ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hadrielmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2018-07-20 10:05 am
hadrielmods) wrote in hadriel_logs2018-07-20 10:05 am
Entry tags:
- !event,
- abigail hobbs,
- akira kurusu,
- atem,
- caedra nisariel,
- curufin,
- dr. newton geiszler,
- eleven,
- george lass,
- geralt of rivia,
- harlan halliday,
- inquisitor trevelyan,
- jane jones (alice ayres),
- jill valentine,
- kelson haldane,
- laura palmer,
- maeve millay,
- maglor,
- makoto niijima,
- margaery tyrell,
- michael munroe,
- staci pratt,
- tucker,
- will graham,
- yusuke kitagawa
Event Log: In Need of a Boat
Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for the In Need of a Boat event
Where: All over the city
When: July 20th-July 30th
Warnings: Emotional stuff. You know.
What: The event log for the In Need of a Boat event
Where: All over the city
When: July 20th-July 30th
Warnings: Emotional stuff. You know.
All right, so the gods need your energy. That's not new. You mostly know how this goes... except now it's all in your hands. Instead of the gods forcing emotion on you, it's up to you to pledge yourself to a god and inspire their emotion in others, in order to get the best ships and sails and compasses and all those other things.
So what are you going to do? Set up an elaborate date to make someone feel love... then use the setup for five other people? Wow, scandalous. Start fights in the street? Ooh, spicy! Or maybe you'll lead a yoga and meditation workshop in an attempt to help others find their inner tranquility. How relaxing.
Whatever you do, make the most of it. How many supporters each god has, and the effort they put into what they're doing, directly affects how nice the things they'll end up making are. So if you want food that actually tastes good, lend Hope a hand, but if you want sails that aren't full of holes, well, maybe it's time to work on your streetfighting skills. Rage needs you! And each of the gods definitely appreciates your help. Probably. They might even remember your name this time.► This log covers July 20th-30th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If your efforts to empower the gods somehow end in a body count, please let us know here.
Harlan Halliday | OTA
hey. i decided its halloween.
im setting up a haunted house in the name of diving equipment.
working for the gods like this wigs me out so hop on down to the south island for some good clean consentual scares.
i borrowed a building near that creepy part of town. ull see it. ill put up spooky signs.
btw itll be magical illusions. u can choose ur lvl of fear but fair warning that im not fuckin around.
come one come all and shit.
[Just like his (really amazing wow he probably has a degree in marketing) ad says, Harlan can be found near the Silent Hill zone for the duration of the event. For those who don't readily know where that is, he did put up signs, all of them just reading "spooky!" and pointing in the direction of his half-assed haunted house setup. The only thing that makes this shop stand out from the other shops is that Harlan is parked outside, sitting on this pile of garbage that has been all torn to shit. Next to him is an equally uncool chair, upon which is perched a cat with murder in her eyes.
Prepare to be spooked, Hadriel.]
Hey. [He's probably dicking around on his phone when you walk up, but he'll put it away and gesture to the totally haunted building next to him.] If you're here for the thing, we have some ground rules to go over first.
((ooc: lumping the network post and the log stuff together for sake of i'm lazy, so feel free to respond to the network stuff if you want! also, feel free to chat him up if you don't want to do the haunted house thing and just want to bug him for your own patron god reasons.))
xoxo
[As if that could be anyone else's horrifying spider chair. As if there are just a dozen or so of those fucking things running around.]
Nice signs, by the way.
[This is potentially risky since 1. Harlan knows very intimately what he's actually afraid of, and 2. there's a deadly monster in his head that's touchy right now and might not know that what they're looking at is an illusion.
But in the interest of making up for that uncool thing he pulled the other day when trying to feed Rage, here he is! Fuck him up. But like, lovingly.]
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Oh good! I found you!
[
He literally just announced where he was and what he was doing, Delmar]I have something for you--- Oh my goodness...look at this!
[He blinks in awe at the 'haunted house' ]
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[Audio]
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she follows the signs, smiling at each of them and finally wends her way to Harlan. she approaches with a smile]
Hi. I'm Alice. I'm here for the scares and to meet you in person. Mostly the latter, but I'm not gonna turn down the former.
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Curufin | OTA
He is employing his rarely-used ability to create and project a vision. He sorts through his memories for the ones he might use for this purpose -- the creation of fear, preferably a burst of stark terror. What is in his mind is a collage of two scenes from his past and one from what he has imagined as regards the real experience of his cousin Finrod, and thus when this wave of images strike you, you will "catch" the one that most closely resonates with your own fears. The image will be so palpable and so believable that you will be emotionally immersed and think that you are bodily in his world and immediately threatened by a terrible danger.
But don't worry! He'll be in the vision with you, standing right beside you at the onset of the disaster. He won't really let you die. He'll try not to, anyway! In fact, he'll try very hard to save you. But if you die, he'll die with you. It won't be a real Hadriel death, since this is just a vision, from which you will both emerge with hearts pounding so hard it'll feel as though they're trying to burst out of your chest. ]
[ A soft murmur ] Fear. . .
