EVENT ∞ LOG — Jan. 126

[thediadem]

Event ∞ Log

Agnostos Theos

©

Jump ⇅ :: The Rail — The Long Shadow — The Arrival — Notes

Info & Mechanics — Acreage Setting

The Rail

Pavilion / Fringes

©

The Rail's opening is a celebratory affair. Without the Rail, transporting goods is riskier and slower, limiting resources mined and grown on the Diadem rather than scavenged from the Fringes.

Working in tandem with Panorama, Acreage has hosted a raffle in hopes of bringing eager visitors to the southern stronghold who'll spend some of their hard-earned joolies. Acreage offers a chance for warmer temperatures, fresh produce, and access to the only "anchored" lake in all of the Diadem. In fact, Acreage's lake is so unique that no one's even named it. It's simply known as "the Lake."

As for you? There are several ways you could've ended up with a boarding ticket. You might've entered the raffle and won, fair and square. Maybe you stole it from someone, found it abandoned next to a dead body, or traded a favor for a ticket. Perhaps you're attending as a winner's plus one. After all, what fun is a trip if you can't share it with a friend?

Ticket in hand, you wait in line with a crowd of about 150 passengers at 06:00. An early start, but hopefully worth it. The energy buzzes. Cars drive by to gawk or honk. Unprompted, someone smashes a bottle of cheap champagne against the side of the train. It breaks—a good omen.

All Aboard — The Ride (Hours 1-3)

Seats and bunks are first come, first served. Normally, this can get sketchy, but since this trip is comprised of raffle winners, passengers won't fill the whole train. Outside, the diffusion zones will whip past in a blur, leaving you with unsettling glimpses at best.

The first three hours of the trip are fairly standard. Sure, you might encounter the usual riffraff, now in the same enclosed space as you, but nothing gets too out of hand. Temperatures between compartments fluctuate: some are a bit too warm, others are a bit chilly. Some are perfectly fine. It's nothing a jacket or removing a layer can't solve.

• The Rail itself is shabby but serviceable. It moves extraordinarily fast, a key factor in preventing cosmic influences. As a result, the windows don't open easily and are made of shatterproof glass. Once you're on the train, there's no jumping out.
• Keep your valuables at home. No one will loot your socks and underwear. One or two weapons are acceptable.
• Enforcers looking to make extra cash will serve as the train's security. As usual, they're primarily interested in ensuring the train reaches its destination. A scuffle or two won't catch their attention.
• The dining compartment serves soup, premade pasta bowls, sandwiches, instant noodles, and snacks, plus common beverages (including cheap beer and wine). A winning ticket gets you one free meal. The rest you'll need to pay for. An automated droid, Jeffries, will serve you, similar to the medbots. The tech isn't amazing, so the droid may misunderstand you. Please be patient! Jeffries is trying his best.

⇅ Top

The Long Shadow

Hours 3-12

At 09:00, the train jolts. Just a bit of turbulence, you think. Passengers who've traveled the Rail in the past agree it's not unusual. Then another jolt sways the train car. The tracks begin to vibrate. Someone drops their freshly ordered cup of coffee. Jeffries, the serving droid, rattles like a jackhammer until he tips over onto his side. Outside, a black shadow descends, plunging the train into darkness.

You, too, begin to fall. Your stomach drops. One minute, your feet are on solid ground; the next, you're tumbling through a dizzying abyss. Your weightless body spins wildly, then stretches thin, each atom beginning to separate. It should be painful, but it isn't, and that makes it all the more unsettling.

After too long, you hit the bottom. Your knees crack against a glossy obsidian floor. The surface ripples, as if wet, but the sensation is firm and dry. It is not dark nor cold. Instead, a bright warmth washes over you, two round suns sinking behind the abyssal lake that isn't a lake. A stone tablet lies inset against a blindingly white wall dotted with shimmering black stars. It beckons you forward.

Your heart surges. You can almost make out what awaits you: a word, a voice, a symbol. What does it mean? You're so close to understanding—

—the entire world flattens, like an illustration on a page. You flatten with it, squeezed into a 2D space. When it finally spits you back out, you're not where you were. Not even close.

Compartments are randomized with no rhyme or reason. Time in each compartment is nebulous, so players have the flexibility to thread each scenario without strictly adhering to the 12-hour ride. Characters can potentially pop in and out of compartments separate from each other. This means Character A might lose Character B midway through a scenario, only to have Character B replaced by Character C.

Revelations

You tumble onto what can only be described as a set: a beach, a picnic, or a Ferris wheel. Though it feels real enough, nothing around you feels accidental or natural. The sky is unusually blue, the grass is cut perfectly even, and there's not one single brown leaf on the tree. The people riding the Ferris wheel with you have model smiles and windswept hair. The family enjoying the sun next to your picnic table has no crying children. Their barbecue is polished and shiny, as if brand new.

Next to you is another fluxdrift. Drone cameras hover, recording your every conversation. Printed on the camera is a heart-shaped logo with a cupid's arrow through it.

When you look down, you realize you're both holding stat cards about your assigned partner. The information is printed in bold text under a cheerful header that declares, The start of a Beautiful Friendship...or More!

2 Truths, 1 Lie

Each person's stat card looks like this:

• A cutesy photo. Not the type to smile? Hate posing for photos? Doesn't matter—the picture of you is cheerful and adorable, bordered by fun stickers and run through a funky Snapchat-style filter that gives you cat ears or a little deer nose. You've never looked happier.
• 2 truths, one lie. They must be lies and truths to you. This means "An excellent mother" will register as a lie if you see yourself as the opposite, regardless of facts or whether someone might argue otherwise.
• Fun questions. Ranging from a casual "What's your favorite color?" to an uncomfortable, "In the War of 3956, how many innocents did you kill?", the card will give you plenty to think about when it comes to your companion.

Camera drones will prompt you to engage with the cards and each other, projecting instructions in holographic red text. Each time one of you refuses, the set will begin to rebel dangerously: a massive tsunami builds in the distance, fire ants start to overrun the picnic hill, and the Ferris wheel rocks precariously, threatening to knock you off. Sure, you might be willing to risk injury to make a point—but are you willing to risk the person you're with?

Black Frost

The bright light dissipates in an instant, absorbed by an impenetrable void. You can't see your hands in front of you. Light sources are similarly absorbed. Your flashlight isn't broken—it's just that when you turn it on, the beam can't breach the inky black. The same applies to fire and spells for warmth. No matter what you do, and regardless of any supernatural abilities or magic, the void leaves you in total darkness, shivering from the frosty whipping winds.

Soon, you hear a distant echo: a voice or a cry, calling out. With no other option, you follow it, locating each other through sound alone. Once you join up, you realize that being near one another generates light while physical touch generates warmth. The glow's aura isn't large, but it's enough to let you finally travel forth.

And so you travel forth—stumbling over frozen corpses and discarded rations or supplies. All of the dead are alone, suggesting sticking together is the way to go.

