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collectedlogs2020-06-30 06:04 pm
collectedmods) wrote in collectedlogs2020-06-30 06:04 pm
Entry tags:
- 9s,
- azula,
- cinnabar,
- constantin d'orsay,
- dimitri alexandre blaiddyd,
- dorothea arnault,
- dr. ivo 'eggman' robotnik,
- eichi tenshouin,
- eren yeager,
- felix hugo fraldarius,
- goro akechi,
- harrowhark nonagesimus,
- haymitch abernathy,
- historia reiss,
- intro log,
- leone abbacchio,
- lottie person,
- misa amane,
- prompto argentum,
- raylan givens,
- rei sakuma,
- ren amamiya,
- ruby rose,
- schuldig,
- silver the hedgehog,
- sylvain jose gautier,
- villanelle,
- wataru hibiki,
- zuko
INTRO LOG #1
INTRO LOG #1
Welcome to Collected’s first Intro Log! The information we’ve provided about the setting is not exhaustive - feel free to interact with the setting as you see fit. Rather than have specific prompts, our event posts throughout the game will generally have information listed out like this and players may come up with their own prompts.
If you have questions about the setting or the intro log, please ask them HERE in the comment thread! And most of all, have fun, shoppers.
PROMPTS
The first thing anyone does is gasp for air.
It’ll feel like the first breath you’ve taken in years. That’s right; before you can even become aware of your surroundings, the most immediate thing they’ll process is that you’re in water. Foul smelling water - like rotten eggs and decay. It’s pitch black, and you’re swimming in it with only your head above the surface. If the smell doesn’t deter you, the longer you stay in will; the water stings to have on your skin, chemical in nature.
So - you need to get out. This water can’t be okay to stay in. Once you’ve gathered enough about your surroundings, you’ll see that you’re inside a mall, of sorts. There’s a large (non-functioning) escalator in front of you that will lead you to the semi-safe havens of the second floor - but be careful, because everyone’s going to be gunning for that only exit.
» Once on the second floor, exploring will lead you to a few notes of interest: Long windows and tall glass doors show the conditions outside. The sky is a burnt orange, and there is a thick sort of fog on the horizon. Nothing for miles in every direction - just an empty parking lot, completely devoid of life or any sign that anyone has come across this place in many years. Even so, you’ll find the windows and doors unlocked, so getting outside is easy… the problem is what’s out there.
A trip outside will make it instantly clear why you see no life outside the mall’s walls: exposure to the radioactive sun outside causes your skin to bubble with welts, and the thick, toxic air of the outside is impossible to inhale without keeling over. It’s blistering hot, too. Even non-organic creatures would melt or be eroded by the sun’s radioactive qualities. One thing is abundantly obvious: you cannot survive outside. Not now, at least. Those who receive a burn or other damage from the conditions outside will discover that strangely enough, upon returning inside the mall, the wound begins to heal up on its own. Slowly, and extremely painfully, but it’s healing. That’s strange…
» Another thing of note is that there’s a food court on the second floor. There, you’ll find a variety of abandoned restaurants that have varying amounts of non-perishables inside - canned vegetables and preserved meats, as well as dusty old jars of sauces and the like. There are a few walk-in freezers with hefty locks on them, but if the locks are broken or picked, there’s actually some frozen rations, as well! Many of them are not labelled, so the dining experience will be pretty hit or miss. None of the stoves or cooking appliances in the food court work anymore, either, so you’ll have to get creative when it comes to cooking up these ingredients. (Or just, you know, eat them cold.)
» Throughout the mall’s bathrooms, water fountains, and gym showers, you’ll find that all the water in the mall is suspiciously clean. Like, way too clean to be normal in a place as run-down and clearly abandoned as this. You’ll find that toilets flush completely fine, and shower water heats up (eventually). Should you be grateful, or concerned?
» There’s an electronics store on the second floor, as well, along with a internet cafe. Should you try to turn on the computers in the internet cafe, you’ll find that it only opens to the same forum page: a site called Mall Watch. It’ll prompt you to make an account and password if you try posting to it. In the electronics store, you’ll also find that any phone you forage for and try to boot up will also only open up to this forum page. Weird!
» If you’re looking for a place to sleep, the department stores of the mall still have a variety of furniture sets collecting a lot of dust. Then again, no one’s around to tell you where to sleep - and maybe you don’t trust all these new faces you arrived with. If you’re okay sleeping on the floor of a random store, more power to you.
» You’ll probably want to do something about your clothes that were stained by the black water on the first floor.. try foraging for some clothes! Looking around, you’ll find that some clothes stores have some stock left over, though everything’s generally a mess in clothing stores - it’ll take you some time to find anything that’ll fit you. Looking around enough on this second floor, you might end up stumbling across some of your own belongings or clothing, or those of your peers.
More than anything, the longer you explore and scavenge the mall, you’ll recognize how eerily silent it is. If not for you and your peers here, this place would be totally desolate. Clearly, there’s no one around for miles, and as far as you can tell, you’ll only be able to survive here for as long as the supplies here last. No one’s coming to save you - no one even knows you’re here. In every sense of the word, you are alone.
For now.
QUESTIONS
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[This is at least the third time in the last few times that Prompto has abruptly woken up in a strange and uncomfortable place, and he's really starting to get tired of it.
His first dizzying thought is that he's landed in a pit of daemon blood, somehow, and oh great he's going to turn into a disgusting monster and then die-
But no, it's too chemical to be daemon blood and he's not sure it's even possible to make a giant pool of starscourge like this. So it's just gross, smelly water. Well, he can handle that. But he should definitely get out of it.
