EVENT ∞ LOG — July 125

[thediadem]

Event ∞ Log

In the Flesh

Jump ⇅ :: Visits — First Contact — Hitchhikers — Notes

∞ Prologue ∞

It's not real, it's not real.

Somewhere in the Blocks, late at night, a young woman repeats the words over and over, fumbling with her room key. She doesn't dare look over her shoulder again, begging her hand to obey. Her fingers are stiff and smooth, and it makes each movement more difficult. Eventually, the door gives way. She stumbles into the apartment, slamming it behind her and locking several bolts.

Leaning back on the door, she lets her key ring fall to the linoleum as she holds her hand up to her face. It isn't just her fingers now. Painted plastic has taken over her entire right hand, spreading up her forearm toward a ball-jointed elbow that creaks painfully. She grabs her neck with her flesh hand, sucking in a sharp breath as she tries to steady her heart.

It's not real, it's not real...

She takes another breath, then turns on the light. The bulb flickers. Hazy light flood the room with an incessant buzz.

She freezes.

A figure stands in the opposite doorway. It doesn't move, stuck in a pose with an outstretched hand—one made of flesh and bone. Her hand.

She screams.

Info & Mechanics — NPC Forum Post — Event Interaction ::: ⇅ Top

Strange Visits

Panorama

For the first week or two of July, life goes on as usual. You have a lot on your plate—jobs, loans, rent, that creep who won't stop staring at you when you're filling up your car—and the last thing you've got time for is other people's problems. Or maybe you find room to listen, anyway? Whatever the case, it's mostly a lot of stories and pointing fingers: a shopkeeper accuses his friend of stealing from him, somebody claims their boss must've skipped town to avoid paying the employees, and a woman is frantic about her missing husband. He never goes anywhere without telling her.

If you decide to look into it, none of the incidents seem connected. After all, people frequently go missing in the Diadem, friends betray each other, and businesses often go bankrupt, leaving their workers to pick up the pieces. Funny thing, though: here and there, you swear you glimpse a figure who isn't entirely flesh. Their features are just...a bit odd. Is it your imagination? When you move in for a closer look, something gets in your way and the figure disappears.

On the other hand, you think to yourself, it's not as though everybody on this planet looks standard. If a man can have horns, why can't his skin also be a bit plasticky?

Use the Event Interaction comment any time you need specifics or some direction for an element you're engaging within the event. This can be an NPC victim your character is questioning, an aspect of the diffusion zone your character is testing, or anything along those veins. While you're encouraged to make things up on your own, too, if you're ever unsure of the results or the answers you might get, approach us there!

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First Contact

The Fringes

Inevitably, you take the risk and head back into the Fringes. It has what you need, and the bizarreness in Panorama isn't making the city feel like much of a refuge, either. Besides, long trips aren't unusual for anyone in the Diadem. As you drive, you might even find yourself reluctant to return to the city. After all, there's so much across the multitude of diffusion zones that regardless of how dangerous it can be, perhaps some part of you is attracted to the thrill of the unknown.

If the promise of loot isn't enough, a note on the Forum might be. Here, you'll scroll across a brief message from who else but the ever-eager Felix Bjurstrom, joined by his daughter, Olive "Ollie" Bjurstrom. (Looks like he's got a new phone again!) If nothing else, the investigative or curious nature in you gets you going. What if this is a piece of the puzzle you need to go home?

If you want your character to scavenge items, check how that works. The Map identifies where each Quadrant is located.

Among the Shadows — Abandoned Mall

©

In Quadrant 1, about a 10-hour drive from Panorama, a standard American shopping mall rises through the cracked and broken highway. A portion of its vast parking lot melts into the road ahead and behind. There are cars in the parking lot, each one perfectly preserved: no rust, no dust, nothing.

The mall's lights are on. The moment you step inside, you'll notice that you're not alone. Inside, shadow corpses are everywhere, frozen in time. Their bodies show no signs of distress. If you try to touch them, a dark, ashy residue coats your fingers. You see a young couple linking arms, a mother bending over to pick up her child, and a man ordering his last meal at the KFC. It's as though they all just...stopped. While eerie, whatever force swept through here is long gone.

The upside is that nobody will bother you while you look around—aside from other fluxdrifts, of course. The shops and their offerings are stuck in the 90's. Big electronics are cosmic touched, rendering them worthless, but smaller electronics like cassette tapes, CDs, and Walkmans are all viable. You can also grab clothes, snacks, and (cheap) jewelry.

And, as you pass by the store windows, you see many mannequins on display. That's normal, so you don't think twice. At least, until you swear one of them keeps moving around the store. Though its pose never changes, it almost appears to...follow you? That can't be right. You must be seeing things.

Zone Effects
Touching any of the frozen shadows will cause the victim to believe that their companion(s) have transformed into monstrous creatures. Attempts to approach you will only register as an attack rather than placating gestures, while words will sound like snarls or spoken threats. An induced panic will make it more difficult to think logically and see through the hallucination. The illusory creatures can take the form of anything that might frighten or threaten you the most.

You can break free of the illusion through a variety of methods, including your own willpower, being knocked out by your friends, or seeing/hearing something that makes you realize it isn't real. The hallucination isn't overly intense, but it can cause a bit of havoc among you and your companions...and increase the likelihood a mannequin might make contact unnoticed.

Wall of Refuge — Strange Temple

©

In Quadrant 1, about a 6-hour drive from Panorama—and on the way to the abandoned mall above—stands a geometric structure made of metal and stone. Sharp angles shoot up from the ground to form a distorted hexagon. The gateway is littered with sigils: some weathered by time, others freshly carved into the rocky surface. They glow when you drive forward, beckoning you closer. Come in, whispers an unknown compulsion in your mind. You are home.

You may succumb to the whispers for any number of reasons: sleep deprivation, desperation for a place to rest overnight, or a need to hide from raiders or dangerous creatures lurking in another nearby zone. Regardless, you give in and enter the triangular entrance. The stone gate lifts to grant you passage, revealing an effigy of a multi-limbed being. A deity? A symbol of power? Though you're unsure, you continue deeper. Your footsteps echo across the cavernous halls.

Behind you, the heavy gate slowly closes with a rumbling finality. Despite the chilly entranceway, the interior of the temple is warm and inviting. Candles line the walls. Fountains flow peacefully. You can enter one of the many rooms to find a soft bed, fresh cakes, succulent meat, and fine wine available for you. Behind a silk curtain is a steaming bath lined with soothing floral herbs and oils.

Meanwhile, throughout your explorations, you might sense a figure or a shadow in the passageway. A glimpse of shiny plastic appears oddly out of place in a temple of this kind.

Zone Effects

• If you are a believer and decide to trust the gifts bestowed upon you, then you may safely indulge. The wine will warm you up, the food will fill your belly, and you can sleep through the night. When you awaken, you can safely leave the temple refreshed. Your vehicle will be outside, untouched, as if some power within was protecting your belongings.
• If you are a heretic and doubt the offerings you've been graciously given, the gifts will begin to rot and all amenities will crumble to dust. The more your cynicism betrays you, the more the temple will take until nothing remains except the oddly textured walls bearing down on you. As you examine the surface, you realize the stone is built from a manifold of dozens—no, hundreds—of twisted bodies. Their arms are raised in reverence, piled upon each other like human bricks. Their gaping mouths are frozen in a silent scream. As for you and your companions...what fate will await the nonbeliever?

The Last Stop — Foggy Town

©

In Quadrant 4, about a 3-hour drive from Panorama, east of the currently unused train tracks, a thick mist rolls through the highway. Here, the sky darkens rapidly into night and the temperature drops. If you've traveled unprepared, presuming the heat in Panorama spreads into the Fringes, you'll find that's not so. A chill spreads into your bones and creeps up the back of your neck.