FIRE
You stand on pine-covered slope that faces a northern plain. This steppeland once flowed with sparkling streams and was studded with heather and gorse and broom, and the wide skies were full of eagles and hawks. But now the jagged mountains in the distant north horizon are belching immense clouds of smoke and hot ash, and fiery lava streams into the plain and ignites the vegetation. A wall of flame sweeps towards you, so vast that you can scarcely see the sky. The huge pyroclastic plumes of hot ash and choking gases are boiling over the plain, heading straight for you. They blot out the sky.
If you don't move, you'll be either flame-roasted or suffocated to death when you try to breathe the ash winds. RUN!!!! RUN LIKE HELL!!
ICE
The icy strait that separates the continent of Aman from that of Middle-earth is stormy and the seas turbulent. You're on an Elven ship that is one among many that are crossing this Arctic ocean, now threading their way amongst floating icebergs. A storm is brewing and the winds change direction and begin to drive the ships dangerously close to the ice. The mariners struggle to keep the ships pointed into the oncoming waves and yet to avoid the vast ice mountains that gleam green and blue and white, with a deadly beauty.
Your ship slides too close to the enormous cliff of one of these bergs. In a horrible coincidence, there is a landslide, or rather an ice-slide. You look up, and to your horror, a massive cliff of ice and snow breaks away and begins to descend through the blue air. . . right above your ship. It will come crashing down upon you and the boat in just seconds. What will you do? Dive for cover and hope the ship is not sunk by these tons of frozen ice? Or prepare to swim?
DIRE WOLF
You are in the cellar of the Tower of Tol Sirion, lying in chains along with other companions. You are the captives of Sauron the Deceiver, who is the servant of Morgoth, the First Dark Lord of Middle-earth. Sauron orders his mighty werewolves to guard you, and also gives them permission to snack off of you.
And so you lie on the cold stone floor, unable to run away because of the chains, and the great doors of the dungeon open slowly, letting in a few scant rays of light. In the doorway is the chief of the werewolves, staring down at you with green, moon-like eyes, full of malice and hunger. This is no timber-wolf; his ears brush the ten-foot-high lintel of the door arch as he slips through. A growl issues from his throat, and saliva drips from his open mouth, which is crammed with sharp teeth. He licks his fangs with a spongy tongue and paces forward on his huge clawed feet.
Fire
He shouldn't even be standing. But somewhere out there, maybe, some of his people are still alive. He has to find them. He's already failed his brother, who he promised that he would hold the Gap.
(Somewhere out there is Glaurung too, and his brood, dragonfire waiting)
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loooooooool yes!
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Dire wolf
He's trapped, again, and this time it doesn't feel like something he agreed on. The suffocating sensation of the walls enclosing around him is enough to make the young man hyperventilate, even though it's all in his head; he tries to escape, to get away, but he only can do so much with the chains on him, they hurt like ice and fire on his flesh but he doesn't even seem to notice the pain, his fear has dominated him thoroughly.
Sooner than later he finally senses the beast's face coming a little too close to his own. It probably it's bad news that he welcomes the warm — though absolutely revolting — breath on his skin. So this is it? Is this how it ends for him? Might as well, he'd rather die than letting them keep him trapped for millennia in this place, wherever it is.
"Come on, beast... What are you waiting for?"
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DIRE WOLF
The door opens and there's a second of hope until the wolf-creature comes into view. It's a monster. Abigail goes still and shuts her eyes to block out the terrifying sight, in the hopes it might leave her alone. She hears each step the creature takes towards her. The only thing that seems louder to her is the pounding of her heart.
When she knows it's very close, she opens her eyes to see the wolf's hungry eyes looking over her body, like a meal. It lifts one of its paws and brings it down, shredding her boot with its sharp claws and stopping just short of tearing up her foot. It then lowers its head with its mouth open, sharp fangs in full view. Abigail sees the malice in those eyes, and could swear the monster wants her to know how much it will hurt when it bites into her. It's too much too take and Abigail begins to tremble. "Please help me." She pleads to anyone who can hear her.
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Dire Wolf
she squints into the light and tries to shield her eyes as best as she can and that's when she sees it. coming after her. coming after her]
--holy shit, get away from me! Get away! [she tries kicking out with her feet]
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Dire Wolf
she looks around herself, recognizing no one. even the architecture seems strange.
that's when she remembers the so-called gods and their urges and instead of fear, anger swells. she's rather thoroughly sick of being subject to their whims.
so even when the giant wolf enters the room and approaches him, she stares straight at it and says]
This is an illusion. You are not real.
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finally tagging in here ICE
Welcome!!! <3
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Fire
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Michael Munroe | OTA
Clinic/Lab/Around Town
[Throughout his daily routine, Michael is being a bit more difficult than usual. Dropping things, stopping short when someone is walking behind him, moving slowly, as if in a daze. This isn't exceptionally far from his usual persona, but it's different enough to make him partially useless and frustrating to be around. This quality is also being extended to his speech. He always has trouble getting to the point, but I sure hope you're ready to never figure out what he's even talking about.]
