collectedlogs | 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.

NAVIGATION

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

So what or where actually is the water that they wake up in? Like is there a fountain area, or is it potentially just any big enough receptacle of water, or. What are the specifics of the being submerged exactly.

A: And now my socks are wet-

[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...?

ONE.

[ One moment he's having a great time with fine and the next moment his skin is prickling and everything is dark and he's underwater. Whether it was a moment or not is up for debate, but it feels sudden enough that it's startling and... well.

He's coming up, sitting up out of the water like a cryptid breaching for a blurry photograph. His once-white uniform is grey at best and rotten black at worst, and his long silver hair is piling around his waist in a gross wet mess.

Uh, but he's smiling and looking around after a moment, using two gloved hands as makeshift binoculars. ]

Oh, have I fallen into a dream? Or perhaps I overdid it and landed in the afterlife?

[ If you find any colourful masks while wading around... they're probably his. ]

TWO.

[ Once cleaned up and dressed in something more suitable (a slightly-chewed up green tracksuit that is probably a size too small for him, also it says BAE on the butt so....) Wataru can be found eyeballing mattresses. He's been using his strength and stamina to haul them out of the wreckage of some areas and leaving the "good" ones out in the open for others.

In specific, there's a mattress turned on it's side and he's begun to slide it across the floor towards it's destination, but along the way, if it seems like you are also surveying the mattresses, he will say: ]

Fufufu, this one will be good for you. I heard the foam inside can last up for one thousand years... ♪

[ Looks like he's willing to give up this mattress to you, because he can just go find another one. ]

WILDCARD.

[ This is where you tell me to write up something unique for you (please feel free) or you find him walking on his hands up the escalator railing (in order to take up less space!), or you find him juggling a an obscene amount of old soap bottles in order to decide which one to try on his clothes, or you just see something horrible, like him using his hair to pick up boxes while cleaning.......... ]

One;

[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!]

Dark Water

[There seems to be a medium-sized white animal foundering in the water. While Silver may not be as bad at swimming as certain other, bluer members of his species, he wasn’t expecting to be dumped into what smells like it might be raw sewage or something like that. The spiny creature finally manages to tread water after taking a huge breath of the stale air]

Ugh… gross… so gross…

[and it stings. His fur protects him, but in areas where it is thinner, he can feel an unpleasant tingling sensation on his skin. The hedgehog begins to glow bright cyan, and he floats, as if gravity meant absolutely nothing all of a sudden, out of the water and up to the second floor. He touches down lightly on the floor and then does what you might expect any animal to do—

he shakes all the water off. He is now very poofy

So, he gets to spend the next twenty minutes or so grooming his fur and quills back into place. His gloves and boots, stained with the dank water, are wrung out and hung over a nearby bench]

Man… where am I? … When am I?

The Outside World

[Well, he’s managed to get his quills into some kind of order, but he can still smell the nasty water on him. Ugh. He needs to find a source of clean water, and quick. But something else catches his eye first — the doors to the outside.

It’s barren out there. Desolate. There’s nothing to be seen as far as the eye can see. He puts his hands on the glass and shakes his head. If he sees someone thinking about leaving, he’ll put his hand on him and frown]

D… don’t go out there… Something is really wrong.

New Clothes Required

[Well, there’s worse places to be trapped than a shopping mall. There’s lots of supplies at least… but Silver is concerned about water. They can have all the clothes and beds and snacks they want, but if there’s no fresh water… they’re going to be out of luck.

On a whim, he finds a bathroom and inspects the sink. He isn’t expecting much when he turns on the tap, and a sputtering sound greets him first. But after a few spurts of dirty water clear the pipes, the water flowing out is clean and clear] Uh…. that’s… good….? [Silver turns on all the taps, one by one, suspicious] … I should definitely still boil this…

[the water is at least safe enough for a shower, and Silver finds his way to the gym. There’s some girly screaming from one of the stalls;] EEIYAAAH! Cold!! So cold…! [but eventually he manages to wash all the dingy, foul-smelling stuff from the first floor out of his fur. He then spends quite some time rinsing out his gloves, socks, and boots in one of the sinks. The boots are made for heavy wear, and clean up fairly easily… but his socks and gloves are (well, were) white, and they seem like a lost cause.] Well… at least I can still use these boots…

[Off he goes to the department stores, looking through the messy racks and shelves. He’s found the children’s department, which has shirts and pants that might fit him… but who needs pants?]

All these clothes are fitted for humans. [he finds an unopened bag of socks and takes some of them out] Oh, that’s right… humans have really tiny feet… I guess I gotta find the adult section if I want to ever wear my boots again…

Wildcard
[Silver is literally all over the place. Want to plot? Hit me up on Discord @ Fishbone#3416 or plurk at

DrFishbone! Especially if you want Silver to find some of your stuff while he’s foraging]

Edited 2020-07-01 02:01 (UTC)

[ It all happened so fast. One day, he was preparing an army to march on the Imperial capital, and the next thing he knows, he was underwater. All too dark, and as toxic to his lungs as it was to his skin.

