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_logs2019-03-10 12:22 pm
hadrielmods) wrote in hadriel_logs2019-03-10 12:22 pm
Entry tags:
- *intro log,
- agent maine,
- aqua,
- armitage hux,
- daenerys targaryen,
- dr. newton geiszler,
- elena fisher,
- finn,
- hanako nurumi,
- harlan halliday,
- ivar ragnarsson,
- kelson haldane,
- laura palmer,
- lyanna stark,
- margaery tyrell,
- mariane cousland,
- michael munroe,
- peter parker (616),
- roxas,
- shigeru miyata,
- stork,
- tinya wazzo
Intro Log: True Love's Kiss
Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for March
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: March 10th-14th
Warnings: None
What: The intro log for March
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: March 10th-14th
Warnings: None
You wake up cold and in the snow-covered dirt. Hope you have warm clothes with you, because it's freezing outside- but that's not your only thing to worry about. Contrasting with the pure white of the snow and slush are strange shadows that seem to glide across the frozen wasteland just outside of your peripheral vision. Whatever these beings are, they're not friendly, and simply being near one of them is enough to spiral you into a depression, as if you'll never be happy again. Get too close and you begin to relive the worst memories of your life- get even closer and they might just steal your soul away.
Dementors are wraithlike creatures from the Harry Potter franchise, who can drain the happiness of everyone around them before closing in to suck their soul out through their mouths- ew. While ordinarily only wizards can see them, these particular dementors are somewhat visible to the untrained eye, if only as shadows and dark flickers of movement.
But it's not all bad around here! While you're feeling kind of blue, there's also some toys and various plastic nonsense that looks like consolation prizes one might get from a very tacky dining experience.
Once you've finished indulging your 90's nostalgia, feel free to look around. You can explore the rest of the city! Find a house, a new monster, a project to help with, or simply scavenge for supplies. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!► This log covers March 10th-14th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► All characters arrive with phones that have network communication and the newbie guide installed.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
Rosalind Lutece | Bioshock: Infinite
CW for references to non-con
[She is so, so used to waking up in strange places right now, so Rosalind arrives with little fanfare and even less shock. And though the air is thick with mist, the atmosphere full of grief, that is nothing new either, not anymore. She's cold as she gets to her feet, but she's always cold nowadays-- and though those creatures sweeping around are curious, they seem to initially give her a wide berth.
Which is nice. Vampires rank higher than humans to them, apparently-- or maybe they just aren't interested in her for reasons of their own. But they drift by, chilly and breath rattling, and she steps around them to head for the exit.
She doesn't get three steps before coming to a stop.
Because there's voices that are echoing through her mind. Murmurs at first, but they grow louder, louder, unbearably so, they rattle around her skull. Images flash through her mind, one after another, slamming to the forefront of her skull, and it's gone so impossibly, chillingly cold, and she turns, she sees a dark figure, she hears--
i'm going to fuck you like this, his voice so low and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach (and shamefully, she hates herself for it, but there's arousal too, she hates it she hates him she hates him), nice and easy, you won't even have to lift a finger, not that you could, his grin so sharp, all lit up from the fireplace, his hands on her bare hips, her legs trembling in exhaustion from what he's had her do, commands spilling from his lips-- helpless to obey, helpless to do anything except hate him, strung up and rendered docile, submissive, his, the woman once so free and independent and so like a god now at the whim of a sadistic sorcerer who loves to play with his food. she's nothing more than his puppet to toy with, and he does it so easily, he laughs, delighted by the fury in her gaze, listening to her promises of revenge and retribution until he tires of them, and then he delights in putting words in her mouth (and oh what a phrase), tell me you want it, tell me how much you'd love to suck my cock, tell me you want to be fucked by me, tell me you like it, tell me you want me, beg for it--
--it's coming closer, and she stares, transfixed, not noticing how the world seems drained of color, how it's taking in a breath, how everything seems so quiet, and it's cornering her, it's reaching for her, fingers against her arm--
