INTRO LOG: JULY

[inthenightmods]

INTRO LOG: JULY
IT'S HAPPENING AGAIN

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor, as well as the rest of town.
date/time: july 1-3.
content: beacon's newest batch of residents arrives on the ferry. winters, will, and rastus introduce themselves and explain the situation.
warnings: n/a.

welcome to beacon.

It's dim, and the room won't stop swaying, gently rocking you back and forth. A loud sound startles you fully awake, a deep, moaning call: a foghorn. As your eyes adjust, you note faint red light streaking through the room from a tiny, round window.

You've found yourself in a private room, lying on a bed. The last things you remember are the events that led up to your death. Beside you is a folded tablet and a lantern that glows steadily with a healthy flame.

You're on a ship. And that ship is docking.

Making your way to the deck, and eventually the pier, you find only moonlight to greet you, and a dark forest beyond. There are other people here, each with their own unique lantern, and many of them look just as lost as you are. On the ferry you've just disembarked from, the speaker system begins to play a song.

In the distance, across the waters of the lake, you can see the tall silhouette of a lighthouse, its red light slowly turning.

•••
Winters and Will are waiting for you on the beach. Winters flags you down from where he's standing atop a large rock, surveying the gathering crowd. Will stands next to him, though he's monkeying with his tablet and looks rather bored. He barely looks up as Winters speaks:

"First thing's first: I'm sorry you're here. There's no easy way to break this news, so let's just get it over with, hm? You're dead. Or, ah, you've died. Call this the afterlife if you want, or don't if that ain't your thing, but point is, you're here 'cause you died. Those are the facts.

This world's dead, too. You've noticed by now it's pretty dark, yeah? That's 'cause there's no life here, not anymore. And that lantern you've got? That's your life, so to speak. The flame goes out, you die, and vice versa. Keep it close. Should be easy enough to remember on account of how the sun don't rise. You'll need something to see by.

This place is called Beacon, and that's Lake Red Jacket. Town's 'bout a mile down the road, and we've got a bonfire there, but that's the only other light you'll see in this place. Save for the moon and all, though the sky won't do you much good out in the woods. I'll let Rastus explain the bonfire to y'all.

Ah, right. I'm Ben Winters—Winters'll do—and this here's Will Ingr— What? For christ's sake, Dr. Will Ingram. Likes to think he's the brains of the operation, as you can see. If you've got questions about these tablets, he's your guy. Rastus tends to the fire, and you'll find him in town. He's married to his job in a way. And you may never've seen a person like him back wherever you came from, but don't make a big fuss over it. He's a nice fellow. Mind your manners.

The three of us are leftovers from past resets. We came here on that ferry just like you, but it's just us left now. 'Sides the Lighthouse Keeper, but it'll be a bit before you get to meet her. She's got control over the town, see, and if she ain't satisfied with a group's performance, they get the axe. Town gets reset. If she pulls a reset on you folks, a couple of you might end up like me and Will here, giving this speech to the next crop."

The red beam of the lighthouse pulses over the group, over the trees. Winters glances up to watch it swing out over the bay.

"But don't hold it against her. Ain't her fault we're in this mess, and we've all got a job to do, including you.

For now, concentrate on accepting your lot, yeah? We're here to answer your questions, but we ain't gonna tell you all there is to know just yet. Some things are best learned on your own, and some of it we just don't want to saddle you with yet. There's a limit to how long we can stay here safely, that's true, but thing is, we do got time. Time enough to play this smart. Do better than the folks before us did. Settle in, make peace, explore a bit if you're up for it. Use these first couple weeks to come to grips. You ain't gonna be any good to the town if you don't sort yourself out before worrying about what comes next.

So listen up: You're dead. You died. Whatever your old life was, it's done now. None of us can go back, so all we've got is forward. Welcome to Beacon. Could be worse, yeah?"

ooc.

Hey there, wonderful players, and welcome to In the Night! For this intro log, all three NPCs will be available for chatting with, whether your character wants to make casual conversation or ask questions about all this. The headers on each NPC toplevel are there for easy reference as to what each of them are responsible for, but you're welcome to go to any NPC for whatever reason. You're welcome to assume your character has overheard any NPC conversation to learn more about the game. After the NPC threads have died down, we'll compile the info learned ICly and add it to the game history page. If your character would contribute something specific to the game history records, let us know!

DELIVERIES

The following packages can be found in the cargo hold:

• The monthly store restock

QUICKNAV
comms	|	network • logs • memes • ooc
pages	|	rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav

Comments

Winters | NPC: explorations, general questions

[scrapcap]

[Ben Winters is a brick wall of a man, his tall frame made all that more imposing by the leather trench coat that hangs heavy on his shoulders. That said, he looks more frayed than unfriendly, like he'll be right as rain after a good night's sleep and a hot shower. He's got his lantern clipped to his gun holster. It looks more than a little worse for wear.

He can be found at the harbor, ready to answer your burning questions from where he welcomed you all to the town. After the initial rush has died down, he can be found at the bar in the Invincible or inside town hall, perusing the empty shelves.

Wherever you find him, he'll greet you with a nod and a handshake. His voice is weathered and much quieter now that he's not addressing a crowd. He's got a strange, unplaceable accent that sounds a bit like American, New Zealand, and South African all rolled into one.

And you might notice that he's missing the last two fingers on his left hand, and his right arm... Are those scales? Should you say something?]

Good to meet you. What's your name?

[withsadness]

[At first I was like, oh I can't do int they already met, but then no, I tagged him with another, different child. So here we are, this is a horribly written response wow okay.

Inside town hall, when he extends his hand toward her in greeting...she reaches out to take it. Of course, her hands are very small, so she grasps his fingers with both of them, then dips down into a curtsy.]

My name is Mary. How do you do?

Will Ingram | NPC: tablets, tech questions

[donttalktome]

[Will Ingram— sorry, Doctor Will Ingram, is a far less intimidating figure than his companion. Entirely human, he stands at a very average height, and probably a less-than-average weight. He looks rather more bookish than one might expect of a survivor, and the glasses don't exactly help. His lantern hangs from the belt of his surprisingly well-kept suit.

After Winters' thrilling speech, Will hangs around the beach/pier area for a while, open to being approached although he doesn't exactly look it, as his body posture tends toward closed-off. He spends most of his time tapping away at his tablet, interspersed with glances up toward the lighthouse.

If someone gets near enough though, he'll talk.

Later in the "day", he can be found taking up an entire table at the Invincible's bar, having covered it in tablets in varying stages of disrepair. Also empty coffee cups.

Once again, he'll speak if approached, though without looking up from his tinkering.]

Today's a freebie. You can ask whatever questions you want. I can't guarantee I'll answer, but you can ask. And if you're one of the old-world folks, I suppose I can assist you in figuring out how to use your device. If you ask nicely.

[His accent's hard to place, and his words are rather on the quiet side, practically dripping with disdain.]

[OOC: Leu here! I work until 5pm EST today, so replies from Will won't come immediately. You are still free to tag him, though!]

invincible go;

[preseance]

( gene stands off to one side, service cap in his hands havin' doffed it for politeness' sake. he don't make no move to speak or interrupt until will chances to speak to him, an' then he clears his throat. )

Thank you, sir. 'Preciate it.

( he slides his tablet on the table. it's still pristine, at least, a testament to how well gene treats that an' the rest of his equipment. )

Was just wonderin' if it had some manner of function that could turn, ah... ( how'd the commander put it? ) text on into speech? Or vice-versa, should there be a need?

( he's making light of it. near inconsequential. but truth is, he can't hardly read his way outta a paper bag or do much more'n sign his name, so. utility. he needs to be able to know what's goin' on so's to help as many folk as possible, an' if they only reach out via text he won't have the first clue. )

Rastus | NPC: bonfire keeper, item requests

[cawdad]

[Winters did warn you that Rastus would perhaps look a little odd, but he failed to specify that Rastus is an arakkoa. A rather haggard one, at that. His feathers are a dull red, frayed at the edges with some bent at odd angles. He limps and drags his talons through the dirt as he paces in front of the bonfire, his lantern dangling from his staff. His lantern looks to be in pristine condition at least, even if the old bird is past his prime.

He greets you with a sort of guttural chirp, and launches into his spiel whether or not you were ready to listen. His voice is... maybe exactly what you'd expect from a humanoid bird.]

Craw. Rastus. My name is Rastus. I am the bonfire keeper. Hello. My job is to oversee. I watch the fire. It's not like fire you are used to. Watch. Watch.

[He hobbles into the firepit and lights a torch from the bonfire's flames. It catches, and nothing seems terribly special about it—until he uses that torch to light a second torch, that is. The first torch fizzles out as he lights the second, and then he passes the flame back again.]

Fire is light, and light is finite. Life, too. Only so much of it left in this place. Be careful. Be wise.

[He touches the two torches together again. This time, the fire seems to split in half, a dull flame burning on each torch. He holds it out in front of him to make sure you've seen, and then he dips the flames back into the bonfire. They drip back into the fire as the logs sizzle underneath.]

The lanterns. They are not like the bonfire. The bonfire is the bonfire, but your lantern is you. See? See.

[With one now-unlit torch, he prods at your lantern's flame. You might feel a strange tingling in your belly, or maybe a tugging in your throat, a cold spot in the small of your back, a prickle running up the back of your neck. In any case, the torch doesn't catch. Your lantern's light stays put where it is, unwavering.]