There's an escalator and he starts to swim towards it. Unfortunately, it seems other people are also in the water and all seemed to have the same idea at the same time, and it's only moments after reaching the escalator that he's bumped into and sent crashing back over the railing and into the water. It takes him a moment to get up again, and he comes out spluttering.]
H-hey!
[Ugh, it got in his mouth. He's definitely going to die...]
B: We don't need no cameras we'll just use our eyes
[Bad news: the boots, snow pants, and snow jacket he stole off that dead Niflheim soldier are pretty much ruined now. Good news: his clothes underneath fared much better; it will do until he can find something else.
He's looking pretty pleased that his own clothes are not completely ruined when something seems to dawn on him. Or rather, the lack of something.]
Oh no...
[And so here is one (1) boy, frantically turning the pockets, arms, and legs of his jacket and snow pants inside out, shaking them over the floor and feeling all around.]
No no no no no...
[If his camera is back in that fetid water he's going to lose it.]
C: Apocalypse How
[Prompto knew things had been getting bad, but he has no idea of what to make of what he's seeing outside. Orange sky, thick fog... Even with the days growing progressively shorter and shorter on Eos, he's never seen anything like this.]
...Did they kill another god...?
[Even if he's already figured out he's not on Eos anymore, it still feels like the only thing that makes sense. The only thing that could cause something like this.
He presses his face to the glass to see further, but there's nothing to see. Not even the shape of other buildings.]
How far are we from anything else...?
C
[Another god, he notes, but maybe he'll ask about that later. Haymitch still has a knife out, held loosely at his side, but that's probably fine.]
This is just somebody fucking with us, plain and simple. And it won't stop til they want it to.
[He shrugs.]
Whoever else is around is irrelevant.
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TWO.
WILDCARD.
two;
As he makes his way through the department store, he hears someone moving heavy objects and he heads that direction]
Oh, hey. Moving mattresses out? That's not a bad idea. Can I help?
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two!
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wildcard.
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[See, the thing is: this was supposed to be over and done with. Waking up in a new environment that's entirely hostile and impossible to escape? Sure, been there, done that, watched a hundred kids go through it plenty. But then the revolution had happened, and one of the key things they'd established was that there'd be no more shit like this.
But here he is.
Who's behind it? Well, who cares, really? There's plenty of time to figure that shit out later. More important: the vitals. Food, water, shelter. The environment is more likely to kill you than your fellow competitors, a voice in the back of his head chimes, and he steadfastly ignores it. He's very good at that.
So: clothing first, and it's not hard to find stuff when you're absolutely not picky. Sooner or later he's got jeans and a shirt, and he's just straight up changing in the store. Not entirely out in the open, he's got his back to a wall, but on the other hand, he really, really doesn't care if anyone sees him.
So there's that to walk in on, a 42 year old man with too many scars on his body abandoning his water-stained old clothes right there on the floor.
He does keep looking up and around curiously. At the corners where ceiling meets wall, or behind the cash registers . . . it's an idle thing, but it's consistent.]
You keep wandering around like that, you're gonna get a knife to the back.
[It's not a threat, but rather idle advice, called out as he sees someone else walk into the store. Dressed now, he smiles, and there's really no humor in it whatsoever.]
Just saying. You seen a flask around here?
Two;
[It's been a long, long time, but he remembers how to start a fire by hand. Which isn't to say it's easy: it takes him nearly an hour to carve out an appropriate firestarter from what used to be a trash bin. And then another half hour to get the damn thing to light, but the important thing is: if you walk into the kitchens, you'll see a man sitting on the floor, back to the wall, a very small fire blazing in front of him. Sterile mall tile isn't ideal for a fire, but on the other hand, it's working wonders to heat up a can of, hm, unidentifiable meat set in a pan.
Sitting might read as nonthreatening to some, but anyone who knows about fighting will see just how tensely those muscles are coiled.
He has a knife in one hand. It's not his knife, but on the other hand, finders keepers, you know? There's also a badge on the floor next to him, though there's always a chance you walk in on him studying it.]
Somebody broke the lock on the freezer, if it's food you're looking for.
[Or take a dusty can; he's already got a fair few shoved into a backpack he'd found. It's packed with a few supplies, some of which are peeking out of the top: two bottles of water, a spare shirt, cans of food . . . and, oddly enough, a very cheap looking hand fan.]
Three;
[It's been about twelve hours since they all woke here. Haymitch leans over the railing on the second floor, peering down into the water below. After a moment, he reaches into his pocket. He's got a few knick-knacks stolen from varying stores, each of them different in terms of material: a broken cell phone, a shirt, a frozen bit of food . . . and he watches carefully as he tosses them into the water, one by one.
He'll do this same process outside, too, tossing things out the door just to see if they fry. It means his hands get burnt to shit, but on the other hand, that's interesting too, that healing factor. It's slow and painful, sure, but it's also useful as shit.]
Huh.
[He's very aware of someone when they come by, and straightens up, looking over at him. But assuming they don't launch into an attack, he says:]
Announcement's gotta come soon.
[Just, like, an idle comment. Hello, how are you, welcome to the Hunger Games Mall Edition. He tugs out the little phone he'd stolen, tapping at it once or twice. Mall Watch isn't particularly useful, but there's got to be more to this than meets the eye.]
Got a name?
Four;
[Wildcard! Combine prompts, make up your own . . . Haymitch is going be a big ole ball of overprepared terse panic all beneath a seemingly calm surface, but he does know what he's doing, sort of, so. Go nuts!]
two!
It's only after then that she starts actually trying to look for basic necessities, and that's what leads her to the warm glow of the fire he's set. Thankfully, when she approaches, she at least doesn't smell like the rank waters below the Second Floor. ]
Oh... thank you. [ She replies, a bit meekly, meandering in on her hilariously impractical platform boots. ] I guess we're lucky the freezers are still working.