Hey, uh, can I ask you a question?
Shops
[This plan is a little more daring, and it takes a lot of self-coaching to get him to implement it. They'd better get some good sails out of this, or he's suing.
Michael meanders around the shops, looking for others that are busily scavenging for supplies. He'll follow them into the store, wait until they pick something out, and whatever it is, be it food, clothing, a dumb trinket, he'll dart forward and snatch it away before they can. (Or, since he's not supernaturally fast, he'll just awkwardly grab it at the same time.)]
Um, this is mine now.
[He's trying very hard to look more intimidating than scared, but it winds up coming out as a net neutral.]
a combo bc hear me out
They've been plenty snippy with each other all day, but despite Newt's constant reprimanding, Michael insists on doing his stupid thing.
This comes to a head when Michael FOR SOME UNHOLY REASON grabs Beep Beep's travel carrier and claims that she is now his???????]
Wh— In what world do you think that belongs to you? Put it down before you break the—she's gonna get out, dude! Do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass it is to catch that thing?
i'll allow it
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Shops
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Shops
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clinic
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Shops
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shops
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Shops
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Caedra | OTA + closed
Besides, it seems they're encouraging her to do just what she wants to do, and she will gladly take the opportunity. A nice boat would be beneficial, but confusing people sounds like work. She can easily stir up fear, but diving equipment? She doesn't need to breathe, and although she has never tried granting herself fins and scales with her spells, it should technically be possible under her own power. But sails? Useful, and the means of attaining them should be a very fun time. Why do anything at all if you don't enjoy it?
"Rage, my dear, let me show you how it's done," Caedra announces, sword in hand.
North Island
Those who associate with the guard seem to come and go from watchtowers and points all over the islands - but their headquarters, Caedra knows, are here. Do they have schedules or something? Do they have meetings, and decide who goes where? Ugh. Well - in any case, these people seem to be well-connected. Much of the city enjoys their presence as some sort of protection and relies on the patrols as some sort of security blanket. Which means Caedra not only hates them, but she knows that injury or death to them will likely upset quite a lot of their little fans.
With that in mind, she waits. Meanders, sort of. Dips in to the park, swings within sight of the sewing shop and smiles in its direction. And should she spot someone she knows to be associated with the guard, or anyone at all going in or out, she might just call out a "You there!" laced with venom and eager aggression. Or she might just loose a bolt of darkness that crackles and explodes with a heavy impact against soil, stone, or flesh. Mostly flesh, she hopes - and having had decades to hone her skills, her aim is remarkably accurate.
Anywhere
Of course, taking on members of the guard isn't enough. As time progresses, Caedra becomes quickly less and less concerned about how the false gods or others might react. If they question her, it's all in the name of Rage, as if helping one of the gods is perfectly normal and something they all ought to be doing. And there isn't always a clear reason for what she does. Did you look at her wrong? Was it something you said? Is Caedra just offended by your choice in fashion? It hardly matters. She relishes in destruction, and malice courses through her very blood. One wrong move and you may find her sword at your throat, with a smirk on her lips. Rage might encourage her to be quick to anger, but Caedra is clearly enjoying this regardless.
"And just where do you think you're going, hm?"
Speakeasy, closed to Nick
Despite the wishes of the gods, sometimes normal life does have to go on as well. Caedra pushes her way into the bar, hoping to get something strong to drink and a few minutes to relax. It's only once her glass is in hand that she spots Nick at a far table.
He acts like some sort of leader here. Like people ought to listen and he ought to command. But he's the noble type, not a tyrant. Somehow that almost makes it worse. She remembers her first encounter, how he almost seemed like he might try to recruit her to help before he knew what she was. And their second chat was clearly unforgettable, even if she still has questions. Their third - she hadn't been herself. Had been missing something precious.
This, their fourth - she owes him. For his nobility, for his attitude, for his constant attempts to keep these people safe. She wants little more than to see him reduced to metallic dust to be strewn into the sea.
Undoubtedly by now he's heard that she has been terrorizing these people regularly again. And before that, how she's killed repeatedly, whenever she can get away with it. Well - good. It means he knows his attempts at protecting these people from her have failed. Will fail again. Especially if he's dead, for can Hope 'revive' someone made of metal and sparks? She'd like to think not.
But she also has her drink, and she wants to finish it first. So just to make things interesting, she catches Nick's eye with a nod and a smile, and slides into a seat across from him.
"It's been a little while, hasn't it? We must have some catching up to do, you and I," she purrs.
North Island
The Guard are looking out for her. In addition, Curufin and his kin have made it known that Margaery is under their protection, and her shop is warded by Elvish spells, but nevertheless, when he sees Caedra near it, he goes on high alert.
"Yes, it's me," he replies, with a wide, hostile smile. "How are you today, Caedra? Enjoying your walk?"
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Anywhere! (Orchard)
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Anywhere - west island
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anywhere
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Tucker | OTA
Streets
[Tucker's playing with the cards, shuffling them idly as he walks, or maybe he's tossing a coin up and down. Something slightly attention-getting, anyway. (But not both at once, he's not that talented.)]