Do you understand? This is important. Crawk. You can die again here. You don't want to die again here.

You may take torches for the town. The bonfire is a resource. Use it. What good is all the light in one space? Hm? Ration the torches but take the torches. The bonfire is a gift. We must use the gift. I will give torches if you need torches. I keep the records.

[He nods like he's said all he has to say, but then:]

Mrawk. I can order things. I can get things for you. If you don't like the shops, I can get you things. Tell me what you need. I will try. Try. But some things have a price. I am not. Rrrk. What is the word?

[He pauses, tapping a talon against his beak.]

Ah. I am not a bird. Krrrick. I am Rastus. Hello.

[Hello indeed. Rastus is here to talk about the bonfire and special orders, but feel free to ask him about anything that crosses your mind. You can also assume he ICly explains everything on the item request page to your character without specifically needing to ask.]

[withsadness]

[In Mary's case, Rastus gets as far as messing with her lantern. And then she lets out a whimper, and then her eyes fill up with tears.]

I felt it...

[The shudder, the cold. She falls to her knees, emitting what appears to be a high-pitched whining noise.]

I don't want...I don't want it! No!

rosalind lutece; bioshock; ota

[originallutece]

the safety of shoreline fading away; harbor & bonfire;

[It could be a great deal better, too, just saying. Like, on the scale of it could be, dying and then being forcibly revived in this Dante's allegory knockoff could have gone a whole lot better, but here they are, and there's no use in complaining.

Point in fact, the first thing Rosalind does when Winters' speech ends is look: look at the others there, rising on her toes to try and see through the sea of men that have gathered. Dark hair is fairly popular, and a great deal of them are of the stocky and tall variety, which is all well and good, but not what she's looking for. Even when people begin to disperse, she seems intent on finding someone-- and when she doesn't, she exhales slowly, her eyes narrowing.

Right.

A quick trip to the general store, and then Rosalind settles by the bonfire, a few materials laid out before her. Bits of fabric, a needle and thread, a new set of clothes that she changes into almost immediately . . . and some water she seems intent on getting to boil over the bonfire.]

What do you imagine they meant by reset? She can't precisely kill us, can she? So, [she says, because when is her talking to someone ever anything but an excuse for her to speak her own thoughts out loud,] it has to be a fate worse than that, yes? Something that Winters et all's cohorts suffered. Some final dismissal of spirit? Dying again, Rastus said . . . and for that matter--

[Hm. She slides a few fingers idly against her stomach, then glances up at whatever poor soul is sitting near her.]

Give me your hand.

you need to calm down; general store

[A day is a long time. By the end of it, she's gone in and out of the general store at least four times (if anyone is observant enough to notice). Maybe you're on her tail the next time she goes in. Maybe you really wanted to interact with those cute forest spirits, because you watched a lot of Miyazaki in your youth and this is what you've been waiting for.

If so: sorry.

Because the second Rosalind walks in, there's this great bit chittering noise, not so much panicked as quietly frantic, urgent little chirps and clicks-- and those shadowy figures behind the counter bolt, hustling towards the back, avoiding their latest customers' eyes in favor of getting the hell out of there. Only once they're away (which really isn't that far, you can still see them, they're still right there) do they turn around, staring warily at Rosalind.

She does not look amused.]

They were questions. Don't be overdramatic.

[She takes a deliberate step forward, and oh, no, they're moving again, hauling ass to get away from her, Ros what did you do--]

fantasy and microchips shooting from the hip; bar

[Is it still unhealthy to drink to excess if you're dead?

Let's find out!

No, she isn't drunk, not hideously so. But she is drinking, glass after glass of a dark red wine, sipping at them at a speed which suggests her survival depends on it. This is at least her fourth glass, and yet her hands are steady as she works.

You can catch her doing a few things: first, prying at her tablet. She works with the screen first, fingers flying over it before she decides manuel repair might be best. Is it a good idea to just pop open that thing and tinker with it? Maybe! Probably not!

Or maybe you catch her later, where it looks less like futzing and more like building: tools applied to bastardized survival equipment, a glass jug emptied out and a few white powders in it. That looks fun and safe!

Or perhaps you just see her doing the bottle trick. Or starting it, anyway: she fills a bottle halfway up with water, grips it tightly, and then glances up sharply. Does she catch your eye? Sorry, buddy, but you're getting beckoned over with the sort of expression that demands, not asks.

Whatever she's doing, she seems very fixated on it. Almost to the point of obsession, in fact: there's a frantic quality to the way her hands move, enough that she inevitably catches the eye of a few people. It's not that she's useless-- no, whatever she's doing is clearly working. But this isn't just idle futzing about.]

wildcard;

[Have something else in mind? Want to do another location? Hit me up at kitnkat

the bar, after they move in

[policier]

( Javert should probably have his French card revoked. When he goes up to the bar, he doesn't order any wine. He just asks for a large mug of coffee and a piece of bread, and sits himself down in the seat next to Rosalind, watching as she takes apart her tablet.

He's perfectly happy not talking, as Rosalind has probably figured out. But his curiosity eventually gets the best of him, and he leans forward into the bar, arms crossed on the countertop and asks, )

Is it broken?

( He honestly has no idea what she's doing. )

Rosinante Donquixote | One Piece

[callada]

The sway of the boat had been gentle. Comfortable enough. He kind of regrets stepping off onto the pier, but by the time he heads back to the harbor later, it's long gone. No chance of getting back on it now, it seems - but that open expanse of water is inviting all the same, just begging to be explored.

For the first hour or so he just sits by the fire. Smokes a cigarette once he learns how to light it off the lantern instead of his dead lighter. Makes idle conversation with a few people, feeling out who he's stuck with, but it's half-hearted. Up in the room in the inn he's claimed, he sets the snail phone with its little feathered cowl on the desk and crosses his fingers that it will snap out of its apparently still state - he did, right? - but instead it tips over as it slowly dries out and curls inward on itself.

For a while he lurks in his room at the inn, but it seems he's acquired some roommates despite not really wanting any. And they're all right, so he lets them be. Maybe it's good to have people around. Maybe solitude right now wouldn't do him any good. Much later, when sleep doesn't seem easy to come by, he heads down to the bar and indulges in another smoke. Sorry, what's a no smoking area? Never heard of it. But he's cleaned up, with new clothes that mostly fit, and he seems focused on his own reflection in his glass.

By the second day he's feeling a little bit more lively, and still completely determined to push aside everything he's been through recently by getting to work exploring. He can be found poking around whatever disused buildings he finds - the church, the town hall, the general store, the boathouse - as well as the edges of the forest, but he might only catch your attention when out of nowhere this 9-foot klutz tumbles down to the ground for no apparent reason, sending his lantern rolling with a clatter. "Shit-" he gasps as it finally stops, because wow. Yes, he heard the briefing, but will it really help him in the long run?

((I'm happy to match prose or action so reply as you like - and there are plenty of options in here but feel free to wildcard also!))

oh boy it's churching time

[voktys]

The lantern comes to a stop at her feet, and she sets her bag of freshly gathered (is it gathering if one goes to a general store?) necessities down to pick it up instead. Light is life after all, far more so than the various foods she has acquired. Food, she can live without. Sleep, she can do without. Lack of light kills, truly kills, from the inside out, she is sure of it. Gently, she holds it, and looks for the noise she'd heard that indicated someone falling.

He is hard to mistake for anyone else – were it not for the sheer size of him, few people wear so extravagant a coat, so strange an assembly of colours. Strange to her, she supposes, but strange nonetheless.

"Rosinante." The tinge of amusement is as recognisable as her red self, the hint of a roll to the 'r' that marks her as one from the Jade Sea. "What a nice offering you brought."

She holds that jest for just a moment, before giving something of a laugh and walking towards him, lantern clearly outstretched with the intent to return it to him.

gene hicks | ota!

[preseance]

 just being neighborly;

( if you've claimed a room, you might find this fella knockin' at your door at some reasonable hour or other. he's balancin' a plate on one hand, enough food there for a couple folks or so. given the roommate situation, he ain't takin' any chances with folks bein' underfed. )

Hey, if'n you're hungry I got somethin' out here for you. I can leave it at the door if you ain't of a mind to open it.

( no hard feelin's one way or another, gene knows how it goes. everyone deals differently when death's abound, an' he won't take it the least personal if folk tell him to leave. )

 jesus was a carpenter, wasn't he?

( gene can be found amidst a pile of broken-down dressers. he's bein' real careful-like as he takes them apart, an' any wood he thinks might be useful is consigned to a neat little pile of it. he's stripped to just a tank-top an' his usual jump pants for this an' is awful sweaty besides, a sure sign he's been at it a while.

if he knows your character, he'll give them a nod an' a polite greeting. if he don't, he'll do the same an' may ask their name. either way: )

Hey, if it ain't no trouble, y'mind holdin' this for me while I hammer this piece on down?

  it's fun to stay at the y-m-c-a

( near first thing he'd done was set up a tent. you learn that the hard way, you dig in an' you hold onto hopin' that a shell ain't gonna blow your ass sideways. but, much as the soldierin' part of him wants to be out an' away from all the rest of the folks, he can't help but notice there's a need of him in the invincible, too.

he maintains the tent outta habit. place to go if he needs it, an' a shelter to anyone else who might be headin' out towards the woods. you can find him there without too much fuss, an' he'll greet your character peaceably enough. )

If you're goin' off into the woods, mind if I tag along?