The Light at the End

Eventually, you find shelter in a cave. You lose track of time. You eat tins of food and huddle together. Do you still remember what a hot cup of tea tastes like? Have you ever seen the sun, or did you only dream of it? And your companion, now rapidly becoming the only person you recall talking to in ages—when did you meet? You feel as if you've known them forever. The names of your friends slip from your grasp. They've abandoned you, anyhow, or perhaps they never existed to begin with, mere figments of your imagination. You tell yourself: you won't ever slip into that cozy illusion again. This world might be hard and cold, but at least it's real. Isn't it?

More time passes. Perhaps you've run into some trouble: a bear trap, an avalanche, a roaming pack of wolves. With no one else to talk to, you find yourself sharing more than usual with your sole companion.

One day, you see a twinkling light in the distance. It feels like a way out...but suddenly, inexplicably, you're reluctant. Your gut is certain that if you walk toward it, you'll lose the bond you've forged together. Do you choose to return to a life that no longer feels wholly like yours, or do you stay with what you know?

Whether characters choose the light or not, the compartments will eventually shuffle them elsewhere — and yet, the decision they made will stay with them. They may wonder if they left a part of themselves behind in a place they can never return to. Over time, this feeling might fade. Or it might not.

Fanciful Realities

The world blurs. When it comes back into focus, the first thing you notice is the crowd and your clothes. No longer dressed in the functional outfits common to the Diadem, you now blend seamlessly into the party: pearls on your neck, polished shoes, silk ties, flowing gowns. What year is it? Where are you? How did you get here? That all depends on what's conjured up. Perhaps you're in avant-garde fashion with the architecture to match. You're might be inside a castle ballroom, surrounded by royalty and knights. Or, it's a polished futuristic celebration; when you look outside the window, you see floating ships among the stars.

As you wonder how you're here, your mind begins to fill in the blanks, gradually taking over the reality you once thought you knew. Perhaps you pull other passengers into the illusion with you: you're a spy, searching for your mark at a fancy party, and spot them in your fellow passenger. You're a pop star, attending a shindig with other celebrities. You're plotting a jewel heist. Your powers and abilities may disappear to match the scenario—if you believe you're a mere human detective on the job, for instance. You could even take on a slightly different appearance, incorporating a form the old you might've been afraid of or believed was no longer who you were. But now you're free from the shadows of your past, aren't you?

Two things are always true about the environment: 1) there's an enormous ice sculpture in the middle of the room, representing an unnamed figure; 2) there are dozens of mirrors around the gala's interior.

The Face in the Mirror

As the party goes on, each time you pass a mirror, you glimpse the real you inside it. When you blink or take another look, it'll go away, but throughout the night, this will continue to happen. The more it happens, the more you start to see through the illusion around you, not just in the mirrors but in the environment itself. You watch as someone carves into a succulent roast pig only for it to burst with the blood and entrails of a squirming alien creature. The polished marble walls bleed and peel away when you stare too hard. If you'd lost your powers, they begin to return in uncontrollable spurts, startling you.

The sculpture in the room begins to melt. As it melts, it starts to move. You get a deep sense of foreboding, one that tells you if you don't free yourself from this place by the time the creature has thawed, something awful will happen. You don't know what, but the dread gnaws at you.

The illusory guests around you don't seem to notice. They'll demonstrate modest concern about your disposition, asking if you're alright or if you need some water, but never remarking on your increasingly dishevelled appearance or displays of power. If you're the first to start waking up, it'll be your job to convince your fellow passenger that something's very wrong. Give them a good shake, trap them in a room with a mirror, slaughter what you believe to be fake party guests in front of them—whatever you can think of, try it. It may just work.

The depth and strength of the reality that takes over is up to players. You can craft a mini-AU for your characters to play in for a bit before they free themselves, or decide that characters are mostly themselves but attending some nondescript fancy party. Characters can fully sink into the illusion together until the train forces them into another compartment, or they may break free from it as soon as they glimpse the first mirror.

⇅ Top

The Arrival

Acreage

©

The train pulls into the Acreage rail station at 18:00 on the dot. Despite the chaos within, the tracks themselves have held against the diffusion zones, if not the storm, and everyone inside is at least physically safe. If you're hoping to walk out into normalcy, though, your hopes will be dashed when you see the massive shadow over the lake. It extends over a portion of the stronghold, blocking several acres of farmland from the sun. Acreage's Mediterranean-like climate means they're still growing crops such as root vegetables, so this is a concern should it last too long.

The source of the shadow is no mystery. Simply looking up reveals the gigantic cube. Its metallic sheen is almost captivating. Residents say it emerged from the lake that morning and has been floating above ever since. It hasn't done anything. It's just...there.

To be safe, the town's Sheriff, Maeve Sov, has sent word to keep the Rail in place for at least a week before letting it travel back home.

Distractions

Determined not to let the cube ruin their plans, the town of Acreage proceeds with the Fair, a decently-sized farmer's market hosted in the town square. For those from larger cities, you'll find their idea of a fair a bit quaint. There are no carnival rides or rows upon rows of food trucks. It's not bad, though: stalls offer baked goods, jams, handcrafted textiles like woollen gloves or hats, and candles from cultivated beeswax. There's an inflatable playground where children play. Farm dogs and cats roam around searching for treats and pets. Activities include ball toss, a prize wheel offering small but valuable prizes for Panorama visitors (freshly baked goods, jars of honey or jam, handmade soap), and sack races.

At one of the tables is a familiar face: Knick, former leader of the Big Gulp, can be found knitting and selling socks and scarves using wool from his family's sheep farm with a sign that says Knick's KnitKnacks. (He's a startlingly talented knitter.) His mother will occasionally appear to explain that her son is "a good boy" who "didn't belong in the big city." She will determinedly avoid any talk about the Big Gulp should you bring it up.

Where Panorama is largely scavenger-based, Acreage prides itself on producing self-sustaining goods. Its role in the Diadem is an important one: a sign that people can make this world their home without relying entirely on the whims of the Fringes. Panorama's financial support indicates the Diadem as a whole recognizes this significance.