Hey. Wanna see something cool?
Boats
[Congrats, you're stuck in a boat with him while trying to get between islands. That means he has a captive audience for his shenanigans.]
This ferry shit's boring, let's do something fun. You any good at riddles?
[Your answer doesn't really matter, you're getting one anyway. Good luck!]
I have more than ten apples, I have less than ten apples, or I have at least one. Only one of those things is true. So how many apples do I have?
boats
[Kyna is making a face, almost like he just took a dump in front of her.]
Tucker, do you think I'm good at riddles? I don't even know what you just said.
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idk boat time
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Streets
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boats
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streets
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boats
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Ravine. | OTA
Too bad, you're about to.
Isn't it nice to have your nighttime last longer than an hour again? Whether you're trying to enjoy catching some sweet Z's or you're a night owl who either won't or can't sleep at ungodly hours of the day, you'll be hearing hours upon hours of calming sounds from outside. Most may recognize the relaxing serenade of whale sounds. At first it sounds like it comes from the ocean, but if you try stepping outside, you may notice that it plays more like an audio recording from somewhere.
So, does it work? Are you asleep yet, or are you the crankiest insomniac who wakes up at the whisper of a mouse fart? Should you investigate, the whale songs can be traced to a cliffside on the edge of whatever island you're on, where a tall dark woman is sitting on the very ledge overlooking a three hundred foot drop into the ocean.
Beside her is a boom box, which plays the whale songs at an inexplicably reasonable volume now that you're close to it.
Were the sounds broadcasted to your mind this entire time? Perhaps. Ravine glances to whoever approaches, placing a gloved hand down to the ground beside her.
"Would you like a seat?"
Come and chill, have a time. It'll be nice.
no subject
And there is Ravine, playing her boom box.
He smiles and comes to sit down beside her on the cliff edge. "I haven't seen any whales here amongst the islands before. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that it was you. You are a bit on the ingenious side."
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/waves shyly hi
eyyyyy.
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buddy! (the 30th btw)
hey, pal!
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Maglor | OTA, warning for... well, for the Silmarillion, basically. Death, Suicide, Incest, Murder
And then reluctantly he lets down the carefully guarded walls that keep his darker thoughts contained, all the long years of madness and grief, and then he Sings.
No one who hears him later will be able to remember the words. Most won't even remember most of the song, or the story, for it is a very long tale, and the grief is very great - almost enough to break a person, if they were to hold it all. All they'll take away are two phrases, whispering through the air, two voices answering each other.
Tears unnumbered shall ye shed...
In Aman we have come through bliss to woe. The other now we will try: through sorrow to find joy; or freedom, at the least!
Two phrases, and a glimpse of the greater story, a grasp of a small grief within the bigger tragedy - this isn't the Noldolante, neatly polished to perfection, or perhaps it is, but in it's rawest, truest form. This is grief given voice, the tale of not just the Noldor but of Arda itself, Marred beyond all mending, but precious still.
Dark things in the woods, family vanishing, a whisper of fear, monsters with the eyes of the missing.
Something in the shape of a spider, but more, the Void given flesh, if flesh you can call it, drains all light from the world.
A shadow, tall and terrible, greater than the world itself, Evil itself taken flesh and form, and a beloved grandfather is slain by it's hand while Unlight drives fear into every heart.
Blood and chaos, torchlight on quays, and a wife lies dead, Maglor's own sword through her heart as he weeps.
A cousin turning on her own family, screaming defiance and furious rage as they kill her mother's people, sword running red.
Fire, ships burning, a brother screaming in rage and grief as his twin is burnt to death, father's madness breaking as he realises he's just murdered his youngest son.
A father torn by whips and burnt, dies, leaving nothing behind but ashes and the chains of an oath unbreakable.
A cousin screaming as he wife falls through ice and they cannot reach her, unable to cry because the cold would freeze his tears, the family huddling together beneath furs for any warmth at all.
A brother (a king), tortured for years while his brothers refuse to bargain for his release (Morgoth lies, he always lies).
A cousin too valiant for his own good, too far out of reach of his family, borne down by the enemy and dying in his father's arms.
Dragonfire washing across lands once green, charring them to ash and poisoning them with their malice, cousins falling one after the other, far from any aid.
A king (an uncle), bent so far by tragedy that he finally breaks, challenging Evil itself to single combat, body broken beneath it's foot as he dies.
A hero (a cousin) beaten into the ground, head crushed, the might of the elves forever broken, lands once fair now perilous and shadowed.
A people hunted to near extinction for the crime of being loyal to their elven lords and stubbornly refusing to leave lands overrun by the enemy, the last son of the lord fleeing one way as his mother lead the last remnants in the opposite direction, neither knowing if the other was still alive.
Two brothers sets fear into a people and convince them to reject their king (a cousin), who goes alone to honor an oath given to the father of a man who once saved his life, and dies at the teeth of a werewolf.
