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_logs2019-01-17 10:10 am
hadrielmods) wrote in hadriel_logs2019-01-17 10:10 am
Entry tags:
- !event,
- agent carolina,
- agent maine,
- anakin skywalker,
- armitage hux,
- caedra nisariel,
- finn,
- george lass,
- jo harvelle,
- kylo ren,
- lucretia,
- margaery tyrell,
- mariane cousland,
- michael munroe,
- peter parker,
- poe dameron,
- sally face (sal fisher),
- shigeru miyata,
- staci pratt,
- takashi shirogane,
- tinya wazzo
Event Log: It's Aliiiive!
Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for the It's Aliiiive! event
Where: All over the city
When: January 17th-25th
Warnings: None
What: The event log for the It's Aliiiive! event
Where: All over the city
When: January 17th-25th
Warnings: None
Things just seem a little weird at first - but then, things always seem a little weird in Hadriel. There's probably nothing to worry about, except that you know better, so there probably is. But at first, nothing is out of the ordinary. A creeping sensation on the back of your neck, a feeling of being watched, but isn't that kind of ordinary here?
Then things get weird.
Your coffee cup jerks suddenly, spilling hot coffee all over your lap. Your chair hurls itself over, with you in it. Your favorite jacket constricts, trying to strangle you. What are you going to do? Break your stuff? Run out into the frozen landscape, forsaking all possessions? Try to appease your belongings so they'll love you again? Good luck... hopefully you weren't too attached.► This log covers January 17-25th.
► 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 you get eaten by your nicest pair of pants, please let us know here.
Deputy Pratt || OTA
But then things start to move, and... okay honestly that is weird. He hallucinates sometimes, and he's definitely twitchy enough to see things that aren't there, but he is looking right at these things and they are definitely crawling around. But instead of being terrified, he takes it in stride. He's now crazy enough that he has sentient forks. That's a thing that's happened. Alright then, he can handle this.
|The Range|
Pratt is at the range tending to his targets and maintaining everything. The temperatures are not kind to bowstrings so he has to check on them every few days and thaw them out so they don't snap.
He's being followed by a very angry coffee mug that bounces around after him, bumping into his ankles and trying ineffectually to trip him.
"Not now, I'm working." He shoos it away until he's done with what he's fixing. "Alright. What are you so whiny about anyway?"
He puts his hand in front of it and immediately the mug latches on nomming on his fingers and doing its best to bite them right off. Too bad the mug doesn't have teeth so this is doing nothing. Pratt doesn't seem to mind, stroking it with his thumb as if it's a pet puppy.
|Love's Housing|
"I don't know what you want!!!" Pratt is yelling at a few boxes of things on his porch. "Sunlight? Water? Are you hot? Cold?"
Pratt's pretty upset, running his fingers through his hair as he paces around. Eventually he reaches into the box and pulls out a few squirming spoons spreading them out on the wooden decking of the porch. "What is it???"
He doesn't know how to make them happy, and all his silverware does is wriggle around and try to fling themselves at him. Why is everything mad at him?
y'know what love's housing
Well, this shit.
He should probably just pretend that he hadn't seen anything and just keep right on going, but he totally doesn't.
"...Dude? You okay?"
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Love's Housing. Totes.
then the silverware attacks and she leans in to try and bat it out of the way]
Hey! [she yells at the silverware] Leave him alone!
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The Range
At least her machete just has an aura of pouting instead of being actively mad at her.
Jo doesn't set out to head for the range, but it felt like a good place to wander by. She had planned to leave Pratt alone until she notices him bend over and -]
Is that a cup?
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The range please!
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the range
She falls back on old habits, on practicing skills she'd rather never have gained in the first place, and ignores the growing voice of discontentment in her head through the rhythm of throwing knives and loosing arrows.
Most of the time, it's easy to ignore the other people here, but right now there are objects hovering unnaturally around everyone and a coffee mug which seems to think it's an aggressive dog.
"You want me to break it?" Because she will. Gladly.
Re: the range
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Sal | ota, will match format
And got nothing.
That's fine. That doesn't always work. Eventually, things get really weird, though. Even weird for Sal. Edward's little homes and castles constructed from bottles and cans begin to shake, at some point scaring the little butterfly creature from his resting spot and on to Sal's head. Then there was the refrigerator door that slammed open as Sal walked by and knocked him to the ground. Not to mention the chair that tried to trample him and finish the job!