Exploring the Town

Including the Fair, there are a few things you can do around the town square:

• Fishing: In reaction to the cube or the shadow, fish in the Lake are surfacing more than usual. As a result, you'll have plenty of luck fishing, even if you're new at it. You can borrow a boat and gear at any time. Anything you catch, you can keep, give away, or barter with, but don't start selling your fish or you'll risk angering the residents who feel upstaged at their own market. Although the Lake is technically freshwater, you can fish up just about anything: cod, pike, salmon, trout. The type of fish doesn't seem to obey any rules. Since Acreage is an anchored point, however, the fish are all normal. No aberrations here! (For now.)
• Chicken Weigh: You pick up a chicken and guess its weight. That's it! Win a prize if you guess it down to the pound. The prize is a jar of jellybeans. Unfortunately, Mildred the Second is extremely ornery, so watch her pecking and talons when you hold her. She's also quite large by chicken standards, about twice the size of an average hen.
• Horse Trail: A few gentle horses are available for riding. They're trained to follow a very particular trail, and you'll be warned not to take them off that trail...but the cube does have them spooked, so your steed may be a bit nervous as you ride. Take care not to startle your horse worse.
• Bubble Ball: Years ago, someone scavenged a bunch of inflatable bubbles. It's now become the town's tradition to play a game of bubble ball, which consists of whatever ball is available and goal posts marked with fence poles and ribbons. The game has no rules, no referee, and is mostly an excuse for people to get drunk and run at each other. You're free to join at any time, but be careful: the bubble ball only protects you to some degree. Participants are still prone to bumps, bruises, and twisted ankles.

Accommodations

Visitors are hosted at the bed-and-breakfasts available around the town square. If you've previously visited, you might wonder why Acreage has these inns when so few people arrive regularly. Now, with the Rail back up and running, you'll realize that Acreage isn't only a farming stronghold. It also relies on tourism to boost its economy, usually from better-off residents of Panorama or Kolliery seeking to escape a frosty winter.

For the first time in a while, the B&Bs are bustling. A continental breakfast is provided by innkeepers to ticket-holders—all part of the package—but non-raffle winners will have to pay for their own room and board. The inns are decent. They're better taken care of than some of the rundown motels in Panorama.

Acreage itself isn't small. You won't be walking from one end to the other, but anything past the town square is just farmland and more farmland. The square contains stalls and small shops selling goods from farms and ranches. There are truck beds containing potatoes and corn, or jars of pickled vegetables. The Easy Shop is the town's general store, selling everything you need to get by: alcohol, ammo, gas, tools, and more. Rusty's Pub is the most popular bar in town, but other saloon-style places are available, along with a couple of family-run diners, and a modest bookstore.

Replicant

At midnight, on January 8, all the livestock across the farm begin to walk. They're undeterred by gates or barn doors or chicken wire. No one can explain how they get past. No door is unlocked, nothing is unlatched. But the animals are outside their fences and pastures nonetheless. They walk until they suddenly stop. Anyone awake at that hour will witness them simply standing. They don't move, and nothing will budge them. Their hooves and feet are carefully lined up against an invisible barrier.

Only with the sunrise does it become clear what's stopped them: the edges of the long shadow cast by the cube. When the shadow is at its fullest do the animals walk again, disappearing straight into the void.

At first, residents are alarmed. Panic ripples through the town. A crowd starts to march to the Sheriff for solutions. Before they get far, the animals emerge again: two by two. By two. By two.

In fact, for every cow, sheep, pig, goat, horse, and chicken that walked in, two return. Overnight, Acreage's precious livestock population has doubled.

Then the cube drifts away. Its shadow drifts with it. It doesn't disappear, but its presence no longer blankets the town of Acreage, the massive metallic block floating toward the endless Fringes.

The consequences of this development will be detailed in the Aftermath post.

∞ Notes ∞

• Characters may exit the gala compartment with their transformed clothes, but everything else will revert to normal. In exchange, they will lose their original clothes. This means, yes, they could potentially go from the gala and land in Black Frost wearing high heels and a slinky dress.
• The Black Frost compartment will take away all light and warmth regardless of a character's abilities. Characters may keep their extra senses to navigate, although if you're interested in upping the stakes, those could also be taken away or confused by the void.
• As noted on the Plot Post, there are regular compartments mixed in with the stranger ones, but landing in those is also via randomization. You can't choose to simply walk back to your bunk.
• The mysterious cube will not provide real answers any time soon. Like all cosmic entities, to know it requires a level of transformation within you that no mortal is meant to achieve...so be careful what you seek.

Questions? Ask here

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Comments

kimiko miyashiro | the boys → closed.

[pse]

( Starters below! If you'd like to plot something, feel free to hit me up by PM. ☺️ )

LOGAN.

[pse]

[ Kimiko nods off for a second, she must have—

And then she blinks her eyes open again, and she’s settled into a quaint little beach chair. The tide slides in and pulls out inches away from her bare feet; she doesn’t quite know how, but she’s dressed in denim cutoff shorts and a black tank top, which is definitely not the clothes she boarded the train in.

Drone cameras hover and buzz. She narrows her eyes at them, thinks — Hughie? But one of them darts into the eyeline of the person in the chair next to hers, and she isn’t terribly surprised to see Logan.

Did he bring her here?
No, she dismisses the idea. He’s likely as confused as she is.

In his hand, of course, is a stat card. The picture is as unlikely as it is poorly edited, and the facts are an interesting, damning litany of truths and lies.

Born in Japan, raised in the Philippines.
Knows four languages fluently.
Never went to college.

Favourite music is elevator music.
Once kicked a Nazi in the stomach upwards of twenty times.
Dream vacation: Marseilles.

But there’s a card in her hand too, and Kimiko glances down at it curiously. ]

JOHN.

[pse]

[ The banquet hall is high-ceiling and spectacular, every surface buffed and shining to a razor sharp gleam. Laughter and conversation and non-descript music filter in and out, as well-dressed people loiter in clusters around tables of hors d'oeuvres, sporting thin-stemmed glasses of bubbly or shrimp cocktails. Staff in black and white dress uniforms move unobtrusively through the throng, carrying sample platters and drink trays. It’s definitely the nicest — and most expensive — event they’ve ever been to.

Kimiko remains silent and smiling, fingers resting comfortably in the crook of John’s elbow. People call out to him—

”Captain Walker!”
“Ranger, good to see you again.”
“Allow me to introduce you to _____.”

—and politely regard her. At best, they lose interest when they see her signing, John interpreting. At worst, their perspective switches to gentle pity for her, and shining-eyed admiration for John. What a hero, what a gentleman, with the valiantly disabled wife.

It’s a relief to escape to a moment alone, to a quiet corner at a quiet buffet spread. Sharing a plate of food, Kimiko’s fingers threaded through and roving over his own like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Matching rings clink together.

Of course, they don’t know that other than the fancy dress they wear — and the wedding band tucked on John’s left ring finger — that none of this is real. A happy illusion, silk and sheen draped over their eyes. ]

VI.

[pse]

( TBA. )

CASSIAN.

[pse]

[ What was meant to be a simple mission quickly took an unexpected turn when Cassian and Kimiko realised that the ████ they need to, ahem, obtain has been fashioned into a necklace and slung prettily around Princess Matilde’s neck.

At the other end of the room, they watch Princess Morgan, surrounded by a cloud of admirers, as immaterial as vapour.

Kimiko, dressed to the nines, munches on something that tastes vaguely like shrimp.

They’re on a time limit, as that’s the worst part. They need to be out of their eleganzia and tucked into the spare engineer uniforms they’ve stashed in cargo before the train reaches its second last stop, which gives them roughly an hour forty to pull this off. The locomotive continues its smooth journey, wheels churning and gears slick as water pulling them along the tracks, up and up. The last stop is the mountains—

(Wait, mountains?)