Then the ground rumbles. The tremors shake your vehicle. Maybe it even makes you lose control briefly or sends you swerving off-road, straight into the fields. And in the middle of the fog, you see it: a figure standing in the middle of the field. Behind it are a few houses, making up a tiny rural town. The houses are dilapidated, many crumbling. Supplies within are minimal, and many items are broken or spoiled.

Do you approach? Do you drive past? Merely staring for a second too long will be enough for the hitchhiker to choose you as its ride, but its appearance may not be all that keeps you in place. In the distance is another bigger shadow. A much bigger shadow. It looms in the distance without true mass or form. Within the void of its body, a searchlight sweeps over the misty town. It does not move. It simply looks while the ground shakes. Each time its light catches a glimpse of something that doesn't belong—an animal, a vehicle that drove too deep into the tall grass, a raider that went too far into town—a sonorous howl reverberates through the zone.

Then the shadow will teleport to its target and crush the intruder without mercy before retreating back to its watchful post. And the intruder is indeed crushed: any living organism caught by the Light Guardian will be flattened with a horrifying crunch of broken bones and squished organs.

Zone Effects
While the Light Guardian can't be defeated or confronted, you can outrun or hide from its sweeping beam. If you stop far enough on the side of the road, it won't notice you...but you can still watch as it mangles an unfortunate raider or traveler. Possibly, you see the spray of blood or hear the screams before you run. Perhaps you realize how easily you could've met your own gory fate.

If you've left your car and gone too deep into the town before you realize the danger, you can do one of two things: you can risk hiding in an abandoned house in the town and hope that the sunrise comes. In zones like this, the day/night cycle is unpredictable, and many places are permanently cast in darkness. Or, you can try to run back to your vehicle and pray you don't get caught.

Alternatively, you've plowed directly into the field when raiders in pursuit force you into the zone. Should fortune favor you, they'll be obliterated by the Light Guardian while you flee. The beam tracks quickly, but can only shine in one direction at a time so the key is to bob and weave.

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Hitchhikers

Anywhere

Not everyone who enters the diffusion zone will pick up a mannequin, but the possibility is there. Once you make first contact, you will gain a hitchhiker. Unlike most aspects of the diffusion zones, this one has gathered into a storm, meaning the effects will breach even normally stable and anchored strongholds like Panorama.

Some fluxdrifts will brush off your problems while a few might believe you. Others will offer solutions in their own way, including a doctor who'll pay to obtain strange plastic limbs. Not everyone will pitch in to help. The city's big, populated, and somebody on the street turning doll-like doesn't affect them (...until it does). They've got a job to get to and mouths to feed.

Unwanted Passenger

When do you first notice your passenger? At any point, really. Perhaps it goes like this:

You glance in the rearview mirror and glimpse a figure in the backseat. When you spin around, there's nobody there. Then it happens again. This time, you realize it's not a person, but a dummy. A mannequin. It's sitting upright. And is it...wearing a seatbelt? Or maybe it's thrown itself across the back bench as though somebody tossed it there, uncaring.

This time, when you look back, it's still there. You pull over and dump it on the side of the road. That's taken care of, you think. You drive some more. For a few hours or even a day or two—depending on how long you've traveled—you don't think much of it. Then suddenly, it's back. And it keeps coming back no matter how much you try to get rid of it.

Or it goes like this:

You return from a standard trip into a diffusion zone. It went pretty well, you think. You found some clothes at a creepy mall and now you're ready to get some sleep. When you open your trunk to retrieve your belongings, you notice a mannequin stuffed inside, limbs bent at odd angles. You're a little weirded out, but you decide to dump it on the street and move on.

You shower. In the bathroom mirror, the mannequin suddenly appears behind you. Over the next few days, this continues. The mannequin appears in a booth across the diner as you're eating your eggs. It's behind a shelf in the corner store. It's in your closet. Each time you check, it vanishes...but then, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it's right there in plain view. It'll even let you throw it away, burn it, anything you can think of. But it always comes back.

However it plays out, you realize that people around you do notice it...sometimes. That doesn't mean anyone will believe you that things are just that weird. Most people have better things to do. They don't know you, after all, and even if they did, well, this place does have a habit of driving people a little crazy. Witnesses casually push the mannequin aside and tell you that's a funny prank. Your regular waitress pats your shoulder and suggests you get some sleep. You're not looking well. The shopkeeper demands you take that thing before you go. He's not responsible for your junk.

But there's a small chance you run into someone who seems to be going through what you are. Unfortunately, they seem to actually have it worse and aren't making much sense. Still, you can try questioning them and see what answers you get. At least, before you lose them for good. For some of you, the victim you run into is in especially bad shape...and you have to wonder how long before you end up the same.

Trading Places

For some of you, the mannequins might not do more than be a nuisance. While that's not ideal, either, it doesn't completely upend your life. Others are less fortunate. If you're one of the latter, you'll begin to notice symptoms.

The first time it happens, you're startled to hear the mannequin speak. To begin with, its voice might be guttural and unnatural, incapable of stringing more than a few words together. Then it seems to learn. It talks in full sentences. Its voice smooths out. It starts to sound more and more like you...right down to your speech patterns and accent. As symptoms progress with varying intensity—over days or weeks—you realize with dawning horror that you're losing parts of yourself. When you wash your hands, you notice a part of your skin is smooth and shiny. The next time the mannequin appears, its previously plasticky appearance is more flesh and blood.

Eventually, the mannequin becomes independent. It shops with your money. It steals while wearing a face that looks nearly identical to yours, especially from a distance. It calls your friend and says the things you would never say out loud to them. They're thoughts you've had, sure, but you know better than to hurt your friend's feelings...except apparently, you have. And now you can't even use your own voice to explain yourself. Your leg has been getting stiff. Your joints don't bend properly.

Meanwhile, the mannequin is now striding around smoothly. Its appearance is still uncanny and odd if anyone pays attention, but at a glance, it easily passes as a part of the crowd. As its final act, it's even absorbed small bits of your abilities if you have any. Not all of them, but enough to cause trouble. Throughout everything, you cannot harm your hitchhiker. Some unknown force stops you any time you think about it. You simply can't.

Related Incidents

The impact isn't contained only to those directly affected. The hitchhikers' influence spreads through the city. For some incidents, it's difficult to trace back to the source. For others, that's a little easier. Regardless, these occurrences could help you determine how to solve your own situation. Alternatively, if you've escaped unscathed, you can still find yourself dragged into a situation involving someone else.

Return to Sender

July 11 — The Forum: An anonymous poster contributes this bit of information that might catch the eye of those affected. You can try the same method, but it's a risk going back into the diffusion zones. No one can guarantee the specific zone you found the mannequin in is still standing. Further, you have to remember where you made contact to begin with.

If you decide to try it, be sure to take a friend. The less independent the hitchhiker, the more likely it will stick to your side even as you return it home. If the assimilation has progressed too far, though, you might have to utilize methods such as duct taping inside your trunk or strapping it down with ropes. It may struggle and say vile things to you or your companion.

Victimless Burn Victims

July 14 @ 03:00 — The Pavilion (East End): A handful of troublemakers grabbed some freaky mannequins wandering the street and, in a drunken stroke of genius, set them all on fire for no reason other than that they wanted to. Not only has this resulted in damage to the corner store nearby, but Enforcers have linked the incident to four hospitalizations at roughly the same time. Doctors from Saint Margery's Hospital (located in the Blocks) report that all four individuals suffered massive shock and claim to have endured unimaginable agony as if they had been "set on fire."

Curiously, none of them bear any physical wounds and, by all accounts, are completely fine (trauma aside). Notably, all four individuals were also suffering from various stages of "joint stiffness" and "hallucinations"...which have since completely vanished. You might wonder, is this the solution? Or perhaps the better question would be, is it worth it?