It was probably time to get some fresh air.
Sal bundled up the best he could, still too tired lately to bother sticking his hair into their usual pigtails, tucked Edward under his jacket where he was nice and warm, and headed out. He wasn't sure where he was going to go — the Speakyeasy, perhaps? Maybe go and see if Tyki was at his shop? Either way, he doesn't get very far before he feels an odd and uncomfortable pressure on his face...and the back of his head. As if the straps of his mask were...actually, that's exactly what it is. The straps of his mask were so tight all of a sudden, the metal buckles digging into his skull.
"What the hell?" He reaches behind his head to try and loosen the straps but that only makes them tighten more, causing him to hiss and wrestle, probably looking like a really small, crazy masked kid struggling with seemingly nothing. "What the — ow!"
So now he's just in the middle of wherever, his hands behind his head as he spins around like that's going to help him, stuck between wanting to get the mask of and absolutely not wanting to get the mask off. Life is hard right now.
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And it was working, until he sees Sal in the distance. And suddenly he's moving incredibly fast, whatever is going on needs to be addressed and quickly.
"Oi, Sal! What is it, lad? What's hurting you?"
He doesn't know exactly what's going on, but the hands on the back of his head make him think there's a possible head injury and that scares him more than he'd like to admit. He's a lot of things but he is not a doctor. And he doesn't know what needs to be done in delicate situations like this.
"Let me help."
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cw for disfigurement and graphic detail
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--holy what the fuck? Sal! Shit! [she dashes over to him and adds her own freezing hands to the attempts to get his mask off of his face]
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The cold outside didn't seem so unappealing when the alternative was risking her own skin and the woman found herself wandering through the city without a clear destination, simply moving to keep herself warm and looking around to see how things changed while she was back home- that's when she noticed a relatively small person (Male? Female? She couldn't immediately tell.) spinning around and apparently struggling with a mask?]
Hey, you okay? [Of course not, why did she even ask?] Do you need help getting rid of that mask?
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"Sal? Sal, it's DiMA, just hold still please."
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steak ( closed & open )
➥ closed to red wine;
( The house makes a fine enough base for them to return to in the evenings, after long days of
fightingsparring and slaying monsters, an adequate space in which to sleep and eat. Steak has no complaints about the house they live in, just his housemate.But then again, when doesn't he have complaints about his housemate?
It's later in the morning when Steak returns from his daily solo training and the bathroom is already occupied by Red Wine and his seemingly never-ending shower, leaving him to stew in sticky sweat and pound on the bathroom door uselessly until, eventually, he gives up and moves back to the kitchen.
Something to restore the body after a hard work-out. That's what he needs. A snack, a shower, a better Food Soul to be stuck with for all eternity. The snack is the most doable of those right now, so Steak begins to rummage through the fridge, the cupboards, until he finds something he can throw together into an edible meal. All of these foods in the city are odd, never quite right or like anything he recognises, but he can work off tastes to make something that isn't awful.
But... was that? He turns his head, halfway through spreading something on crackers, and frowns. No. Everything looks the same. Nothing has moved. That frying pan—
Was that always there?
He barely gets a moment to think that before the pan springs back up and floats towards him, hovering as it circles him like a hungry beast checking out its prey. )
What the—
( It darts in as though to strike, like it has somehow been possessed by the spirit of some predatory demon, and Steak does the only thing that makes any sense in this moment:
He punches it. )
— the shops;
➥ open to two threads;
( He's already fought off half his kitchen in an attempt to eat something, shower, and go about his day. Whatever nonsense is going on here, it certainly seems to be responding to the fact that he is a Food Soul.
It's annoying. Perhaps more than Red Wine. At least that asshole occasionally leaves him be.
But in the city, he can avoid such things as dinner knives and frying pans, as he can on the outskirts while fighting anything that he comes across. This is fine, normal even. This he doesn't mind, and the irritation of the morning begins to evaporate in the routine of fighting and eliminating threats.
Until he has to find lunch. Investigating the hodge-podge shops in Hadriel is a nuisance at the best of times, but those times don't involve several forks bouncing behind him like a gaggle of baby geese, trying to pierce his coat and skin with their prongs. )
Get away from me!
