! ]

Graveyard (OPHILIA, MY GOOD STRONG GIRL)

[reaperrabbit]

[Brook pauses, caught. He meant to leave before she noticed him, having had no intention to intrude on someone's prayers. It gives him a weird feeling, seeing that... faith, or whatever. That show of respect for people long gone, if they were ever actually here in the first place--if this graveyard isn't just for show.

He certainly hasn't come here with such a purpose. He hasn't come here purposefully at all, he just took a wrong turn. Now it seems he's being asked to make conversation. Truly, his existence is a misery.

Still, he makes a go at it.]

Is it? I mean...

[He scans the cemetery, trying to see its age and disrepair through her eyes. He never paid it much mind before. Is it sad?

Feeling ill-equipped to answer, Brook shrugs at her.]

The whole city's empty, basically. Nobody here's actually from here. So there's no one to take care of the graves. Or no one with a reason to, I guess.

Jonathan Byers | Stranger Things

[netflixandwill]

The Station
Jonathan wakes up. He's only ever been on a train a grand total of once, so immediately, he knows that something is wrong. He doesn't realize what the buzzing means right away either, as cordless phones in general are a rarity in his time. Seeing a greeting on the screen after he stands up to try and find any information at all on what was happening to him prompts a suspicious, narrowed gaze. Carefully he picks it up, and risks touching the "Orientation" prompt. Sure, why not? It would give him information, or someone else would come along to try and assist at some point. Right?

Probably not.

It's a little uncanny that the train stops and the doors open to let him out the moment he's done filling out the questionnaire. He can hear everything, all of the creaking, yawning nothing that's filling the station as he slowly makes his way up and out, into the station proper. Here, there are people. Now, he can maybe get some answers. Namely: What in god's name is happening?

When he emerges, what anyone will see is a scraggly young man that looks like he's never had a good day in his life.

The Tourist Center
The subway map does allow him to get his bearings a little bit easier as he searches for a better resource. Except, the resource that he finds, all of the paperwork is blank. So, two steps forward, one step back.

He might be audibly muttering as he checks another pamphlet from another rack, and politely- if forcefully- putting putting it right back in its holder.

Well, if it's not going to give him anything useful, then he would just go by the pictures and the one or two sentences that he was offered, navigate by landmarks like he's used to, and hope that something better comes along. If the primary navigation point is the cemetery, then that will be where he goes next.

The Park
a: The Paths
It's here that he might seem to relax, just a little bit. The trees, the fresh rain atmosphere, the quiet, it's familiar, and it's comforting, if not for the complete lack of birds or maybe frogs to break the silence only made heavier by the sussurrus of the trees. It's nice just to walk, and to try and get his head into a better space to figure out what he's supposed to do next.

b: The Statues
It might be unwise, but the statue garden hasn't actually disturbed him overly much, in spite of the hints of recognition that he gets from watching the faces of the statuary. There's one that bears a striking resemblance to his mother. She might have made a joke about the idea of anyone making a statue in her honor, how silly it would be.

c: The Graveyard
This place just feels...sad, to him. Moreso than a cemetery really should, considering the state that it's in. With his hands in his pockets, he's meandering the rows. For being so touted by what little information is in the tourism bureau, they really don't keep this place in very good shape. If he had his camera, he might have decided to take some photos. Memento Mori photography is big in some niche circles, and there is something a little haunting about being in a crumbling graveyard that makes for some really lovely aesthetic shots.

Wildcard
Everything might be weird here, but panicking has never gotten him anywhere before. He'd probably have his breakdown later, in private, but for now, he's holding onto his cool by his nails in a fucking death grip. Find him, break it, and give him a place to actually start from.

:)

[willtheunwise]

Well, Will made it all the way to the street the welcome diner is on and he’s counting that as an achievement even if he did completely chicken out at the last minute. The idea of being asked if he’s okay turned his stomach and made his chest hurt enough that instead of walking in and facing the possibility of crying on someone - embarrassing, humiliating even - he had turned on his heel and walked in the direction of the park instead. He has all day, he can rally and try again and if he doesn’t make it at all he’ll just tell them he was sick, it’ll be fine. The most unfair part is that when he lost four months between home and the city he thought maybe that would disrupt his rhythm enough that he’d skip all the uncomfortable anniversary feelings entirely and it categorically has not.