( a gesture to his medic's bag, slung over one shoulder as explanation. he an' irwin are about equally as keen on lettin' folks go off alone, which is to say they ain't. )

  ooc blurberoo

( I'm happy to continue any of my tdm threads, or to continue them over here if you'd like! i'm also chill handwaving out the rest if anyone would rather focus on newer things.

you can reach me on vitarays if that's more your speed for any plotting/shenanigans/etc. )

[originallutece]

[The woman who answers the door is odd, albeit in some subtle ways. Her dress is what some might consider modern, all pencil skirt and suit jacket, masculine and feminine all in one. But the short, sharp line of her waist suggests something more archaic is serving as underwear, because she might have had to give up her skirts, but like hell she's giving up her corset.

Odd, too: the suspicion in her gaze. It's as if Gene's trying to sell something; she stares up at him coolly, focuses down on the plate in his hands, and then back up at him.]

I believe you have the wrong door.

Mary | Ib | ota

[withsadness]

GENERAL STORE;

[After she's, at least seemingly, gotten over the fact that she's dead, Mary can be found for awhile roaming around the general store. She...looks a little lost, and her face is twisted in a sad sort of desperation as she apparently realizes she's not going to find what she's hoping for.

If you aren't the type to approach a wandering child yourself, she'll be the one to initiate. Mary tugs on your sleeve (or your shirt or your pants if you don't have sleeves).]

I can't find anything for coloring...

THE INVINCIBLE;

[Apparently, Mary has decided that the decor here is much too lacking in the department of color! If you're still looking for a room and end up all the way down at 310, or perhaps simply want to get an idea of who's situated themselves where...or maybe you're even one of her own roommates, you can find her humming to herself as she sets a can of red paint down in front of the doorway. It takes her some fiddling, but she manages to get it open, and then, with the appropriate amount of childlike fervor, she dips her hands straight in.]

He-he!

[Giggling only stops her for a second before she slaps her hands onto the door.]

TOWN HALL;

[Or you may find that Mary has taken a keen interest of the Cocker Spaniel-headed individual. She rocks on her feet in front of it, humming as she takes it in. And then, as if she fully expects a response:]

What's your name?

[There, of course, is no response. Still, Mary is unfazed.]

It's okay, don't be shy! I'm very nice. We can be friends, too.

AROUND;

[At any given point, it's easy enough to find Mary wandering around the town. She's found for herself a sketchbook of sorts; it's meant likely to be a notebook for a survivalist, but she'll take what she can get. She also hasn't found any crayons, so while she waits to see if she can persuade Rastus to getting her some appropriate coloring supplies, she's still got that red paint bucket it one hand and her lantern in another. Where ever she sits, she fingerpaints, undoubtedly getting little smudges all over the place (including her own face) in her wake.

If she hasn't interacted with you yet, she'll be a little shy when approached, maybe a touch guarded, but that insecurity melts easily away and she'll ultimately give anyone a sweet smile.

Notably, of course, she stays away from the fire, deliberately avoiding it in a wide arc when at all possible. Other than that, anywhere's open game.]

roommate pls why

[callada]

[While exploring around the town - if one can call it that - on the second day here, Rosinante certainly notices Mary flitting to and fro occasionally. She looks like she's having fun, or something like it, which is nice to see given their reason for being here. She brings a certain kind of light to the town; one nothing to do with that fire she avoids.

Later that evening he returns finally, lantern in hand and cigarette between his lips. One of the last. His makeup won't last forever either and until he knows what to give himself for a new look and new life, he's going without. He sees Mary and her lantern from the opposite end of the hall, at the top of the stairs, and works out what she's up to on his way there. Right. Finger painting the door. ... Cool.]

Hey, Mary. Mind letting me through?

melisandre 🏮 asoiaf / got

[voktys]

( i ) gather one, gather all

⟪ No dawn again, not ever, she had wasted her final one on breaking her fast. Should have looked deeper into her flames, should have searched for daggers in her back instead of her champion. Look to Snow, the fires had said, agonisingly so. She'd wanted to see Stannis, Azor Ahai reborn. Now, she'd wanted a warning for what was to come for her.

She had missed it, that warning, and now there's thin holes in the back of her red, red robes, and bloodstains.

It's no matter. She had tried to see something in the flames earlier, and had instead spoken to some people, and now, there's no time to waste. Actually, there is nothing but time to waste for her now, and that forces her all the more to stay busy.

Right now, she's in The Invincible, and quickly decides that her first impulse had been correct – best stick to the 'church', as the temple here is called.

But waste not, want not. ⟫

We could share and share alike.

⟪ Yes, she's talking to you, and yes, what she wants are some of the cushions, blankets, curtains, fabric, whatever it is you have both discovered just now. ⟫

---

( ii ) touching base

⟪ Back to the church she goes, because it is a holy place, and holiness is all she has ever asked for, isn't it? It is as all the rest of it this place, as if it soaked up shadows and spits them out again piece by piece.

At any rate, this is where she will be busiest: she is carrying in whatever she took from The Invincible earlier, setting it up in one of the empty rooms after sweeping. Anyone passing the church might see the light of her lantern in one window, or find her kneeling by the candles, singing a prayer song in Asshai'i.

If you are less lucky, it might be her who approaches you, silent as a shadow, one feverishly warm hand resting on your shoulder. ⟫

Are you lost?

⟪ Her voice is warm, low, not ungentle, but her eyes are red and her dress is bloodstained – it all evens out, in the end. ⟫

Beautiful building, is it not?

---

( iii ) fire-bound

⟪ Even she runs out of things to do, and eventually, she has circled back to the bonfire, sitting by it, staring into the embers, into the flames. It doesn't matter if you join her or not, she'll ask the following: ⟫

In which shape did death come for you?

⟪ Maybe she'll hand you an apple, if you look particularly hungry or grief-stricken, but the question is always the same. It has ever been best to face matters, one cannot run from the truth anymore than one can outrun fate, or God, or blood. ⟫

---

( wildcard )

⟪ ooc: so, here's a small selection of prompts! if none of those work for you, please feel free to surprise me with something else! if you'd like to plot, you can hit me up at nehelenia or dm me on discord at dracula#1035 and we'll come up with something for our beans to do together!

anyway, i'm super looking forward to writing with all of you c: ⟫

( prompt iii! )

[sunborne]

[ maybe melisandre had been talking to the man - one of the locals, possibly - instead of daylight and honestly? that makes a lot of sense.

at the time of the question, daylight is simply sitting in front of the bonfire, not making a sound. he curled up on in himself and rest his helm on his arms to relax. it wouldn't be too much of a stretch for one to assume that daylight is simply a strange pile of some things left at the bonfire. maybe a small tent of sorts for one of the people who prefer the outdoors.

but it's daylight who speaks up, his instincts and impulsiveness kicking in when he hears the question. he shifts - making it very clear the maybe pile/maybe tent is most certainly not a pile or a tent - and looks up to look at melisandre with something akin to... scandal? confusion? hmmm- let's go with puzzlement for now. ]

Don't you think that's kind of... a lot to ask, miss? That's a heck of an icebreaker.

ambrose spellman ( chilling adventures of sabrina ) ota

[necromantiae]

▶ 01. BELLY UP TO THE BAR

---

( it's a bit strange, being dead. he would have thought he'd be hotter (literally, in this case) or surrounded by demons or laying on a bed made of skulls but apparently, his afterlife is a small, permanently dark town, a bar, and a drink of something amber.

it's not terrible, really. dying wasn't the best way to break the house arrest that he'd been stuck with for nearly a century but it was something. it was nice to be somewhere different even if it meant those witch hunters had gotten the best of him.

but, those are thoughts for later when he's alone. because those thoughts will inevitably lead to thoughts of the family left behind and the wonder if they're mourning him.

for now, he is going to drink. can you get drunk when you're dead? ambrose is going to find out. )

▶ 02. SHOP TILL YOU DROP

---

( ambrose finds that there isn't much to do in a small town that's dark all the time. maybe greendale wasn't the best place in the world to live what with being such a hot spot for strange and unusual activity but it did have an enjoyable night life.

what was ambrose doing right now to entertain himself? book shopping. he's not expecting to find any interesting grimoires but maybe he'll get lucky and find something interesting from the mundane world. )

Catcher in the Rye?

( even in the afterlife, that book persisted, didn't it? what an overrated piece of tripe. )

Maybe I can use it for kindling.

▶ 03. BEACH BLANKET BINGO

---

I will definitely not be getting a tan here.

( still, the fact that there is a beach is a nice touch. it would be idyllic if it weren't so dark and foreboding. ambrose spends some time looking out over the water, trying to spot points of light that might indicate life elsewhere but it's just all darkness.

eventually, he ends up laying down in the sand and peering up at the sky. the fingers of his right hand twist and turn, little streaks of illumination shooting up and tangling in the air, giving himself and anyone nearby a small fireworks display. )

At least that still works.

( he hadn't lost everything when he died. )

▶ 04. WILDCARD

---

( feel free to throw anything at me. hit me up at spoonishly for plotting. )

02;

[originallutece]

Don't.

[That's very much a command, not a request, as she glances up from her own book-browsing.]

We have a limited number of resources here, and even overly dramatic melancholia can seem appealing when no one's any other option.

[For example: she herself is holding Great Expectations, so.]

daylight vis lornlit. | original character.