[ Look on the bright side, right? But she doesn't smile, even during her attempt to make the conversation lighter, merely glancing over at him and his knife. ]
Is there anything good in there?
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The Outside World
New Clothes Required
Wildcard
[Silver is literally all over the place. Want to plot? Hit me up on Discord @ Fishbone#3416 or plurk at
OUTSIDE WORLD
[How the fuck does he approach this.]
What the hell are you, first of all? Second, how do you know it's bad out there?
[Tactful. Real tactful.]
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dark water
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dark water
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1/3
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new clothes required
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Swimming in such heavy armor was a trying task, and the dash for the stairs, a surge of adrenaline pushing him forward, telling him to survive. Before that, he can't even remember when was the last time he actually feared for his life, yet there he was, hunched over himself and gasping for breath. Against all odds, he continues to live. But where to go from here...? ]
i. (almost) outside
[ Naturally, upon spotting the clear glass doors, his first impulse had been to go outside; the skies burned like the sun, and though his mountain boy self wasn't fond of high temperatures, anything was preferable to that patch of water he had woken up in.
... or so he had thought. Boy, had he been wrong. ]
Ah, please halt! [ He reaches for the arm of whoever is trying his same daring escapade from earlier, hoping to spare them from his fate. ] It is not safe to go outside.
[ And if the unsuspecting person happens to take a look at his hand? They'll see the gauntlet of his armor is gone, giving way to a severe burn, going all the way to his wrist and beyond. ]
ii. food court
[ The next order of business is, of course, ensuring survival, and as it doesn't look like they can go outside and hunt anytime soon, scavenging is the next best option. Looking around here and there, Dimitri eventually makes his way to the food court and, more importantly, to the fridges.
He takes one hand to the surface, and it's cold to the touch; a good sign. The lack of keys does not pose a problem when one can simply crush the locks in a deadly grip, but when that raw power leads him to pulling the refrigerator door off the hinges? That... that might be a bit of an issue. ]
Ah, such delicate contraption, this is...
[ Not it's not, you just have too much brute force for your own good, Dimitri. ]
iii. wildcard
[ For inventory finds or anything else you might want to play out, PM or hit me up at
ii
Except there goes this one, who simply takes the whole thing to pieces with one hand.
That's.
Different. ⟫
Metalbender?
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for flex
Either way: Constantin is trying his best to get up there, but here's the problem: the debris is only so climbable. Even when he's up against the wall itself, looking up at the hole, he is just too low to grab on and haul himself up and into it.
But he does have this big, ugly shield he found while exploring. It is a shield, perhaps yes, but that doesn't mean he can't prop it against the wall and try his very best to use it as a ramp to get a little more altitude! Except that it scrapes angrily against the wall and floor as it clatters down under his weight every single time he tries, which should deter him, but it does not. He's almost got his fingers up on the edge this time—
And then, no: it is another wipeout. He's on the ground, shield digging into his back, head bouncing off a plastic tupperware set. Life is pain... His eyes are shut, but at the sound of footsteps he speaks:]
If you are coming to mock my efforts, you needn't bother! My spine has bent all the way around, and that is mockery enough.
i am here at last, let's fuckin party
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for the old man
fucking rude
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for future sunglass hut ceo
IM HERE.... im here.
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shouting?? shouting.
zukes....
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a is for amazing
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d... got ur lamp
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[One moment Eichi is dancing and preparing for a wonderful live, and the next he's submerged in disgusting water that stings against his skin. His outfit is soaked through and though it's not that it's especially heavy when wet, Eichi doesn't have the strength to keep himself afloat for long normally, let alone when he's breathing in this stench.
His blonde head pops up a few times, along with pale, desperately flailing hands, but he can't manage much more than that. At most, his fingers grasp onto something else that's solid, and in his panic he can't tell if it's the edge of something like ground or another person, but it's all he has and he clings to it desperately.]
B. Shopping
[Once he's found his footing and at least gathered a fair understanding of where he was (a mall, who knows where, that is incredibly dangerous), Eichi decides to poke around to see what he can find. After all, he's been left without any of his usual medication in a situation where he's going to need it more than ever. However, it's not his medication he's finding, but various other things.
Clothing, if it can be called that. Personal items that certainly don't belong to this. Whether it's the world's ugliest sweater, run down crocs, a hat that's half eaten by rats, or an item belonging to the person in question, he holds it up with a pleasant smile.]
Fufu, take a look at this. ♪ Isn't it interesting?
C. Cl*ire's
[For anyone wandering the mall later into the evening, there's the chance of passing a tiny, rather unfortunate looking store that seems to have more of the items left behind than usual— purely because they all seem to be useless and gaudy. The pink and purple that colored the walls and shelves is faded and rotted, and it's easy to find yourself stepping on a ruined unicorn eye mask or leopard print hair ties as you approach. The one thing that stands out is a coffin, leaned up against one of the shelves so heavily that it's crushing the rotted thing.
Eichi is standing right in front of it, the lid propped open like a cabinet as he examines it. It's a luxurious red on the inside, and it feels cool, for anyone who gets close enough to notice. But Eichi seems lost in thought about it.]
If this is here, then I suppose that vampire must be, as well...? Ah, but how out of place it looks. I wonder if I should knock it over to make room for myself...
[Take a look at any of this madness, if you want...]
Wildcard
[It's usually much easier for me to write individual unique prompts, so if you'd like me to do something like that, you can just let me know which section of the mall they're in! Or you can PM/discord message me at Ash ★#0110 to work something out.]
Prompto
Right now, he's just at the edge of a toy store, rummaging through whatever's been left behind. The next person who walks up happens to be Prompto, and so he gets the lucky honor of Eichi spinning on his heels and pointing a gun at him with a wink, mimicking a fired shot.]
