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WHO: Ghost (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
badfeyth), Reno (astraphilia) , Johanna (keepgodwaiting) , Lestat (perfectdevil) , Alhaitham (justscribing) , and Kaveh (fussiest) .
WHAT: The "Monologue With The Moon" player plot!
WHERE: [emphatic shrug]
WHEN: 1/6/24
WARNINGS: Possible references to murder, violence, related dark themes, medical equipment, Omelas Kid™ Scenarios, shady institutions and their operations, etc.
You are standing in a nondescript, space-age sort of room; the walls are a silver metal so polished that you can almost see shadows of a reflection in it, and the floor is likewise sturdy and reinforced. There are two Star Trek-style sliding doors leading out of the room, one on the left wall and one on the right. Both are currently in open position, enabling you to see out into the corridor beyond; it looks pretty much the same out there as your surroundings in here. Maybe there are doors; you'd have to look closer to check.
Currently in the room with you is a pretty normal-looking wooden podium that's clearly seen some use (though in what ways, you'd have to look more closely at it to determine), and a very abnormal-looking escape portal that's just kind of floating in midair, definitely big enough for even a very tall human to walk through, but for the fact that it's behind an impenetrable forcefield. You're welcome to hurl yourself at this, hit it, whatever, all that you want, but unfortunately it ain't budging under any method currently available to you or your party.
Really, your circumstances look something like this:
The other thing you might notice is that your clothes have received a slight glam-up, in the sense that clipped to a pocket, lapel, belt loop, or other convenient area of your attire is some sort of ID card. That might be worth having a look at.
Speaking of having a look at things, maybe you ought to look around?
badfeyth), Reno (astraphilia) , Johanna (keepgodwaiting) , Lestat (perfectdevil) , Alhaitham (justscribing) , and Kaveh (fussiest) .WHAT: The "Monologue With The Moon" player plot!
WHERE: [emphatic shrug]
WHEN: 1/6/24
WARNINGS: Possible references to murder, violence, related dark themes, medical equipment, Omelas Kid™ Scenarios, shady institutions and their operations, etc.
You are standing in a nondescript, space-age sort of room; the walls are a silver metal so polished that you can almost see shadows of a reflection in it, and the floor is likewise sturdy and reinforced. There are two Star Trek-style sliding doors leading out of the room, one on the left wall and one on the right. Both are currently in open position, enabling you to see out into the corridor beyond; it looks pretty much the same out there as your surroundings in here. Maybe there are doors; you'd have to look closer to check.
Currently in the room with you is a pretty normal-looking wooden podium that's clearly seen some use (though in what ways, you'd have to look more closely at it to determine), and a very abnormal-looking escape portal that's just kind of floating in midair, definitely big enough for even a very tall human to walk through, but for the fact that it's behind an impenetrable forcefield. You're welcome to hurl yourself at this, hit it, whatever, all that you want, but unfortunately it ain't budging under any method currently available to you or your party.
Really, your circumstances look something like this:
The other thing you might notice is that your clothes have received a slight glam-up, in the sense that clipped to a pocket, lapel, belt loop, or other convenient area of your attire is some sort of ID card. That might be worth having a look at.
Speaking of having a look at things, maybe you ought to look around?
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It's a pretty standard ID card, really — about what you'd expect, laminated plastic with an embedded chip. In neat and blockish print, about where one might expect a name field to be, it reads FANGS.]
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Sneering at the card, he stomps over to the podium to give it a good looking-at with his Vampire Eyes™. ]
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The podium is fairly standard, as well; one curiosity is that it seems to be made of wood, where most of the other things visible in this room are shimmery spotless metal. In contrast, the podium has seen some wear and tear, or at least some age.
What Lestat will notice with his extremely good vampire eyes — and which an ordinary look might not have turned up, so congratulations on not being a Normal People™ — is that there are some very slight discolorations in the wood, where possibly some objects might have sat. Or maybe where they're meant to sit?