--wrenching it, slamming her back against the wall, do you want me to break your legs, stay still, forcing her down to her knees, forcing her up onto a roof only a story high, so near to others, his breath hot against the back of her neck-- take off your clothes, he tells her, look at the stage you've found yourself, go on, and the color drains from her face, her stomach twists, she thinks she's going to vomit, but even still her hands move not of their own volition-- she offers him money and security and he doesn't care he doesn't want money he just wants to see her weak and humiliated and he slides two fingers over her spine before dismissing her with a laugh-- and when she disappears and teleports her way home she locks the door and shoves her fist against her mouth to stop herself from screaming and screaming and screaming--
--and it's getting closer, scabbed hands with rotted flesh pulling back a hood, a gash in a skull that might be a mouth--
--his voice so disgusted and his tone so dismissive and she's thirteen again, presenting her research to a group of men who laughed and then grew furious when she stopped being so funny, he talks to her like she's a stupid child who acted in fear but there's fear and there's practicality and he sounds so much like robert and she hates herself for being hurt because of that, but how can she not be hurt when he tells her coldly i will not hesitate to deal with you as i would any other vampire, he says it he says it and she realizes he means he'll kill her all for a sin she hasn't committed--
--and she's committed so many sins and that's fine because that's making a choice (buy the baby take the deal follow his orders build the tower lock her away and you know it's wrong but you'd do almost anything for robert you know you would he could tell you to blind yourself and you'd do it), but she's never killed someone in bloodlust she's never bitten deep into their throats (she wants to), tears the flesh and drinks the blood beneath and she wants to she wants to rip and eviscerate and hurt hurt hurt everyone who has hurt her she wants them to suffer she wants them to die in agony she wants bloody satisfaction she wants blood and blood and blood endlessly she wants--
--it's at her, hands caressing her cheek, tipping her head up, and not again she can't she can't she can't--]
No.
[There's more than one way to deal with an ethereal creature. It isn't alive, she can't hear a heartbeat-- but it's tangible enough. It can touch her, but that means that she in turn can touch it, and stupid, it's so stupid, it shouldn't have gotten close--
One hand shoots out. Her fingers wrap around a rotted throat, fingers supernaturally strong in their grip. It's so easy to just squeeze, to feel bones breaking and hear an awful rasping noise, and voices keep screaming in her head but her own white-hot terror and rage is more than that, louder, nastier, more insistent, and her fingers tightening and tighten until all at once the creature just
goes limp.
There's a long pause, and Rosalind tips her head back, one long, slow exhale leaving her. Her fingers uncurl, and the corpse drops like a sack, crumpling onto the ground. Her head turns, and she pins her audience with a glare, red eyes blazing.]
Can I help you.
[She says it icily, steadily, but her cheeks are so very pale.]
Housing;
[Of course, perhaps your introduction to this woman isn't nearly so dramatic. Maybe you just see a woman picking her way carefully through the snow. She isn't wearing a coat, but the snow and ice don't seem to bother her in the least (beyond the dampness on her heels, anyway). She's wearing only a blouse and pencil skirt, but maybe she's just that stubborn.
Maybe it's the vampiric powers. Who can say.
In any case: she eventually finds herself near the spire apartments, in the second spire which is small enough to suit her. A bit of investigation reveals one that's empty, and that's just hers now, apparently, because she sets her things down and starts moving furniture around. She isn't subtle about it; within half an afternoon there's a spare couch, a bed frame, an entire mattress moved out into the hallway . . .
She's renovating, see.]
Science Lab;
[Of course she goes here.
It's not unoccupied, maybe, but she moves through it like it's her own. There's a period where she's experimenting with ingredients, seeing what chemicals are where, taking notes of labels and writing them all down in a notepad-- but soon enough she's pulling down beakers and mixing things. She moves like she knows what she's doing, and certainly there seems to be something taking form under her slender hands. The smell of tin seems to fill the air, thick and a little overwhelming, but maybe that's just from the snow outside . . .?
Or, possibly, the dark red liquid she's fussing with.
Maybe you think you're being sneaky. Maybe not! But the instant someone else is there, she speaks.]
Come make yourself useful. I need a second pair of hands. You don't have to be clever, just do as I say.
Wildcard;
[Rosalind will also be heading to find alcohol from some source, b/c ya girl is deeply depressed right now, but in a classy way. She'll also be exploring, mapping things out as best she can for her own reference, and in general acquainting herself with the setting.