Bang!
[He doesn't pull the trigger, but brings it to his lips like he's blowing it off as if he did.]
Fufu... Isn't it realistic, this toy gun? I found it here among the other discarded toys and thought it might be fun to surprise someone with. It's weighted, too... Do you suppose it shoots fake bullets?
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( A ) give me the damsel in distress
he’s all yours!!!
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[The first thing Abbacchio does is wake up coughing, gagging on the rancid water that he's inadvertently breathed in. Slowly, he's crawling through the water, his makeup running dark streaks along his face from his eyes. Abbacchio makes it to a bench that's just barely above water so he can bend over and vomit out the black water he'd just been in.]
Oh yeah. That's attractive.
[Another bunch is spat out before he's shaking his head, trying to get a breath of air before he's stumbling toward the escalator. He should figure out where he is, but he'd rather get his bearings somewhere that's a little more dry.
It'd be nice if the escalator worked, but for now Abbacchio stumbles his way up before he collapses on the floor above.
With unease, he unlaces his coat, looking down at himself. Yep, that's a normal looking abdomen, ripped as hell. Cool cool cool. He pats himself down.]
Yeah. Okay. Weird.
⏪ II. AFFAMATO
[It's food court time, so you know what that means: scrounging.
There isn't a whole lot appealing to his eyes up here, but at the moment he's poking through some of the supplies while idly munching on a small bag of potato chips. Barbecue is a shit flavor, but he tolerates it so he doesn't, you know, starve.
He sighs, annoyed at finding none of the ovens work, and he looks forlornly at the frozen pizza.]
This place sucks.
⏪ III. TRUCCO
[If nothing else, at least this place has working showers. Sure, it's suspicious as hell that the water works while most of the electronics barely do, but right now he isn't going to put up a fuss as he eagerly showers off the dank water everyone woke up in earlier. So if you wanna make things awkward, you can try to chat him up during the shower. Do you like awkward?
He isn't sure his clothes are salvageable, so for now he shoves them into a plastic bag he'd found and he's wandering around in a towel wrapped around his waist. Who has time for shame? Not this guy. So hey, another awkward moment, but he doesn't seem to give a shit.
Alternatively, Abbacchio is sorting through some belongings in one of the many abandoned stores. Call him out if you want, but he's looking at some clothes in what's left of a Hot Topic.]
Could be worse.
[He pauses, finding in one of the bargain bins: a fucking gun. What the hell?
Abbacchio picks it up, scowling, checking to see if it's loaded. Thing is real, that's for sure.
Well. He'll just. Slide that into one of the bags he's snatched for himself.]
⏪ IV. WILDCARD
[request a prompt or make your own!]
ii
[ Which is more than Historia can say for a lot of people’s pantries back home. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she takes anything Abbacchio doesn’t and stuffs it into a backpack for safekeeping.
What he does have, though, draws her eyes away from the shelving. That’s an awfully crinkly bag he’s nursing. ]
What's in there?
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( harrow could most likely count the times she's been submerged in water in her life on one hand — cleaning the body by way of ablution had been phased out within the last myriad, upon the invention of the sonic (a far more efficient and far less uncomfortable method, in her mind). there had been the deep pools of drearburh, frigid and salty, which her mother had insisted serve as the conduit for any important secrets that passed between them. but that had been so long ago — when she begins to come to she instead thinks she's back in that salt-water swimming basin in canaan house. she half-expects the voice of gideon nav to chide her for her lapse in attention: zoned out again, nonagesimus? that chilly weirdo of yours really cast that strong of a spell?
there's a small, stubborn sort of surprise that sticks in the junction of the atlas and occipital bone — the water doesn't taste of salt. instead it tastes wrong, carrying with it the chemical and electric taste of battery acid. she flails, struggling in a direction her instincts seem to recognize as up, and then her head breaks the surface of the water. she gasps, blinks rapidly against water and running face paint, seeing nothing but a mostly-flooded cavern cast in the grayscale of low light.
there are questions, questions like, what, and where, and why? but, for now, these slide back several places in her mind in sorting of precedence. most important is how do I get out of this situation, because the water is deep and she is currently being weighed down by several layers of dense, heavy clothing. harrow was a functional swimmer, not an apt one — treading water is already growing difficult. she makes a hurried look around herself and finds the direction the most light is streaming from. then she begins swimming in that direction, movements awkward and harried by her robes.
she realizes mid-way there that she isn't going to make it. lactic acid washes through every under-developed muscle strung along her skeleton, teaching her the harsh lesson that perhaps she shouldn't have so perfectly forsworn any manner of physical exercise. it's at this point that someone else in the water could a) offer to help (or help forcibly), as she's beginning to sink leadenly beneath the inky surface of the water, or,
b) witness something very strange as, just after she sinks beneath the surface of the water, something pale snakes up and then lances out of it, reaching the twenty or so yards to the escalator and the promise of dry land. closer inspection would find that this "something" was a spine, or something similar: a long rope of vertebrae and cartilaginous discs. when the far end reaches the mechanical stairs, half a skeleton bursts from the end like a macabre flower blooming from a stem. the arms grasp the rail of the escalator as the shoulders turn to allow the skull to crane behind it, the red pinpricks of light in the eye sockets staring into the water behind it, along the line of its over-long spine.
a few long moments later and harrowhark reappears, pulling herself hand over hand along the spine, which dissolves into bone ash behind her as she does so. when finally close enough, she releases the make-shift vertebral rope; what remains seethes and rearranges itself on the fly into the skeletal hips and legs of the construct. it stands, shuffles forward, and fishes its necromancer from the water. the bones creak as it pulls her up in an odd, bony carry, waiting patiently as she hacks out half a lungful of dark water.
the skeleton and its bundle of soaked-through, wheezing necromancer is currently taking up one of the lanes upwards to freedom, and as harrow regains the ability to breathe and perceive properly, she finds that she is not alone. another was either already out of the water, paused on the escalators, or blocked from rising similarly from the fetid water. she doesn't seem too concerned about that; she's about to say something, but then she coughs again — this time, bright blood.
focusing again, tries again: ) Who ( she wipes a trickle of blood from her chin with a sodden black sleeve, ) the fuck are you?