( This is getting old, he decides, as his swords slash the air and a shockwave of focused power slices through each of the pieces of cutlery, shaking the walls of the store at the same time. )
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He walks out of the bathroom just in time to see Steak punching a frying pan.]
What on Tierra are you doing?
[The question comes out somewhat explosively, a burst of surprise and barely-concealed consternation. He's accustomed to Steak doing ridiculous things, but punching the kitchenware is just a little too much.]
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a wildcard appears
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kate ( open )
➥ open to one thread;
( She still visits the Colosseum out of habit, still spends her time staring at the impossible flood of light that is the Door's power for far too long, as though doing so will somehow unlock that one thing she's missed in all her visits here. As though there's an answer in the meaningless mess of bright colour she can see, something that will let them all go home. An urge which grows stronger each passing month, with every reminder of all the things she doesn't have in Hadriel. The friends she misses. The job she cannot do.
The logical part of Kate's mind tells her to give up these sessions, that if it was as easy as observing The Door's power from the Colosseum, there'd be answers already, but she comes anyway. What else is there to do? She left the clinic to work on this mystery, to help save Carlisle, and he's been saved and Sorrow's investigations are done. No fragments of The Door remain above ground, so what else can she work on? Keeping her combat skills sharpened doesn't eat enough of the day.
She exhales and switches off her power with a blink, staring at notepaper decorated with nothing but the dots of someone tapping the tip of her pencil against it again and again.
Yeah, that's all she's got.
Her steps echo through the tunnels under the Colosseum, the distance always so much shorter when you're not worrying about the monster of the month attacking you or whichever newbie you're with, thoughts clicking through her mind like an out-of-date train trying to power through another journey, their topics ever more grim. How long can a person really be stuck here? How much longer can they all endure the monotony of this crumbling landscape and the gods' games? A never-ending cycle of questions, each one highlighting just how long it's been since she first woke up on the floor of this very place.
Somewhere above her, the noise of stone shifting, crumbling, a shower of pebbles dropping to the ground behind her, and Kate stiffens, her head turning.
And then, darkness, the dim lighting in the tunnels — the signs of her exit — extinguished as easily as one snuffs out a candle. More scraping of stone above her, creaking and her breath is somewhere in her throat, stuck as instinct has Kate illuminating her eyes with a flood of power.
But she sees nothing. Of course she doesn't. She's in this alone, with rubble bouncing off her scalp and the spine-chilling certainty of the walls coming down around her, no time, no nothing. She's moving without thinking, heading towards where the light was — or was it? Shit, that's a wall — until she collapses against cold brick. )
Fuck's sake— let me out. ( It's a muffled plea to anyone outside, but within the tunnels of the Colosseum it echoes and bounces, mocking her as her fists bash stone and Kate wants to scream at her powers again. Marc would have moved these things aside with a thought, Jay could have punched his way through. Carl would have simply blinked out. But here she is with eyes like headlights and her additional strength only enough to crumble a bare centimetre of the foot-wide stones.
The dissolving ceiling piles up through the tunnel, until dust and stone cling to her clothes, her hair, her skin, and the certainty of death smells like earth and damp and—
The stones disappear, and she tumbles to the ground outside, eyes still glowing and almost bowled into a person. )
Anakin Skywalker | OTA
Around the time a book slammed into the back of his head, making him see stars, Anakin decided that being outside might be...safer. He bundled himself in his cloak and Force pushed a pan away from him before it could mimic what the book had done earlier.
"Stay here."
Who was he talking to? He didn't even know. Opening the door, he threw himself out into the cold and strode as far from his house as he dared go. Once he was in the open, he grabbed his lightsaber and sought to command it. The sword had other ideas.
Soon Anakin was no longer holding the weapon; rather, it was determinedly chasing after him, slicing through the air as it tried to claim some piece of him. Help? Or watch. It was rather amazing to see a trained Jedi-Sith diving and running with obvious athleticism.
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so she starts chasing the laser sword which is chasing Anakin]
Hey! How do you turn this thing off?
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Kain Highwind | OTA
Watch out!!! Incoming!
[The shout of warning comes first, but then comes the lance. It's a heavy, strong, solid weapon, and it's flying through the air as if someone had intentionally thrown it. Kain, of course, did nothing of the sort, since the thing had literally just flown off of his back as if it decided to fling itself.]