A father forced to watch as his wife is enslaved to another man and his son is cursed, bringing misfortune and death to all he loves, and his youngest daughter is enslaved by dragonspell and marries her unlucky brother while both of them are unknowing.
A cousin caught by enchantment now free takes her son back home, only to die at her husband's jealous hand. Her son is taken captive and tormented, returning to betray his own people, a hidden kingdom burnt to the ground, survivors fleeing.
A king falls to greed and the dwarves slay him, and his grandson takes the throne only to fall to the hands of elves now desperate, driven by an oath they cannot shake. Two tiny children, left alone to die in the woods, a girlchild carried away to safety nursing hatred of her dark-haired cousins with fire in their eyes.
A refugee camp, the last desperate survivors of fallen kingdoms, and the girlchild, now the queen, throws herself into the sea rather than give her cousins the gem they demand, even as her home burns around her and her sons weep.
War, the sort that breaks continents and sinks lands that are fair only in memory, kingdoms that have held for so long crumbling into the sea.
Loss, as a beloved brother (the last) chooses death when faced with the fact that everything he has done is for nothing, falling into fire.
Loneliness, wandering by the shores with none but the seabirds for company.
Betrayal, a nephew betrayed by one he thought friend, tortured to death and hung as a banner for his folk coming too late to rescue him.
A people once great slide into pride and overweening ambition, listen to lies of the Deciever, and their home is overthrown, everyone not on the ships in time drowned as the island is swallowed by the hungry sea.
A wide desert land, a proud and wandering people, enslaved by a Deciever who promises eternal life for human sacrifice, and makes their leaders into wraiths, slaved to him. (Sauron always lies. He's just like his Master, in that regard)
A golden ring drives a lost soul to murder his only friend and hide in the belly of a mountain, twisting in on himself until he no longer remembers who he was.
The dwarves of the mountains fleeing from dragonfire and monsters of flame and shadow and grasping slime in the deeps, reduced to a wandering people, their once wealth lost to memory.
The elves of the woods fighting desperately as darkness twists the trees against them, spiders and things more dark still pushing them ever closer to the brink.
A lord trying desperately to save his wife, unable to help her shattered mind recover after weeks of torture and torment, forced to send her away from him to the one place where she might find healing (the one place her mother cannot follow, forcing her to say goodbye perhaps forever)
The kingdoms of Men falling one after another, shadows of dread moving into old strongholds and burial grounds, the unquiet dead waiting for the unwary.
A gentle heart carrying a burden too great for any mortal flesh to withstand, watching it break his companions one after another, and eventually breaking him as well, the mental torment far worse than the physical.
Winged shadows and cruel whispers that twist the minds of those unwary, that poison kings against their nephews, the wise to folly, and stewards to despair.
A father who has lost everything, giving his only daughter away to the man he thinks of as his foster son, for the faint hope of a new tomorrow.
Tears unnumnbered, but Maglor recalls them all.
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But as he is wading into shore, he hears that oh-so-familiar voice raised in song and the harp strings sparkling like gold, like glass. He pauses, and for a moment he sways on his feet, so great is the wave of sorrow that sweeps through his heart. The song evokes it and cannot contain it as it travels on the air like a soft, grieving wind of the world. It blows through him almost as though he were a ghost, and he is reminded of those days and years when that is exactly what he was, an unhoused spirit wandering and remembering and regretting. He suddenly clutches his own arms just to make sure that he is still in the body and has not reverted to phantom form.
Yes, he's still alive. But oh, the things the song brings back to him! All the bitter events that he took part in, the stupid and dreadful act of swearing the Oath, and the almost immediate commencement of disaster after disaster, and the destruction of their family and eventually of all the Elven communities that should have allied with one another in the face of the enmity of Morgoth. And the Fëanorions' part in all this. Especially Curufin's own part in it.
The song is sung with genius, not just the incredible skill and poetry that has always been Maglor's, but with a kind of sorcery, one that is akin to Curufin's own ability to spin a vision and cast it forth to befuddle the eyes and pierce the hearts of its unlucky recipients. It tears at his heart with teeth like the teeth of a werewolf. And his heart bleeds grief.
He stumbles out of the water and up the berm. "Kano!" he cries. His voice is choked with tears, though no tears fall.
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Kain Highwind | OTA
["I'd love to keep my right mind for once", he had said, and with that, Kain Highwind becomes devoted to the least expected god of all, for him. Love is on his mind, in all senses of the word. He oddly starts feeling the urge to inspire it in others, in any way that he possibly can.]
[Of course, he's not too sure where or how to start. He thinks about his friends and those who he cares for. While he himself isn't known for being too expressive, they are, so he's got some strategies forming in mind...]
[First thing first, he gets his hands on a bunch of flowers, arranging some bouquets together. While he's out on his normal Guard patrol for the day, he looks for an unsuspecting passerby to hand them to. You... yes, you there, you look as if you could use a lovely flower arrangement.]
These are for you.
[He tries to hand them over with as much of a flourish as he can manage, trying to imitate the way that- sigh- Cecil gives such gifts to Rosa.]