By the time he reaches the paths through the trees the upset has morphed itself into frustration and he’s not sure if it’s with the city or himself. He buries his hands into the pockets of his Halloween party gifted letterman - the only, jacket he owns here and certainly the best thing he has for keeping the November chill out - and kicks at a pile of leaves. Usually when he’s in a mood he at least has family around and four months later he’s still not used to them not being there when he needs them. So when he spots a familiar figure he stops dead in his tracks. Blinks a few times. Frowns. It has to be some kind of trick, some new torment even though the haunted house only disappeared a week ago and surely it isn’t time for some new test to upset everyone. Or maybe he’s just hallucinating.

And if he’s not, then it would probably be best if he were, because the last thing Jonathan needs is to be landed in the hellhole to immediately encounter a younger brother who hasn’t slept properly in weeks, the remnants of a bruise painting his cheek in yellow and green.

He honestly shocks himself when he speaks up, because every instinct is telling him to get the hell out of there in case it’s a trap. “Jonathan?”

Erichthonios 🦊 Final Fantasy XIV

[awesomegaolgreatjob]

🦊 Train Station 🦊

One moment he's in Pandaemonium, preparing for what he assumed would be... an inevitable end. His crystal set adrift, and most of the other warders long since evacuated. Erichthonios is not a brave man by any measure, but he does have a strong sense of duty, and staying there, waiting for either some abomination from outside or some abomination from inside to come end him was proof enough of that. Even if he was practically trembling.

So, needless to say, this situation comes as a massive surprise. Erich has to duck under the doors. They're almost the right size but just... oddly a bit small by just a touch.

He steps out onto the platform looking utterly bewildered. Help?

🦊 City Park 🦊

Staving off the anxiety that fills him, Erich has been essentially wandering, trying his hardest to make sense of everything. Is this the afterlife? A dream? A hallucination? This certainly isn't what he would expect of the aethereal sea. So maybe not dead. Probably. Hopefully.

He finds himself in the lush park, soothed by the presence of nature, and the relative privacy and quiet here. Finding a bench, he sits down, at last breathing out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. He sinks his face into his hands, feeling his robes shift as he leans down.

He wishes Themis were here, but he knows full well that he is lost to him now. The heart of their god. He wishes Lahabrea were here even. Strained as their relationship is. Was? Anyone he knew would be welcome company. Or even a friendly face he would settle for.

🦊 Wildcard 🦊

[ Wildcard me! Anything is good! ]

train station

[limbical]

[Usually, Daan does make a habit of hanging around either one of the train stations or new areas, just in case there is someone confused or injured. A serious case of a bleeding heart, he knows it, but here he is anyway, arms folded as he watches who leaves the train this time.]

...

[That man... is absurdly tall.]

...Holy shit.

[Damn. And he thought Vergilius was already unreasonably tall. This guy's got a few feet on him.]

You normally a giant, or is this some kind of... malfunction?

Usagi Tsukino ☾ Sailor Moon

[chaossealer]

A. Train Station

[ Waking up on a train is disorienting, if not downright strange. It’s as though the past few hours of Usagi’s memories are just wiped from her brain, leaving her with absolutely no recollection of how she got here, to begin with. However, that seems to be the least of her worries when the train comes to a screeching halt, and the doors open to reveal a station, seemingly devoid of people. For a moment, she holds her breath and stays on the train for a while before realizing that the train is definitely not going to go anywhere else. As she thought earlier, it’s disorienting, but since it doesn’t seem like she has anywhere else to go, she figures she disembark for now. She won’t be able to pinpoint her location from inside the train, after all.

It’s not as terrifying as she had thought, as she takes a wary step out from the train and onto the platform. She doesn’t know if the train will just leave now that she’s on the platform, but if it hadn’t left earlier, then maybe it would just stay here until she’s ready to come back. She’s looking between the train compartment and the stairs at the end of the platform—will the train go anywhere? Will she end up back home? She doesn’t know, and it’s not like her friends are here to help her make these decisions. There’s a little voice in the back of her head that prods her onward, telling her that perhaps she’ll find someone else upstairs. Maybe it’s another case of her sleepwalking—except she doesn’t sleepwalk—and the weird mashup between the baddie of the day sending them into another realm to fend for herself. But it’s too quiet to be any of these options, right?

This is the perfect setting for a horror movie, isn’t it?

Usagi pushes on, and makes her way towards the end of the platform, where the staircase leads somewhere—she doesn’t know where exactly. It’s dark, it’s heavy, almost, and she almost wishes she were back under her covers filing this entire experience as something from a bad dream of sorts to be jotted down in her dream journal. Did she keep one? Hard to know—maybe she’ll start one after this. This feels way too real.