The Sculptor

July 15 — The Pavilion (Medical Clinic): Around July 14 onward, word begins to spread that a Dr. Maggie Wright (who insists on being called the Sculptor, though nobody seems to heed this request) will not only do an amputation for free, she will pay you for your limb if you are boasting an "unusual trophic change to the skin, resulting in a smooth and shiny texture." All she asks is she gets to keep the sample. Her promise is that she will study it to find a more permanent cure and, if she does, she will return the limb to you for reattachment.

Some end up trusting her. You wonder, maybe she could help? Dr. Wright will happily accept you as her patient if you agree. Her methods are indeed proper and sterile: she'll put you under and provide you with plenty of pain meds. She appears to have all of the equipment required to preserve the limb, too.

If you're suspicious, you can also pay her a visit, but you won't have much luck getting her in trouble or sniffing out any evidence of nefarious deeds. Her office hasn't got anything strange, she is indeed a real surgeon, and there are testimonials from patients who've had success under her care in the past. Plus, nobody's going to her who isn't doing so voluntarily (they've signed waivers)—even if you could argue how much desperation plays into their decision. Still...the thing about her "title" is a bit weird, right?

Dr. Maggie Wright is 5'2, Caucasian with a light Northeastern accent and silver hair often worn in a bun. She's in her 50s and looks fairly good for her age. Her voice is soothing. She has intense, wide blue eyes, which some might find unnerving, but that's not necessarily her fault.

∞ Notes ∞

• Mannequin contact is not required. Not everybody who goes into the diffusion will make first contact, and many won't. Characters can explore the mall, the temple, and the foggy field without ever picking up a hitchhiker.
• The diffusion zones described are only examples. Others will exist where mannequins can be found, including grocery stores, gas stations, abandoned parks, and more. You can make up your own, but check with us if you have any questions about limitations!
• The speed and intensity of all mechanics are entirely up to you. Generally, the earlier a character makes first contact, the more severe their consequences.
• Investigating the zones or helping others are perfectly fine ways to participate! Since the hitchhikers are meant to be more insidious, it won't be strange if your character isn't in the middle of the action right away or notices things a bit late.

Questions? Ask here

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Comments

EVENT INTERACTION ∞

[thediadem]

If you need specifics or some direction for an element you're engaging with in the event, such as generic NPC reactions or how a zone might react to your character's actions, you can approach us here for clarity. This section can also be used for event-specific interactions specified in the Event Log prompts.

• For the heretic option in the Wall of Refuge prompt, use the WALL OF REFUGE comment.
• For all other requests, use the GENERAL REQUEST comment.

WALL OF REFUGE ∞

[thediadem]

This section is for characters who are engaging with the Heretic option in the prompt. For this option, we will reply directly under your thread one time with a description of what's happening. After that, you can keep threading among yourselves to handle the situation.

While you do not need to wait on us to continue your thread to its resolution, you are welcome to request another response as needed or just ask us if you have any questions.

Wall of Refuge Form <b>Character(s) Involved:</b> (List all characters in the scenario) <b>Thread:</b> <a href="URLHERE">Link</a> (this is so we know where to reply to you) <b>What mood are you after?</b> (Tell us whether you want something more lighthearted, extra gory monster horror, for someone to be injured, etc. Basically, this is so we can tailor our response appropriately!) <b>Anything you want to avoid?</b> (Let us know if there's anything you'd rather not engage with. This can be as simple as "I don't want any psychological elements" or "I don't want my character to have to fight too much.")

Jack Kline | Supernatural | OTA

[godjr]

[Message me on theskyisnew on plurk or discord if you have exact ideas!]

First Contact Locations

[godjr]

Frank Castle | Punisher

[terrorisms]

( ooc plot comment | starters to follow. content warnings for violence, amputation, and general horror. reach me on plurk at paingravy or discord @righteously for anything you need! )

→ ʟᴏɢᴀɴ.

[terrorisms]

( It's late when Logan's walking past the diner — or possibly early. Those dark, empty hours between life, where most people are in their beds where they belong. The place itself seems closed up, all the lights off, the storefront glass windows dark and black and reflective at a glance.

The first thing that might tip him off about something being wrong is the screeching. It's not like a voice, not even like an animal. It's inorganic, and it's subtle, but with his hearing he should be easily able to pick up on it. High pitched, like nails on a chalkboard — and slow, dragging, scraping.

Should he peer through the windows properly, he'll be able to make out a shape. Broad shoulders hunched over the breakfast bar tabletop, perched on a stool. A familiar shape by now, probably, seeing as Logan's been having breakfast with it for the last few weeks.

Further investigation will reveal that the door is ever so slightly ajar, maybe a quarter of an inch, with splinters where the latch must've been secure once — but not anymore. Venturing in will put him at the right angle to see the source of the scraping: there's an empty plate in front of that figure, and jerky hands drag a knife through the tines of a fork, pantomiming the act of cutting food directly on the ceramic. )

castiel | supernatural | ota

[messenger]

( event plotting | feel free to hit me up there for specific prompts or "gift" sign-ups. i haven't yet decided to what level i'll be writing TLs vs tagging out, but "gifts" will go here and can double as thread starters. )

→ FIRST CONTACT

[messenger]

Wade Wilson/Deadpool | XMCU

[primepool]

[primepool]

closed starters and open starters below, as marked!
plot comment ♦ scathefire ♦ scathefire @ discord

cassian andor | star wars

[diametrically]

( ooc plotting comment | ⬇️ open & closed starters below | pm or discord @ cardialloyed for more plotting! )

first contact 🌌 open

[diametrically]

AMONG THE SHADOWS

[ Anyone that knows him well enough would be thoroughly unsurprised to hear Cassian had raced off towards the mall the moment he catches word about a missing girl. The part of him that will never forgive himself for leaving his sister behind all those years ago, this wound that will never heal, can only be atoned by trying to find those that are lost, and help those in need.

This bone deep atonement might need some serious reflection however because they act like blinders at times. Blinders that have him driving out 10 hours only to find himself in this strange, unsettling environment.

If he arrives alone he'll head right in, but if he happens to pick up a fellow fluxdrifter, there will be a moment before they head into the mall where he draws his blaster. Whether or not you're used to weapons being drawn he'll look over and offer a barely there shrug. ]

Just in case.

[ Or maybe you've bumped into him inside as he makes his way between shadow corpses and drifting in and out of abandoned stores. While he had arrived with a singular focus, it's clear his backpack is also filled with a couple of items either of his own personal use or to pawn and barter with back in Panorama. He emerges from a store, brushing off some dust from what looks like a cassette player when he looks up to see you - and then immediately squints looking at a place just over your shoulder. ]

Did you see that? Is someone else with you?

THE LAST STOP

[ He can't decide what's worse. The mall or this. Though if it's based on temperature alone he might have to pick this. He's never done particularly well with the cold despite having more years on Ferrix than on Kenari, so that makes this an awful experience for him alone even with the heat on full blast.

But then a shadowy figure emerges from the fog and there's nothing he can do to avoid it. Even as he swerves, cutting the wheel hard, something - a body - rolls across the windshield. Not hard enough to crack it, but certainly enough to make a loud noise. The car comes to screeching halt, teetering precariously on the edge of the ditch. It's both a strange mix of luck and his own driving skills that ensures the car doesn't go rolling in. There's a beat of silence as you gain your bearings but after a moment he utters - ]

Shit.

[ Unfortunately it's getting out of the car that turns out to be a mistake. The thing he hit may still be in the road, or it may not be. Maybe it takes off running into the woods. And if it does, he'll take chase.

As he's making his way through the woods it becomes more apparent to him that whatever he had hit (because he had definitely hit something) didn't care to be found - if it existed at all. There's any number of reasons to turn back - he might admit defeat, his patience is running thin, it's getting too cold, or you might convince him for any reason you can come up.