[sunborne]

i;; this isn't fine. (harbour.)

[ first things first: this is definitely a lot to take in.

daylight has tried to find somewhere secluded enough for him to hunker down on the ground, hugging his legs to his chassis as he tries to- what is he trying to do? is he trying to ignore what's happening? is he hoping to wake up at any moment? he's not sure and he doesn't want to be sure, honestly, because the options he's thinking of are pretty selfish. people here are in need of help and he wants to think about his own concerns? you're better than that, day. you should be.

thankfully, daylight isn't going to be alone with his thoughts for too long. he's suddenly aware of the sound of approaching footsteps. he looks up to be sure and yep. someone is making their way to him. ]

Oh! Hi! Sorry! [ daylight ducks his helm, wiping at the corner of his optics. if one inspects him closely enough, they can see he's just wiping at his optics. there are no stray tears to clean up. no almost crying to stop. it's because daylight can't cry since he doesn't have tear ducts or anything close to that, but something about doing the motion helps calm him.

it certainly calms him enough to pull himself addressing, looking up again to address the person proper now. his smile is a little wobbly but he's doing his best to look friendly as possible. ] Um. Yeah? Do you need help with anything?

ii;; absolutely barbaric. (the invincible.)

[ after daylight has had time to, well, panic and more so, he tries his hardest to bounce back. he tells himself he has to bounce back. there's no use of moping at the pier and panicking over something he can't control. he's just gotta roll with it and see what he can do to help.

but he's got to settle down, first and foremost. he was told that the invincible is a place he can stay at if he wants but he's gotta be quick. they only have so many rooms and a lot more people than said rooms an accommodate.

so day quickly hurries down a hallway of the inn as a flurry of activity surrounds him as others, too, try to find a place to stay. deciding to do it randomly and hope for the best, day does a quick axel-wheel-tarmac pick and bursts into the first room he sees. ]

Dibs!!

[ ... aaaand someone is already in the room.

well now. this is embarrassing. ]

... Oops. [ daylight has the decency to look sheepish for his actions. he ends up shuffling where he stands as he rubs the back of his neck. ] Umm... I can see that this room is taken, huh?

iii;; he's got nothing in his pockets. (the general store.)

[ call daylight crazy but there's something cosy about the general store.

if someone asked him why he thought that, daylight wouldn't be able to answer them. he isn't sure what it is, really. there's just something about how there's so much stuff to browse through. signs of life and activity of this town. a sense of history that lets him know people have been here and tried to thrive, despite it all. it makes daylight feel lighter, in a way.

so despite the stares that he gets as he enters the building, he finds himself enjoying the time he's using to go through and poke at stuff. better to have company than no company in his opinion. it's why he doesn't mind when he catches the eye of someone else as he browses through some clothes that will not fit him in any way. in fact- he's pretty happy.

a chance to meet someone new! nice. ]

Can I get your opinion on something? [ this is when daylight rests a comically tiny hat on his helm, making sure it rested daintily on the crest that framed his face. he strikes a pose, making sure to be goofy as possible. ] What do you think? Does it bring out the blue of my optics?

iv;;; wildcard!!

[ want to do something else? feel free to do it here! also, you’re welcome to hit me up/plot with me via my plurk prognostic if there’s something specific you want. i'll match my thread partner's tags so if you want to do prose, feel free and i'll roll with it! ]

iii

[dualikey]

[The shops don't feel very big, maybe 'cause they can only stock whatever gets brought in on the boats? But something about wandering around in here feels different anyway. It's familiar, in the way that the Inn and its crowded rooms and Town Hall with its funny statue aren't. Sora's no stranger to traveling to different worlds and finding the places that seem to overlap- if anything, journeying to so many other places has really only taught him that each world is more alike than he could've imagined.

It's just that- the longer he's here, the more real it becomes.
Sure he's been to other worlds, but he's finally run into one that he won't be able to leave.

It's the kind of understanding that's threatened to sink his spirits a few times already, making him feel a little like a small buoy out among much bigger waves. But doesn't it also mean that he can take his time here? That he can rummage through all the shelves because he doesn't have to rush somewhere else, and that he can flip through books or touch pieces of jewelry without his friends shouting that it's time to go?

Sora's already made his way through the canned food items, both dubious and otherwise, and he's seen a few people along the way. He just hasn't seen anybody who looks like this! Sora's eyes are huge when he realizes he's the one being talked to- until the pose and the teeny tiny hat catches up to him.] Wh- I- [His expression wobbles, a brave attempt to keep from dissolving into laughter that mostly ends in Sora coughing loudly to hide the noise.]

Ye...ah... [he wheezes] Yeah definitely. Really blue!

Though maybe... [Sora reaches for a second hat, a twin, and offer it up.] Two might look even better?

raylan givens, justified.

[ultimatums]

» 001. FIRST DAY

[ all of this – the place, the people – is a little much for raylan to be taking in at once, so he sticks around wherever he is for quite a while before he moves somewhere else. his lantern doesn't look much like anyone else's, which is aggravating him, since it's the exact same as the horribly out-of-date lanterns that would hang from the ceilings back when he worked the mine. if it's some sort of cosmic joke, then he's not laughing.

the bonfire holds some interest to raylan for some time, a fire in a place that absorbs all other light. besides, it's warm, and he's not alone here; there are plenty of people to talk to. even if he's too mightily pissed off that he's here at all to be initiating any conversation, he cuts a pretty strong figure in his hat and cowboy boots.

later, he finds himself in the invincible, because of course he does. he'll be at the bar as long as he's able, skulling bourbons, mildly less peeved with some alcohol in him, enough that he might be inclined to joining a conversation, if not necessarily starting one. if you catch him in a good mood, though – probably shortly after a refill, he might be more prone to chat: ]

You think everyone around here oughta be taken on face-value? [ he glances over his shoulder, expression not incidentally suspicious. ] Seen some real unsavoury folks skulkin' around in the shadows.

» 002. SECOND DAY

[ apparently people around here don't necessarily need sleep, but raylan gets in a few hours anyway, to kick off his bourbon haze. waking up in the pitch-black is still horribly disconcerting, and he has no idea how long he's been out. picking up his lantern again to go downstairs is another moment of irritation that's set his face back into its ornery scowl.

as much as he'd been complaining of skulkers yesterday, he ends up doing a fair amount of it himself. his first order of business is checking out the general store, which reminds him to an unpleasant degree of mags bennett's store back in bennett county. he doesn't actually want anything from here, mostly he's just looking to say that he looked, so when your character drops whatever item they're thinking of picking up and it rolls against his boot, he doesn't stop before he bends down to pick it up and offer it back. ] Least it's intact. Although I admit I'm a little curious to see how those forest things would get across 'you break it, you buy it.'

[ otherwise, he'll be around, poking his head in various buildings including the church and the town hall. if he happens to walk in on a room that someone's taken for a living space, his brow furrows as he leans in the doorway, one hand on his hip. ] You know there's a whole inn back thataway, right?

» 003. WILDCARD & NOTE

[ feel free to grab him wherever, try to get into his and scarlett's bedroom, text him, push him into a puddle, knock his hat off his head, WHATEVER! i'm up for all of it!

here is the NOTE! ok, so: i really want to keep a bunch of tdm threads going, so if it's my turn on one of them then i'll go ahead and drop my tag in the replies to this post for specific folks! if we have a tdm thread and you want to handwave it rather than keep it going, that's totally fine by me – let me know in the discord or on plurk (crowders)! i'm also absolutely open to multiple threads, if you want to tag in to one of these but i've shot you a tdm thread reply then PLEASE go ahead and do that!

one addendum – just because as far as i can remember i didn't have many threads with raylan as the victim in the chained-to-the-tree scenario from the TDM, i'm not really all that interested in keeping those game canon! but feel free to tag me elsewhere and we can get some cr going. also, if your character was the victim in that sitch, i'm definitely happy to keep that going! ]

@withsadness!

[ultimatums]

[ cont'd! ]

[ raylan can't help the plaintive ] Shit! [ that blurts out of him the second she says that. he makes a face. ] Pardon my French. What'd someone wanna murder you for?

sora | kingdom hearts | ota

[dualikey]

ships in the night

[It isn't his first time on a boat, and maybe that's the reason that his body knows before he really wakes up and thinks about it. His head doesn't lift right away, instead, his legs dangle off the side of the bed and sway with the rocking of the water. After all of that it's easy to find his feet. His footsteps are shallow thuds as he makes his way through the ferry's halls, squinting curiously at the long stretches of pathway and pausing before opened, or even cracked cabin doors.

It's a whole lot bigger than the kind of boats they used to take out back on the islands, but it also feels really different from something like a pirate ship. There isn't so much- open air. He feels like he's passing a bunch of bedrooms, and he isn't reluctant to venture a curious-] -Hello?
[At those doors he's able to get a peek through.]

[Little by little Sora makes his way above deck, where he finds a spot for himself against the railing to watch a harbor town come into view.]

Whoa- what d'you think that's about?

a long walk off a short- wait

[Off loading onto the pier isn't a rough task, but it looks like the walk into town is going to take a little longer. Sora raises one hand to his face the way someone might try and shield their eyes from the sun, squinting from one direction to another. He can't really see anything from here except the lighthouse way back, and a bunch of dunes ahead- but they said the town would be somewhere in that direction so it can't be too hard to miss, right?