[Kain hurries along to catch up with his runaway
flyaway?weapon as it arcs downward to the ground. Has it impaled something or worse, someone? Is it a near miss? He'll soon find out...]2. Boots
[Kain is outside stomping around awkwardly and slowly, his boots clearly having a mind of their own as he's forced to step one way, then the other, definitely against his will.]
Stop it! Stop that!
[He sure does feel silly talking to his own boots as if they're alive, but this is just... really frustrating. After some more heavy march-stomping, Kain nearly falls over off-balance, before about-facing, clearly struggling to make the damn things follow his orders. Then, suddenly, the boots speed up, and he's running aimlessly around outside the main housing area, arms flailing as he tries to keep his balance.]
I said, stop it!!
3. Doors
[Everywhere Kain goes today, doors really don't like him.]
[a. He attempts to enter the Guard HQ to report for his usual shift, but the door slams shut in his face as he's headed in. He repeats the process a couple of times, cursing under his breath each time it shuts on him. What in the world...?]
[b. When he tries to enter a store later, the door slams so fast it catches his hand. He shouts in pain, quickly pulling his hand away and shaking it a little. Owwwwww!!! It was only hard enough to bruise and cause immediate pain, fortunately, but still... OW.]
[c. Then, as he tries to go into his own home of Spire One, the door won't even move, not budging one bit. Kain struggles, grunting with the effort as he keeps trying to pull it open. He tries to slam into it next, but this doesn't do any good either. It's as if it's more than locked... ugh... and it's getting cold out here...]
3A
I swear to God, if you do that one more time, I'm tearing you off that wall and burning you, and I won't feel bad about it!
[And then he notices that there's actually a guy standing here. Normally he'd straighten up and fumble around all awkward after being caught in an embarrassing situation, but right now he just looks annoyed and exhausted and very much like he wants to kick the doors ass. oh shit whatup]
Oh, hey. That door smack you in the face? We have nothing to help with that, but um. Sorry about the door, I guess?
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lance
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Boots
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Peter Parker ; OTA
[Hey, you know who's having a really fun time with this poltergeist shit? Not Peter. Not Peter even a tiny bit. Between random little things scooting around on their own to Peter's spider senses going off basically constantly because of it, Peter's already pretty on edge by the end of the first day. By the middle of the second day, after getting literally zero sleep thanks to said spooky scooting stuff and his spider senses, he's stormed out of the house in frustration, hoping that nothing outside is going to start scooting around at him.
He'll spend a lot of time outside, napping in weird places like on roofs or at the lab. There's a break room, it's not that weird. Until the sofa bed flips over on him, then it's weird. What's also weird is how he's webbing everything down at the Guard HQ when he's on shift a couple days into this bullshit because the pencils are looking at him funny and that chair tried to fight him. Webs, just. Everywhere. Webs and Peter looking like he's about ready to snap the desk in half because his spider senses are almost 100% sure that it also wants to fight him.]
HEY THERE DEMONS, IT'S ME. YA BOI. A thousand apologies to roommates and house guests :( bnr -23rd ish
[This lack of sleep thing is doing Peter zero favors. He's been kind of scatterbrained lately, to the point where he's been forgetting important stuff when he leaves the house. Today he left his web shooters on the living room couch when he went out for the day. He got halfway to wherever he was going, was like "aw shit", and returned home to grab them. Not a big deal, right?
Except that it is a big deal because as soon as he opens the front door, he's greeted with the sight of the entire room covered floor to ceiling in webs, which his shooters are still spitting out from the couch where he left them. There's a solid like, twenty seconds where he just stands there watching in absolute-yet-exhausted disbelief before he finally musters up the will to attempt to put a stop to this nonsense.]
NnnoooOOOOOO--
[And he charges in, diving into the fucking forest of webs, ripping through what he can and wiggling his way closer to the couch. Closer to his web shooters. If he can just pop the cartridges out, this madness will cease. That's what he tells himself, anyway, but his web shooters have other plans. They turn on him directly once he starts to get too close, aaaand that's where we stand now.
Just, Peter swearing loudly at his web shooters in the middle of what used to be the living room, but is now a dense web jungle. Good times.]