She is, as mentioned, vampiric now, which means she has red eyes and fangs. If your character is the sort to sense these things, note she's an especially strong vampire, so like. It's an intense aura.]
science lab,
Uh. [ Well. At least that is something she can do around this place. The smell hasn't escaped her though; more than anyone, Rose recognizes the tinge of tin and it calls back a certain taste on her tongue. She shakes her head to try to dispel that train of thought and refocus on the moment. ]
Sure thing, lady. Just let me know what you need.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
coliseum!!!
He knows as soon as he walks into the coliseum that this is about to be a lost cause.]
What the hell is this? Ghosts? We have ghosts now?
[Ghosts are decidedly undissectable, so, screw it, he's cold, Michael and his other interns are probably out here fighting the good fight, he'll get data from them later.
He's about to head back to the lab when he spots her. Dropping a ghost to the ground. After she's... crushed it? With her fist?
Something is off, that much is obvious, but it doesn't quite hit him until he jogs over and she delivers that line. Can I help you? She's red-eyed and pale and... She doesn't recognize him.]
Um. Rosalind...?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
housing but sort of wildcard also
Suffice to say he's minding his own fucking business when he's assaulted by an end table, which was, for some reason, falling from the sky.
??????
Fast forward to a few minutes later, and he's ditched the (very busted) end table on the stairs to the spire's second floor. Shimmying past the bed frame blocking the hallway was annoying enough, and clearly whoever's chucking furniture out the goddamn window doesn't have use for the thing, anyway.
The culprit is a woman, it seems, and she's likely new. It's that time of the month, he's pretty sure. Harlan lets himself into the apartment; the door was left open, so it's fair game. Plus she hit him with a table.]
What are you planning to do with all that shit in the hallway?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
science lab;
When the woman addresses her, however, she isn't working on anything particularly scientific. Instead, she's bent over a sketchpad that's down to its last few pages, drawing intently. Not particularly sneaky, but she isn't working very hard to pull much attention to herself.
She takes a moment, large violet eyes fixed on the woman, to decide if she's interested. Then, she sets her sketchpad aside, places the pencil carefully on top at an angle it's sure not to roll, and makes her way over.]
What are you doing?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
wildcard/ exploring;
He follows her as she maps her way around the city, very rarely walking in the snow (and shaking it off his paws in a near-comical way when he does) and it's only when she stops - maybe to check her position, or maybe she's noticed him... he doesn't seem to care - that he moves closer and sits down atop a nearby wall, curling his tail around his paws.
To the untrained, the unsensitised, Mogget is nothing more than a cat. But to those with even the faintest talent at sensing magic he is far, far more than that.
Mogget watches her with sharp, vivid-green eyes, as if waiting for her to speak.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
lab!
Specifically it's a humanoid body, some sort of ghoulish creature in a cloak. He didn't kill it himself, and honestly he's kind of surprised someone managed to do this one in, but it's an opportunity he's not going to miss. If he had a guess, its death had something to do with its broken neck, but he won't know for sure until he gets all up in there.
Which is what he's planning to do when he gets to the lab, except apparently someone else has other plans.]
Uh, my hands are probably kind of gross right now? But I mean, if you need help. I'll just, uh. Put this... here...
[He lets go of the monster, which he's been holding under its arms, dropping it unceremoniously in a corner of the lab. He'll... get to it later, he guesses.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
wildcard/exploring
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
Speakeasy
she has few friends she'd trust enough to reveal such weakness to, so instead she goes to the Speakeasy. she intends to drink a glass or two of wine, try to settle her nerves, then go back home and bury herself under her furs, hoping that when she wakes, she'll be home.
she's hoped this many times and has always been disapppointed. such is the nature of this place. a disappointment.
someone sits on the stool next to hers and Mariane looks up to see who has joined her.
she sees a woman, apparently of some refinement, but with the oddest eyes she has ever seen. red as blood, but far colder than blood]
...greetings? [she ventures quietly]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
julie grigio. | return from canon update | OTA
ii. the city
iii. the speakeasy
the coliseum
Stop, stop yelling! You're going to attract more of those things!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
city
[ Cashmere approaches cautiously, keeping a generous distance. Julie looks like she migt need it. ] What's going on? You look - [ well... ] you look like you need to get somewhere warm to rest.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
the city
So, like- [ she says, once she finds Julie. She didn't quite catch that punch but heard the sound of a fist making contact. In addition to her now bloody, torn knuckles the woman can connect the dots. ]
Usually, bags of flour work better? Or, like, talking about it is an option. If you wanna'.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
ii
He's having one of those moments when he's passing by a shop...one that he had noted has been empty the last few times he's past it. He even notes it again just to have something else to think about. He barely notices that there's another person there because for as much as he's trying not to focus on thoughts of the past few months swirling around in his head he sure is focusing on them. It's the cry of frustration that snaps him out of his reverie and finally draws his attention to the other person in the area, in front of the shop. It's such a familiar shout he knows too well, not for the person it's coming from but just from the feeling it radiates. He even winces at the wall punch but not because it looks like it hurts but more because he totally gets that too.