( there are many more questions she wants to ask in much the same tone and timbre, but for now she settles on this one. )
ii. scavenging
( to harrowhark, an unknown was something unseemly, offensive — a threat. there existed in her own world dichotomy of those who honed their bodies and those who expanded their minds. she had always found the former path to be short-sighted and stupidly limited; a sword provided only a short list of incredibly predictable solutions for a given problem, but the application of accrued knowledge was a far more diverse weapon. but it was reliant on a currency that she compulsively collected with an almost draconic avarice.
so even with their discombobulating new environment and the buzzing cloud of questions and unknowns that flocked to it like buzzards to a corpse, she does not waste time. she immediately sets off into the bowels of the desiccated commercial building, inscribing in her mind what she could not in her now-missing journal: a mental map of the area, notes of the doors and their locations, lingering queries as to what this space was for or what significance that area could hold.
it's all conjecture, of course. to her eyes, this place is a relic well over ten thousand years old.
it is during this time soon after their arrival to the mall that one of two things happens:
a) harrow has found something of interest among the nondescript rubble and mess of the mall, and she is either getting a closer look without touching the thing yet or, if she's fairly certain it isn't dangerous, has picked it up and is inspecting it further. this something of interest is far more familiar to you than it is to her, so it would probably be pertinent to ask it back from this curious crow of a girl, still swathed in the heavy and half-sodden robes of her house and station.
though such a request would be met by wide eyes, a selfish retrieval of the item to herself, and a quick question posed in riposte: ) And what would you offer for it in trade?
b) the above situation, but in reverse: harrow's dark eyes have espied you with something of hers from a distance, and now here she comes like black-fletched arrow, a thundercloud of aggravation darkening her countenance. if this building held the same promise of good oss as the corridors and chambers of drearburh or the foyers and hallways of canaan house, in its slow and elegant decline into disrepair and decay, perhaps she would have summoned a construct immediately to act in the stead of her presently absent cavalier.
but it seems she's limited only to the bones she has on hand (which is still quite a few, but well below "enough," by her standards), so she tries diplomacy first.
or whatever stands for "diplomacy" in harrowhark nonagesimus' standards: ) You have in your possession something of mine. Unhand it.
( and if it's just, well... a human bone? one look at her would make this seem not so outlandish, considering they hang in multiple strings from her neck, band around her wrists, and stud the arcs of cartilage of both ears. she also seems to... rattle slightly, when she moves. )
[ ooc: most of harrow's items are accounted for, but if you wish to find either a Ninth prayer rosary (knucklebones strung along a cord) or an extra pair of Ninth vestments (roughly five pounds of mouldering black cloth, voile, and lace which probably looks like it belongs in hot topic), you are welcome to! ]
iii. mapping
( once harrow has been (blessedly) reunited with her journal, she returns to what she feels is the most primary and important in her order of operations here: mapping all of the accessible surface area of this building. she sails through the mall like a spectre, dark hood pulled over her head. she can be found nearly anywhere, bent over an incredibly thick little book, exacting something into the pages with what appears to be a pencil-length metal needle (which she occasionally lifts up to jab to the inside of her lip, rewetting it with blood — she is currently without pens or pencils, so she makes due with what she has on hand).
so absorbed is she in her work and making sure that it is accurate to scale and space that it wouldn't be too difficult to sneak up on her, if one was committed enough to stealth. if you're not, she will snap the book closed before you get too close, but otherwise you might be able to sneak a look at what she had been working: a seemingly accurate floor-plan of the second floor of the mall written onto the page with browning blood, complete with marked and labeled doors and several annotations in a language you cannot read.
whether you get an idea of what she was up to or not, it seems apparent by the alacrity with which she snaps the book closed that it is not something she is eager to share.
there's something in the blankness of surprise at her realizing she's not alone that seems youthful, girlish — something completely clashing with all the rest of her. but then it disappears under a beetled brow and a sour expression; harrow jerks her chin upwards in a haughty gesture. ) Most would know better than to approach a necromancer of the Ninth unannounced. ( she says it as if it was something she assumes all children are taught in the crib. )
iv. wildcard
( or write your own! feel free to contact me via pm or at
i'm here for bones
Can he name this particular bone now? No, he certainly can't— but while the details may go fuzzy and unremarkable, no other lesson from his youth can stand out as starkly as observing a real skeleton, and so he can recognize the shape. He's recognizing the shape right now, as he picks it up, because of course he picks it up—
And oh, his frowning at it is interrupted by the arrival of a rattling young woman who seems, ah, displeased? And demanding of her— oh.]
Oh!
[Constantin looks at her. He looks at the bone. He looks at her again. Well, she does make it easy to believe this bone he found in the dust is hers, in some sense of the word...]
This? You know, I'm almost relieved to know it wasn't lurking in wait before any of us arrived here! [Imagine if somebody was murdered? Which, actually-] Whose is this, exactly? Should I raise an alarm?
thief!