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

pinkgrasshopper for plotting! ]

A. the only serious prompt

[Well, it's wet. It's wet and cold and smells dreadful, and let's not linger on how disastrous Constantin's swim out of the rancid water is, because he's fully covered in layer upon layer of heavy fabric and leather boots with gloves to match— if you happen to spot the skinny guy hauling himself lamely out of the water only to sit miserable on the ground for a good, say, ten to twenty minutes after that, don't say anything. He's fine.

He is fine, still, some time later, after finally picking his way up the escalator if only to not be the last one down here by the water. He's still cold and kind of... damp, ew, but don't mind him plodding sullenly after whoever looks like they're moving with a purpose. Any kind of purpose- food, clothes, clean water, he is not picky, if someone looks competent then he is lingering behind. At a distance at first, and then hastening to catch up as he regains some of his pluck:]

You there! Hello! Would you mind if I tagged along? [he has Been Here, but at least he's communicating now?] Now that we have escaped the clutches of the briney deep, our next move should be to stick together, yes?

[please god he will die if left alone]

B. department store folly

[Constantin has never had to, how does one say, take care of himself like an adult. Not really— there's always been a cook and a gaggle of security and servants and several pushy advisors to handle most things, and so here in the department store, he doesn't know what he should be picking up. He goes around grabbing anything that looks interesting or useful, more or less, and more the former than anything— and soon enough he's standing over a faded fleece blanket he's laid out on the ground, upon which he has placed:

1. Most of a silverware set,
2. Plastic fruit shaped ice cubes,
3. A pillow,
4. Like 3 bottles of shampoo because they still smell good, and-
5. A single cooking pot (with lid).

He is surveying his scavenged kingdom critically, like, this is all kind of a lot to drag back all on his own (it isn't)... Eventually, he glances up.]

Ah, hello there! Pillaging, are we? [And then, because we are all pillaging,] What an adventurous day it's been.

C. just, like, shouting

[Why would you wander all by your lonesome down this particularly desolate hallway of the mall? Chances are it was for a better reason than Constantin, whose plan of action in all things is simply "I wonder where this goes" and walking off in any direction. His jaunt through the department store has armed him with an umbrella, one of the oversized kind, that he is keeping closed and using to poke at things at a distance to see what happens. It's a valid defense.

It would be, anyway, if he were at all considering that being the only thing making noise in this otherwise desolate hallway isn't, perhaps, the best idea. The distant sound of something metal tap-tap-tapping against the floor, or along the railing that overlooks the floors below— it's just Constantin, but with no Constantin in sight, it's anyone's real guess. Every now and then he stumbles and sends something clattering, or sighs in desperation loud enough to carry down the hall...

Truly, this hallway is haunted. By a sickly spectre of a man and his umbrella. Maybe you run across him as he's sticking the end of his umbrella into a precarious stack of dusty old items or something else he shouldn't be doing, or, should you turn a corner and take him by surprise, there's a sputter—]

To arms, foul creature!! [—and there's an ovesized umbrella opening in your face, quite abruptly, before Constantin's head appears over the top.] Oh!

I thought you were a ghastly beast, here to collect your terrible debts! [haha] Sorry about that.

[He doesn't know how to close the umbrella.]

D. wildcard

[henlo..... jojoveller 4 your discussion needs, or go wild!! this is also where item prompts can go]

Hi, the characters will be waking up in the First Floor of the mall! Rather than any single body of water like a fountain, the entire First Floor is completely flooded, and that's where characters are waking up (there's some additional information about what the water has done to the infrastructure down there on the Locations Page). The water is high enough that all the storefronts that were down there are obscured by it - and it's very unlikely than anyone would be able to dive down deep enough to find anything of substance beneath the surface.

If you have any other specific questions about the water on the First Floor, please let us know!

[Down in this particular corner of this particular department store, there is... a big mess. It's debris, it's dust and dirt and some salvageable items, to be fair, but mostly: it's a mess. At the top of said pile of mess there is what looks like a hole in the wall feasibly small enough to crawl through to, uh... who knows what on the other side. There could be nothing back there! There could be roaches! Or riches!

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.

A. Drowning (Limited to only the first person who replies to this prompt, please!)

[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.]

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.]

[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.]

Please. Gods got nothing to do with this.

[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.

[There is no real reason to go back down to the water. Absolutely none at all, in fact, and yet Constantin finds himself sitting on the escalator just looking down at it after enough hours have passed. It's been long enough since anyone rose from the depths that the surface of the water is completely still, like black glass, and from this high up the escalator's steps the smell is distant enough to be ignored.

He is clearly watching it, and it's not a bad guess to say that he's waiting for something else to happen. Surely that can't be all? These two dozen-odd people he's seen milling around can't be everyone, can they? Can he truly be here in this decrepit old building where nothing makes sense, all alone?

So he sits there and he waits, and the water is still and silent and doesn't so much as ripple no matter how many times he sighs. The adrenaline and the adventure of merely showing up in a place like this have long passed, and he could easily stave off the melancholy by going back to the other people and... planning, or something, whatever the various groups want to do, but instead: he is here, sulking at the water.