He's armored and holding a gun but he rests it on his back to mag lock to his suit as he approaches, keeping a safe enough distance and leaning against the wall like he had intended to stop there for a rest or something. He crosses his arms over his chest.]
Did that actually help, or do you still feel like punching shit?
[He's actually asking for a reason.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
i.
Now, he was expecting more... people who mostly just needed safe herding towards the exits, which he's more than glad to provide. The less time any of them have to spend with these things flying around, the better. Can't think about the freezing, creeping dread and desolation if he keeps moving.
He's nothing if not adaptable, though. So Finn pretty much launches himself in her direction once he clocks the bound-at-the-wrists situation she's trying to deal with. IT'S JUST REALLY NOT AN IDEAL SITUATION TO BE IN AND HE WOULD LIKE TO HELP WITH THAT. ]
I've got you!
[ Things Finn is at least good at, historically: getting people out of their bonds so that everyone in the area can run for their lives. He's getting right to work on that. ]
Any of the doors will get you out of here, okay? Straight shot. I'll make sure you get through.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
the speakeasy
He was so focused on Maine, when he'd gone to look for both of them, on getting his one friend out and checked over that when he didn't immediately see Julie too he'd just taken care of Maine. As soon as he's situated Wash checks the network listing, and sure enough Julie's name is there too... she must have already gotten out, he thinks, and sends her a text:
Julie are you okay? Where are you?
She doesn't answer. Wash gives it a little time, then calls her instead, even more worried now. Is thinking to check the clinic, not that she'd go on her own, when she picks up. She's at the Speakeasy.
He doesn't think that's necessarily a good sign, but off he goes.
Wash arrives out of armor, his cheeks red beneath his freckles from the cold and a dusting of snow in his hair. He looks around... Julie's holed up in the corner with a glass in front of her. Just staring into it, which is even more worrying. Then as he gets close he takes in the state of her, dirty and bruised and looking like she's been crying -- or is about to. He comes up and sits across from her, his bulk blocking her from the rest of the room, and speaks softly. ]
Hey...
[ No welcome back, no it's good to see her, because he's too freaked by her state and doesn't think it would be welcome. He just offers a hand quietly. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
peter parker | marvel → 616
(the latter is his favourite question).
there's a part of him that's not ruling out this being something related to mysterio, or— a twist of his lips and a few names (suggestions, more than definitives) bounce around his thoughts as he takes in the landscape: it's a dilapidated, crumbling — coliseum? (not new york, but he knew that already). his body aches like he's — well, mostly like he's just been fighting for his life, which he has, but it's accompanied by a deeper ache that's a little bit more unsettling and he settles with telling himself that he's just coming down with the flu.
(ignore it, peter, it's been a tough couple of weeks—) ]
—gh! [ is what he manages, eloquently, when that familiar tingling spikes into a sharp pain, throbbing and incessant and did it just get darker? he thinks, suddenly, of ben; "sorry, pal, that's your job" echoes in his thoughts and—
wow, he's aware of how utterly terrible he feels. okay, first thing's first, pete, is to work out what is causing him to feel like this, and hey! there's someone else—say hello to mr./miss./other over there and maybe— no, focus. ]
Hey, Glinda, I think I lost my dog, and my ruby red slippers are definitely with my other dress, but if you've seen a [ there's a breath of a pause, an inhale of breath and god, he feels awful; a distracted glance off to the side (what was that?) punctuated by a loose wave of a hand. ] —yellow brick road at all, I'll gladly take the directions.
ii → city
[ the irony isn't lost on pete: the other peter had told him that the first thing he'd done was look for a pair of pants, and pete had mocked him and accused him of arriving pantsless and yet here he is. he's not pantsless, but he is cold and he also doesn't have grand intentions on running around solely in a skintight red-and-blue suit for the duration of his stay here.
he hadn't worried about being spotted on his journey into the city, nor when he'd arrived at the — shopping mall? (whatever, close enough: even aliens have to clothe themselves and eat, right?) — because that's fine, he'll just stay in his suit until he has a few seconds of privacy.