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ii - spooky journal time
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belatedly (captain holt voice) BONEEEEEE
how dare you detective diaz
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[ this may as well be a nightmare come to life for Cinnabar. There is no first gasp for them; their head is above the surface for only an instant before they sink into the blackness, heavy body dragging them down. Did they fall from the cliff they call home into the sea below? It's the only reasonable assumption they can make; they run with it, scrambling with single-minded instinctual panic towards the land they thought they'd glimpsed before their inclusions blink out in the darkness.
It takes them longer to emerge than the rest. Anyone still around will be audience to a bizarre sight - a figure, just slightly too slender and delicate to be human, emerging onto the broken-down escalator with weight that makes the old machinery groan in displeasure beneath them. The light that reaches down to them is magnified tenfold by red skin and hair that reflect it in every direction like a polished gem - and, indeed, that's exactly what they appear to be made of. Once Cinnabar's managed to breach the surface, they scramble with surprising quickness to the top of the escalator until they're far enough away from the water to catch their proverbial breath.
And that's where things really become nightmarish, as they realize the world around them is entirely alien. Their eyes become wider and wider with fear as they pass by each element of the setting, none of it recognizable to them - and the moment they notice someone else there, looking at them, they startle like a stray cat, sprinting in the opposite direction with a strangled yelp. ]
ii. makin pretzels
[ after that, Cinnabar's pretty hard to find in the mall... but, obviously, they haven't gone anywhere. Internally, they're aware that they should be exploring more, trying to make sense of the bizarre situation - no, the bizarre world they're suddenly in, all broken stone and flooding and rotten fabrics. They've never seen anything like it. But the truth of the matter is that they're overwhelmed. They like to think of themself as an adaptable gem - one who can get accustomed to anything, given the time, and perhaps they can get used to this, too. Change, though, is the boogeyman of their immortal kind, and when this much is thrown at them at once, Cinnabar is no different. For all their pragmatism, the stress and outright fear coursing through them wins out, at the end of the day, and they do not explore at all.
No, they take shelter - they seek out normalcy, which, as it turns out, is in short supply. Eventually, though, they find something like it in a musty bag at the edge of the food court. In what looks like an old pretzel bakery of some kind, tucked way into the back corner of the kitchen behind the counter, Cinnabar sits with a torn bag of flour, and appears to be... spreading it on their crystalline red skin. If it weren't for how shiny they (and the mysterious blobs of silver something-or-other that hover in the air around them as constant companions) are, they probably wouldn't be noticeable at all. ]
iii. wildcard!
[ HEYO. Cinnabar's items are as follows: an old wooden clipboard with a lot of blank pages stuck to it (the final page has a big black handprint on it) and an empty wooden box about the size of a shoebox! Both of these items are pretty rustic/homemade-looking and will probably stick out. Feel free to find them! Or do any other scenario - Cinnabar will be mostly hiding and listening to other characters from around corners like a peeping tom. (You can PM me if you want to figure out something specific to do, too!)
ALSO. i have no idea if any characters would try, but just for the record, Cinnabar is harmful to the touch and will corrode the skin/whatever of anyone who touches them. ]
( i )
In this case, this person is nothing like the two he seeks—and is another thing entirely. This is probably one of the most breathtaking people he's ever been blessed to meet and yet—
Oh. There they go, yelping. There's not many things Wataru hates, but accidentally surprising someone, rather than doing it on purpose, is up there. ]
Wait, wait, I didn't mean to startle you! Forgive my surprising appearance, this clown has been in a state of disarray ever since arriving...!
[ PLEASE COME BACK, FASCINATINGLY SHINY PERSON. ]
(keanu voice) YOU'RE breathtaking
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C'mon, quit your crying. I've got you.
[Abbacchio takes her arm and starts leading her out.]
And stop rubbing your eyes! You're making it worse.
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i i can change this if you only wanted one taker!
its all good!!
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[ 02. what's the opposite of serendipity | ota ]
[ 03. wildcard ]
wildcard more like feralcard
but she's holding up. there's some facts she has begun to embrace: she's trapped in this mall with a bunch of strangers, none of whom seem to be from her world. the territory itself is hostile. until a ruling structure is established, she should make some effort to lie low. isn't that how she conquered ba sing se? don't play all your cards at once.
does she look alright? no, she looks like she's sleeping no more than two hours a night, she's evidently taken scissors to her own hair a couple days ago, and she'll occasionally stop to talk to herself. but all of that is comparatively fine until she rounds a corner and sees her brother, standing upright, and looking entirely real.
his knife is in her pocket, but she doesn't raise it. why would she? he's not really here. there's no way he survived that lightning. is there? ⟫
What? What do you want?
⟪ considering that he's probably just trying to get through another day at the mall, that's all pretty blame-laced, isn't it. ⟫
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1 if that's okay!
👍👍👍
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lottie studies the blade
And as Felix rounds this corner, having swept through yet another store without finding one of the things he's looking for, he spies one (1) green-haired girl swinging said stunning display of quality craftsmanship around like a lunatic.
But here's the thing about swords: they're heavier than they seem? Felix is used to their weight; this girl, however, is not, and thus Felix is forced to watch as his precious, beautiful, beloved Sword of Zoltan pulls to the side, connecting with the wall—and clanging right off of it, the loud noise echoing throughout this empty corridor.
It hurts, really. Like, sure, the girl's yelp means that the reverberation racing up through her arm is none-too-pleasant, but Felix feels a deeper sort of pain... because he's a sword boy and that is his favorite sword, holy shit, this is a personal attack and he is wholly unprepared for it. He had to dig through so many market stalls... to find his baby...
He's moving before he even realizes it, all but breaking into a run in his hurry to reach her. Hi, hello, please enjoy this angry little man rushing ur way, Lottie.]
Are you crazy? That's— [aaaaaaah] Put it down! Right now! Do you even know what you're wielding?
she has the power of rihanna AND anime on her side
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sylVAIN count: 1
i still can't believe you made the lance of ruin even more cursed
wildcard, sword times
closes my eyes and prays for them both
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ii !!