When he takes the bottle of moonshine out of the satchel hung over his shoulder and opens it, it isn't to take a drink. Well, it is, but first he just looks at it, like perhaps if he starts throwing things in the water, something will happen... He won't do it, but he sure looks like he might.]

[There are enough stores around that when Constantin finds a second bag! to go with his own, he thinks nothing of it. Well, no: he thinks it's his bag at first, and then it's obviously not- it's bigger and it has stuff in it and his own bag he finds not ten feet away, actually- but he does keep it anyway.

Like, it has stuff in it. That's the true miracle of this place: that something he found has other things in it, things that look like food that isn't canned or frozen. Not particularly delicious, but all things considered: he is keeping the Rations Bag. Keeping it and finding an almost comfortable dusty sofa to sit on in what once was a public lounge area at the end of this hall, to sit and go through it. Rations... some jerky he decides is gross after one single sniff...

Well, it was more exciting when he picked it up, but it's a bag! Catch him sitting there trying to determine if his own bag will fit inside it, because why not. Let's maximize efficiency. In his fussing he drops a ration and it skids some couple feet away, woops—]

Ah— look out?

[Stranger, do not trip on that ration that totally belongs to nobody.]

Hey!

[It's less a word and more of an angry, wordless shout, yelled from the second floor railing. Do not! Throw that!]

The hell you think you're doing?

[He sounds more than a little frantic, but on the other hand, he hasn't found any other alcohol yet, so yes, he's a bit on edge. He's coming down the escalator, and he will snatch that out of Constantin's hand given half a chance. He's pretty quick, too, more than you'd expect from someone like him.]

[The knife is probably fine! Probably. Prompto eyes it for a moment but lets it go since it doesn't seem like Haymitch is immediately interested in stabbing him.

As for what Haymitch is saying, though... Prompto supposes he can't discount it. He knows at least one person powerful enough to fuck with him on this level, though he doesn't know why the other people are here. Unless they're all illusions?

Now his head hurts. He'll just assume the guy is real for now.]

But what if there's someone out there who can help? Like... the military, or something?

[Even as he says it he knows it sounds dumb. He's more likely to run into a military that is not interested in helping him.]

[Shouting while he's clearly distracted is such a risk, to wit: he fumbles the alcohol, and while he doesn't drop it, he does wind up sloshing a sip's worth or two onto his leg. Cool, love that!

Less risky is taking it from him, as he's just managed to twist around to look at where the angry voice is coming from when Haymitch just snatches the whole thing away from him. What? Huh?]

Hello? For what could I have possibly earned being robbed on the very first evening?

[Like, take it, sure! But sir.]

⏪ I. ANNEGARE

[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!]

Edited 2020-07-01 03:20 (UTC)

i. arrival
( 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

lycanthropic if you want to discuss anything! )

What if there isn't?

[He shrugs. His general faith in people is minimal at best, military or not.

Waiting around for them to rescue you won't keep you fed. Won't stop you from being burnt alive by that air either, if it ever ends up getting too mixed up with the air here. I suggest you worry less about rescue and more about that.

Oh, is it yours? You buy it?

[Please, he recognizes his flask. Although, to be fair, he probably would have shouted like that for a plain bottle of vodka too. He's gone through withdrawal, he would rather not again!

Flask in hand, and he takes a breath, calming a little.]

This might be the only alcohol in the damn place. Try not to throw it away on a whim and maybe I won't be so quick to take it off your hands.

[ Good news: Prompto's camera is, indeed, not back in the water! As a matter of fact, that very camera is currently slung over the shoulders of a very tall blonde man, removing pieces of corroded armor off himself.

Bad news: he has no earthly idea what a camera is. All he knows is that it is not, in fact, a piece of armor, though it must be removed either way.

Worse news: armor guy too freakishly strong, may or may not crush delicate parts as he tries to inspect the odd contraption. Better act quick? ]

To be fair, I don't believe any of us are paying for whatever we happen to find tucked away in any dusty corners here.

[That flask was sitting in a pile of rubble and trash! He rescued it! You're welcome, actually!

It takes him a moment to actually comprehend that this guy owns the flask and isn't just shouting at him over presumed alcohol because of some sixth sense for liquor. Hmm, oops? He won't address it.]

Well, in any case— it was not a whim, I'll have you know.

...Okay, so.

[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.]

[Prompto is used to seeing strange creatures. What he's not so used to is those creatures talking, at least not in a way he can understand. It definitely catches his attention once he notices Silver, coming closer cautiously but curiously.

He also can't help but think that Silver is cute... His fur's still a little puffed up from the water. It's charming. Like a chocobo chick.]

H-hey there, little fella. [He holds up his hands so Silver can see he doesn't mean any harm.] You okay?

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Page 1 of 43

INTRO LOG #1

QUESTIONS

no subject

no subject

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no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

for flex

no subject

C

for the old man

for future sunglass hut ceo

fucking rude

no subject

brazen!

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no subject

no subject

no subject

b

no subject

OUTSIDE WORLD

dark water