II. Dates
[How else to encourage love other than to… well, go on a date? Right? Isn't that how people… make that happen? He's not sure being rather hopeless in this regard, but it's not stopping him from trying. Kain leaves a simple text message to everyone, before he goes to set up]
If you've a desire to feel… well… desire, come join me at the Speakeasy for dinner. For a… for a date, of a sort. I will be the one with the roses on the table.
[Kain takes the remnants of the flowers he'd gotten ahold of, putting those in a vase and using those to identify himself. He also somehow has arranged it so there's some mood-setting candles set up at the table, and the music they're playing is coincidentally even kind of romantic. All in all, he's got the right set up for a nice dinner date. He's even made a bit of an effort on himself, hair all neatly pulled back, armor polished, but he's left off the helmet for once.]
[What is he even doing!? He's not sure why he was compelled to do this, but it's too late to turn back now.]
III. Hugs
[Affection. That's his last strategy for inspiring love in others, though this one is even trickier for him than the other options were. But Kain is giving it his best try, wandering around the islands carrying a "Free Hugs" sign. He makes a point, of course, to get on a boat and go to each one so he can patrol around and offer those hugs to anyone whose path he crosses. He's not the best with initiating affection like this, so he hopes the sign will help. When he sees someone who looks promising, he approaches and in the utmost of serious tones, asks,]
Well? Are you interested?
omg kain (also III)
[if it's possible for a person to pour all their contempt for people in every dimension into a single word, that's what comes out of Law's mouth. If anything, he looks poised to immediately teleport himself a hundred meters away if Kain makes the slightest move.]
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II. Dates
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Geralt of Rivia | OTA (will match format)
Seeing as he wasn't going to get paid anything for participating, and everyone knows a Witcher doesn't work for free, Geralt thought that the best God to invoke would be Love.
Hotsprings.
"The waters just right." Talking to himself and wiggling his toes as he poked them up from under the surface of the springs, arms stretched out and across the edge to keep him afloat. If there was one thing Geralt loved, it was bathing. Made up for all the years he spent out in the wild training, sleeping in bushes and showering under cold waterfalls. No, this was bliss, this was heavenly all he needed now was a little company to be the cherry on top of his perfect day.
He'd brought with him a few things, scavenged from the City's Islands and a few rare treats he'd already had in his satchel bags on arrival. This included some pork cutlets, a few birds legs and more importantly a beef steak. He'd already made a spit and a roaring fire was underneath it, slowly roasting some of the pork and chicken. Another rare treat he'd brought with him, was salt and pepper, mixed with a few wild plants and herb, dried fruit and nuts ready in a bowl to garnish the meal with. Geralt had someone that smelt mouthwatering if you were downwind from it.
If that wasn't enough to tempt you to come and join him, he'd set a few bottles of alcohol he'd been carrying with him. Mostly Geralt kept alcohol not to drink, but to use in alchemy, replenish important potions, but he didn't see any harm in sparing a few glasses of stout, larger and wine if it helped someone else let their hair down and have a good time.
Watching as you approached. Maybe you were tempted by the spread he'd put on, or the alcohol was enough to lure you in, either way, Geralt could sense you coming before you'd know it.
"You know, I'm willing to share with you if you have a little time to spare me some company?"
Around the City.
Seeing as most people were already complying with the Gods needs, Geralt thought he could help out
even if it meant working without pay.Giving a few compliments here and there wouldn't cost him much effort and if it made anyone feel good about themselves then it would help the cause, right?So here he is, walking around the City, his horse Roach in tow, smiling and being generally pleasant or even flirtatious with everyone he passes. Let's see, how many pickup lines does a Witcher know anyway?
As you make your way towards him, Geralt smiled, tilting his head a little. Using his Witcher senses he already had your scent, what you'd washed in, ate for breakfast or drank. He could tell a lot about a person simply by looking at them, so as you approached Geralt got your attention by stopped and smiling in your direction, eye to eye. "You know, the only thing your eyes haven't told me, is your name?" His voice was smooth and deep, a little gruff but more charming than anything else.
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And she so rarely finds herself at a loss for words. Relaxing has never been a skill of hers, too driven, too determined to sit still unless the rare occasion called for it, but in seeking neutrality she seeks a means to clear her mind of distraction.
The springs. Nowhere in Sweetwater like them, steam rising over not-quite-transparent water, the sort of thing she read about once, in another life. The sort of thing they built into her to remember, even if she never saw them with her own eyes. She pauses briefly at the sign - separated by genders, oh, that's rich - before scoffing and choosing one hall to take, to change in, towel and all.
The place is largely abandoned, it seems, save for a man in the far pool. He's aware of her, she knows, so she doesn't bother to ignore him, and upon closer inspection he isn't exactly hard to look at.
"Generous of you."
A dry delivery. Maeve has been less clothed in front of worse people, and so seems unfazed that the only thing between his offer and her nakedness is a flimsy bit of fabric. She smiles wryly.
"You wouldn't happen to have any sherry, would you?"
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👀
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hotsprings
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Eleven | Ota (Will match format!)