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wildcard let's go
flameo, hotman... flameo
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sad topic at h*t t*p*c aka wildcard
oh my god... dima's pack! i'm yelling
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rip flex
this visual is so amazing i'm laughing
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ii!
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[ Most around can swim; 9S is not one of them.
His one saving grace is that he can't drown. By the time he fully comes to, he's already submerged and sinking further, murky waters meaning it's nigh impossible to see. Evidently, Pod doesn't have a mind to fish him out of the depths this time, though 9S can't recall being so close to any water last he remembers.
It's utterly baffling, but mostly a cause for alarm. At the very least, he knows he needs to get back up, and so 9S begins groping ahead in hopes of latching onto something. Unfortunately, both his weight and the materials he's constructed of mean paddling upward isn't an option. It's a process that takes some work.
Anyway, are you about to head up the escalator for yourself? Before you climb up too far, there's a hand, gloved in black, that suddenly reaches out of the water to tightly grip around an ankle. ]
TWO
[ After the fiasco leading up to and following 9S dragging himself to drier land, what comes next is...
Well, even he doesn't know what. He's too confused to begin making heads or tails of anything, too shocked to try, and all it really amounts to is him failing to realize he's still completely damp in the pungent smell of rot. At least his uniform is completely black, so stains are hard to notice; on the other hand, the typically silver strands that make up his synthetic hair and patches of skin show signs of black staining. It's probably because he has no earthly idea what this place could possibly be that the idea of searching for a new attire doesn't cross his mind. One does not simply walk into a clothing store when you don't even know what one is.
Still, 9S doesn't stay in one place for long, but there's a slow and cautious way he makes his way about, a tenseness in both his demeanor and expression that leaves little room to wonder why he doesn't directly approach anyone. That doesn't mean he doesn't accidentally stumble upon someone no matter where in this large, bizarre building they're in, muttering a halfhearted apology that implies he shouldn't intrude on whatever business they're up to.
Or maybe that aroma tipped you off that he was nearby. It's hard to miss. ]
absolutely bananas card
[ ya know how these go. if you got something else in mind slap it down here, and if you wanna plot something else out instead hmu over pm or plork at
one
[Probably.
Eggman had dragged himself out of the water and in 1 second flat he's entered hysterics. Not the most morally sound guy around, his immediate response is to raise the leg 9S doesn't have a hold of and repeatedly stomp on that hand to try and get it off of him.]
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nanners
bononos
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sipp •w•
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azula | a:tla
( i ) thrift shop
( ii ) paranormal radioactivity
( iii ) home sweet hell mall
( wildcard )
& lottie
actually, she should be looking into building up a stock of all kinds of resources, but she's only edging towards that realisation. for now? for now, she found presumably the last thing she needs: a makeup kit.
and no matter how aware she is that this isn't the indulgence she ought to focus on right now, there's something thought-absorbing about going through the things inside. soft brushes, strange, spongy things, eyeshadow in the wildest shades, kohl-black ink brushes that aren't... quite ink brushes. she tests some of the colours on her forearm, drawn particularly to the reds.
the highlight (haha), however, is a glittering substance. for a moment, she thinks it shines all by itself, and she tries stripes of it on her still-free arm, holding a small flame in the palm of her hand to let the paint-powder reflect the light. amazing.
please interrupt her before she gets the bright idea to try and paint her face without a mirror. ⟫
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IA
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3B
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ii !!
muffled old town road plays in the mall
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wildcard - the great claire's misadventure
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You shouldn't have killed it.
[ ... they're speaking to him still from behind the pillar. they're not even peeking their head around to face him... ]
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JOKER
p5r spoilers
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BRIEFCASE
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[ there is a loud gasp for air the moment villanelle's head splashes out of the water. she may not be a perfect swimmer but it doesn't take her long to get out, coughing up spurts of the foul liquid, hunched over and looking like a wet cat. her long hair is slicked back by the water, her red dress drenched, and her makeup faintly smearing around her eyes. she grips her hand on the railing of the escalator, taking a couple steps up and uncaring if she's blocking the path for anyone else.
once most of the water is out, or at the very least her heaving coughs turn dry and panting, she stands up straight and takes note of her surroundings. there are other people around here, some still in the water, and she breathes out a solid wheezing- ]
What the fuck?
[ like, what else is there to say? ]
Two - Contraband search (use the bold terms to indicate location)
[ after getting out of her ruined red dress and dumping it into a trash can (it was dry clean only, of course) villanelle is now on the look out for clothes and weapons. anything to feel semi-normal and protected.
the clothing situation is, tl;dr, dire. this mall is absolutely not up to her standards and the freedom of stealing whatever she wants is not fun with no security to stop her. she settles for - ugh - a gap knockoff store to find what she needs. you can catch her grabbing several different shirts, pants, dresses, and more, and spending well over an hour going in and out of the dressing room with a hefty pile of clothes dropped on the side of her room. she is not at all happy about this, and looks it every time she shoves open the door enough to disturb the hinges.
when it comes to weapons she's in the mood for something on the blunt side. she hunts down a furniture store and starts turning over small tables to try tearing the old wooden legs off, hoping any decay will favor her in breaking it bare-handed. she's grunting over the table and you can either watch her or help. eventually she manages to do it, but pulls so hard she ends up losing balance and slamming into a display of lamps. the lamps knock over to the side as she slumps against the dresser they were on. it appears she is unconscious and there's the smallest gash off to the side of her forehead where the edge of the dresser knicked her.