The trip up the stairs is long, but once she makes it up to the top, she hears it—the inevitable sound of the train doors closing. Great, she doesn’t even have an exit plan now. It’s frustrating, but she keeps on going. There are shops here, maps on the wall, and, well, a decent variety of necessities that one will probably need. Every shop in the station is open, including a convenience store, which she spotted earlier. On cue, her stomach lets out a rather loud groan, and she huffs loudly at how stubbornly demanding her stomach is. Usagi looks around in her pockets, but aside from the handkerchief that she always has in hand, there’s maybe a dollar's worth of change in her pocket, which is probably not enough to buy the things she needs.

This is the kind of trouble she gets off to on her own, isn’t it? It almost seems like a no-brainer at this point to see what she can get, but she quickly realizes that there’s no one manning the stores at all. She hates to steal because it’s not exactly moral, but she’s in a pinch, isn’t she? She’ll remind herself that she owes them some sort of compensation as she quickly grabs some snacks on the shelves, keeping count as she does. Curious enough, though, there’s no price tag on these, so maybe…

…but she’s really hungry.

So the best course of action is, of course, to leave the change she found in her pocket on the little table where there would normally be someone there to ring up her items. Surely it’s good enough, right? She blames herself for spending all her allowance on cake and ice cream…

…at least the Castella cake she has in her hand is soothing her anxieties slightly. ]

B. City Park

[ The walk through the city park is probably peaceful, a stark contrast to the earlier experience in the train station. It’s a quiet area, awfully tranquil compared to the areas surrounding it. She can hear the leaves crunch as she walks around the park, without a clear destination in mind. The earlier unease she felt dissipates slowly the longer she stays, and soon, there’s barely any indication of her earlier worries.

It’s like the fog is feeding off of her anxiety.

The feeling reminds her of when she used to stay up during the night, just staring at the moon. It gives her something to think about, as the faint memories of something she can’t seem to remember grazes gently on her mind, giving her glimpses of a past life she might have had once upon a time.

By the time she realizes where her feet have taken her, she’s already standing in the deeper part of the park, and her surroundings are harder to see. Navigating the denser part of what seems to be a forest-like area becomes something of a chore. It’s easy to just go back to where she came from, but the problem is, it’s hard for her to remember where. The former sensation of ease fades, and in its place, there’s an unsettling feeling. With her heart thumping loudly in her chest, she turns a corner to see a statue, covered in vines.

She then realizes there are many statues, but each one looks…oddly familiar. It draws her in as she blankly stares at them.

Has she been staring for too long? She forcibly tears her eyes away from the statues as she shakes her head, trying to get rid of the strange sensation. When she tries to recall what the statues looked like, it’s a blur.

She really needs to get out of here.

She needs to leave. ]

C. City Apartments

[ There are apartment buildings here. It seems normal enough for her, as she spent a lot of time inside Mamoru’s apartment before…this. There is a general familiarity that every city has these, and this one is no different.

The first door she tries after entering the lobby looks like something out of one of those magazines for interior designers. Clean, and orderly, and not a single item in the room was out of place. It’s eerie how orderly it is—which is not to say that Usagi is unclean or disorderly, but everything seems to have been thoroughly cleaned like the inside of a surgical operation room.

She gulps and retraces her steps to leave the room, having clearly seen enough of this place already.

The second door she opens is far more welcoming than the first. It’s much warmer, in this room, as though it’s someone’s living quarters. No one is in the room currently, and despite being taught manners from a young age, she cautiously walks into the living space to admire the decorations.

But like the park and the train station, she can’t really get used to why this place feels…strange to her, even when the room itself feels undeniably cozy. She can imagine herself living here, with a pet or two and maybe a friend to share the living area with. Saturdays lounging in the living area in front of the television and just existing in her own space—it’s not home, but it’s good enough, right?

Right—that’s what she’s missing, she realizes. None of the places she’s passed through feels like home. It doesn’t feel like she let her guard down, despite all signs that maybe she could. ]

D.
[ Wild card. ]

B.

[beanallright]

[ The City Park isn't quite as cozy as the graveyard. It's right there though, so Chesed oftentimes finds himself wandering about in the area. He's called the graveyard his home for now. It's only expected that he'd be getting to know the rest of the neighborhood.

It's usually empty. Today, there's a girl who looks a little distressed.

Chesed waves in her direction. ]

Are you all right over there?