His lantern tucked casually under one arm, Sora matches his footfalls to the people around him, readily falling into step with anyone near enough.]

Hey, you're pretty tall- so lemme know when you see it alright?
You know, kinda like a, what's it called again?

[The lantern gives him something else to juggle, but Sora manages to bring both hands to the edges of his face and cup them like he's miming a pair of binoculars.] A periscope!

oh man this is totally hotel california

[This seems like a lot of rooms, more than he's really seen in one place before. But it's not like the- what's it called again? The Invisible? It's not the only big building around. And that's the reason Sora stands out on its deck with both hands on his hips, head swiveling as he looks around.] Hey- what do you think that big building is? Wanna go check it out?

[Never one to be content with unsatisfied curiosity, Sora won't be found just watching from the sidelines. When he makes his way to the general store, instead of trying to stuff his pockets with goods, he crouches down between shelves and reaches out to pick up mysterious tins- squinting at the labels and reading them aloud.] Eight hot dogs. In a can?! Gross!

house hunters except without credit checks

[It doesn't take a whole lot of waiting to see that their lodging has more guests than space available, but that doesn't really bother him. Life on the islands had been communal in a lot of ways and he's grown up used to sharing space and resources with the families around him. Besides, it's summer isn't it? The weather's definitely warm enough for sleeping outside.

Sora slings his lantern over one shoulder and goes from room to room- asking if anyone has extra blankets to spare, and isn't shy with the gratitude he extends in return either. He won't be staying in the inn and instead can be spotted carrying his little piles back in the direction of the ship they'd come in on- prepared to hang up a few hammocks inside the boathouse and call it a day. Uh. Night?]

hotel california; general store

[withsadness]

[Mary, from somewhere nearby as she searches through the shelf, lets out a surprised gasp at Sora's exclamation. She darts over, all but flinging herself at him and the can.]

There are dogs trapped in there? Oh no, let them out! They're crowded!

nathan drake | uncharted | ota

[nonscriptum]

day 001

[ Death isn't exactly a stranger to a guy who tempts the damn thing on the daily - or used to, until he got sucked back into the mess from which he had previously dragged himself. The first couple hours were spent quietly compartmentalizing, a defense mechanism he's perfected since he was seven, before allowing it to really sink in.

From one godforsaken city to another, the crumbling ruins of Libertalia exchanged for a tidy little town he could see in the distance, his palms itching and the need to get away from the crowd growing exponentially with every passing second. Nate doesn't look his best the the bonfire or even at the inn, wearing clothes that have seen mud and worse, scrapes on his arms, a sharp and bloody gash at his temple.

He's friendly enough, though, with a small smile and a general laissez-faire attitude that says his current state is one with which he is intimately familiar. The bar is comfortable and the liquor has enough bite to make him feel like he's alive.

There's a glass tipped in your direction. ]

This is gonna sound crazy, but it's not my first time in a place like this.

day 002

[ So accustomed to having an assortment of useful things strapped to his belt, Nate almost didn't realize there was a lantern there until he found himself reaching for the rope and hook at his side. It doesn't provide the kind of wattage he'd like, but then, his flashlight is apparently all but useless and its placement on his hip serves as little more than nonfunctional nostalgia for the time being. He won't ditch it yet. It's just heavy enough to throw at something if necessary.

It doesn't take more than a day for Nate to shake off the malaise and get away from the buildings with all the people, and his first destination is the general store - only so long he can wander around a score of folks looking like he does and not get funny stares, so a change of wardrobe is in order. ]

Uh. Hey, could you pass me that shirt?

[ You know, the Henley that looks about his size, sitting on the shelf in front of you?

Cleaned up and blessed by the miracle of new clothing - if Purgatory was going to take away the sun, the least it could do was give him decent pickings to wear - Nate immediately sets off exploring. He doesn't stay in one particular place for too long, frequently pulling out a sketchbook to scribble something down before tucking it back into the bag at his belt, his primary aim being something between general absorption and orienteering. Whether you can spot him is another thing entirely, as Nate's jaunt about town takes him on the roof of The Invincible, further away to the town hall, and over to the church, the last of which he spends a particularly long period of time in, kicking at a door in the floor that won't open.

But for the most part, he's inseparable from pencil and paper, flashing a quick smile at anyone who walks into conversational range. ]

I'd say it's a nice night for a walk, but it's always night, so...

wild card

[ Nate will legitimately be climbing on top of buildings like an agile spider monkey of a man, so spotting him on any (and all) of them is not only highly likely, but a definite thing. He has an insatiable curiosity and need to document objects or places of interest, so it's possible to run into him pretty much anywhere, doodling away, tongue in cheek. Don't be shy!

Re: TDM threads, I'll continue with pretty much all of those and will assume they'll be canon with some mild finagling here and there unless otherwise prompted, so just let me know! Hit me up on on discord at uncalendula#5439 or at uncalendula if you want to talk something out! ✨ ]

day 002;

[originallutece]

[She's seen this man before.

Not, as one might first think, in another world. That would just be silly. But rather on rooftops, climbing up drainpipes like it ain't no thang-- and it's bizarre, but more than that, it's familiar. And she thinks she knows what he's doing.

She catches him on the ground, scrawling, and when he looks up, she beckons to him. Stand up, because she isn't going to kneel.]

I assume you're making a map, yes?

[Did she just ignore his attempt at a cute little joke? Yes. Move on to more important things in this conversation, Nate!!]

carol danvers | ota!

[starforce]

i. day 01 — beach

["could be worse, yeah?"

yeah, she guesses, it could be worse. a lot worse. thanks to her, mar-vell's mission still has a hope of being realized; the cruiser, with all the skrulls on board, had managed to clear before she'd felt the energy from the accusers' blasts tear her apart, and for now, they have time. if she'd had to go down, she'd gone down on her own terms, too, fighting to the bitter end.

but, no, she can't say that anything about this situation is... great.

the lantern she's holding doesn't give off much in the way of light, so the first thing she tries is her fist, concentrating just enough energy into it to make it glow — but nothing happens. she tries it again, and then again, with the same result. on the fourth attempt, a blast hits the sand in front of her a small distance away as she feels her frustration steadily mounting.

"control it," she hears yon-rogg's voice chide from the back of her mind. for that, she blasts the sand again.

(here's hoping that anyone in the vicinity is watching their feet.)

she knows what kind of people had tried to put limits on her power once. to say that none of this sits well with her would be the understatement of the century.]


ii. day 01 — bar

[dead, utterly frustrated, or anything else, carol is starving, and, eventually, she finds her way to the bar inside the invincible.

the clutter inside kind of reminds her of pancho's, in a way. in pieces of memories, she can pick out nights, years back, when everyone from base had piled in to a space that hadn't really been large enough to accommodate them all. nights when there'd been actual fist fights over claim to the pool table, happening more and more as people became drunker. nights when she and maria had totally killed it at karaoke, knowing they'd shared a victory no matter what any of the boys had to say about it.

she'll never see maria again, will she? just when she'd gotten something back, when something had finally clicked into place and made sense, she'd lost it again.

for her own sanity, she tries not to dwell on the thought, though. when she hears someone approach, she turns on her stool, and with a slight scrunch to her face, says,]

If you're thinking about the beer, I wouldn't get your hopes up. [she sets her mug down on the counter.] It's not terrible, but it leaves a lot to be desired.

[she's had some pretty... choice post-mission drinks in the past. she'd know.]


iii. wildcard

[feel free to hit me up via pm or at lensflares if you want something else! i set all my prompts on day 1, but we can definitely hash stuff out for what's going on over the next few days as well c:]

beach

[withsadness]

[When the blast hits the sane, Mary shrieks in surprise. Fortunately, it's not close enough to have done more than scare her, but still, she sinks down into a crouch and covers her head.]

Don't hurt me!

Ignis Scientia | FFXV | ota

[reigniter]

1. Travel from Beacon

[No, it couldn't get worse. This is as bad as it gets. Ignis had listened to man's speech with rapt attention, ignoring how scars on his skin still tingle and burn from the use of the ring. Slowly fading, as if to hide the evidence of his decisions and the outcome. He knew he was going to die. That was the price, and he was willing to pay it. What he didn't expect was this state of things. Darkness? Lantern and resets? His eyes are locked onto the Lighthouse in the distance, a frown etched between his eyebrows. He has a bad feeling about this and his gut rarely lies to him.

Being lost in thought makes him bump into someone else, maybe stepping on their feet- after all, everyone's being ushered towards the bonfire now and it's dark like in an empty barrel. Mental note- find and talk to this Rastus person about the fire. In the meantime-]

My apologies. I hope I didn't hurt you.

2. Welcome to room 206

[At least they managed to find a room. Camping is good and everything, but it is not a way a person should live their entire life. Although Gladio probably wouldn't have any problems...

Ignis is already tinkering with the kitchen- he needs to know what he has, in what amount, what shape the things are and if anything is going to implode on him if he turns it on. The room doesn't look like it would live up to the standards they lived in but, so far, everything has been working smoothly? And Ignis is surprised.

Soon enough, the smell of buttered toast and coffee fills the room. He had tried coffee downstairs- and didn't like it. Now, he's making it up to his own standards.]

a- roommates) [He turns around and leans against the counter, taking a good sip of the coffee-]

Food is done, [he announces casually.] There is some marmalade in the cupboard if you don't want plain toast.

b- other tenants) [A loud bump and crash come from the hallway and Ignis pauses in whatever he was doing. That... didn't sound so good. And it was close to the apartment too. Perhaps their neighbors? Or maybe just someone lost in the dark... He steps outside carefully, trying to gauge who it is and what happened.]