(it does occur to him that maybe leo had a point with that whole reversible jacket idea.)
so when he's certain no-one else is around, he ducks into a storage room with a pair of pants and a shirt. both go on over his suit — a mixture of force of habit and a lack of desire to carry it around; mask comes off last. it's habit, again, in case someone walks in on him: it's easier to avoid answering questions about who he is and why he's wearing a (the) spider-man suit if his face is still hidden — whilst he might be on another planet, whilst he might be in an entirely different dimension altogether, experience has taught peter that that doesn't mean whatever's here won't follow him back to earth; doesn't mean that his identity will be safe.
(which also — and more importantly — doesn't mean that may and mj will be safe; he doesn't know, too, who else might arrive here.)
the shirt's a touch too long in the arms and wide in the neck — it's clearly made for a larger man (or not-man); the trousers are a slightly better fit, but still a touch long in the leg, and he rolls the ankles up before re-emerging back into the store.
—success (question mark). next stop: food. (god, he is so hungry.) ]
iii → wildcard
( want to do something else? go for it! any questions, concerns or w/e, hmu at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
ruffians.also pete and peter met on the tdm, so just as a narrative point, in any situation where there's likely to be mention of both peters, i'll default to referring to 616!peter as pete, and mcu!peter as peter. )
I;
Is that meant to be a reference to something?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
ii!
(no subject)
ii.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
iii. Wildcard! Speakeasy. Let me know if anything needs changing
nope! this is cool!
awesome!
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
i.
(no subject)
(no subject)
oh my god, i somehow managed to completely miss this one
...
city
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
ii
p... eter....
don't you judge
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
ii;
(no subject)
(no subject)
SORRY FOR THE DELAY MAN i was travelling and unexpectedly had no wifi
agent maine | ota — returning from death & canon update!
[ Maine hates hospitals. Hates them more now than he ever did. But there are things he needs to do at the clinic. He has someone he wants to see. Another someone that he wants to track down. And, of course, there are his injuries to consider.
He wonders if they have painkillers. Wonders how strong they are.
So he visits the clinic repeatedly. Sometimes he just pops his gold-domed head in. Sometimes he stands against a wall like a 7'4" armored monolith, motionless and waiting. He seems to have abruptly become something of a fixture around the place, but he doesn't readily offer an explanation as to why. ]
ii. shooting range
[ Given the bladed grenade launcher on his back and the sidearm at his thigh, one might expect Maine to be shooting at the range. Instead, he's practicing with throwing knives.
While it's evident that Maine has been trained in this — his form is damn near flawless — his success is … varied. Sometimes the knives hit sideways and bounce off. Sometimes he buries the hilt in the target instead of the blade. But the more he practices, the more his throws strike true.
What's odd is just how much time he spends practicing. Long after anyone else would've called it a day, Maine just keeps on throwing, even when the light fades and the targets grow harder and harder to see.
Maybe this man is just really determined to get better. Or maybe he's got some shit to work out. ]
iii. all over
[ Knock knock! Who's there? It's Agent Maine. He's on a mission, and that mission is currently taking him door-to-door.
Answer the door, and the 7'4" heavily armored wall of muscle will hold out his phone. On the screen is a picture of Shigeru and a single line of text: ]
Seen him?
(( ooc: maine's first impressions & permissions post is here! feel free to hit me up @
closed to wash (cw: memories of character death)
He remembers the highway. He remembers nine bullets fired directly into his neck. He remembers getting hit by a semi and being thrown through the air; remembers plummeting off the elevated road like a stone, visor cracking as he hit the ground. He remembers dragging himself to cover and fading in and out of consciousness as he waited and waited and waited for extraction...
And he remembers Hadriel. He remembers waking up immediately after he was shot and being healed by magic. He remembers the people he met. The things he learned. He remembers walking back to his house and being filled with rage; remembers attacking one of the people who helped heal his throat. His armor was compromised; he breathed in poison; he was on his back, spitting defiance as Shigeru straddled him like a lover and pulled off his helmet...