[ She doesn't look familiar, and given how frazzled she seems... Ah, perhaps she's one of the newcomers? It seems the others were right, that new people seemed to show up in the City once a month. ]

eizen | tales of berseria

[badspin]

I. around

[The subway—Eizen isn't a fan. He's a man of the sea, he'd much rather be on a mysterious boat than in a box slinking around underground. It's not an emergency, or anything, but he makes his way out of the subway station as hastily as he can.

And then he simply... watches. Truthfully: he assumes no one can see him. After all, no one on his own ship could see him anymore, these past few days, so it only makes sense that the people in this new and different place can't see him either. He tends to perch in high places - a ledge, a balcony, the top of a staircase - and just lingers there, arms folded, watching people go about their business with stony consideration.

But he's very visible, actually. He's just right there. He doesn't approach anyone or call out for obvious reasons, but if he sees someone do something particularly amusing or worse, embarrassing, he does chuckle aloud and murmur a low:]

Now that's just unfortunate.

[And maybe it's because he's here, toootally invisible? Who can say! It just might be! (It probably isn't. But.)]


LATER......
[Later. When he's been helpfully corrected, and is aware that people can, in fact, Fucking See Him, Eizen makes his way into a park, because so much city is kind of making his skin crawl. It doesn't really help; there aren't any earthpulses in this place, and his innate connection isn't connecting to anything at all anymore— it's troubling. He's too old to have to deal with some kind of new and terrible version of stripping him of his agency, taking away what makes him himself...

Well, what a headache. He stands there a moment, clenching and unclenching a fist, as if trying to do something, then-]

...Damn it.

[And then he throws a punch at nothing at all, but straight in the direction of whoever might be passing by—it doesn't connect, he's not close enough for that, but there's a sudden breeze that seemingly erupts from his fist, light and refreshing. This, too, is ghoulish and wrong. More emphatically he says again,] Damn it!

[—and oop, oh,]

...Sorry. Did I startle you?

II. art

[Or rather: the bar in the lobby, because he wants to have Several drinks. He doesn't find any liquors with brand names he recognizes, tragic, but he's content to find a nice enough bottle of whiskey and treat himself to it, leaning against the bar. He does not take any of the pretty cocktails.

When someone else comes in he doesn't seem to notice them at all for a moment, until a second glance reveals he is actually just Watching... and then coughing into his glass, remembering that people can fucking see him again--

he's cool he's collected, hey stranger,]

What's your poison? Or are you here solely to check out the exhibits?

[Don't look now but he's kind of excited about an Art Museum... even if this place is kind of wack so far...]

III. wildcard

[late tdm post... hi. hmu with whatever, jojoveller if you have inquiries]

I.

[chaossealer]

[ She lets out an unceremonious shriek when she hears someone curse so loudly. It's not the cursing that throws her off, but she does suppose it's to be expected that there are people around, although she's just not sure in what capacity. Surely, not new like her, right? Of course, she spots the man, and cautiously inches closer to see exactly what is causing him to blow up like that.

Or maybe she's just overreacting, like usual.

He seems to have spotted her, though, and she hears him apologize. ]

Oh, um, just a little? Are you ok?

andy | the old guard

[killtime]

[ All things considered, she should be taking this better than she is. Sure, it's not every day you find yourself in some fucking, what — alternate dimension? Another world? But she's a walking impossibility herself, isn't she? A pseudo-immortal anarchronism, coming up on seven thousand years old now. So maybe the long centuries haven't tempered her as much as they should have, because once the surprise and confusion die down, Andy's left with a feeling that's much too adjacent to petulance.

Because really, what the absolute fuck.

At least the subway station houses a convenience store or two with smokes behind the counter. Bad habit, she knows, but all things considered, she thinks she's probably allowed. By the time she makes it out to the apartment complex on the east side, she's already aggressively smoked her way through half a cigarette, trailing gray wisps behind her like a physical manifestation of her mood. There's other things under the annoyance — a thread of anxiety, worry for what's been left unfinished in the place she came from and the uncertainty of the place she's in now — but the pinch of her brow and the downturn of her mouth don't leave much room for nuance. Doesn't do any favors for the natural severity of her face either. This is a look that promimses a non-zero chance of violence. This is the face of a woman who is, by her estimations, having a real shitty ass day.

It's not a face you want to see on a stranger barging into your home. Which is a shame, because Andy doesn't pay much attention to which door she opens and whether or not that apartment seems like it's already occupied. ]

Hera's saggy left fucking tit —

[aceslow]

[ This is not the first time that Kim's privacy has been infringed upon this month.