Is everything alright?

3. Open World

[Anything else you want! Exploring? Find him at the church, trying to deciphir some torn papers he saw laying around. Or near bonfire- either staring in the general direction of the Lighthouse or handing over a cup of coffee to you.

If you have any ideas, pitch them to me at WindsongWitch or PM me!]

2a

[burstmodes]

[ it's still weird getting used to things the way they are, but he's trying. if anything, prompto just pushes it down so he doesn't have to think about it, and with the three of them sharing a room, he finds it easier if he doesn't try to actively do it. yet, he can't help blinking at ignis as he moves around the kitchen. ]

Is bread the only thing you could find in here? [ he's not being mean, just curious. ]

Cao Pi | Warriors Orochi

[pure_havoc]

[The tall man in the gold-trimmed armor with a pair of matching swords at his side is clearly part of the Old World brigade, carrying himself like none of this is troubling and he's entirely in control even if it's all a facade. The scorch-marks on his indigo and white clothing speaks of a rather unpleasant death, though better just some ruined clothes and scratched armor than walking around as a charred corpse, really.]

Bonfire

[By now he isn't simply contemplating the flames or silently dealing, no, he's observing. Every person, regardless of size, shape, face, or equipment, needs to be examined. Scrutinized. Sized up for potential threat or potential use. His icy blue eyes linger obviously on anyone who passes or approaches, he isn't hiding what he's doing at all. But then, why should he? We're all dead, politeness can take a back seat. Catch him staring and call him on it, or spring questions on him before he can ask about your weird clothes or your weird...self.]

General Store

[well, it's nice of the, ah, spirits to provide, but Cao Pi has opinions on nearly everything he sees. He only shares them aloud if there's an audience, though.]

Hmph. Is this what passes for fashion in other worlds?

[he's holding up a sweater with moose on it. For real, what is this? At this rate he'll keep his death clothing, thanks.]

Invincible Bar

[If he's going to be surrounded by the hubbub of too many people crammed into not enough space, he might as well be downstairs of his own choice rather than trying to find some quiet among the crowded apartments upstairs. Cao Pi's long, elegant fingers fumble with a glass too large for what he's used to, though it's something of a surprise that they have real grape wine here. It doesn't belong in a clunky tumbler but he's not complaining.]

...tell me. Are you versed in philosophy enough to hold a decent conversation?

[the snide sarcasm is palpable. But he really does want to talk esoterics with whoever's next to him at the moment.]

Wildcard

[bring me your fellow medieval warriors, your swordsmen, your curious folks. Anywhere, everywhere. Will match format as needed!]

bar

[callada]

Probably not.

[Unless one can somehow twist military tactics or the study of body language into philosophy, but he'd rather not. Especially not right now, when he's been out of cigarettes for a few hours and already desperately wants another. Sounds like a good way to get a headache. At least the glass in his hands keeps him occupied in the meantime.]

I was always more interested in strategy and history. But, try me. Not like I've got anywhere else to be.

Kyna Midha | Original

[evocation]

bonfire

[After Winters' speech, Kyna plants herself near the bonfire, staring at it pensively. Her tank top is shredded over the stomach and stained with blood, and though she's cleaned most of it off of her legs, it's still all over her shorts. Every once in a while, she pulls out her phone and fidgets with it, but apparently it's not working the way she wants it to, because she doesn't stop frowning. If anyone gets close enough, though, her head snaps up, and she calls out.]

Hey, where are you from? Uh, before this, obviously.

bar

[Later, Kyna parks herself at the bar, and while she's got a glass of something next to her, she's ignoring it. Scattered on the bartop in front of her is what looks like trash—crumbled napkins and sticks and bits of paper. If anyone watches long enough, they'll see her pour a bit of vodka from a bottle onto a bit of her shirt that she's apparently ripped off. She snaps her fingers, and a flame appears above them. It looks off, though—it isn't casting any light on anything else around it, and when she touches the flame to the doused rag, it doesn't catch.]

What the fuck. This is like, against the laws of nature, right?

[Says the girl casting magical spells.]

wildcard

[Give me a random starter or hit me up at cephalopods! I'm down for keeping all tdm threads canon, and I'm cool with Kyna running into characters anywhere else around town. She'll be spending most of her time around the bonfire and wandering around the Invincible, bugging people as she goes.]

bar

[ordinaryannie]

[It isn't the magic that catches Antimony off guard so much as it is the woman calling it in full view of everyone in the bar - or at least everyone in the bar sober enough to notice. Her fingertips heat as though in sympathy, and she balls her hands into fists and shoves them into her pockets for good measure.]

We're in a place with no sun that still has things like weather and plants and generally not being a frozen ball of barren rock.

[She grimaces slightly, as though naming the things that don't fit leaves a bad taste in her mouth.]

I'm pretty sure the laws of nature admitted defeat and fled to the dimension next door a long damn time ago.

Shadow Moon | OTA

[itsaname]

ON THE BEACH

[ This isn't where Shadow is meant to be.

That he's dead is no surprise. He knew that he died. He accepted it. His life was judged, and his heart was weighed, and he was able to choose his fate. Shadow asked to rest; he asked for an end; he asked for nothing. Instead, he climbs off a boat (again) and listens to someone tell him that he's dead (again). It held a greater impact the first time around.

There's a part of Shadow that wants to speak up. "There's been a mistake," he wants to say. "I asked for nothing." Instead, he remains silent. He listens, and he watches, and he feels no more than a dull sense of disappointment.

From the outside, the big man looks remarkably calm about this whole situation. He's clad in a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and no shoes. He holds a lantern shaped like a crescent moon, and he raises it high so that it casts its light as far as possible — both for himself and for others. To anyone who looks like they're having a hard time accepting the situation, Shadow breaks the ice with a simple, ]

Hello. I'm Shadow.

TRANSPORTING SUPPLIES

[ Before making his way to the town, Shadow returns to the ship to see if he's missed anything. In the cargo hold are supplies — far more than he can carry on his own, even if he is a big man — and he's quick to return to the beach in search of assistance. ]

Excuse me. There are supplies below deck.

[ If the person looks like they can assist: ]

Can you give me a hand?

[ Or, if they don't: ]

Can you find some people to help move them?

TABLET TROUBLES

[ Perhaps foolishly, Shadow decides to take a stab at figuring out his tablet on his own. However, it's far beyond anything that he's seen before. He sits by the bonfire and stares at it with a deep frown, poking and prodding at various options as he tries to understand what it can do.

Feel like giving him a hand? ]

ROOM 204

[ Being dead does nothing to lessen Shadow's desire to rest. After he finishes hauling supplies, he's quick to find an empty room in which he can sleep. He lays down on top of the blankets, fully clothed, and is just dozing off when he hears someone at the door.

When Shadow answers, he looks tired but otherwise unbothered by the interruption. ]

Yes?

WILDCARD

(( come at me with whatever! feel free to hmu @ twofouroneten or in the game discord if you'd like to plot. shadow's info & permissions are here! ))

beach

[withsadness]

Hello...

[In response, Mary gives a slight curtsy. Her eyes wander to his lantern. It's so pretty...it's like the real moon, almost, but almost close enough to touch. Looking at it, her shyness melts away, and she smiles.]

My name's Mary. I think you look more like a star than a shadow.

Antimony Price | InCryptid | OTA

[ordinaryannie]

i. the beach
Antimony listens to Winters' speech, listens closely, sticking little mental red flags in the things that stand out as not-quite-right or worth following up on. And while she listens, she scans the crowd, noting each person she can see, height and build and facial features. The only reason she can even begin to agree with the apparent-veteran's conclusion - it could be worse - is that she doesn't find a single one of the people she's looking for. Not even the ghost she'd expect to see if she really is dead. (And she clings to that absence, with all the desperation denial can bring.)

Until she has reason not to, she'll assume that her friends are safe. That her family is as safe as any group that courts death so aggressively could possibly be.

She doesn't join the crowd seeking answers from the only people who seem to know their asses from a hole in the ground - she's not above eavesdropping, but she'll do her own asking later, once she's been able to organize the things she wants to know into some semblance of coherency. For the moment, she takes the opportunity to survey their surroundings, the dark beach and the shapes of the harbour and the moonless sky.

It's that last that catches her, breath freezing in her lungs as she searches the heavens for any sign of familiar stars, of the bright ribbon of the Milky Way that should be clearly visible on such a dark, cloudless night. Nothing.

After a moment, she lets out a low, shaky whistle. "We're definitely not in Kansas any more."

ii. general store
She takes a little while to get situated, get the lay of the land - what little there is within the ring of too-dark trees - and take stock of what she has and what she needs before venturing into the general store. Shopping has never been her favourite activity, and shopping in the dark doesn't much improve the experience. She manages to find the clothing easily enough, and snags a few pieces that look like they would be roughly her size, within tolerances for alterations she can manage manually. A notebook and pens, likewise, aren't too difficult to track down. It's once she moves on to utility supplies that she starts running into trouble with the idiosyncratic layout of the shop and its shelves.