23rd /cackles PS: (cw: misogynistic slur)
make fun of ANY part of her name and she'll kill you. she's been bukkaked by webs, but somehow the webs missed her mouth.their mistake]
Sonuvamotherfuckingbitch, what the fuck?! God fucking damnit!
oh NOOOO
oh YEAAHHHHHH
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Guard HQ
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Midway Guard HQ
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Michael Munroe | OTA
[You're somewhere around town when you spot a strange occurrence. Or maybe it's not that strange, depending on what's been going on in your life the past few days. In any case, there's a rather unsettling chair roaming about, walking on its long spindly legs. There's a strangely sinister air about it.
Thankfully, you won't be left alone with the thing, because it has a bit of a stalker. Michael is trailing after it, sort of keeping his distance but also making sure the thing is always in sight. He's not wearing his glasses, since they tried to poke his eyes out earlier, so he's kind of squinting.
Maybe you're curious as to what exactly is going on, or maybe he's the one who approaches you, having lost sight of his quarry.]
Hey, uh, have you... seen a chair?
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should it try, she has a sword and dagger unsheathed and at the ready. each blade is surrounded by a visible aura of cold, even more frigid than the air they breathe.
a young man approaches her, but he doesn't seem to be a threat, so she relaxes her stance slightly]
Yes. It's over there. It is yours? [she uses her dagger to point at the chair, which seems poised to pounce any moment]
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Re: Michael Munroe | OTA
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Lucretia | OTA
[ Taako can be a baby about things if he wants to, but that doesn't mean Lucretia has to stand for it. When attempting to remove whatever enchantments he'd put on her things doesn't work, she decides that the best thing to do for the moment is to just...leave. Go somewhere else, let him cool off, come home once it's all over.
It seems like a great idea, as she steps into the quiet peacefulness of the sewing shop. Lucretia's never done much sewing herself, but she knows enough to admire the design of the half-finished pieces displayed on dress forms around the shop, trailing her fingers lightly over the bolts of cloth.
And then the fabric twitches under her fingers.
She freezes, staring, trying to decide whether or not she's seeing things that aren't there, when suddenly it's like everything wakes up at once. Before she can react, she's cornered, a plethora of scissors, needles, and other unpleasantly sharp-looking sewing implements hovering in midair and pointed her way as the bolts of fabric unspool themselves and begin to wave meancingly in the air behind them.
She squeaks, small and undiginified, and her hand tightens on her staff as she mentally calculates how quickly she can conjure her shield versus how quickly those things can fly through the air at her throat. It's...not looking promising. ]
park
[ Once she realized that it wasn't Taako moving her things to mess with her, and that the weirdness wasn't restricted to her house, Lucretia had concluded that the only way to get some relief would be to get away from any objects whatsoever.
Hopefully nature doesn't count as Stuff, right? She's made her way to the park under that assumption, keeping carefully away from the cottage near the river just in case.
At first it's nice, even with the cold, snow crunching under her boots and fragile frosted leaves on the bushes. Best of all, none of it seems to be moving of its own accord.
As she gets further into the park, though, even the snow and ice can't entirely hide the scars of whatever had happened there before. She frowns, thoughtfully tracing the scorch marks on the trees, heedless of the fact that her fingers are half-frozen by this point. ]
hot springs
[ She can't stand the cold forever, no matter how nice it is to not be haunted by every inanimate object she owns. Maybe it's lucky, then, that she gets a bit lost on her way back into the city and manages to stumble onto something a) warm and b) outdoors. Sure, the towels have taken on a life of their own, dancing merrily above the water, but when she steps into their line of...sight? and they don't react, she decides she'll have to take the chance.
The signs to the women's side are easy enough to follow, and there's no one around when she arrives, so Lucretia doesn't hesitate to take off her robes and slip into the water in her skivvies, leaning her head back with a blissful sigh. This? This is nice. As long as the towels flying overhead don't decide to divebomb suddenly and try to suffocate her, she thinks she can live with this. ]
hot springs
Too bad that when she stops to take her own clothes off a couple of wooden basins fly in her direction trying to hit her head , her towel almost strangles her and her clothes... they run on their own, like filled with an invisible mannequin, and rush in the area where the pools are throwing themselves in the water.