—and too far away from their scheduled pick-up. They’d get snagged in an imperial checkpoint.

As Princess Meaghan shrieks with broad, vapid laughter, Kimiko looks up at Cassian and turns her hand over. A razor blade the size of a thumbnail gleams across the lifelines of her palm. The intent is obvious from the stony look in her eyes: she’s ready to kill Princess Metronome if that will make this job any easier.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, an older couple makes their way over.

“Joreth! Oh, it’s been so long—” and, “How are you, old boy? Who’s your friend?”

A flick of her fingers, the razor blade disappears smoothly. Kimiko pastes on a smile. ]

AMOS.

[pse]

[ The insult upon injury of losing all her clothes only to be left with a very pretty dress, only for the hem of the dress to be stained grey with grass and mud within half day of arriving into Acreage is... irritating, to say the least. Kimiko doesn’t get a lot of pretty things. She favours black clothes partially because it hides the blood and grime better, and runs through a startling number of second- or third-hand leather jackets when they’re inevitably riddled with bullets or sliced up or otherwise eviscerated.

Obviously, she heads to Rusty’s Pub to sit and relax, and soothe her irritations with a drink. Amos is already there, so she dumps herself into the other seat at his table and tosses down her stupid, empty clutch with an artless flourish.

In lieu of a hello, she rolls her eyes when they meet his, a slump to her back.

She also has no money, as her wallet was in her coat and that coat vanished into the void back on the train — but that particular dilemma takes on an interesting twist when a young man, wiry and uncommonly tall, his hair almost brushing the high-hanging lamps, sidles up to their table.

“Hey pal, thirty joolies is yours if I can’t beat you in an arm wrestle.”

Which is — weird, but the slight glaze in his eyes suggests there’s more to this than appearances might indicate. It’s pretty clear why someone would want to peacock around by besting Amos, especially in a pub, but it looks more like an arrogant youth severely misunderstanding his own wiriness. At face value, anyway. Which is why Kimiko isn’t inclined to take it at face value. She can’t smell any Compound V, but that doesn’t always mean anything. Especially in Panorama and its little hamlets.

On the other hand, thirty joolies will get them a round of drinks and a platter of something, and she's always hungry.

Reaching across the table, she taps Amos’s elbow, and then presses her fingers over her sternum. Her eyebrows slip up her brow a hair, telegraphing her intent. She’s volunteering as tribute. If this is a trap of some sort, better for her to see what’s up. ]

LUCY.

[pse]

( TBA. )

marc spector ⏾ marvel comics | open

[vestments]

( if you want mk and none of the below quite work for you, hmu on the plotting post here or at spandex! )

matchmaker | revelations

[vestments]

( filter aside, the photo, perhaps stunningly if one happens to know marc, is unrefutably of marc looking — well, like he's aware that smiling muscles exist and not only that, like he knows how to use them. for those that don't know marc, it's at odds with his current expression, tense and unhappy, his gaze snapping abruptly from the card in his hand towards the closest drone. whatever just happened, it's clear that marc doesn't trust it, and he leans towards the drone, card slipping from his hand as he balls a fist, otherwise silent and considering before, quite suddenly, seeming to relent. it's not so much that he accepts the circumstances, it's more that common sense catches up with him, and it occurs to marc that overreacting is unlikely to do him any favours.

it doesn't matter where it is — beach, park, dinner — marc's reaction is uncharitable at best as he gives his companion a quick once-over, before bending down to pick up the card he'd managed to drop in his immediacy to (not get as far as to) threaten a drone. or whoever's behind the drone.

his mouth twitches at the start of a beautiful friendship, then flattens at the list of facts and questions. it's easy to guess that if his card is a short run-down of the person with him, then the one in their hands is about him.

perhaps the list of facts (and otherwise) contain—

Father of one.
Wanted criminal.
Speaks 5 languages.
Is dating a cat.
Has 2 fathers.
Successful businessman. Former movie producer. Cab driver. Unemployed.

or perhaps there's another fun nugget of information provided, perhaps one of the questions is more enticing than a fact — 'ask me about one of my four deaths!', 'did you really bug your ex's phone?', 'why were you found naked in a minefield one time?', 'favourite country you operated as a mercenary in?' — or maybe you go with something more mundane. who knows, but what is obvious is marc's not inclined to start anything off, instead placing the card in his hands down on the nearest flat surface, slow and careful.

then, low and irritable— )

—This is ridiculous.

cassian andor | star wars 🌌 closed

[diametrically]

( plotting comment | starters below, hmu @ the plotting comment, pm or discord for something specific! )

💫 logan

[diametrically]

[ Lured by the prospect of warmer climates and fresh produce, Cassian had easily agreed to Aglaea's invitation to be her plus one on the inaugural re-opening of the Rail. A part of him had begun to unwind a bit. He didn't have to drive (though he enjoys driving), he isn't horrifically cold (but he came prepared with the largest puffer jacket known to man) for the first time in months and he gets to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

So naturally something has to go wrong.

One minute he's trying to help Jeffries up after having hot coffee spilled on him and the next he's being rocketed into a metal box of death aka: a ferris wheel pod with the man who had stabbed him and who had witnessed him kissing his girlfriend.

Two drones buzz around their heads tossing rose petals periodically as Cassian forces himself to the farthest side of the very short bench they're on. It's probably a bad idea to try and break the tension by holding up the cheat sheet up to Logan's face, but it's not like they can go anywhere else, so. ]

...They really captured your likeness.

ғʀᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀsᴛʟᴇ | ᴘᴜɴɪsʜᴇʀ

[terrorisms]

( reach me on plurk at paingravy for anything! )

ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ғʀᴏsᴛ → ᴏᴘᴇɴ

[terrorisms]

01.

( The world is a void. Inky black and featureless, frigid cold — he's used to biting New York winters, but they don't compare to this. He's not dressed for it, not prepared for it, and treading forth blindly without a gun leaves him feeling vulnerable.

For a long time, he walks in silence. Feels smarter at first, to keep to himself. To avoid calling the attention of predators.

But the void doesn't end, and the cold bites harder, and soon a hollow, aching sort of loneliness pulls at the pit of his stomach in ways he can't articulate. If he keeps going like this, he's going to freeze to death. He doesn't have a choice.

Nearly an hour — Or is it longer? Shorter? — after he winds up here, he finally calls out into the abyss. )

Hello? Hey! ( Hoarse, rasping, barely audible over the bitter winds. ) God damn it, can anybody hear me?

02.

( Or perhaps you stumble across him long after his voice has given out — sheer coincidence, by accident. He hears footsteps in the darkness; stills himself silent as they approach, posted up by a fallen body on the frozen ground.