Whatever the reason, as soon as you emerge everything snowballs from there. The large shadow looms in the distance, a roaming light catches sight of someone or something and suddenly the shadow that had been in the distance is there. Viscera sprays and splatters and Cassian is by your side, dragging you backwards and down into the grass. Tension runs through his body and though he doesn't say a word, the message is clear as day on his face: Don't make a sound and Don't. Move. ]

logan — xmcu

[carcajous]

— starters below —
plot comment | discontinued | quantifies @ discord

abandoned mall — OTA.

[carcajous]

[ Getting here was more of a pain in the ass than he'd wanted, but about as much of it as he'd expected. He's about a day and half out from the city, managed to find a gas station to fill up at along the way, let a second pain in his ass hitch a ride with him to this damn mall, and at this point, he's questioning his decision to ride out this way.

'Least he's finally alone.

Which leaves him free to wander through the shopping mall, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He's obviously taking shit while searching for a girl who's likely gone by now. If she were here, he'd smell her, but...he's lookin' anyway, seeing as this entire planet's off. Who knows? She might still be around even if her scent's a big gaping void. He's not holding out much hope, though. But it gives him something to do. Part of him's not eager to return to the city, to the motels, to the reasons he took off to begin with.

You can run into him:

• Digging around in the food court for something worth eating. Or he's already found something to eat and now he's chowing down.
• Perched on a bench or table with a lit cigar, smoke drifting from behind some decorative potted greenery.
• Buried under a shelf full of old CDs and VHS tapes in an electronics store. How did it fall on him? What the hell happened here? Hard to say, but he dusts himself off with surprising ease. Might be a couple of suspicious claw-like marks on the floor or nearby wall. Don't worry about it.
• Sleeping on a bench. Well, he looks like he's asleep. Maybe don't poke him to find out.
• Chances are, neither you nor him are the only ones in the mall; if you've attracted some trouble, he might pop up behind you to lend a hand...depending on if you look like you need his help.
• A secret wildcard option of your choice.

An Zhe | Little Mushroom| OTA

[littlemushroom]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Get in losers, we’re going shopping
A) With the news of a particularly potential filled diffusion zone in the fringes, there were a few posts on the forum trying to corral a few carpools. Some of those had caught An Zhe’s attention, since the thing called a ‘mall’ was just so far away. So far away that he almost figured it was out of the realm of possibility, except for a few compelling reasons. On one hand, if there was any chance that he could find any signs of Lu Feng, he needed to spring for it. On the other hand, he really needed to keep a healthy stock of clothes tucked away in his truck in case he ended up in more situations where his carefully (poorly) hidden piles went missing again. He’d learned several lessons about this. Embarassing.

So he had replied to a few, and there he was at what he thought was supposed to be the meeting spot. Were you also there to meet up for the carpool? Were you simply concerned that there was a bean pole hanging around in an undisclosed spot doing his best to look Very Confident in where he was standing? Did you want to steal him for your own carpool? Go right ahead.


B) Congratulations. The Mall had been Achieved. It was both smaller and bigger than An Zhe would have guessed. He’d seen far taller buildings, but maybe they would have been the same size if they had been lying on their side. The concept of having multiple different things in a building was familiar, but not quite to the scope of this. An Zhe imagined it would have been a very impressive place one upon a time ago, when the ghosts of someone’s Auntie Anne smelt far more delicious. It seemed that right now she was just manifesting as so many shadowy patrons.

Those did not sit very well with An Zhe. They reminded him of the androids at the resort and yet… the shade felt a touch more unsettling. He was going to try and avoid those.

“What did you want to look for?” He asked his companion, be it someone he had traveled with or simply ran into in the maze of capitalism.


𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Little mushroom in the big city
A lot of An Zhe’s time was also spent back at the city. There were odd whispers and rumors whirling around, but that didn’t stop him from having Debts. He was trying his best to keep his part time gigs constant, so there was a chance to run into him in several spots. He could be handing out some more of those free samples in the Pavillion, or standing outside holding a few signs to usher people into a few businesses. The most consistent thing he had found so far was a tiny, dimly lit little coffee shop that did not trust him to touch a single bean. He could ring you up for a cup of them though, and maybe a tiny snack. The snacks were good. He couldn’t tell you what coffee was besides very bitter stuff that made him talk very quickly.

When he wasn’t trying to handle the weight of needing Money, he was trying to get used to the city. He was still looking out for his Person, and trying to find more of the reclusive green patches through out the stronghold. If someone looked particularly amicable, An Zhe might have gone up to them to politely inquire, “Excuse me, have you seen anyone with extremely beautiful eyes recently?”

The person he was asking might not have looked entirely… correct, however. If it was someone looking to cause a little mayhem, this was a mushroom that was extremely susceptible to Incidents.


𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 we just came for a vacation
An Zhe had not actually intended to be in the midst of this foggy zone. It had been another rideshare situation, and the sight of what looked like a town had been too alluring for the driver to resist. There could have been some really nice stuff, they’d said to An Zhe. It seemed like not many folks had been through yet. Stay with the car. Beep the horn if it seemed like anyone else was coming.

Being a trustworthy mushroom, An Zhe had done what he’d been told.

The silence was vast. Time stretched on. The night felt endless, and the cold was deepening. They probably should not be here for much longer, An Zhe decided. He wouldn’t go too far from the car, he reasoned, just far along enough to see if he could see what was taking so long. Everything seemed normal until suddenly it wasn’t. There was s heavy metallic scent in the air, and something soft caught his foot and sent him tumbling into the field. The screams that cut through the fog made his blood run cold as he pushed himself up.

Ah. That used to be a person.

Ah. The fog had swallowed up the whole field.

An Zhe slipped away in a rush of white tendrils. It’d be harder to find his way back but… This was no place for a human to be. The mushroom went tumbling back in what he hoped was the direction he’d come from, searching for the headlights of the stranger’s car he’d left behind. When the sound of more footsteps or voices became clearer, a fresh wave of worry swelled up in him for whomever it was.

So here was a pale hand shooting through the fog to grab this new person’s arm, attached to an equally pale young man in a thin white cloak with wide, worried eyes. “Don’t.”


𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 wildcard & contact
Feel free to mix and match, or just hit An Zhe up with something else entirely! You can bother me at bisasam if you wanna discuss something, or my plotting comment here. I will match styles if you would rather [[action]] tag.

A into B

[foretells]

"We should probably stop meeting this way."

The voice comes from the rolled down window of a car that pulls up, Sciel all smiles when she catches sight of him. The car is parked, ignition stopped, so she can slide over to the passenger side window and to peer out at him. It's at least better than just finding him looking for scraps of food in a crowded market. Sciel leans on her arms on the rolled down window.

"Who're you waiting for?" she asks, because that has to be the reason why he's here.

Alucard | Castlevania: Nocturne

[cryptsleeper]

plotting comment

Wall of Refuge

[cryptsleeper]

[The last time Alucard entered a temple was three years ago to try and find the remains of a goddess. Egypt feels achingly familiar as he walks through the stone gates. Not because the entrance is easy (it is, this one has no vampire guards attacking him), but because the deity that this temple is dedicated to is decidedly unfamiliar and far away. Egypt's gods did not have this many limbs, but they were depicted in their own style upon the walls and in that note is the familiar.

What is pointedly different here is the fact the temple feels so very alive. It offers hospitality not only in mood but in the offerings. Usually this is meant to be the other way around. I give so that you will give. This feels similar. Just reversed.

Alucard is not sure how safe indulgence may be. He has heard too many stories over the centuries about freely taking hospitality and erring, only to result in vengeance. This feels like one of those moments.