Shoreline of North Island.
A little while back, Eleven tried to look for people back home as well as looking for people that had seemingly been sent home from here by the Door. Seeing as it didn't work, what with a few elements missing to fulfil her plan, she thought she'd try it again.
Wigless and bald, though her hair was starting to grow back in, a few inches at least- and in a beautiful new dress, Margaery had made for her, she sat at the splashing shoreline, feet already in the water. Last time she tried this she'd used Richie's glasses, blacked out with much and dirt, this time she simply tied a dark slip of cloth around her head to cover her eyes. The water was salty so it should help her float, the only thing left to do was slip in and slip away.
Eleven was frighted but it didn't show, if anything her expression looked sad, knowing fine well that most times when she tried this, she wound up finding dead or dying people, rather than anyone she could save. Her mind was set, she wanted to focus on the objects people would be diving for, though she had no idea what they looked like.
Stepping into the water, sitting down then laying back, she pulled the blindfold over her eyes and settled until her small frame started to float a little. A deep breath and a lot of concentration were needed so that she could slip into that dark, cold world with the watery floor. This space between worlds, the other side of the tightrope that only the flea could access.
If you happened to stumble upon her, should wouldn't be able to see you, but she might be able to hear you, slightly. If you spoke loud enough or tried to touch her. Other than that, she was alone in there, searching in the dark past people lost and left behind, like a hole in time where easily forgotten things fell through.
Re: Eleven | Ota (Will match format!)
That morning, just soon after she agreed to help with the expedition, one of those emotions hit her full force. In the duration of her entire career thus far, she'd been broken, stabbed, electrocuted, bitten, burned and even starved and dehydrated, but the sorry she felt that morning hurt then all of that combined. Physical pain she could've handled and coped with, right now, it was a matter of will to even focus on what she was doing.
She had a copy of the map and notes of where they might be going, forcing her will on them, and not to memories. Her mind still drifted towards the shore of where they'd eventually go, her eyes widening when she saw a form floating in the water.
"Eleven?" She called out, rushing over. She'd lost too many people; even if she and Eleven weren't entirely close, she felt responsible for her-and this place was fucked up enough to even consider bringing kids here. "Can you hear me?"
Carefully, she reached over and touched her wrist, letting out the breath she didn't know she was holding when she still felt a pulse.
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Will Graham | Ota ( graphic body horror / gore in link )
They were old friends, Will and Fear, maybe not this version of it here exactly, but still, he was well acquainted with the emotion. Everything Will did was driven by some kind of fear and if there was one thing he knew well, it was how to unsettle people.
He had taken himself off into some of the woodlands on the West Island, scavenged and found skeleton parts from what little wildlife there was. With a few blanched wooden branches he'd bent and bleached with the saltwater from the shore, Will managed to make various, horrific monster like statues he would hide around the Island.
There was one in particular, that stirred up some feelings of fear himself, it was based on something Will himself had a hand in making once upon a time. A horrific sight, part human, part animal. Took a lot of craft and handy work to make it look like a man when there were no human parts or skeletons around.
Will felt sick, looking over the creations he'd birthed, he even felt a little guilty that he was recycling something he'd seen, something he'd been part of just to elicit fear in others. There was only one thing left for him to do. Will donned his own skeletal and wooden carved suit, with horns coming out from his back at the top of his spine. The blood of small animals dyed deeper in colour with the skins of fruit he'd found on the Island, was used to coat himself in a slick, ichor, gross and unsettling.
He'd wait, until he saw you in the woods until you'd seen his handy work, then he'd stalk you from the shadows, just close enough to make you feel uneasy. Should you be unfortunate enough to catch sight of him, you'd hopefully get a big enough jumpscare that it would make it all worth the while.
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He slips along under the branches and tries to draw the thing out. If he can get it to follow him, he'll suddenly cross a clearing and his stalker will have to show itself.
"Where are you?" he suddenly calls.
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/destroys will's careful handiwork 8'D
/cheers Pell! lol
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inquisitor trevelyan ; ota
When hope has abandoned me,
I will see the stars and know
Your Light remains."
Cecily is always one of the last to volunteer sentiment... but this is a particularly crucial mission, and she's much more comfortable in her own skin than she used to be. That isn't to say that this entire concept isn't ridiculous - it is - but she's worked herself up to it, knows what must be done. ]
Don't let us down, Hope. You idiot.
[ There's a sigh as she studies the bracelet on her wrist and feels a little surge of hope, herself.
Right. On with it, then.
Cecily crosses her legs, settled against the base of a tree with a book propped open on her lap. It's a tome of songs, stories, and poems from Thedas, a gift she'd received here in Hadriel years prior. Anyone who is curious enough to approach or stop nearby will receive a faint smile and a nod of acknowledgement, along with a question: ]
If you choose a genre, I can find a story. I promise to make it interesting.
He's very sorry friend
Which one do you like?
why??
for sneaking
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Jill Valentine | OTA
[Inspire fear? Jill is usually spending her time trying to calm people and rescue them from horrific things. She's seen some pretty disturbing images in her time and by now, Jill has formed a rock solid stomach.