As soon as this other person is in proximity, a hand shoots out, quick and sharp, to plant itself down on an unwitting shoulder. A flair and flash of light has him yanking his hand off, staggering back — but it was just enough time for him to have gotten a look at a familiar face. )

Hey- hey, easy, easy- it's me. It's just me.

03.

( The wildcard option, if you have other ideas for how they stumble across one another — or if he hears your character calling out first. I'll do a dozen variations on this, I don't care, it pushes all my buttons. )

alisaie leveilleur | ffxiv

[argumentiste]

( plotting comment | mix of closed & open starters below! )

🗡️ emet-selch

[argumentiste]

𝓦𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀 𝓜𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅 ⬡ 𝐌𝐂𝐔

[carmesi]

✴︎ PLOTTING COMMENT ✴︎ HMU FOR A CLOSED STARTER ✴︎

⬡ 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍

[carmesi]

( 𝐀 ) 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋 — 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 ✴︎ 𝐎𝐓𝐀

( wanda (dressed in jeans and a flannel cardigan) is not unfamiliar with trains, but it's been a while since she's gotten on one. when was the last time? when she was a kid...? in any case, the prospect is exciting enough, and she and her friends manage to get in without a hitch once passengers start boarding. finding a seat is no problem at all, and she picks the window seat, of course. it's after the train starts moving that wanda gets up and starts exploring, going from one compartment to the other.

she can be found between compartments, looking out the large window, watching as diffusion zones whip past in a blur—they're going so fast—! )

Woah—

( a small shuffle on the tracks sends the train into some turbulence, swaying a little forcefully, and making her stumble back in attempting to brace herself by holding onto the door's metal bar. everything continues as normal, though, and she looks like she might be enjoying this...?

otherwise, she can also be found in the dining compartment looking over the menu and trying to decide what she wants to try (something light, most likely), before the automated droid jeffries comes back around asking for her order. mind joining her? )

( 𝐁 ) 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 — 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ✴︎ 𝐎𝐓𝐀

( whether it's on a beach, at a picnic, or in a ferris wheel compartment, you will find a companion in wanda. her card on your hand will tell you all you need to know! apparently, according to the drones cameras hovering nearby, hoping to capture the moment when magic happens.

unfortunately, wanda isn't incredibly agreeable at first, and she also isn't the most conversational individual, either. so much so, that the drones start hovering in an impatient sort of way.

SAY SOMETHING NICE ABOUT EACH OTHER~~♡ )

Uhm—

( sure. she glances down at the card in her hand... )

You look nice?

( 'say something nice about each other' taken quite literally. )

Alucard | Castlevania: Nocturne

[cryptsleeper]

Dining car

[cryptsleeper]

[Give Alucard a train any day of the week. The cars can go to hell.

Within an hour, Alucard knows that he'll chafe and protest and resist any further demands to keep driving. Not when he can have a small compartment to rest in while the world moves outside of him, not while he can read a terrible dime store mystery with a cup of coffee in the dining car, nope. Trains forever.

He's aware that the dining car only has so much seating in it though, so he makes an honest attempt to squish himself further against the window spot he's claimed for himself.]

--There's space here, if you need it.

Eddie Munson | Stranger Things

[satanicpanics]

{ plotting | muttonchops | PM
Starters to follow! }

revelations; ota

[satanicpanics]

[ Having your kidney stolen is…an interesting event, to say the least. You don’t actually have to stay under real medical observation for long, but it is suggested that you take it easy for a few months…but when you’ve been gifted a ticket to the Rail by a client simply for being such a reliable drug dealer, what can one do but attend?

It’s just unfortunate that, but the time Eddie’s boarded, he already looks like death and should probably be in bed instead. But it’s fine. He’s fine. He’s pale as a sheet of paper and he doesn’t know how he ended up in a compartment totally different than the one he began in, let alone across from someone else in a setting that is very much not a train car*, but hey…could be worse. ]

What? Oh, Jesus Christ, what are we doing?

[ He scrubs his face with his hands, clearly not feeling so hot, and squints at the stat card in his hands, then up at the person beside him. ]

Yeah, this doesn’t look like you.

[ He looks a little better in on his own card than he does in real life, which lists…well, a lot of information that doesn’t paint him in the best light, but that’s okay. He doesn’t look very strong. You can absolutely take him in a fight. ]

* pick your preferred setting!

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐄 ◈ 𝐅𝐅𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐑

[coraza]

〈 PLOTTING COMMENT ✴︎ HMU FOR A CLOSED STARTER 〉

◈ 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃

[coraza]

laszlo cravensworth / wwdits / will match format 🦇

[haemosexual]

i. THE RAIL.

a. PANORAMA - PAVILION
The crowd gathered at the station is abuzz with excitement, people enthusiastically chattering with a palpable nervous energy. Laszlo, too, is feeling the anxiety, but for entirely different reasons. Being outdoors this late in the morning is cutting it dangerously close for someone who will literally burst into flame and die if he's touched by sunlight. The sun is just below the horizon, close enough where Laszlo feels weak and a little sick, the gradually-brightening sky serving as a portent of death.

As the time stretches and the sky shifts from purple to mauve to orange, he becomes visibly distressed; boarding is supposed to begin at six o'clock sharp, but the waiting feels like hours have already passed. Bouncing nervously on his heels, he starts to look around, thinking about turning bat and shoving himself into someone's coat. If he dies whilst waiting for public transit, it's going to be very embarrassing.

b. ALL ABOARD - THE FRINGES
Once aboard the train, Laszlo rudely shoves through everyone so he can find a passenger compartment and immediately pull the window blinds down. Have you already settled in and were hoping to watch the scenery? Too bad.

He explores cautiously, weirdly peeking around corners to make sure no sunlight is coming through windows before traveling between cars. In the dining compartment, he grimaces at the wafting smell of human food, staring at someone's sandwich or soup with such abject horror that you would think this is the worst thing he's going to see today. (It's not.)

c. TEA TIME - THE FRINGES - MINI WILDCARD
Throughout the cosmic storm, Laszlo is unceremoniously dumped from compartment to compartment. He's in the dining car holding a hot cup of tea (which he cannot drink and also the smell is disgusting). He's in a passenger's compartment scrambling to pull the window blind down (outside is a yawning void, ink-black and sunless). He's in your lap (he doesn't mind that).

ii. REVELATIONS

a. 2 TRUTHS 1 LIE
The Ferris wheel—or pleasure wheel, as Laszlo knows it—rotates lazily through the popcorn-scented air, the nighttime carnival bustling below with loving couples, wholesome families, and the gleeful shrieks of children.

If this is his first time in this scenario, Laszlo looks around wildly, dangerously rocking the passenger car. "Where—how—?" he says, unable to form a complete sentence before a cambot appears in front of the two of you and displays instructions in red text: TWO TRUTHS! ONE LIE! IF YOU DON'T PLAY, YOU WILL DIE!* (Zipping by in a font almost too tiny to read: *Beautiful Friendship, Inc, is not held responsible for bodily harm that does not lead to death, including, but not limited to, dismemberment, mangling, psychological distress, and sepsis.)