all of this and unbeknownst to her, she has lost her small gun and a fashionable jacket. however if she spots someone carrying around either, she will begin to quietly loom and stalk from a distance. an opportunity needs to present itself before she tries to get it back, but being stealthy is not easy in an open mall. she'll take cover behind old kiosks and walk beside store entrances in case she has to make a sharp turn out of sight, but more than likely she may get caught following her target. awkward. ]
Three - And I must scream
[ after a long day villanelle gets tired, as one does when they have been through an ordeal, but she does not feel safe in this mall. not enough to fall asleep at least. she can appeal to the mercy of total strangers or try her hardest to stay awake. unfortunately she had a recent bad experience with the former that landed her under the care of a creepy doll man, so she's not in a charitable mood on that. staying awake it is.
however how does one stay awake? well, there is one obvious answer - stay active! you can't pass out if you're active, that's clearly logical.
so forgoing sleep she instead walks aimlessly around the mall, keeping her pace slow to not tire herself out. when she does start feeling sluggish though? well, there's also one thing you can't fall asleep while doing - scream. hope you weren't trying to rest nearby because if so, get ready to hear a woman screaming loud and hard at the ceiling. it's not the sort of scream someone does in danger, more the kind you'd hear at a sports event. the best kind and most obnoxious kind! enjoy the sweet soothing sounds of villanelle screaming as you try to get some fucking sleep. ]
Wildcard
[ make it up and I'll follow along. if you want to claim either the gun or the clothes you can also make up a prompt here of your character with it. one person per claim of course. ]
2 - furniture
It's also where they accidentally find a peculiar object. The mall's got no shortage of unidentifiable rubbish and weird items they've never seen before, but usually, they're old and damaged; the pistol, on the other hand, looks to be in fine shape, and has absolutely no discernible purpose that they can see. They're holding it daintily in one gloved hand, staring down the barrel with a puzzled expression. ]
... Part of the bed...?
[ they don't know where it would go, though... ]
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2, gap
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2, gap!
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for lottie!
Three times now, he's caught himself lifting a hand up to adjust the brim of a hat that just is not there. It's baffling and more than a little embarrassing. So when he sees a young woman strolling by across the other side of the mall wearing a hat that very plainly doesn't belong to her, Raylan's first instinct is to stride right over to her and right this wrong. ]
Miss. [ He stops with a hand on his hip, thumb tucked against his empty holster out of habit. He can't decide if it'd be more of a coincidence if this was his hat, or just a duplicate that looks virtually identical. ] Where'd you find that?
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▶ A — I THINK I'M DROWNING, ASPHYXIATED
And one of the other things that you can always count on about people is that they have a knack for getting themselves hurt at the strangest times in the stupidest ways, which is how he knows that somewhere around here in one of these kiosks, he'll find at least a basic first-aid kit.
It's a good thing, too, because the residual water left over from that nasty swim though the first floor probably isn't doing any favors for the thin horizontal cuts across his palms or the shallower, narrower ones bitten into his throat.
He breaks it open without preamble, riffling through until he finds some kind of disinfectant and some miraculously still-intact bandage, and gets to wrapping.
His head is bent, his wet hair hanging in stringy clumps around his face, and he's not looking up from his work — and yet, regardless of how quietly or how unobtrusively you try to approach, as soon as you get within ten feet or so of where he's sitting, he'll pipe up: ]
See something interesting?
[If only his clothes were as dry as his irony.]
▶ B — I WANT TO BREAK THE SPELL THAT YOU'VE CREATED
He's picked up one of the maps from the kiosks, making his own notes with a stub of a golf pencil he found abandoned on a shelf somewhere. Department store, bathroom, escalator down into the hell waters, food court, another bathroom, electronics store, tweenybopper apparel store...
You know, he was hoping for a sporting goods store, but fine, the Teen Poseur shop will probably have what he needs.
Sure enough, ransacking the place eventually produces a pair of fingerless gloves, which he pulls on to help hold the bandages in place — and hide them from view. More strangely, it also winds up producing a bottle of wine, which he naturally takes because, uh, why the hell wouldn't he.
So the afterlife has booze, maybe. Okay, that's not so bad.]
▶ C — YOU'RE SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL, A CONTRADICTION
So, okay. If that's here, then what else is?
Well. Maybe it's about time he started scoping out the local population, which is why he heads to the food court and starts rummaging around to see what's available. Eventually, he unearths a can and some paper garbage, which means soon enough he's got a little fire going, and boy, you know what that means.
It means he sure is going to be sitting here with a bag of long-stale nachos and a brick of frozen cheez product, melting the latter down into a heartwarming mass of thick yellow sludge because honestly, why the fuck not.]
▶ WILDCARD — I WANT TO PLAY THE GAME, I WANT THE FRICTION
(very mild cw in prompt i for past child abuse)
ii. ask your grandpa, can i have his hand-me-downs?
iii. one man's trash, that's another man's come up.
iv. wildcard
paradise found (ren)
and oh—it's not actually real? huh. he's unfortunately seen and held enough bladed objects in his life to know that this is a very convincing replica; he tests the edge against his thumb and it's as dull as he expects, but the detail is exquisite, though. felix would probably nut if he saw it, really. anyway, he tosses it up and catches it by the hilt a few times, and it isn't until he hears someone approaching that he fumbles, nearly dropping it before he catches it by the blade again. good thing it isn't actually a real weapon, huh? ]
Ah, [ haha... you didn't see that. ] Hey, there.
(no subject)
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ii-a let me know if this is okay!
iii!
no subject
V.
I don't think I've ever seen this game before. Looks kind of like... Go?
What are the rules?
I'm really sorry, my IRL exploded but I'm...back now...
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v
I'm really sorry, my IRL exploded but I'm...back now...
wildcard!
I'm really sorry, my IRL exploded but I'm...back now...
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