But there's more from home. More memories where that didn't happen. Where he was rushed to a civilian facility because his injuries were so severe. Where he lay on his back in a hospital bed for weeks with a feeding tube in his gut; where he underwent surgery after surgery to repair the damage to his body. He remembers finally returning to the Mother of Intention, still so fucking weak, and sliding into his newly reinforced armor — because fuck, he needed to feel whole.
Maine died in Hadriel. He died. He knows it. But the armor he wears is the new, reinforced model, with an outer shell covering his shoulders and more protection at his chest and neck. The wrongness of his throat is the wrongness from home, unaided by magical healing. He feels like he's two people shoved into one body, and he has no idea how to handle it.
An alert pops up on his HUD. A proximity warning that then ... vanishes. Maine drags his hands away from his visor and shoves himself to his feet. Checks himself quickly — thank fuck his weapons are still in place — and twists around as another warning pops up. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Range
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
iii.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
iii
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
iii!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
lmk if the sign language bit doesn't work!
it's perfect!
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
clinic
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
wildcardin' it!!
SO WIIIILD
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Stork | Storm Hawks ► OTA
DEMENTORS;
Arriving to a face full of snow and dirt did not do anything to improve the last mood Stork remembered: looking out over Far Side while the squad tried to figure out what to do next. It was certainly colder, his flight suit is not at all designed for this kind of weather, and his biology even less so. Teeth chattering, arms wrapped tight around his skinny frame to conserve whatever heat he can, Stork doesn't even notice the dementors in their wraith-like dimness at first.
Until he nearly walks face first into one, and there's just a drain, like a great chasm opened up inside him and pulled every bit of happiness out of him. He's rooted to the spot as it drifts closer, the hooded cowl reminding him of the Nightcrawlers, and tries to recall how anything other than this oblivion of frigid despair felt.
He's not going to last long at this rate.
CITY;
After thankfully getting away from the coliseum, Stork wanders around the city, feeling more than a little lost-- and not in the 'stuck in an unfamiliar place' kind of way. He looks a little dazed, but that's mostly due to his encounter with the dementors. His toolkit is tucked close to him, and after a while he remembers that he's got some crystals inside of it. He pulls out one that's a deep red colour, cupping it between both hands and blowing on it like one would try to coax a live ember, shivering all the while.
HOUSING;
Making his way to the spires where people have said there's room for them to claim, Stork isn't sure how someone's supposed to find one that's available for the taking, so he settles on the more efficient way he can think of: checking them as he goes.
"Umm... hello?" He knocks on the door and if there's no immediate answer, cracks it open to take a peek inside, trying to determine if this one's being occupied or not.
SPEAKEASY;
Someone said the magic words: fire pit. So even though Stork's not really one for drinking unless it's a hot cup of aileron tea, he'll make his way to the Speakeasy and plunk himself closer than is probably recommended near said pit, holding out green, four-fingered hands to warm them. "Finally..." he said, and the quaking finally starts to ease.
WILDCARD;
Want something else? HMU at
Dementors!
He tried to take a swing with his sledgehammer at one of them earlier and hit only air, so he's half convinced he's hallucinating these incorporeal ghosts things. But now it seems like someone else can see them and is now... standing there. Staring at them.
Well that can't be good.
"You okay?" He approaches hesitantly, "What are you seeing?"
Re: Dementors!
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
speakeasy
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
housing;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
dementors!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
Speakeasy
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Roxas | Kingdom Hearts | OTA
[Waking up hasn't been too bad. Roxas had a new day to look forward to every time he wakes up in the morning. Even if things were a little rough at the moment with some factors added in beyond his control, he likes waking up.
Except right now. It's cold. Too cold for Twilight Town. There's snow. He doesn't remember there being snow, or falling asleep on the ground. The lack of happiness is not too fun either. Roxas stands and ignores the cold, instead trying to focus on the creatures around him. Is it time to run, see if anyone needs rescue, or fight?]
They don't feel like Heartless...
II. City
[It was really fascinating to see a frozen lake. There's also some curiosity there as Roxas moves closer and closer to the edge. As if he wants to step on it. See if it can hold his weight. The same thing will happen when he gets to the river. Ice is supposed to hold people, right? He just needs to get the courage up to step onto the ice...