So instead he focuses on the effigy and examining the walls, trying to make sense of the situation. He suspects that whatever this thing is is real. The problem now is that of intent.

Time slips by. He sits himself on the edge of one of the fountains, still focused upon the walls. The dhampir exhales, remarking to no one but himself:]

It would be far more helpful to understand the underlying structure of belief at play here.

wriothesley | genshin impact | ota

[frostfist]

I. ROAD TRIP

[ So his bike's still in the process of being patched up, which means he's needed to hitch a ride from another charitable stranger heading out to the fringes. (Maybe they talked about it on a streetside corner while waiting for the light to change, maybe they picked him up while he was heading out of town.) Either way he's in the passenger's seat peering out the window at the scenery beyond. Having never left Fontaine before this, it's certainly different from what he's used to, though after so many weeks spent in the city he's starting to get used to it.

Apparently the other thing he's gotten used to is the music. He finally tunes back in to whatever's playing. Frowns. ]

Have they been playing the same song for the past twenty minutes?

[ Is your radio broken, my guy?

Alternatively:
> Maybe the air conditioning's stopped working and they are about to overheat in this car.
> Everyone loves a good game of 20 Questions to beat road trip boredom (no).
> Lunch time! What'd we pack today and is it spicy because he is a (fantasy French) white man and he will Die.

anyway someone please road trip with me, my regret in giving my character a single person bike is immeasurable and immense as the sea. ]

II. ABANDONED MALL

[ Things they don't have in Fontaine: giant shopping malls with multiple floors, hallways upon hallways of electrical lights, and....creepy shadow figures? He may be curious but he's also always been cautious, and spends his time initially observing them from a good few feet away. ]

I wonder what happened here.

[ Or:
> Catch him holding up this ugly shirt to himself.
> What the hell is a "Walkman" and how does he use it? ]

III. FOGGY TOWN

[ You ever take one look at a place and realize you Fucked Up? Yeah, that's where we're at right about now.

Which is to say he's currently running for his life through the foliage and forest, trying to ignore the shrill screams that fill the air behind him. As much as he hates leaving others more helpless than him to suffer, he knows when he's outclassed. There's too much room between the trees for light to filter through so he beelines for the nearest house, grabbing hold of the doorknob, twisting, and then slamming the door behind him as he throws himeslf bodily inside.

Hi, was there already someone in here? Sorry, he's your new best friend and housemate now for the next (checks watch) foreseeable future. ]

IV. MANNEQUIN

[ Wriothesley likes to think of himself as rational, level-headed. And he's spoken to all the "mad" historians that have spent the ends of their life in the Fortress, and known many of them to have held a kernel of truth in their otherwise inane ramblings. And after too many sightings of a figure just out of reach in the corner of his eye, he knows there has to be something at play that isn't just myth or hallucination.

He's not usually one to accost strangers on the street but sometimes the end justifies the means. When he catches sight of it again, he grabs the arm of the nearest person, nodding towards a figure to their left. ]

Did you see that?

[ The skin on his hand is oddly smooth, the joints almost symmetrically round. ]

V. WILDCARD

[ anything goes! no plotting comment because june bodied me so badly i didn't have time to look at the plotting post but i'm happy to plan specific threads throgh pm. also very sorry for how many prompts there are. please accept me anyway. ]

V.

[decussate]

[ Since they both lack the cars for long-distance travel, it's some time before The Knave sees Wriothesley again. She gives him a brief text in the interim, mentioning her impostor of a mannequin, and maybe he would have done the same. Either way, she knows about it by the next time she sees him.

That's because she appears behind him now with a pair of legs slung over one shoulder and the rest of Wriothesley's body tucked under one arm. Instead of blood and guts, there's naked plastic peeking out from the ends of pilfered clothing, ball joints jagged and ripped away with violent force. ]

Wriothesley.

[ She's addressing the real one, of course. The fake one looks up from below as if she were addressing it with a pleasant "Yes?" in Wriothesley's voice. She ignores it strongly. ]

sunday | honkai: star rail

[catharses]

open + closed starters below | plotting comment or indech
will match format and wildcards welcome | sunday's powers opt in for this event or in general!

first contact — OTA

[catharses]

a. among the shadows

[ It's a long trip to have made by the time the mall's lights beckon, his car is parked, and Sunday steps into the mall. The building is both familiar and isn't; it's lacking the distinct layer of glamour of Penacony's shopping districts but it's unmistakably one all the same as he walks through the corridor of shops immediately by the entrance. One difference, though: the shadows of people frozen into place are... disconcerting.

Enough that he'll stop to study a group of teenagers looking carefree with laughter still on their faces. Perhaps he's concentrating with a furrow in his brow with the air rippling around him in the suggestion something else is taking place. Beyond that, Sunday's concentration might be so strong he doesn't notice anyone else approaching whether he's standing in place or slowly walking around the group with hands clasped behind his back. A mystery worth investigating - but how?

After moving on, the shops catch his attention to browse what's inside. A large television whose shape reminds him of the Dreamjolt Troupe has him pausing in an electronics store though it seems to not be sentient so much as covered in something which has him stepping away. A glance to another aisle reveals rows upon rows of CDs which Sunday also wanders through until something in particular catches his attention: a display of CDs available for preview. Sunday presses the first album's button expecting it to play through the headphones as he reaches to pick them up, but instead music abruptly blares from some unseen speakers. He hastily presses the button again but that doesn't seem to do anything. Surely there's some way to adjust the volume on this.

More successful is going through a clothes store next to a long abandoned food court. If he comes across anyone else also looking for a new outfit, he'll nod in greeting but leave them to their task since finding something to wear is Important and he wastes no time in doing the same.

Fortunately there's a large mirror nearby more than tall enough to show someone's entire reflection without having to go into the dressing rooms right away. When it's unoccupied Sunday heads towards it to hold up one item of clothing after another in appraisal, frowning some at more than others. ]

I suppose I should learn to embrace more patterns.

[ His current clothes (solid colors, immaculately maintained) are rather plain in comparison to some of the very 90s patterns on whatever's in his hands or yet to be appraised. Sunday's also probably talking to himself, but any fashion advice would be welcome. ]

b. the last stop

[ Each howl tells him everything he needs to know even before witnessing what happens after.

Predictable, really, Sunday thinks wryly to himself as he dashes across an open area scanning for cover beyond a single wall that's left of a rotting building or a crumbling fence. That transition from day to night with the plummeting temperature should have been enough reason to turn back to somewhere - anywhere more familiar than where others once alive are suddenly crushed into the ground.

Hubris to think he was prepared to investigate this, but there'll be time to dwell on that later. Like maybe when there's time to think of a plan beyond not being seen.

Suddenly, a house with at least two, possibly three walls and a roof mostly still there emerges from the mist. That'll do. ]

Over here!

[ Perhaps they've only just stumbled across each other or arrived together before realizing the danger lurking here, but this is a team effort now. Your choice of whether Sunday calls that out aloud or if it's sent via telepathy but either way, he holds the door to the house open after stumbling through it for whoever might follow. ]

alphinaud leveilleur | ffxiv

[diplomatiste]

among the shadows — ota ;

[diplomatiste]

[ The shopping centre, a building typology that he isn't familiar with, is much larger than Alphinaud expects it to be. Not that he's had any precedent to follow, nor has any experience with multi-level buildings full of shops dedicated to all manner of things.

It's exciting however, whatever it is, because he's sixteen and curious and this building promises all manner of things to look at and — with some reluctance against his strong morals, but rather sparse coffers — salvage.

He'd arrived with his sister (you know, on account of their having to share the one car) and split the long driving time in half, but by the time you come across him, they'll have temporarily parted ways to cover more ground. They have a missing girl to look for, and even if they don't find her just yet, surely this place will provide clues as to her whereabouts.