Okay, perhaps going there had been a pretty terrible idea after all.]
Come on, how am I even supposed to go home if you're all wet?
[She rants, moving further in and finally noticing another person beside her. Oh, great show she put up by running naked and trying to catch her stuff before it could divebomb in the hot springs.]
My apologies, it's... not exactly my day.
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Sewing Shop
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hot springs :3c
yesss
<3
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Jan. 20
But of course it's after a brief spell of silence from her items that she finally goes out to the edge of the city to write. Not with pen and paper this time, but with a more transient medium - for the ice and snow that dust the tundra surface have a special glitter to them that she enjoys, and what can be a better statement about that beauty than one written in the early morning frost that disappears under that cold sunlight once the day becomes just barely warm enough to melt it? Dramatic, but that's the sort of poetry she most loves.
She's in the middle of carving out a word in the strange runic Abyssal writing when a stone seems to shudder itself out of the frozen ground and launch itself at her head. It strikes her and she turns to see what's there, only to suffer the same fate from a rock now at her back. She spins around wild-eyed as her frost-tipped rapier lights up with green flame, but there are no visible assailants, only a couple of loose stones.
"Show yourself," she growls at the empty air.
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He snorts, trying to ignore her and concentrate on his work. But the fact she's out there makes him uncomfortable. What the hell is she doing?
Standing on the edge of the range he strains to see, wishing he had a sniper scope to zoom in with. He has no idea what she's up to, but then the stones attack. Watching her whirl around as the rocks try their best to bash her head in.
Oh this is priceless.
Laughing heartily he tucks his hands into his pockets, letting the mug munch on his fingers. He's probably too far away for her to hear unless the wind happens to be carrying the right way. But this is hilarious.
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shigeru miyata | ota
[ So Shigeru was just going on a food run when suddenly everything started to attack?! He's mute so he can't exactly cry out in surprise or for help but he can run and he's just trying to avoid the angry cans of beans and other food items now chasing him through the store. He might accidentally run into you?! If he does he'll let out a breathless gasp and point to the hoard of food items currently turning the corner to give chase. He'll type something quickly on his device before showing it. ]
The food came to life! We should go. [ He can't believe he's even typing that sentence but there it is. ]
Clinic + Around town;
[ So since things are coming to life and are trying to kill people Shigeru is here for your healing needs. If he sees anyone in trouble his sword and shield will come out immediately. But if you're injured he'll rush over in a similar fashion. Regardless what the case is he's typing on his phone all the same. ]
Do you need help?!
Wildcard;
[ Hit me up with anything you want! Or for plotty things PM me on plurk @
shops
(Sorry for your life, Shigeru.)
Since it's not their first meeting, Maine knows to look at the device to read the doctor's words. Just as Shigeru can't believe he wrote the sentence, Maine can't believe he's reading it. But there are cans of beans rolling after the doctor, and this? This is just Maine's life now, he guesses.
With what sounds suspiciously like an exasperated sigh, Maine points toward the exit then moves to put his armored body between Shigeru and the angry food. ]
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Shops please!
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clinic
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Delmar | OTA | Will Match Format
[You might hear a gasp of 'Oh! Don't do that, that is very rude! S-stop it!' first, or perhaps you see the elderly man in an easter egg-esque sweater currently doing battle with a small bear with a lampshade for a head. Admittedly the bear is not making much headway as the best it can do is swing its small plush arms at Delmar and try to butt him with its lampshade head while Delmar tries to hold it away from himself in the manner of someone whose just been handed a crying baby for the first time and has no idea what to do with it. All in all its more a ridiculous sight, or perhaps an unnerving one, than it is worrying.]
Beauregard, what has gotten into you??
Delmar's apartment
[A much bigger problem than the lampshade bear, however, is the much much bigger bear that has currently taken over Delmar's apartment. It is approximately Delmar's height and has effectively scared him out of his home entirely. Delmar, now encamped in front of his own door with only a blanket and pillow will warn anyone passing by or stopping to visit not to go in there, and will then apologize that he can't offer them anything to eat because, as you can see, a now-living-man-sized-teddy-bear has taken over his home.]
Around Town
I assume your friend is going through the same period of moodiness that my bed woke me up with this morning. Do you need a hand?