Otherwise he's just exploring the town. Not sure where he's supposed to go. Who he might have to find. Just wandering and slowing down when he sees someone come by. Then it's watching time to see if maybe he should talk to someone or not.]
III. Wildcard
[Don't see something above to hit up? Hit me with your best shot! Feel free to pm me either at this journal or
I
[Odd little puzzle, isn't it? Rosalind certainly thinks so. The redhead standing a little ways away from him is staring at the creatures with narrowed eyes (which, by the way, are red, so that's weird). She hasn't taken her gaze off them; they're starting to come in closer now that Roxas has woken and started speaking.]
I suggest we head for the exit.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
II
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
II
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
I
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
city!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
1.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
i;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
II
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
Alfred ( Vikings - return from canon update )
[ Alfred wakes up freezing. He's dressed in clothes that certainly aren't made for the weather. They're fine and courtly enough, but there's not even any leather to provide any real buffer. His cloak would be the only protection he might have against the cold. There's a feeling of being disoriented as he comes to, reaching for the sword at his side as he does and quickly gets to his feet.
It all comes back but whatever it is he keeps glimpsing in the corners of his eyes doesn't feel good. It wasn't good. He starts to move to make way to the exit. He knows he needs to get out of this weather.
He must be getting closer to one, though, an ache of depression rocks through him and it pulls forward the memory of Aethelred's betrayal, of his mother's betrayal by killing Aethelred and he stumbles -- momentarily forgetting to keep going as grief knocks at his door. ]
Wildcard
[ Recently canon updated. Feel free to toss anything else at me! ]
Re: Alfred ( Vikings - return from canon update )
There wasn't time for this. He could grieve later, maybe with a bottle of wine. He didn't recognize Alfred at first and instead just grabbed him as he stumbled. Obviously he was royalty of some kind, they could sort it out later when there was a later.]
Out! That way, they wont follow.
[Kelson would drag him if he had too.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
wildcard: can edit if need be
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
The Collesium
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Rey | Star Wars
[After a lifetime on a planet of sand, the city that Rey finds herself in now is nothing short of awe inspiring. From the frozen over lakes and rivers to the park with its decimated treelines, everything here is something she has never seen before and despite the cold weather she's incredibly drawn to these differences in what she's used to.
Snow and cold is not something that she likes, but there's something about a large patch of frozen water that's hard for her to turn away from when she finds it. She's glad for the cloak she has to keep her warm, glad that it lets her approach the edge of the lake without feeling like she's going to freeze solid.
It's an odd compulsion, but she can't help that she feels a desire to kneel down and touch her fingers to the surface, a small smile stealing its way onto her face as the sheet of ice goes a little slick from the warmth of her touch. Starkiller Base had been a horrible introduction to cold weather, but like this...]
I wonder...
[Standing again, she takes a step closer to the edge and extends a foot, places just a little bit of weight on the ice to see what will happen, if it will hold her.]
There's no way this can go horribly wrong.
[exploration - moped lot]
[In her exploring, it doesn't take long for Rey to come across something far more interesting to her than cantinas or clinics. The collection of mopeds is like a jackpot for her and once it becomes clear there isn't anyone to stop her, Rey selects two and starts to pull them both rapidly apart.
In no time, she has one with the parts scattered haphazardly all around her, but the other gets a kinder treatment. That one is a pale blue color, and she's taken care to remove panels without denting them or losing screws twisted out with her fingernails, any exposed wires carefully arranged instead of in tangles like her other moped seems to be suffering. That one has gone the way of any junked speeder, cannibalized for parts to make improvements, and there's no escaping the look of absolute contentment on Rey's face as she tries to upgrade the blue moped.
It becomes clear quickly that working without tools means she won't get as far as she might want to, and after wiping grease-stained fingers on the edge of her cloak she's quick to take up her phone and tap out a quick message.]
[network]
If someone wanted to secure a set of tools, where would a good place to find them? I would be willing to discuss a trade if anyone has anything they're willing to part with.
[wildcard!]