Alphinaud can thus be found:

on ground level, strolling slowly past some storefronts with their wares still on display, if a little dusty — a shop with strange electronics that vaguely resemble any of the Allagan technology he's seen before has him pausing in his tracks (he spies the Walkman in particular);

heading up the escalator, and doing his best not to disturb any of the shadow corpses that seem to occupy his path with quietly muttered apologies;

in one of the clothing stores, sifting through racks of items with great interest. (He's never even considered donning some of these styles.) While he's currently dressed in a navy-blue leather jacket, dark-coloured loose-fitting cargo pants, and a pair of black Converse sneakers, it never hurts to acquire a few spare items just in case;

perusing one of the snack shops. There are a few recognizable items here, things he'd seen at the grocery store where Alisaie works, but some of the treats look different — new. He can't help but wonder if it's safe to sample them. ]

Eddie Munson | Stranger Things

[satanicpanics]

{ starters to follow
plotting comment | muttonchops | poultrylegs @ discord }

silent hill; ota

[satanicpanics]

[ Eddie’s reliance on small jobs (a repair here, a delivery there) opens him up to hearing a lot of stories circulating around Panorama. He thinks little of them. People like to talk and he know all too well that when you’re literally beneath someone’s car changing their oil, you may as well be invisible. It’s fun gossip, at least, and he snickers to himself as he drains the oil and listens in on the owner ranting about his good-for-nothing thief of a neighbor to his wife.

He hears a dozen stories throughout the week and shakes them from his memory almost as quickly as he hears them. They don’t stick with him or connect in his mind and eventually, he leaves them all behind entirely in favor of a road trip.

He ends up only about three hours outside of town, and he almost immediately regrets it deeply. Despite the clock on his dash indicating that it should only be mid-afternoon, the sky is as dark as night, and it’s grown cold. The fog is rolling in as thick as pea soup and the whole ordeal is very disturbing in a terribly familiar sort of way. He can’t ignore the pit in his stomach, nor the voice in his head telling him to stop, go back. He tells himself that he’ll drive just a bit further up the road, find a good place to turn around and head back in the direction of town. Teeth chattering an unwilling to turn the heat on, he reaches into the back seat for his jacket, taking his eyes off the road for only a moment. When his gaze flicks back, there’s a human figure standing right in his path.

He slams right into them. ]

Jesus Christ!

[ He screams at the top of his lungs, slams on the brakes and backs up, the figure laying crumpled on the road and illuminated by his headlights. ]

Shit, shit, shit—shit, shit—

[ He stumbles out of his van and scrambles toward them in sheer terror. He can’t deal with his shit again. ]

Hey! Hey! Hello! Hey, are you—oh my god.

[ He reaches out to touch the figure, only to find that there’s no blood or mangled flesh. Instead, there’s nothing more than cracked and crushed plastic. A mannequin—one that has seen much better days. ]

Oh my god. Shit.

[ He doesn’t even question the mannequin in the middle of the road, because his heart rate and anxiety have both spiked so high and he’s gone through a rollercoaster of emotions all in the span of seconds. He needs a moment, so it’s all he can do to sit back on his heels, huff out a deep breath, and wait for it to pass.

But hey, at least he’s not in the field. ]

clint barton | mcu

[brandingproblem]

[plotting comment, reach me there or @ shadowesque just about everywhere if you got plans or want something bespoke, otherwise some open starters to follow]

open | mall

[brandingproblem]

[It's a long, long trip out to this mall, and while there isn't much room for more than one, Clint isn't unwilling to bring a passenger along. Or, if someone gives a compelling argument/has more room/is a known quantity, road trip along with them instead. Very willing to switch out drivers, so long as whoever he's with seems competent at driving. It's a long way. If you gotta stop to take a piss, he isn't opposed to any stretch of land to pull over on, but if there's a proper building that doesn't look too fucked up in some nearby distortion zone, well, good luck to you if you go inside to find a bathroom or see if there's anything fancy to loot.

Unless someone decides to find somewhere else to sleep for the night, he's perfectly content to take turns dozing in the vehicle. He is not risking his ass sleeping inside a distortion zone building, thanks, no idea what the good god damn hell happens if you're there when it...what, vanishes? Distorts? UNdistorts? Gets sucked back into spacetime? No thanks. Car's safer. In theory.

He's packed not necessarily light once he slings on a whole quiver with actual-ass arrows and a bow over his shoulder, but hey, maybe it beats a gun? Don't worry, he's definitely armed and dangerous. If there are any raiders that want to mess with him, with a companion, or hell, with anyone, he's not going to just leave someone to take care on their own if he can help.

In the mall proper, it's...eerie. It's very 90's, that's for sure. And while he's taken to carrying a pack to loot some smaller stuff--yeah, the robots taught him that the big stuff isn't going to survive the trip--he's disappointed to find that a lot of stuff is really...like really fucked up. He ducks into a really familiar-feeling electronics store, and while the little things look fine (do people use?? walkmans?? anymore??), he recoils from the TVs and VHS players that seem to be slowly spilling their actual goopy guts out on the floor. It's unsettling. He moves on.

Some clothes, maybe, whatever looks like it could fetch a price. Some jewelry, but it's not worth much. Bottle or two of cologne. One of perfume. He actually stops to sniff at them, like he's hunting for a particular scent, or just to make sure they haven't turned nasty in the trip.

But for all the looting, that's not actually why he's here for once. He pauses plenty, doing slow sweeps with his eyes, cocking his head for sounds. Every once in a while, he cups his mouth to bellow out, "MILLIE!", hearing it echo in the emptiness. There's a missing child. Maybe she's not here; she could be anywhere in Q1, what was it, past the Scrapyard--but a kid would want to go to a mall, right? That just makes sense to him.

The shadow people aren't the worst thing he's seen, and at first, he thinks it might be like the robots, that they're just people who were here and not not. And maybe that's true, just...once again, it's were-people, in the middle of going about their day. And maybe some catastrophe struck. He's not sure how any of this happens, of course, but he's starting to think his conversation with Castiel that the places that show up were during some kind of apocalypse might really have some merit.

There's a little indoor playground. Plastic fake grass, a little fenced in area, lots of seating for parents to watch the little ones run around the brightly colored plastic slides and climbing bits and little playhouse. Some figures are sat, watching. A couple are in the middle of play. Clint looks very far away when he looks at this sight. His fingers reach out, wary and tender both, lightly brush the top of a child's head, just enough to get some of that ash on his fingers that he rubs between until it falls away.

And then he makes himself continue on.]

((feel free to do some shenanigans involving but not limited to: your character having their first contact, seeing Clint turn into a monster, him seeing yours as a monster, some kinda fight in the parking lot or inside, or whatever else you desire my friends))

arlecchino (the knave) | genshin impact | ota

[decussate]

A. Carpool

[ The Knave is carpooling with you. Her motorcycle isn't cut out for long distances, and so she offers to chip in with gas, provisions, whatever it is that will get her a ride. She makes a good passenger: perfectly content to either sit in complete and unmoving silence or chat to your heart's content about any number of things.

Everything is going well... until there's a long lull in the conversation, or the temperature becomes just right for a nap. It's a long drive, and even The Knave isn't immune to sleepiness; the faint shadows under her eyes would suggest that she may even be in more dire need of sleep than most. Her head begins to droop...

A trio of faceless, birdlike beings suddenly materialize within the car. They flit around like children at play, light as air, almost as if shooing away invisible annoyances. Of course, that means they'll flit around the driver as well, obscuring their vision in and out; there's only so much space in here. The Knave, meanwhile, will be dead asleep until some catastrophe occurs. Or she gets smacked in the face, that works too. ]

B. Friendly Fire

[ The Knave contracts her own mannequin — and from there, it becomes all too easy to see how they begin to infest the land in a slow creep. In the early days, she abuses her featureless mannequin in any number of ways: slicing, burning, even drowning, but to no avail. It always comes back and stands there menacingly. In truth, it doesn't bother her as much as it should; she's frequently haunted by phantoms, and this is just another. Still a problem to be taken care of, but not one that consumes her.