The first, he could do very little about. If the powers that be decided to stick him with a cantankerous, clearly supernaturally pale convict, then so be it. There is nothing Kim could do about that. In this instance, he realizes it is his own mistake, which is a little embarrassing for a decorated officer of the GRIH. In fairness to him, he was going to lock the door, he really was -- but his hands were full, and he thought he could give himself fifteen godforsaken minutes.

Of course, those aren't the thoughts that immediately spring to his mind. His first thought is what the fuck is that and his second shameful thought is simply shoot it!. Luckily for everyone involved, Kim does not have a gun. What he does have is an apple, which he pelts directly at the intruder's head with deceptive speed and strength, considering his narrow frame.

Eloquently: ] What the fuck?

[ Should he apologize about the apple? No. He doesn't want to. ]

Lucy/Nyuu | Elfen Lied

[saudadist]

TRAIN STATION (Nyuu) - cw: partial nudity

[ It's not the first time she's woken up somewhere strange. Nyuu thought she was still in Kamakura when she woke up, but the train station she woke up in is...different. Come to think of it, the writing on the signs isn't even in Japanese. Where is this? England? America? That's all she can guess from the lettering.

And why near the stairs? Had she wandered off the train? And, most importantly, where are her clothes?! Isn't this Kouta's jacket too?! What happened?!

Endless questions swirl around her head like angry bees as she ascends the stairs to a higher level of the station. This one has storefronts, some with clothes, some with food, some even look like restaurants! Maybe she can buy a pair of pants, at least?

Ah...wait. She doesn't have any money. Nyuu rummages through the pockets of the jacket to see if Kouta might've left some spare change, but all she finds is lint. Huh...

She doesn't want to just go around in only her jacket, but just taking something from the store? That doesn't sit right with her. Not at all. And who knows what Kouta and Yuka would say if they knew she was considering it!

Maybe someone nearby knows... ]

Excuse me...do you know where the attendants for these stores are?


THE PARK (Lucy) - cw: graphic description of body horror memories

[ Some time after Nyuu gets her hands on better clothing, Lucy finally wakes up...on a park bench. She's woken up here before, shortly before Nyuu did. However, she barely remembers the orientation on the train or the short walk out of the train car to the stairs. As far as she can recall, everything is a blur between this exact moment and-

Oh.

A sudden sense of vertigo has her lurching forward on the bench, almost falling off of it. Her left hand suddenly spasms as she vividly remembers her hand falling off. First the hand, then the forearm, then her feet, then her legs, then her entire body collapsed into a sizzling pile of flesh, blood, tendon, and organs. Her mouth felt so dry back then, in between the flashes of pain that blinded her, because her skin just sloughed off her face.

Frantically her hands claw over her face and head to feel for anything missing. No, no, no...no, no, it's fine. It's all there. Not a mark or trace of anything wrong. Both her eyes, both her ears, both her horns, and as she looks down, she can see all her limbs are right where they should be.

But why? ]

...why am I alive?


I'LL DO IT MYSELF (Lucy)

[ She doesn't trust these stores. These restaurants have too much food just sitting there, looking perfect for the taking. It's suspicious. She wouldn't trust it even on a good day, and she especially doesn't trust how this specific diner she's walked into just has the exact beef bowl she was looking for on the counter. It's piping hot, as if they knew she'd be coming.

Nope. Not gonna take that bait.

So, she forces her way into the kitchen to find ingredients. She'll do it herself. It's easy enough. You just set the rice to cook and make sure the beef, onions, and whatever else you feel like throwing in are all ready to throw on top when it's ready, right? Easy. Sure, maybe the ingredients themselves are tampered with, but they seem fresh enough.

A sound has her attention perk up, and she looks through the diner's order window into the dining space beyond. ]

What do you want?


WILDCARD

[ feel free to hit me up via PM or come up with your own scene! ]

Gotta do it yourself...

[chaossealer]

[ For the longest time, there's not a single person in the city, and despite the overall creepy atmosphere, Usagi manages to find a restaurant. Big enough to catch her attention, but not yet big enough to be one of those chain stores. Regardless, it's food, and hopefully, she'll find something to eat because she is hungry. Is it her, or do creepy places like this take more energy out of a person than usual? It's probably the nerves.

She pushes the door open and looks around. She's about to file this one in the category of 'No One Home' section until she hears someone in the kitchen area. Ah, so there are people here! Maybe she can actually find something to eat...

...however, before she can even get a word in, the other has already spoken, and she squawks so loudly. ]

Eeeaghh!