If this is not his first time in this scenario, Laszlo grips the safety bar and looks like he's about ready to jump out.

b. ELIMIDATE
It's a nighttime picnic. Don't worry about it. Laszlo is reclining on a lovely red plaid picnic blanket, a glass of wine in his hand and a basket filled with brie and bread and grapes next to him. On the other side of the basket is a confused-looking man clutching a stack of cheat cards in one hand and a pistol in the other.

And in front of the basket is you. For some reason, the three of you have been pulled into the same rift, though there are only two stacks of cards. Are you the third wheel or are you on a date with this man who is slowly regaining his bearings and about to shove his gun in Laszlo's face? The cambots circle the three of you, one of them swooping down to display instructions in bold red font. LIGHTNING ROUND! YES OR NO QUESTIONS ONLY. GO!

iii. BLACK FROST

Laszlo is accustomed to the darkness. One might even say he's at home in it; within his heart and without, he feels comfortable where the light does not touch, living in the shadows and letting blackness rule his inner world.

Unfortunately, even his vampiric eyesight does not allow him to see in complete darkness, so this kind of sucks.

He spends some time stumbling around blindly—an hour? A week?—before he trips over something and goes face-first into a bank of frozen-over snow. If what he tripped over was a person, there's a flash of dim light as he makes contact before it's swallowed up by the blackness once they separate; if what he tripped over was not a person, hopefully the sound of him loudly swearing as he pulls himself out of the snow will draw someone to him.

iv. THE ARRIVAL - ACREAGE

In a mirrored version of Laszlo's impatience to get on the train, twelve hours later, he practically spills out, making an immediate beeline for whatever passes for lodgings here. The sun has just set, the sky a rosy shade of pink, and he feels sick again, just like this morning—or actually worse, he thinks, before irritably pushing away all thoughts of whatever fucked up shit he'd just been through on the train.

He makes it halfway through the Fair before he actually notices there is a Fair, at which point he stops and looks around. And then he notices the gigantic fuck-off cube. "Is that new?" he says, looking around, though he's not completely sure. "I think I'd have noticed that last time." Probably?

v. PROPER WILDCARD OPTION.

[ throughout the week they're stuck in acreage, laszlo can be found loitering around an inn or doing any prompt during the nighttime (except bubble ball because fuck that), though he will be jumpy and suspicious. if you would like to plan something specific or request a custom starter, hmu at bloodmoney or plotting comment. ]

Bucky Barnes | MCU

[freakymagoo]

I. I'm going off the rails on a crazy train [OTA]

[Okay but. You don't have to be mildly claustrophobic (or happen to have a prior train-related accident) to feel that 12 hours stuck on board a train doesn't sound like much of a prize, even if it means getting to explore someplace new. And even if it would be far worse to attempt to make the trek by motorcycle. Bucky is travelling alone, metal arm hidden under a zipped up black jacket and a pair of gloves. There are no holes in his jeans and those black lace up boots look either military or bike-riding fare. His backpack has seen better days, but it looks a little empty with only a change of clothes and extra briefs and socks, a threadbare towel and a water bottle, a used toothbrush and a plastic razor inside. But he's so accustomed to traveling light, that even with barely anything on him he could be looking to do anything from staying overnight to just never leaving.

At least he can get some hot food and a coffee at the cafe. He's not one to look at gift food in the mouth. While not outwardly hostile or dialling up the unfriendly, unapproachable vibes on purpose, Bucky doesn't use any unnecessary words beyond asking for what he wants at the cafe, and he spends most of his pre-eventful hours in his train car staring silently out the window. Sure, he's curious about Acreage, but not outgoing enough to be the first to strike up conversation or ask a stranger questions.]

II. Don't listen to a word I say [OTA]

[In recent months leading up to being unceremoniously dropped into Panorama, Bucky has spent a sorry amount of time dressed up in a suit. And not the kind of suit that he shoots aliens or punches Nazis with, either. It's the uncomfortable tailored-to-be-too-tight-around-the-arms-and-shoulders kind he has to wear in DC to be caught on camera shaking hands in. The fake smile until his jaw hurts that he is forced to greet every slimebag and moron with. The equally meaningless comments he has to give every time someone almost smashes his teeth with a microphone he forces himself not to recoil from shoved into his face. Because good boys don't break politicians' jaws or lash out at journalists if they want votes on their bills to help their constituents.  

He should look just as uncomfortable now in that three-piece suit as he did during his short tenure in Congress. Except, surrounded by mirrors and people holding trays of champagne, he's-- oddly relaxed? The fact that he is dressed to the nines and completely unfazed being spontaneously flung into a typical networking event masquerading as some charity fundraiser and yet somehow able to manage a genuine smile amidst the farce of it all is probably - for anyone that knows him, anyway - the first few of a series of red flags than one would normally encounter on a ski slope.

Hell, he even doesn't seem bothered by the ice sculpture even though normally it would be something that sets off one of his many tiresome alarms and will have him glaring at it for a long time, literally watching it melt, and when he inevitably gets pulled away from watching it he'd be sideeyeing it all throughout the night.]

You look amazing.

III. Your touch got me looking so crazy right now [Closed]
Thunderbolts* • Pre-plotted • Existing CR

[You know, even though this isn't his first encounter with "The Void" (A Void?), it's just as destabilising and unpleasant and all-consuming as before. It's pointless to even try and see his limbs beneath him in the pitch black abyss, but the futility and the stupidity of it doesn't stop him from sticking his metal hand out anyway. Maybe there's something in front of him. But there's just. Nothing.  

He can't imagine anyone liking or getting used to this. If cryo had been like this all the time, he would have driven himself insane 80 years ago. (Not that he hasn't already gone mad.) Once in a while, for brief moments before he fully lost consciousness, it was like this. And he could feel the biting cold piercing through the skin and the meat wrapped around his bones, tearing through him like broken glass shards in his flesh. And he couldn't move. And he couldn't scream. He's probably felt it a hundred times before, but each time he is made to forget, and the memory cracks and fragments, and the pain doesn't last long enough to remind him that he doesn't belong with these people that are holding his leash.

Yet, he hasn't really forgotten. There's a distinct sense of 'Not This Shit Again' washing over him. It compels him to move - or at least, he thinks he moves, in some direction, however miniscule. But it's almost impossible to know in the darkness. His lips part, but no words come. Only the sound of his own breathing. Or, perhaps, 'mild to moderate hyperventilation' is a more accurate descriptor.

Cold and alone again, naturally. The corpses he hasn't yet tripped and stumbled over aren't really helping, either.]