And so she thinks nothing of harming someone else's mannequin when it decides to cause mischief. She catches it tampering with her parked motorcycle when she returns, and immediately, she conjures a blade of crimson bloodfire and throws it at the offending mannequin's arm.

Little does she know that fire has more serious effects than it used to... ]

C. Mimicry

[ The Knave's mannequin has been around for much too long. As it takes on her memories and thought processes, it becomes wily — knowing just how to evade her in crucial moments, as well as how to push her buttons and force her to withdraw. Things reach a head when it begins to exhibit her bloodfire abilities, conjuring lines of crimson silk and crude, sharp tools.

The Knave's hunt for her mannequin intensifies even as she feels her own power diminishing. There are rumors of mannequins burned and victims hospitalized; a fitting solution to her problem, she'd say, if only she could find a way to raise her fire against her own mannequin.

She'll eventually find it with another person. Causing mischief, no doubt. By now, it bears an uncanny resemblance: The Knave's eyes, already an unnaturally stark black and crimson, are not so different from the flat plastic of the mannequin's. It speaks in her voice, adopts her mannerisms. Only a sheen of plastic, a telling stiffness, and a different set of clothes differentiate them.

If the mannequin speaks to someone Arlecchino has already met, it speaks smoothly, moves slowly, armed with a secretive smile as it attempts to get close. ]

Closer, now. There are some things you ought to know. I will not lie to you as she will; one hardly earns the title of Knave because of one's upstanding character. I'm sure you have questions...

[ Or — friend or stranger — the mannequin decides to make trouble in the most direct way possible: wanton assault. It stalks the streets, searching for those traveling alone. From the shadows, the flat crimson crosses of its eyes gleam briefly — and then the mannequin pounces, claw-like nails drawn to strike... ]

Move!

[ Only for the real Arlecchino to pounce on the would-be victim first. It's more of a tackle and tumble, really. An effort to get this person out of the way, especially if there's the faintest possibility that they might be able to help her kill this mannequin. (Though she may just be accidentally contributing to the chaos.) ]

D. Wildcard

[ I didn't have the chance to hit up the plotting post as much as I would've liked, so I'm still open to plotting! Feel free to hit me up at my plotting comment, DM me, or find me at chipsnfish. ]

C (fancy meeting you here)

[unsunder]

[ This is certainly one way to meet someone. Which is to say, Emet-Selch already had a sense that there were a pair of eyes on him, though whether human or mannequin it’s difficult to say. With these things taking on aspects of the people they’ve chosen to mimic down to their very souls, even his keen gaze isn’t enough to tell them apart sometimes.

He has a hand half-raised to stave off the attack, in whatever form it might come, but then someone comes flying in from the side and takes him out instead. Down he goes with a yelp and a tangle of long limbs. ]

Do you mind?

[ He didn’t need the assist, thank you! Though, there goes the mannequin, claws slicing at open air. ]

benny lafitte - supernatural

[tataille]

(( ooc plot comment, starters to follow will be below. cw's for violence, blood, general horror - will warn for others if they come up. hmu @ virtuously, plotting comment, or pm if you want anything specific or want to plot something else! ))

first contact, last stop - ota

[tataille]

[ Benny really should’ve turned back the second the road shook. His busted Chevelle had bucked like it hit something, but there’d been nothing there - just a gut deep jolt that knocked a breath out of him he hadn’t needed to take. He’d nearly veered off the road, instinct alone keeping the wheels steady, inhuman senses doing the rest. Gravel flew as the car skidded to a stop, and he'd muttered a soft curse under his breath.

Shit.

The damn fog’s thick enough to eat sound, and even the slam of his door vanishes like it never happened. But then he hears something, somewhere out there, howl. Long and low and sonorous, it carries, slicing through the fog, cuts through the quiet like it shouldn’t. It’s eerie enough to make even a vampire shiver, and a tick forms in his jaw, teeth grinding. This is wrong. It’s all wrong.

It reminds him of the bells people say they sometimes hear out on the bayou - when some poor bastard, green and overconfident, tries to row through the fog at night. It’s the kind of sound that carries for miles through mist so thick it’s like breathing soup. It’s that sharp, wrong kind of ringing that settles in your ribs and stays there.

He’s out here doing something stupid - he’s looking for that missing kid, like maybe that’ll make a dent in his ledger, help atone for all the sins that should’ve damned him to hell. Or at least, would if he weren’t already something worse. ]

Millie? [ His voice feels damp, muffled by the fog, and as expected - there isn’t a response, just a shifting blur. It's movement, but it's damn sure not a kid. It’s bigger than that, human, probably. Seems like another idiot like him, except they’re sprinting down the road while Benny stands still like a target. He opens his mouth to shout, to ask what the hell they’re running from, but the light finds 'em first. Now, Benny might be out here pulling a stupid stunt, but a searchlight sweeping the fog like some kind of cosmic executioner? That’s enough to send him bolting. He hauls ass back in the direction of his car, dodging the beam - no thank you.

He flicks a glance over his shoulder, and he knows he made the right call. One second the person is there and the next, well. He’ll never forget it, that sound - wet, violent and final. The screams are worse but at least they don’t last long, and Benny fucking runs, throwing himself into the car, slamming the door shut, undead heart slamming in his chest fast as a hummingbird's wings. That’s when he sees it - a figure way off in the field, watching him, still as death.

Oh, hell no. This was all a damn mistake, and hell if it wasn't a big one. Penance or not, Benny is getting the hell out of here, like, yesterday. This is all enough nightmare fuel for one night.

He’s already got the car in gear when he hears more pounding footsteps (fucks sake) - real this time at least, no phantom shape watching him like a deranged ex, no sprinting raider. Someone else is out here. Alive, but with all this shit, probably not for long.

Benny throws the door open, leans out, and yells into the mist – ]

Get in!

(( ooc; feel free to hitch a ride! time is wibbly wobbly, multiples can have at it. ))

verso 🗡️ clair obscur: expedition 33

[reverso]

(( ota open prompts below; if you want a closed starter, hit me up via PM or over at aurajen and we can work something out! ))

among the shadows — abandoned mall (ota)

[reverso]

A)

Well, this isn’t ominous at all.

[Verso’s voice echoes throughout the abandoned, eerie mall, with no one to receive his commentary beyond the inky, frozen silhouettes and his current exploration partner. Warily, he steps up to one—a woman holding a child’s hand, stilled mid-stride—and reaches out to brush his fingers across their form. His hand is stained with a black residue after, but it seems harmless enough. Surely this won’t come back to bite him in the ass later.]

What happened to these people? If we were less foolish, we’d take this as a sign to leave this place.

[But ultimately, they’re all just fools looking to scavenge, aren’t they.

Which means that you can be so kind to accompany Verso:

Finding a display of children’s jewelry, which he then dons a plastic, pink necklace and asks if it suits him. Clearly trying to bring levity to the situation.

Looking at a Walkman in his hands like it’s an alien object. Help, how does this work?

Definitely glancing over his shoulder at times, wondering if you saw something move in the distance, too.

Scrounging around for snacks! He offers to carry them for you in his magical hammerspace if it’s too much.]

B)

[The illusion has set in, as well as the sting of panic trying to claw its way out of his chest. It’s only because Verso is so familiar with battle, at this point, that he can tamp it down… for now.

Because, from his perspective, where there was once his fellow mall companion, now he sees only a Nevron. ]

How is one of you here?!