[ It's quite literally only one hand, since Shiro is still lacking a prosthetic for his right arm, but hey. Three hands is better than two. ]
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Delmar's apartment
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finn | ota
When the inanimate objects start popping off, Finn proceeds to have a Time. The overall mood? Surprised and looking very deeply, personally offended by every single inanimate object that wants to throw hands. Catch him:
- Grappling with his own jacket, in the sort of half-assed struggle that comes from trying to subdue a thing you love without wrecking it. The relative strength of a jacket isn't the problem, once it's out of the zone where it can strangle him (please feel free to help get it out of the zone where it can strangle him). It's just that it's also kind of an asshole, so now he's standing here holding it by the sleeves while it attempts to flap menacingly in his direction.
- Subduing and possibly collecting things of a manageable size that come at him while he's out and about, with an air of some resignation. He'll match Poe commitment for commitment on this "they have minds of their own and we can't just throw them on the ground until they break" mindset, because it does make sense. As much as any of this can make sense. Maybe he's carting a busted blender around through strategic cord holding. Maybe he's using his every-day-is-arm-day powers for good and keeping a very angry, rattling box of miscellaneous Stuff under tight containment. Maybe he's rooting around in a store and a mug seizes the prime opportunity to fall off the shelf directly onto his face. It's all pretty much accurate to the experience.
- Helping people defeat their mighty object opponents as needed. Like, he gets it. He got punched in the face by a mug. Sometimes you need a hand not getting murdered by a vacuum or what have you. And it can kind of tie into that ongoing quest to Save The Toasters. The road to their apartment becoming a weird orphanage hoarding ground for angry appliances and sundry occasionally starts with asking someone else if they want that object taken off their hands. It's fine. This is fine.
- And last but not least: arguing with doors. Doors hate him and there's no clickbait ad that he can use to find out why. Most of the time, the issue is that they simply won't open. Sometimes they mix it up. Sometimes they're already open and they close right when he gets up to them. It's????? Rude??? And somehow, among everything happening and every weird new attempt at bodily harm that objects dole out, it is what Finn decides is the most personally offensive of all.
The two flavors are Finn, arms crossed, planting himself in front this door of choice and sternly saying something along the lines of "I am getting in there."
Or Finn, fed up, trying to... climb through a low window instead... possibly trying to bring an uncooperative and unwieldy appliance along for the ride. He will be sorry if that's a window into occupied territory. It looked really empty when he was scoping it out.
(wildcards are also always welcome! if you'd like to plot anything more specific, hmu by PM or at
window!!
Normally it looks at least like someone's writing and calligraphy den, a sort of studio perhaps, with ink and papers scattered everywhere. But lately the pens have taken to jumping out of her hand, and the papers prefer to scuttle away into the darkness under the sofa and the bed, and she's given up trying to corral them for the moment. It makes the place more lively, even if it's irritating.
So she isn't even inside when Finn attempts his ascent to the window near the porch - a normal enough entrance given the door isn't actually at ground level - though the window seems to alternate between pulling invitingly open and then slamming closed when it seems least expected. But Caedra isn't far off either, having just been returning, and when she sees someone she doesn't know trying to head inside uninvited with - what is that anyway? - she hastens her step and slings a bolt of black, crackling magic at the would-be intruder. The vines block her view partway, though, and it just slams into the wall, sending bits of wood flying outward.]
Hey! What do you think you're doing?
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Door!
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Finn's Home For Angry Appliances
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jacket
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doors yo
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windows
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window
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door
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WILDCARD - ~THE MORNING AFTER~
rip to all their toaster children
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It's an interesting time in Hadriel again. Do watch out for the wyvern head, though. It has enough reach on it's mount that it might just grab a bite if you're not careful. It does look adorable in it's bonnet though. Tyki thinks so at least, but your mileage may vary.]
just say this is before she says fuck it and goes exploring ok? ok
Unsurprisingly, she comes to regret this decision rather rapidly, as the first taxidermied beast writhes and wobbles, trying to do away with its restraints and attack... something. Probably her.
Well, that is Hadriel as usual, at least. Her hand drops to the bag at her thigh and pulls out a throwing knife, just in case. And, also just in case, she calls out to try and find the owner of this shop (because there has to be an owner, this place is far less chaotic than the shops filled by Hope). )
It bother you if anything ends up damaged?