IV. You say you want your freedom [OTA]

[Well. Compared to that other time when he got on a train in the winter, ended up losing an arm and falling down what should have been an unsurvivable one-way tumble down a ravine - behind enemy lines, no less - got captured and tortured and experimented on and went full HYDRA, lowkey didn't hate the whole experience but also not allowed to talk about what everyone's convinced themselves to be Stockholm syndrome so that he doesn't have to feel bad about his inner conflicting 'misguided' beliefs about how well the terrorists treated him compared to how the US government would have? All things considered, that train ride wasn't so bad. He'd give it a solid 4/10. Not something he'd like to repeat though, in any case, so he might be spending more than a few days in Acreage before he convinces himself it's time to head back. Or runs out of money and the townsfolks' goodwill, overstays his welcome, eats all the food... Whichever comes first.

It's different, that's for sure, but what Bucky can't absolutely be sure of is how much of the difference can be attributed to the storm. Of what little he has experienced of Acreage, he would say it's a markedly good difference. Place feels safe. A little quieter. Maybe peaceful, even. Everyone has been bending over backwards to accommodate all the visitors, though again, that's probably attributed to the storm. Even if they weren't though, he wouldn't mind not getting on that train again and just settling down in Acreage.

That huge fuckoff cube in the sky seems to be A Problem though, but most of the locals in the farmer's market or around the B&B he's staying at don't seem to want to talk much about the floating elephant in the town, and Bucky's not sure what, if anything, he can do about it. He can't exactly-- get to it, or bring it down. It's not even really his problem, but he doesn't much like the idea of just. Showing up in town and supposedly having to pretend to ignore it like everyone else.

While he spends a lot of his time trying to make himself useful, find a bit of work or help out wherever he can even when their most gracious hosts insist on looking after him, he does have a bit of downtime that he spends on the more populated shore of the lake with a line in the water. Whether he's actually fishing or having a staring contest with the cube trying to decide how to-- deal with it? is debatable.]

🎣

[carmesi]

( a few days into their stay in acreage, wanda finds the change of pace rather nice, even if she misses the cold and finds the floating cube quite unsettling. she's actually been glancing at the lake with some fascination during the morning, and now that the sun is high up in the sky and at its hottest is when she decides she'll make her way there.

carrying an old, rusty fishing toolbox and a fishing pole she has borrowed from one of the residents who found it amusing that 'such a young lady' came about interested in fishing. (they've even given her a life vest, which hangs around her neck.) she certainly doesn't look prepared, in her jeans, boots, and too-baggy flannel shirt. still, she is undeterred, but the closer to the lake she gets, the more it starts to weigh on her that she doesn't know the first thing about fishing.

good thing there's a familiar someone at the shore who has already cast a line into the water. )

Hey.

( wanda is entirely over-prepared for this, but that's not on her mind as she sets all her items down by her feet, as if burdened by how heavy it all is.

she straightens, squinting out at the water, placing a hand over her eyes, though it's not necessary under the cube's shadow. )

They say there's plenty of fish to catch?

Jack Kline | Supernatural

[godjr]

[ Message me on plurk @ theskyisnew if you want a custom starter.]

The Train OTA

[godjr]

[ coming soon]

Matt Murdock | MCU

[defendants]

i. REVELATIONS (2 TRUTHS, 1 LIE);

[ It's the Ferris Wheel you're trapped on with this partner, squished together on a seat with a bar keeping you from flipping forward. In front of you both are the cards that reveal personal information. Unhelpfully, neither have braille. ]


1. 5'10"
2. Wears red spandex
3. I killed my best friend (not pictured)

[ Also, unhelpfully (perhaps), you notice your partner, who has a walking stick across his lap, trying to remove himself from the seat and stand up, causing the carriage to rock precariously. ]

Stay here.

ii. BLACK FROST;

[ It's been some hours since you found each other, exchanged names if you're strangers. You've learned that staying near one another seems to keep some of the cold at bay, and the small amount of light helps too as you trip over corpses. Or don't, your companion - Matt Murdock, doesn't seem to be having too much trouble navigating despite the circumstances. He's terse, though, not much of a conversation partner. You've pulled worn, dirty coats off of bodies. You've found a waterskin, but it's entirely frozen despite how long one of you has held it against your body. You find some kind of tinned fish, just as frozen as the water.

option a; Wolves circle the thick, barren tree trunk beneath you. Every so often one leaps up, claws scrabbling at the dry bark before it inevitably falls back into the frost hardened ground. They chased you up about twenty feet, and while they can't reach you, they won't give up and leave.

option b; The cave is drafty, but it cuts the bite of the wind outside. Maybe you're still attempting to build a fire that won't light, or finally drinking what little has melted from the fish tin, or waterskin. Matt is quiet, eyes closed. Restless. ]

... you remember a train too?

[ Was any of that real? ]

iii. WILDCARD;

( ooc: hit me up with something else from the Gala or Acreage. Plotting comment is here! )

black frost, b

[oomfies]

[ Her throat is parched, despite drinking the last of what's left from the tin can. She's lost her makeup bag long ago, chapstick left to the dark. Mascara, lotion, every creature comfort that defined her gone. So she wipes at her eyes, too long nails dragging at dry skin. When they open it's— dark. She can't see well to begin with, but now? It's worse. At least she can hear, at least she can barely see with what little light they make.

Lottie's head eases up when she hears him. They've been silent for some time, only speaking when needed, two strangers just trying to survive and not go certifiably insane amongst the wolves, the ever increasing silence. It's a small sound she makes, at first. It echoes throughout the cave they've settled in, sounding something like surprise, maybe contemplation. ]

..Yeah?

[ She remembers the air, the sound of the wheels churning to a stop before she boarded. ]

It's my first time, I think. I've only ever been in cars, so..

lucina | fire emblem: awakening

[heritors]

( closed starters below. if you want anything, please hit me up via pm!! )

ADRIAN.

[heritors]

[ She's too young to remember the fall of Grima, but she feels its effects in her day to day. Ylisse's rebuilding efforts have been a constant her entire life, spearheaded by her father and her aunt from the moment their home was no longer threatened. Her father tells her of his faint memories of their home before his father — her grandfather — took up the banner and marched their people against Plegia. What it could be. What he hopes he could give her in time.

Her coronation is still years away. And while the people adore the Exalt and his children, and their lands are more prosperous than ever, it's hard to forget what had come before. If another war starts up again—

So they look past the continent. The Halidom's intelligence points to a small land of Barovia, with its specialty in magics that would only be a boon. The leader has a protege a few years older than her, and a union would only put the court at ease.

There isn't a world where she refuses.