It takes her a while, and several instances of backtracking to where something might have been, before she finally breaks down and asks the nearest person, "Have you seen any fishing line?"

iii. the invincible
Eventually, Annie runs out of town to explore - or at least town that isn't concealed within the looming forest, and she's given herself a strict 72-hour ban on haring off to see what dangers that forest holds - and so settles in at a table in the barroom. She has a cup of coffee, half-empty, and an order of fries that she occasionally remembers enough to eat from, though she's been here a while and they've almost certainly gone cold. Her attention is on the notebook in front of her, alternately flipping between pages to jot something down in its proper section in some nigh-incomprehensible shorthand, and reviewing her notes with a frown that digs a deep furrow in her brow.

She probably won't bite, if you're looking for a seat.

iv. wildcard
((Feel free to hit me up with something else, if you want! You can PM this journal or catch me on plurk at quantumvelvet if you want to plot something.

Also, I'm happy to consider any TDM threads canon, and either handwave an end to them or continue them here. Just let me know if you have a preference.

Note: I'll match tag format as needed.))

general store

[primordialerebus]

Coraline had been on her way out of the general store when she is suddenly stopped with an ask for help. She simply blinks at the other person for a moment (though whether this could be seen through her sunglasses or not is another question) as she tries to remember if she had seen any fishing line. She hadn’t, but she also hadn’t lingered in this aisle beyond what was necessary to get to the clothing.

“Uh…” She looks around helplessly, senses sharpening for a moment in desperation as she picks through shadowed item after shadowed item until…

“There… I think?” She said, pointing. Indeed, hidden in the back of a bottom shelf out of sight is few packages of fishing line. God, now her head hurt. She didn’t know she could do that (though it makes sense now that she thinks about it).

Elden | Original

[spitefullight]

The trip from the Beach

[ The boy who had arrived by the ship with so many others seemed disoriented by it all. He remembered when that arrow struck him in a critical point. Everything went so quickly, so fast, a gush of crimson spraying and then nothing. Then he was here, arriving to a beach and getting a speech of what happened and where they were. Automatically, Elden pursed his lips and kept his suspicions to himself.

He knew he had died, but what powers in all the planes that be could've stopped him from going to Falesta? Could it be this mysterious lighthouse keeper? If what those two people said were true she had control over the whole town. He couldn't piece it together quite yet...there wasn't enough clues. On the walk to the town, his golden eyes seemed transfixed into his journal as he began scratching down things they were all told and his own suspicions.

He's so caught up he's not even paying attention when he runs into someone. He takes an immediate step back.]

Ah, sorry! Wasn't really looking. 'Cause my eyes were on my journal...thing.

[ An awkward pause before; ]

Right, sorry.

Time to make a fort!

[ Elden had been a bit too slow to grab a room, but he didn't look as perturbed as he guessed others would. Instead, he had scrabbled together what extra bits of blankets, cloth and pillows he could find, he was even lucky enough to manage a small mattress. He had dragged all these things out to where people seemed to be starting to build their makeshift tents for the time being.

Elden was already at work, showing something of a deft hand at it as he starts stringing up the blankets. In about fifteen minutes he has half of his his tent assembled. Unfortunately, he's hit a snag. He can't quite tie one of the ropes off at a higher point. In frustration he huffs as he looks over to anyone nearby; ]

Um, Excuse meee? Tiny person in need of help! I'd give you gold but uh....not sure we need that! I can give great thank yous though as repayment?

Bonfire

[ At some point during his first few days here, Elden had made his way to the fire. People seemed to come and go from it, which wasn't surprising; it was the only few sources of perpetual light in town. He tried to keep some semblance of helpful cheerfulness while here, but, it was definitely a hard front to maintain. Still, he had seen some people either with torn bits of clothing or some form of injury when arriving. If there was any place he could offer his help, it was here.

He finds a box nearby and drags it over, very nosily as it scrapes across the ground. Perhaps you stop to help him or maybe you just watch. You could approach and ask.

Or maybe you wait and watch him finally get it into position before he stands up onto it. He's only a bit over five feet but the box at least helps him stand out just a bit more against the flames of the fire, in his gleaming silver breastplate. He takes a breath and then starts speaking, his voice carrying a bit of power behind it. ]

Excuse me? Everyone, my name is Elden. Look, I know it's been a rough go for all of us. I'm not going to down play that or say to cheer up, because it's a big thing to well...die. Whatever's going on we can figure that out together, since we're all in this one together.

But, for right now, I understand people need to take time to just absorb this and come to terms with it. If you have anything that needs mending or if you're injured just come to me.

[ After, he finishes he steps down. Whatever criticism or praise comes, Elden will sit on this box and wait. ]

Wildcard

[ Want to do something else? Contact me via christhehost or discord @ ceej #1205 ]

Time to make a fort!

[primordialerebus]

[ Coraline jumps slightly at suddenly being yelled at, slowly turning her head to look at the teenage boy doing said yelling. She points at herself because really? He's taller than her! Which, god that feels a bit terrible since he’s clearly like, freshman age. And he calls himself tiny!? Curse her short genes. ]

[ryanreynoldsvoice]

It was ok.

The last thing he remembers before waking up in the dark was that it was ok. Not that it was good. Not that he was happy. But that it was ok. He had, in the moment he had tricked Howard, accepted what the likely outcome of that choice would be and if that had meant that Ryme City might be saved and, more importantly, that Tim might be saved, then whatever happened to him was Ok. It was an acceptable trade. The cost of doing business, right? Death is an occupational hazard in the detecting field.

And maybe in some small way this could pay back part of what he owed Harry.

However, Pikachu doesn't have much time to dwell on this as the fog horn bellows in the distance, muffled only partially by walls and splashing water.

Why?

I. Beach

Pikachu had to make a tactical decision: carry the lantern and push the tablet or vice versa? Either way he could not carry both, not with his little paws. He opts for the 'carry thing the tablet' option, taking the thing firmly between his little teeth and proceeding to scoot the lantern along with his paws and feet. It's a slow, arduous process but if you'd ask him he thinks he's doing rather well all things considered.

However when he gets a decent distance along (for him at least) he plops onto the dirt for a rest break, little arms and legs splayed like a starfish as his fuzzy belly rises up and down sharply.

"I didn't really think death was going to be this much work...."

II. Bar

His head can practically fit inside the mug. The ears are the problem really. He tries pushing his nose in farther but the mug slips away from him suddenly and sends whatever liquid was near the bottom spilling across the counter, possibly even into your lap. To his disappointment it is not, in fact, coffee. Rather it is something more akin to a heavy stout.

Not what he had wanted.

"Who do you have to let pet you to find coffee in the afterlife?"

III. Wildcard

Beach

[spitefullight]

It's...kind of sad to see this sight. Seeing this small creature struggling to get both it's tablet and the lantern to move with them. He can't really deny that this was just a little cruel on the light house person's half. If they were in control why didn't they make it so this little guy had something more reasonably sized? Either way, Elden's not about to watch this any further.

The boy approaches and when he hears them talk he pauses for a moment. Oh...so...it's...a fairy. Or something close to the fey. Okay, not completely out of the realm of weird for the boy so he finally steps down beside them. "Here, little guy, Why don't I help you out with this? I can carry your stuff and you can just take a ride on my shoulder or something." It's probably for the best considering how out of breath this poor thing looks.

Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

[song_of_ice]

Bonfire

[The bonfire was a strange comfort. With nothing but the dark around him, the flickers of the flames were a comforting reminder that this wasn't the same nothing he saw before. None of this made sense in his mind. Death was emptiness, a void where nothing existed. He knew it intimately, yet his second go at dying was different for some reason and none of it made sense.

There were others who looked just as confused as he did, the information they were given at the beach not nearly enough to keep his mind from racing and a feeling of uneasiness from sweeping over him. Resets, deaths in this realm. How was any of that possible?]

Did they say anything to you? The two at the beach?

General Store

[Whatever scruples he had before, they weren't going to serve him completely well here and being dead was somewhat liberating. He had never been a complete scavenger like the Freefolk, but there was no other choice here. It was going to be the rule of survival (which was ironic if he thought about it.) So, going to the general store, he was quick to grab whatever items he needed going forward.

It was strange, bottles of water not made from glass or in a flask. Packaged supplies and other items he didn't recognize. He took them anyway. If there was nothing else really in this place, hunting didn't seem like an option...but neither did sleeping in the inn. It would be full and he wasn't sure he could manage to sleep there. Better to manage on his own and get a sense of this place.]

Did you see any blankets?

Wildcard

[Choose your own adventure!]

general store

[withsadness]

[At the sound of a voice, Mary pops her head around the corner from one of the aisles. Giving a thoughtful nod, she comes over and helps herself to taking his hand.]

Over here! I'll show you.

number five | ota

[fogey]

days one through three:

[ the main thing five doesn't do is keep still. he can accept being dead; he did his part, and he can only hope it was enough. has to be enough. but this whole business about the the lighthouse keeper, performances, resets -- now this is a particular flavor of bullshit he can't accept. first thing's first, though.

you might find him in the general store, calmly sorting through clothes until he can find a white collared shirt in his size. he's wearing one, of course, but underneath his jacket and sweater vest it's ruined. or maybe he's eyeing the hand tools, apparently torn between a heavy hammer and a small axe. like, he's not planning on killing anyone today or anything, but you never know what you might need. if he notices any scrutiny, he'll look up with a frown. ]

Something to say?