( By her knives. Slicing off a few limbs from stuffed animals. )
Good with me!
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DiMA | OTA (will match format)
Part of being a person who doesn't eat, sleep, or require clothing means that it takes DiMA a little longer than most to realize what's happening in Hadriel right now. In fact he only discovers something is amiss when he goes to acquire one of those things he doesn't need -- clothing. People keep telling him to do something about his lack of coverage, to protect his exposed wires and circuits, but he chooses during the event to finally go into a clothing shop to see what there is that might be edited or tailored to fit his needs.
He didn't expect that the shirt he was checking to see if he could cut holes in it without the whole thing unraveling would jump on his face and try to suffocate him -- a vain attempt for someone who doesn't need to breathe, and confusing in that it wouldn't know the difference. When he gets away from that one, however, a jacket across the aisle is much smarter and decides to start pulling components and tubes from his back. This, unfortunately, he'll need help escaping from and repairing.
"Please don't--!" Is about all he can get out before he's pulling away again, realizing that several other items of clothing are hopping down off the racks and making their way towards him. "Oh dear..."
labs
He isn't aware whether or not the situation is the same in the labs, but will of course go there first to seek assistance plugging his components back in. And perhaps the effect on the objects in the city won't apply to things brought with them from home? He hopes, at least, he needs to do some maintenance.
No such luck.
The next thing a freshly repaired DiMA knows, he's thoroughly tied up by the cord to his memory bank, which he could tear off and escape but that would damage it, something he's incredibly loathe to do with such limited means to build another. He's having enough trouble finding parts to make one for Nick, he doesn't want to rebuild his own and lose access to the data already on it. So there he sits, bound and unhappy, trying to persuade the now-animate object to let him go.
"We have a history, you and I. I built you. Why are you doing this, friend?"
shops!
But whatever the case, it means that he's quite able to jump into the fray when he hears someone trying to talk down... something. He doesn't know what yet.
Eh, he'll soon find out, Steak decides, and darts over, hands at his swords.
"What—" Ah. This is a far cry from what has been bothering him thus far. He spares a glance that doesn't really give him the amount of time necessary to properly take in the stranger's appearance, and steps in front.
"Go, I'll deal with this."
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labs
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shops!
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Shops
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Labs
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Washington | OTA (will match format)
Wash has made a mistake. Even after his coffee mug tried to upturn itself all over him this morning and the spoon aimed directly for his eye, he decided to train in his armor today. It went on quietly, uneventfully, booted up like always, and so off he went for a run through the city. Nothing out of the ordinary here, nothing amiss.
Until suddenly, his left hand swings up and he punches himself in the face.
It escalates from there until he's in an all out fight with himself, one leg trying to trip the other, one fist going for a crotch shot -- it's probably hilarious to watch but actually very painful, and Wash realizes now that he was an idiot to not realize items from home would be affected. He can't control the arms of the suit to take it off himself so he does the only thing he can and sends the armor into lockdown to stop it from moving on its own -- which leaves him with another problem.
get me outta this thing
Anyone passing by will now hear a muffled call for help, and should they follow it they'll see Wash frozen in what must be a very uncomfortable fighting pose. One first is just about to hit him in the face again, one leg is bent up to kick but somehow he's balanced there because tipping over sounds even worse. He was clearly fighting with himself, which is. What? And he doesn't have tracker use right now and so can only see what's right in front of him, but if he hears someone approaching through his helmet he'll call out again.
"Hey! I need a hand over here! Preferably two?"
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He resolves to be careful and not put too much into any biotic use, or maybe not use them at all. Weaponless and having an actual thing inside him trying to screw him, he's unable to be too helpful on the patrol front today, so he's out in his casual wear when he hears a familiar voice asking for help. And hey, weaponless and armorless or not, he can't help but follow the distress.
"Wash?" the name comes out in complete confusion, but also there's an attempt to hold back a laugh, if only because he has no idea what he's looking at here. Somehow, it doesn't occur to him that armor would be affected as well. It's more like a second skin than a thing in his mind.
He walks over, standing in front of him since he can't seem to move, squinting as he examines Wash's strange position. "Are you...okay, stupid question. Better one; what happened?"
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Re: Washington | OTA (will match format)
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get me outta this thing
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i.
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