(I'm up for pretty much anything! Hit me up at
frozen lake
she's flying over Hadriel dressed in her Legion uniform along with the blue sash of the Guard when she sees what looks like a young woman trying to walk on the frozen lake?
the ice is thick, but it can't be thick enough to hold a person's weight.
so Tinya swoops down out of the sky in time to hear Rey's words, hovering in the air in front of her]
I don't know, I can think of several ways it can.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
moped lot
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
network
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
wildcard; kicks down the door for housewarming
ten years later
rey tags are like a fine wine
DRINK IT UP WE NEED IT NOW
...
...
...
...
...
...
I heard you have lightsabers in your canon...I have lightsabers in my own canon (also frozen lake)
too bad hers is broken as fuck oops
just become a Nobody and she can have two maybe
Ivar Ragnarsson | Canon updated
Ivar's always been a survivor. Even after losing everything: his title of king, his home, his family, he will not lay down and die. He will continue living, even if it hurts worse than anything else he can think of right now. So when he arrives in the Coliseum, he struggles to his feet, leaning heavily on his arm crutch to stay upright.
So. He is back here again in this place. He can't decide if this is better or worse then being an exile among his own people and having to head to a new country to start over. He'll figure things out later. Right now, he just wants to get up, and get moving.
But he can't move very fast and that's when the dementors come. Anything that looks as ominous as these dark shadowy figures do shouldn't be trusted. This is proven right when all of the things that have happened over the past year come crashing down on him. He deserves everything that has happened to him. Why should any of his family ever stay loyal to him or not abandon him when he's such a horrible person? His parents were dead, his brothers had all betrayed and hated him, and now the small family he'd made for himself was dead too.
Ivar just stops moving entirely, so caught up the emotional downspiral he's already in. He deserves this is what he keeps thinking over and over again. He's the monster his mother predicted he would be with her second sight and he's deserved every bad thing that has ever happened to him.
Speakeasy
The first place he goes to as soon as he's fully back isn't the home he shares with Alfred and Kelson, though he should see them eventually. It's the bar. He needs alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol to numb the pain and sadness within him, especially after the helpful reminder that the dementors gave him. But he wonders if there's enough booze in the world to remove the images from his head, the one where he left his son in the woods and crawled away, or strangling his wife to death even as he told her he loved her.
So he sits there and just keeps pouring from a bottle into a giant mug. You'd think after four of them he would call it quits, but he can still remember how much it hurts. So he goes to pour more and finds the bottle is empty. Tsk. Such a shame.
So instead he turns to the nearest person, clearly very drunk by his slurred speech and the fact he's nearly falling down from where he's sitting. "What's the worst thing you've ever done in your life?"
Speakeasy
she's having a glass of red wine, slowly sipping at it as she watches over him.
they're not sitting side by side, but she's only one stool away when he turns to her and asks that question. it takes her a moment to respond as she's done many terrible things during the year of the Blight, but one stands out]
I lied to someone, promising to back their claim to the throne of Ferelden. Then, when the time came to settle who would rule, I installed my lover, the bastard son of King Maric, on the throne and named myself his queen. The person I lied to will remain in chains for the rest of her life.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Speakeasy mingle.
Plus alcohol. Always alcohol, home-brewed just like you like it.
Dimly lit, the Speakeasy is illuminated in a soft blue glow, with other cool shades pulsing to the music. Electro-swing plays from the jukebox and sound system tonight, and the dancefloor is open to any who wish to get their Charleston on.
If you're looking for anything specific to satisfy your palate, just ask a bartender what you need. If you're looking for the proprietor of the establishment, then you're out of luck, unless you're actively seeking out the passed-out lump in the back office area. Very sober and fine, mind you.
Have snacks and drinks, cozy up into one of the booths or mingle among your fellows. Or, you know, do all of those things. Sing your heart out at the stage if you've got a few tunes to get out of your system -- some will probably be more familiar wheres others completely alien depending on which part of the multiverse you're from.
Upstairs is the Game Room, which hosts a variety of recreational activities. From casino style games to board games such as checkers, chess, and Battleship, and even an arcade machine with many two player options and several selections to choose from.
[ooc: This is your monthly Welcome Dance Night! Consider this an open mingle thread for both old and new folks alike. Tag in, tag out, hit up your friends or rivals or meet new people. As usual, assume that this is set around the 12th.]
OTA
It feels familiar. Kind of like being back at The Roadhouse before it burned. Only kind of - and there's no way she would have played electro-swing for anyone.
She flashes anyone who approaches a smile before speaking up.]
What can I get ya?