For what it's worth, Adrian is a kind man. Gentle and well-spoken in the few hours that they've spent together, appropriately sympathetic as she tries to put a brave face about the too-soft fabrics and heels that make her ankles ache. They could have been friends, she thinks; in another time, under different circumstances. But for now— ]

— I've had lessons, but I assure you this is my first dance. [ They're somewhere on the ballroom floor. She's got a hand on his shoulder, and the other in his. Back straight, elbows out, as she looks equal parts amused and sheepish. ] Unless you care to count the attempts when I was a child — but I'm not sure if I'd count "spinning until I fell".

arlecchino (the knave) | genshin impact | ota

[decussate]

(( prompts to follow. feel free to also wildcard me! hmu on plurk or dm if you want to plot ))

revelations (ota)

[decussate]

[ After experiencing the loss of an entire dimension of being then abruptly being made whole again, The Knave can't say she expected to show up on a beach. She's silent for a time as she re-orients herself, taking in the fluxdrift sitting across from her, then the artifice of the "set" and the flying machines in the sky, before finally settling her attention on the card in her hand.

As for the card in her partner's hand, it appears as follows:

Two truths, one lie! Can you spot the fib? 1. She has fathered many children. 2. She has killed many children. 3. She has buried many children. Get to know her better! Try out some of these fun questions. ‣ What do you do for work? ‣ What's your favorite animal? ‣ What do you think about me? ‣ What is your greatest flaw? ‣ Why are you afraid of emotional attachment? ‣ If you cry will you die? ‣ Is it true that you're actually royalty? ‣ Did you really go on a date with Wade? ‣ Do you really hear the voices of the dead? ‣ Is there actually literally fire in your veins? ‣ Are you actually a softie?

amos burton | the expanse

[churnback]

( open starters below! please feel free to pm me if you want to plot anything not included.
will also match your preferred format~ )

revelations | open

[churnback]

[ Consider that Amos' expression most of the time resembles the icon currently being used for this top level something more stoic and inscrutable that contrasts and completely clashes with the — fake, unsettling face he's (not) making on the little card you might be currently holding. Amos Burton has never smiled exactly like that a single damn day in his life, and it's — well. Weird, but — somehow easier to accept in light of everything else on the card. Things like —

Not his real name.
No known family. Birth unauthorized by government.
Chief engineer and mechanic on a ship.
Left Earth twenty years ago.
Emotional development stunted in childhood.
Responsible for many deaths. Exact number unknown.

In quick succession, Amos glances at the person stuck with him in this, then looks around at where they are, and finally locks eyes briefly on the drone buzzing around; it reminds him too much of that camera Monica was using, filming their crew. He didn't much like it then, tolerated it, but eventually lost his patience with it, and — good chance of that happening now.

But, instead, for the moment he hands the info card back to the person with him. It's theirs, after all, and he feels like it's not his business to even look at it intently. So, for now, he doesn't. ]

Keep it.

[ Even as he says it, though, he can already guess it won't be that simple. Nothing here ever is. ]

[ ooc: just a note, content warnings are likely to come up, I will warn for specifics but just noting them here for things from his past. ]

Rogue | XMCU

[mississippis]

[ Starters below. For plotting something out: plotting post or mississippis. ]

black frost;

[mississippis]

sunday | honkai: star rail

[catharses]

open starters below, will match format | plotting comment or indech to set something up!

black frost — closed to prior plotting

[catharses]

a. finding each other

[ It's cold. It would be even if Sunday was properly dressed for this, which he isn't. One minute he'd opened the door to the next car, and the next he found himself in a blizzard. Or he's pretty sure it is, considering the lack of any light. Then again, the snow flying thickly through the air would've had the same effect of not knowing where he is regardless of anything else.

Reaching out with the Harmony gives him an endless nothingness and no sense of anything which is enough to get him moving. Is that even a smart plan? Probably not, but standing still isn't going to do anything either. It might even be worse because of the cold.

Eventually he hears (or "hears" via those powers, possibly) someone else nearby. Are you calling out? Or does he just sense that you're there? Either way, this is where he'll shout something out in return to be heard over the wind. ]

Hello! Can you hear me?

[ Hopefully it won't take that long to find each other.

Alternatively, in all that walking perhaps Sunday just collides into someone in the darkness. Unfortunate, but safety in numbers or so they say! Right? ]

b. sheltering

[ How long have they been in this cave? It's difficult to say. He'd tried to keep track of days at first but that quickly became meaningless without a way to tell the time, and then became even more pointless when they've been unable to leave.

The avalanche that'd finally made it impossible to go anywhere didn't help. It's possible there's a way out deeper into the cave, but that also has its risks.

Better to sit here both for the warmth of being by someone else and that keeping a hand on each other, shoulders or knees touching, or whatever else brings some light that breaks up the endless darkness. Without much else to do it also leaves too much time to think about a past Sunday is no longer quite sure is a past as his brow furrows. ]

I... [ He starts to say, then trails off because this question feels both absurd and important. The emphasis is on the latter, though, so might as well get on with it. ] Do you remember how we got here?

[ There was something to remember about it, he thinks, but whatever it was seems to be just out of his memory's reach. ]

Aunamee | Original

[marcato]

black frost

[The Guest has left him.

That's his first thought. It settles in his mind, a suffocating shroud that leaves him breathless. The Guest has left him. His time in the Diadem was merely a prelude to this abandonment, and now it's finally here. He will die soon -- he can feel death's icy grip settling in his fingers, his toes, his chest. An inescapable, killing cold.

He breathes once, a desperate, choking rasp. Then he breathes again. And again.

Cosmic storm, he tells himself. The train has been contaminated, but he's not dying.

Not yet.

a. After ten minutes, his fingers are numb. After twenty, his teeth are chattering. Adrenaline and cold are turning his body into something foreign and weak, a pathetic little prey animal, and he despises it. He clenches his jaw as he fumbles through the darkness, counting his steps in a futile attempt to map the landscape. Maybe that's where he encounters someone, his voice a steady metronome of numbers, his fingers trembling, but exact.

b. He has no qualms about looting the dead for supplies. Perhaps that's where someone encounters him, on his hands and knees, clumsily pawing at a corpse in search of warmer clothing. Of course, there's nothing -- the person did freeze to death, after all.

c. Or maybe someone hears him weeping, curled up in a corner with his arms wrapped around his body for warmth. Now and again, he says something -- a plea, perhaps, or a prayer -- talking to someone that's not there. ]

the gala

[This party is in his honor.

He's absolutely sure of this, and so reality bends to accommodate him. (It always does.) The waiters are dressed in gray, with hourglass insignias stitched into their breast pockets. Other guests -- the real people, not the illusory ones serving the food -- may or may not play along, and naturally, Aunamee favors the ones who do. He wants this party to be real. He needs it to be real. And so he lies to himself, and he does a very good job of it.

a. If he finds someone looking hesitant or unsure, he moves to correct them. He speaks softly, like someone who's afraid to spook an animal, while his eyes remain sharp and watching. ]

You look lost, dear stranger. Are you ill?

[b. If he finds someone who looks like they belong, he smiles and offers them a white-gloved hand. He looks better than he has in months, his skin unblemished, his eyes bright.]

Hello. [His voice is low and musical, like a lullaby.] It's very good to see you.

wildcard

[Give me a PM or ping me at dendrite if you have something else in mind. ]