But if she has to make people feel fear in order to somehow get what's needed so they can all benefit, she's going to have to do it. From her observations, this sort of thing is acceptable, as people are working to inspire emotions all over the city.
The first thing she needs to do is get someone's attention...
There's the sound of an intense SCREEEEEAM! that draws anyone nearby toward one of the many abandoned storefronts.
When someone enters the store, it's the sight of a gory crime scene. Blood is splashed over the walls. Animal parts and entrails litter the room, the floor, the store counter.
Then, peeking out from behind that counter is the limp arm of a woman on the ground. It appears as though she's been mauled, with blood and guts covering her abdomen. In fact, it's Jill, playing the part of the murder victim at the crime scene. She's not dead, however, and she will profusely apologize for this act!]
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Can she make the situation worse for the victim and deepen their suffering?
The blood seeps out beneath the front door, and Caedra opens it to admire the scene inside, her black eyes taking in every detail in the dim light. Sword in hand, she steps inside, but the place is awfully still.
No - not quite. She hears breathing. Weak, behind the counter. But nothing else is here that she can determine. With glances over her shoulders in case this is a trap, and someone else is still here, she makes her way to the victim, striding through the gore with complete indifference to it. The woman she finds looks to be in bad shape, and she nudges the arm with the tip of her rapier rather than get too close. This is all extremely suspicious, after all, with no aggressor in sight anywhere.]
You. What happened?
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akira kurusu | ota
at first, akira wasn't exactly sure how to go about this. as a phantom thief, they had pulled off many capers, duped quite a few non-innocents, and even more importantly, had the public as a whole befuddled by all the times they had had criminals confess their crimes with their own mouths.
but this was different. and suddenly, he found himself inspired by a stunt he had pulled one day in the auditorium...
so on any given day this week, you may find akira walking around town, shouting out and professing that... )
( he's only saying one name per day of course, so... pick your poison? )
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Did you forget what he did to you?
p5 spoils
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Sorry for late tag in
my bad for the late reply! i should have hiatus'd, sob
Drake Holloway | OTA
[ Choosing which god to support for this endeavor had actually been something Drake gave a lot of thought. All the items were important, after all. There wasn't really anything he'd be willing to skimp on, so ideally the city inhabitants would balance out a bit... but it's not like anyone was organizing. So he thought, at first, he should go for one of the difficult emotions to inflict. Confusion, maybe, though that was short-lived because he couldn't come up with any way to induce it in others. Sorrow... he could probably manage easily right now, but it was almost as distasteful to think of making his friends sad on purpose as it would be to go Fear and scare them somehow, or the worst, Rage and risk hurting them. It's super not his style, anyway. Hope and Love should have plenty of support, as always, so in the end Tranquility won.
Drake is totally stealing this idea from the stories he heard about that competition the city had before he arrived -- the one where everyone learned Henry was good at massages. Well, he can be too! They'll definitely be less physical therapy and more relaxation, but that's in line with the goal here.
Each day, Drake sets up a little station of sorts on one of the islands, rotating where he is that day based on his patrol schedule. So in theory you could find him anywhere, though it's usually a guarantee that in the evening when people are heading home on that island, he'll be camped out in front of the housing with a chair padded with pillows so it's comfortable to drape over and a neatly lettered if somewhat questionable sign propped up beside him. ]
happy endings negotiable
jk
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Now the plan was to see what good he could do at the temples. Rage was really more his thing but he'd gotten his temples mixed up so here he was at Tranquility. This was a bad joke in the flesh. The things he did for the people he cared about.
Seth walked up and saw the sign. He stared at the guy by it then back at the sign.
On the positive end, Margo would probably prefer him get a massage by a guy.
On the negative, the bit about happy endings.
He stared at the guy warily. Complete with an arched brow. ]
Free, huh? Still free if we skip the whole 'happy ending' bit?
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Speakeasy. {CLOSED to Atem}
Except no, she actually doesn't. She's got plenty more coming in from the workshop nextdoor where she has all her equipment, carrying a box about half her own height when she opens the door and pushes it ajar with her shoulder. Other than the usual ambiant tunes, the place seems mostly quiet, which she appreciates after some asshole saw fit to do some Love-themed dates at her own damned bar.
As if the last time Love intruded on her personal space wasn't bad enough...
Due to the tall ass box she's carrying and the lack of attendance behind the counter, Rey nearly trips over the fucking kid's legs on the floor. To her luck, she just stumbles forward a few steps, sliding the box on the counter and using the bartop to catch her balance.
A beat or two later, she shoots a look down at the floor where Atem has appeared to help himself to a bottle of wine. She should be annoyed, but she's more confused than anything.
"What, are chairs not good enough for you now?" Rey quips, leaning her back against the bartop while she gets her bearings.
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Oh, it's just Rey. Gods, he cannot express how relieved he is to see her.
"... I'm-- are you okay there?" Saying that he's from a demon just sounds bad, so let's skip that.
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