[ it's also possible he just. took something out of your hand to take a look at, because apparently you didn't seem interested enough in it!!

other times, he teleports into the town hall and the church, clearly intent on discovering as much of this place as he can. he walks around the town hall, closely examining the busts; and takes an interest in the candles at the church. he almost trips over the trapdoor ring, truthfully, and spends a moment trying to tug it open. huh. if he notices someone else around, he might say, ]

Ever seen anything like it?

[ or, if he accidentally barges into someone's new sleeping quarters -- ]

-- I didn't know anyone was in here.

day two, mor...ning?:

[ five had had no interest in rooming at the inn. too crowded, for one thing, but truth is that crowded is a pretty subjective measure for him. even the academy had felt crowded, those days back home, after decades alone. besides, there's a lot more he intends to do around here than sleep, like a plebe.

all of this is true.

but come the next day, five can actually be found fast asleep on one of the benches near the bonfire, blazer wadded up under his head. he looks shockingly un-demonic?? incredible. try not to startle him awake, however; that probably won't. end well. ]

wildcard:

[ i'm open to anything! feel free to ping me with any requests or just hmu with a wildcard prompt! i'm also happy to set any thread after tdm threads, so just let me know if that's what you'd like. ]

general store

[withsadness]

[Mary, in fact, does have something to say...but maybe it's not exactly what he would've been expecting after their initial conversation about rudeness and manners. She points to the axe after considering the two weapons that he has his eyes on.]

That one!

peter parker | marvel.

[webshoots]

i → day one

[ a quick mental check: it's not the weirdest occurrence peter's ever encountered, or even top five. that's not, of course, to say it's not weird, but there's definitely a few things higher up on the list. the definitive nature of hey you're dead is — debatable, given everything.

ordinarily he'd suit up, patrol new york and find someone, something to distract him, but here? he doesn't really know where to start, and he aches — the kind of entire body ache that comes only from over-exertion and whilst peter knows sleep wouldn't go amiss, he's not particularly inclined to try and get any. there's a host of unanswered questions — his first instinct had been to blame kraven, but the longer he's here, the more that immediate jump is being shrouded in doubt: no-one else here had been there, and this isn't exactly kraven's m.o.

("how does the spider react to thinking he's dead?" maybe, problem is, they've both been there, done that and experienced the less-than-pleasant answer to that question. "how does the man react to thinking (knowing) he's failed—".

yeah, shut up, parker. stop thinking.)

he has his webshooters, so that's something and it could always be worse (is what he's telling himself), which is basically a second something. he'll figure out the third something soon, once he's away from the beach, away from the sand that he's certain he's going to be finding between his toes and in his hair and in his pants for days.

(ugh, the suit's going to be so itchy—)

or he'll be in town, making note of the lay of the land and the buildings — the town hall, the church, and finally the general store; if you manage to catch him before he finds a change of clothes, he knows. he knows the suit is—

—well, it's an acquired taste, but he's not going to admit that. instead he's going to skip straight past go, not collect $200, and: ]

—Hey, Glinda. [ beat. ] I'm pretty sure I left my red shoes with my other dress back home, but if you've seen a yellow brick road, I'll take directions.

ii → la... ter?

[ or you might catch peter later — he doesn't drink, but he's ended up at the invincible anyway. it's where most people have ended up, apparently, which means it's a good way to get an idea of friendly (and not so friendly) faces. the good news? peter doesn't recognise anyone. the bad news? peter doesn't recognise anyone.

officially, he has a cup of coffee — or that's what he's been told it is. as far as he can tell, it's a cup of hot. that's it. just hot. when someone approaches, he shoots them a cursory glance and offers a quick quirk of a smile before gesturing loosely at the cup in front of him. ]

If you're thinking of trying the coffee? Don't.

iii → wildcard

[ tbh i'm open for basically anything! if you want me to set something up, just lmk, otherwise go for it. if there's anything you want to run by me, just ping me at ruffians ]

1) Church

[spitefullight]

[ Elden had been going to check the church just to see what lay inside. This town seemed fairly barren as is, so perhaps the church was the same. He might be debating if he should convert it to his own religious needs but that thought goes no further when this strangely dressed man interrupts his thoughts. Elden can't help but jump a little at having been caught off guard, but that changes quickly.The boy stares with the most curious look plastered on his face, brow raised, mouth cocked into a confused frown.

Sure, he's seen some oddly dressed people here, but this...looks really absurd, even for a kid who looks like he stepped right out of a fantasy novel, armour and all. ]

Um...my name's Elden, not Glinda. [ Still, he can't help but give the guy another look, canting his head quizzically. ]

If what your wearing counts as a dress, I'd hate to see the other outfit. [ That might be a snarky remark but hey, the guy did startle him. ]

rafe adler / uncharted / ota

[chardismastic]

the general store

[ It's a relatively small crowd milling around the pier, angling for answers out of the apparent welcome wagon, but Rafe isn't having any of it. Standing around and waiting for answers? What a waste of his time. (Except there's apparently plenty of that now, given he's— Nope. Not thinking about that yet.)

Instead he focuses on the basics. First things first. Assess the environment, identify and collect assets, secure a base camp in as favorable a position as possible. So Rafe makes a beeline for the general store, lantern held up to allow a critical eye as he browses. As opposed to what many people think (thought) of him, he doesn't need much. An axe goes in a leather holster clipped at his hip, the ice hook next to it, a few solid coils of rope, a few blankets for a rudimentary bedroll, bare essentials, a few spare shirts when he realizes the permeating stench of gunpowder and smoke is coming from him. Things that'll come in useful in a pinch.

...When he sees a simple silver chain, though. He squints in the dimness, chewing on the inside of his cheek before setting the lantern aside and picking it up. The metal is sound, no rust he can see, though hell if he can appraise anything about age or origin or influence. Rubbing a thumb along the links, he finally sighs and says: ]

Hell with it.

[ He checks around, as if someone were to see and judge him for it, then loops it round his neck and lets it slide under his shirt. He hates a cliche but. Gift horses. Mouths. Whatever. ]

the church

[ The math wasn't difficult to figure. Scanning the crowd, stacking that headcount against the apparent dimensions of the inn available to them? Yeah. No way is everybody going to fit unless stacked like sardines, or at least piled together way closer than Rafe is comfortable with. So he stalks off, leaving the others to squabble as they will, and goes to find his own options. It isn't long before he hears it and he stands a moment in silence, ears straining to make sure he isn't imagining it. The church looms up, a darker shadow against the starry night sky, and Rafe doesn't hesitate letting himself in. It's smaller than St. Dismas's, just one building opposed to a compound sprawling across Hebridean hillsides, but the scent of the forest just beyond and the flying buttresses soaring into the shadows above are close enough that if he closed his eyes he could feel the snow. Taste the salt spraying up from the basalt cliffs.

(Were he anyone else, he could admit it's a homesickness. But he's not so shut the hell up. It's quiet and away from most people — what else would he be looking for?)

A quick tour of the interior shows: the candles, actually burning beyond that bonfire the bird had been so intense about; the small rooms off nave, perfect for his needs; and of course, the trap door. Kneeling and rapping his knuckles lightly against the wood, he gives ring a firm pull and— Nothing. ]

...Well then.

[ That's something to investigate and he notes it in the back of his mind before straightening up and heading to a room. Best to set up before someone else gets any bright ideas. ]

the town hall

[ Rafe is an old hand at research, at sifting through forgotten corners of history and tracking down the clues to something worthwhile, and before now he might've even said it was almost relaxing. Like rebuilding a Rubix cube out of a hundred scattered pieces just to twist round for the ultimate answer.

Then there's the flip side. Dead ends and dangling trails that disappear three steps in and Christ, Rafe hadn't missed this. He's scouring the shelves in the town hall, all but growling under his breath as he peers for something. Anything. A torn out page, a note shoved in the joint of a bookcase, a journal slid under one of these statues that do nothing but stare morosely back at him. Cold cases were one thing, where the trail slid off into the unknown, but there was always something to start with. You couldn't have a town with absolutely no trace of anything that came before, could you? ]

You have got to be kidding me.

[ He came out here to do some research and all he got was this now-dusty tee-shirt. ]

the bonfire

[ In spite of everything else, he still ends up in front of the bonfire. Back propped up against a log, he sits on the ground with a small cloth from the general store laid out in front of him. On it are his twin Colts, the firelight gleaming in the mother-of-pearl grips. One is in a state of disassembly as Rafe methodically takes it apart. Cleans the components. Inspects them, cleans them, puts them back together again.

At least it's something to do. Something involving enough focus to do correctly in the piss poor lighting that he doesn't have to think about anything else. Like the mountains of Libertalia. The mansions he'd told himself he could fully appreciate later. The sensation of crushing heat and force when he— Shit. But there's still a number of folks wandering around and if you should step between him and the bonfire— ]

You mind? [ Because Rafe clearly does. ] There's little enough light without you blocking it.

wild card

[ Hit me with anything and I'll roll with it! ]

town hall

[callada]

Hm?

[There's a figure at the door that has to stoop to make it in through said doorway. Rosinante hasn't gotten inside here just yet, and it's no surprise someone beat him to it. Maybe he's found something interesting, based on the exclamation he'd just barely overheard. He steps inside and looks around, but there really isn't much to see here, is there? Other than himself, still a mess of dried blood and smudged makeup, and the fellow ahead of him.]

Sure looks cleaned out, doesn't it?