[ She quickly covers her mouth, already feeling her face heat up due to embarrassment from the outburst. What a ladylike reaction, damn it. ]

Sorry, you just scared me. [ And then, back to the topic: ] Uh, do you have anything to eat?

[ She's honestly not picky—she'll eat anything, that is, anything but carrots. ]

Ziggy Berman | Fear Street 1978

[waitinginthesky]

[[ CWs: Horror canon! Fear Street 1978 Spoilers from this point on!!! Death, blood, curses, murder. Ziggy is gonna wake up on the train after her “death” at the end of the movie ]]

i. Station Platform

[ Ziggy answers the stupid questions on the weird device in a daze once she’s done checking that she definitely cannot open the windows and climb out and repeatedly angrily jabbing pressing the button on the doors yields no results. She’s not sure how long she’s been stuck in there or what the device, now shoved into a pocket in case she needs it for further escapes, actually is or does or anything.

The platform itself is inoffensive, regular, way too normal. She’d assume it was hell if it wasn’t so cold, where ever she is it doesn’t feel like summer, maybe it’s the holes in her clothes or how much of her own blood is outside of her body. She’s going to have to inspect the damage later but she can’t take off what’s left of her shirt and check right here in public, she’s not in pain anymore, doesn’t feel like she’s actively bleeding even if the blood on her shirt still feels damp, material clinging to her skin. She needs to clean up and get changed. That has to be her first order of business because if she’s really alive in this place she can’t just walk around in her blood covered summer clothes, she’s going to freeze, or draw attention to herself and she doesn’t want either of those.

She imagines herself trying explain it to a police officer. That the last thing she remembers is being chased by multiple - reincarnated? Possessed? - killers, trying to run as her sister stayed to hold them off but getting caught, dying mere feet away, extending her hand to Cindy and being unable to reach as the last of her strength faded away. That all the blood is her own.

She casts a look around the platform. ]

►

[ Maybe she catches you staring and hits you with a snarky; ]

Can I help you?

►

[ Or maybe you catch her trying to sneak away without you spotting her and speak first ]

ii. Inside the Station

Pharmacy

[ Once she’s in the station proper Ziggy makes her way to a pharmacy to pick up baby wipes, antiseptic and bandages, just in case any of her prior wounds need treatment.

She can be found rifling through the shelves and shoving things into a plastic bag, there has to be some kind of bathroom around that she can clean up in, she just hasn’t found one yet. ]

►
[ Maybe you catch her rifling through the shelves, shivering and covered in her own blood still ]

►
[ Maybe you spot her as she’s leaving, bag full of supplies clutched to her chest like she thinks somebody is going to stop her and force her to pay with money she doesn’t have at any moment. ]


Clothing Store

[ Ziggys next stop is one of the clothing stores. She’s wiped most of the blood off her hands and forearms so that she can touch things without leaving stains.

She isn’t being particularly careful or particular about what she chooses, but she hasn’t really been shopping for herself since her dad left and they haven’t had money and really she’ll take anything that’s clean and that fits.

She’s rifling through a tail of sweatshirts when she spots you and turns to ask; ]

Does anyone actually work here or is the whole place just abandoned?

iii. To the North

[ Ziggy enters the Tourist Centre, shopping bags full of things to use to clean herself off and a whole new — much warmer — outfit, hanging off her goosepimpled arm and flips through a couple of pamphlets.

There’s no good information on any of them about anything resembling places to clean herself up and she’s getting frustrated. Nothing is actually helpful at all and she’s cold and her clothing is going crunchy now that the blood has dried on it.

She looks up when she spots you. ]

Do you know if this place has a restroom?

[ She gestures with her free hand at well… all of herself. ]

I really need to clean up.

iv. Wildcard

[[ None of the above take your fancy? Hit me with whatever else you’ve got or PM to plot! ]]

ii. Inside the station; pharmacy

[chaossealer]

[ Usagi's just inside looking for something useful when she spots someone else—rather, she hears the other person before she spots her, and for a moment, she stills, waiting for the rustling to stop. But it doesn't. She obviously can't hide forever, so he opts to look over the aisle, trying to pinpoint where the noise is coming from when she actually spots the person in question.

And boy, that is quite the sight. She sees the blood first, and only then does she realize the other girl is shoving things into a plastic bag. It makes sense considering this is an abandoned place, so it seems that supplies are pretty much up for grabs. ]

Um, is that blood? You're not injured, right? [ And then: ] Do you want some help?