Regardless, there's one that's sort of rectangular, about the size of a shoebox or a little smaller, and there's one that's about the size of a coffee mug, and round.]
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Second, he will lean on the podium, because he is Like That. His arms folded across the wooden top, he gazes out at the other four people in the room, doing whatever it is that they are doing. In a normal speaking voice that somehow carries like he's speaking into a microphone (more vampire magic, sorry), he announces to the room: ]
Things have been moved from this place. Something square and something round. It could be relevant, so keep an eye out while exploring.
[ Sssspeaking of exploring. He's going to head toward the right sliding door and investigate what's beyond. He's fine with anyone accompanying him, but he figures he's scary enough to venture out on his own. ]
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Meanwhile, venturing out to the right will place him in a short hallway! It actually seems as though it ought to go on a lot farther than it does, but everything goes a bit cloudy and out of focus beyond each of the doors that are here — like an awareness that there would ordinarily be more but it's not relevant to the present moment.
As evidenced by the map, Door #3 is to the north end of the corridor, and Door #4 is to the south. Which way is he heading?]
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Lestat will approach Door #4. A sensible guy might use his Vampire Senses to try and prepare for what might be waiting on the other side, but Lestat doesn't bother to press his ear to the metal or even to try and sense a heartbeat on the other side. The confidence of this fool.
Since he's read enough sci-fi to be familiar with the whole entry panel theme to know what it does despite having never been in the proximity of such a door, he'll scan his ID card for (hopeful) entry! ]
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Fangs, huh. [He holds his own up in comparison.] The borders are different. Perhaps that identifies different departments?
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[ He's never had one, but he's shopped before. Clearly. ]
What do you think the difference in colour means? My fangs are my weapons. What does this 'etch' mean to you?
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Like a job, since this is an ID card. If these are all relevant to us, then "etch" seems to refer to my job back home as the Scribe.
[Which seems descriptive enough on its own that he doesn't feel the need to elaborate.]
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I see. My fangs are not my job, unless I'm to use them to protect the mortals here, I suppose.
[ A thought hits him then, one that makes his eyes sparkle and his finger stop tapping. ]
Or, perhaps this place is like a lab from one of those science fiction novels where the unknowable creature gets suspended in a clear plastic tube of gel or something like that, and the humans prod and poke at him to find out how they can harness his inability to die.
[ Another thought. ]
Though, I don't suppose I'd have an ID card were I to be a test subject.
[ Does he look... disappointed???? ]
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You're already a test subject in this city. [And they didn't come with ID cards, did they.] And isn't that an obvious answer with you? You can't die because you're already dead.
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An obvious answer, maybe, but one that creates so many more questions; when is the last time you saw a dead thing get up and move around and look as alive as I do, hm? Surely that question alone is worth a few scribbles on clipboards.
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Is it just me, or did you look a little too excited about the prospect of being suspended in clear gel and poked and prodded!
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You don't think it would be a little exciting? To be studied so closely, to find out exactly how you tick?
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[ He scrunches up his nose. His sensitive eyes aren't enjoying the fact that nearly every surface in this place is reflective. ]
A lot can be said for the nature of walls like that, I suppose. I know exactly what kind of place I'm in without needing to think too hard about it, but I'd much prefer to be looking around at some damask wallpaper, or something like that.
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[ says kaveh, relieved, because at least someone else in this room has it. ] But I agree, especially since this room is likely a reflection of someone's inner-most psyche of some kind. I've learned over the course of the past few hours that people's minds truly are incomprehensible in all its ways.
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[ He's heard of things of this nature happening, but he and Louis have been very careful about doorways since October, so he didn't imagine it would happen to him. ]
What kind of person has a mind like this, do you think? Metal walls make me think of some kind of spaceship from a science fiction novel. Or perhaps, in more mundane walks of life, a morgue. Something easy to clean, to wipe down and start again. Cold. Lifeless.