[He sees it as a large, spiked thing that looks as though it were carved from ice, that makes the ground shake with every step forward. If you try to break through to Verso, he does not hear your words — he hears only the grumble-warble of a creature he’s fought before, back home.

Verso’s sword, glowing bright with heat dazzling along its length of steel, manifests in his hand; the Expeditioner looks as though he’s on the verge of springing forward and attacking. Uh-oh!]

karen page { mcu

[pagings]

[ ooc plotting comment || starters to follow, some closed, some ota. || disarmingly or disarmingly @ disco for any questions or plots! ]

benny.

[pagings]

[ it feels oddly familiar, to be forcing herself to go through the motions of whatever routine she's started to build when she knows there is something wrong. ever since she started hearing the stories from the diner patrons, every since she went out there herself and picked up that hitchhiker, ever since she noticed something wasn't quite right with how the mannequin was now moving, copying her, acting.

karen doesn't know what to do with it - she knows there are others, knows that she's not the only one with the shadow, and the more she hears about friends acting out, weird disappearances of family, she is starting to wonder...

but her wondering can't distract her from her job. with her growing debt and her motel bills, and how she's already bypassed through one job, she can't lose this one too. so she puts her head down and shows up to those shifts, no matter how unwieldy the schedule ends up being, and just tries to keep it going. and honestly- the job is a nice distraction, between her coworkers, the work, and of course the people. the customers. it keeps her going, and it's nice.

she's at work when the bell above the front door rings. she's messing with the coffee maker (a pretty frequent job of her's, she's finding out) but out of the corner of her eye she sees a familiar figure. karen glances, quickly, and smiles. ]

Hi Benny! [ another new employee, a fry cook in the kitchen, someone who karen has actually really liked meeting. they haven't worked too many shifts together, yet, but benny has been wonderful, charming and kind and good at his job, too.

she's distracted, so she doesn't notice anything off about who she assumes is benny. not the way it looks around the empty dining room and how karen seems to be the only other person there. instead, karen curses, wincing at a hiss of hot water before she sighs. ] I think Wade mentioned that we're almost out of eggs... you might need to check, but they said the next delivery won't be for another couple of days.

g'raha tia | final fantasy xiv

[exarched]

[ prompts below! I'm happy to write other starters as well. Feel free to hmu on his plotting comment or shoot me a DM. ]

abandoned mall 💠 open

[exarched]

01 💠 Parking Lot

(( ooc; you are free to assume you traveled with him if you like! or our characters can just can run into each other ))

[ Exploring the diffusion zones has already become a high priority for G'raha given their inherently chaotic nature. He is endlessly curious, yes, but the potential connections in how things appear and disappear weighs heavily on their predicament, at least in his mind. If there are secrets to be found in not only how they arrived but how they may yet leave this place, it is worth the time and effort.

That the reported missing girl had been found at an abandoned mall with mentions of built-up cosmic energy basically seals the deal. It's time for a road trip.

Pulling into the parking lot does nothing to assuage the feeling that there is much that is off about this place. As G'raha steps out his vehicle (either with his chosen companions or beside someone else who has just arrived), he stops to survey the landscape. There are plenty of cars, which begs the question aloud-- ]

Are these all from curious adventurers such as ourselves, or...? ]

02 💠 Kentucky-Fried Nope

[ It isn't because this place apparently sells fried chicken that he decides to investigate--although that is appealing if dubious in a zone like this--but just how...life-like all these facsimiles of people seem to be. G'raha steps closer as he inspects a couple with a child, one figure pointing excitedly at the sign behind the counter while the child tries to pull themselves up onto it. ]

It really as if time itself simply...froze.

[ He muses aloud to his companion, rubbing his chin. He does not touch any of the figures, instead squatting next to the child with an expression shifting to wistfulness. ]

There is some small solace in the thought that they may have been wholly unaware what was to befall them.

03 💠 Best Buy

[ As keen as he is to explore every ilm of this complex, the detour to the electronics store is also one of practicality. The notion that looting these diffusion zones is not only allowed but in some means necessary for survival is not lost on him. And while the historian and scholar in G'raha wishes to leave areas of interest untouched for future research, he accepts the fact that these are fleeting moments that must be taken advantage of.

So...a little bit of five-finger shopping is warranted. The technology of this world is a little different than what he's used to, but with a breadth of exposure to futuristic technologies and expertise in ancient ones, he feels he can make do.

Nevermind that he can't really. See over the aisles that he and others are walking through. And some of the tallest shelves stare down at him with no small amount of amusement. All five-fulms and two-ilms of him.

G'raha purses his lips as he looks up at what appears to be box with a screen of some sort--not unlike the "televisions" he has come to see in some rooms and buildings--heavy and...dripping. As something ominous moves behind the murky glass. ]

Pray...look at this a moment?

Eliot Spencer | Leverage

[retrievalist]

Wildcard

[retrievalist]

feel free to check out my plotting post for ideas or otherwise contact me (sascharin or by dm) for prompts or whatever

jayce talis | arcane (open!)

[hexcurse]

1. FIRST CONTACT - THE ABANDONED MALL.

[ The closest comparison to this diffusion zone that Jayce has ever seen are the arcades in Piltover, their small artisan shops housed beneath glass ceilings and neatly tended foliage.

This place is grungier by far - he expects it was that way even before whatever happened here.

(a) He can be found exploring an electronics shop, staring at a row of screens. None of them are playing anything. Cautiously, he reaches out to touch the glass and finds that it's not as solid as he assumed - his fingers push through what he finds to be a viscous, gooey barrier rather than glass, and pull back out covered in pinkish sludge. He grimaces, rubbing his hand on his coat, but the slimy substance is persistent. ]

- find anything that works? [ He'll ask over his shoulder to - hmm? He swore someone was there.

(b) The drive was long and Jayce is tired, but the promise of supplies and equipment keeps him going. The shadow corpses frozen in time and space keep him moving, although at some point - far out of view of his partner, he hunkers down in a corner behind a large planter, far away from any of those shadows.

(he's experienced something like this once before, the memories surfacing unbidden, on display for anyone with the ability to read surface thoughts)

His pack at his side is full of whatever he grabbed that he deemed useful - batteries, wires, clothes, novelty soaps, non-perishable snacks. He's found a cassette player, the cheap headphones over one ear - it's not music that he's listening too as he's hunched over against the wall, but sounds of rain, or the ocean.

Even with one ear listening to what's going on around him, he'll startle at anyone who approaches - reaching for a hammer at his side, maybe even get a swing in if you're unlucky. ]

2. HITCHHIKER - PANORAMA, VARIOUS.

[ There's been a series of thefts - chemicals and welding tools. People report a man in a dirty coat that might've once been white, leaving the area. He ignores all attempts to call out to him. It's wearing half of Jayce's face by now, adopting his slightly uneven gait.

While the hitchhiker won't be confronted, you might find evidence of his progress:

(a) On the outskirts of Panorama, in the trailer of a broken down semi-truck, you'll find a small cache of homemade grenades. Many of them will not work, but touch the wrong one and - boom.
(b) In an alley, behind some dumpsters, are various abandoned, useless works. Some appear to be giant fists, improperly welded soo that the pieces inevitably fall apart - or just lacking the space to fit a human hand. Another might be what looks like it was meant to be the head of a massive hammer in a half abandoned state.
(c) In the back of your car, someone discarded a present - what looks to be a hastily constructed rifle that shoots short-range bolts of metal. The first few shots might actually work properly, the last one, however, will jam catastrophically, exploding the barrel (and possibly your hands, your face...)
(d) wildcard, find bombs somewhere else...

In any of these scenarios, it's possible that Jayce has been on the tail of his hitchhiker - and that he's there right before you make the mistake of touching or using the items (or there just as it all goes wrong): ]

Wait - stop! [ he'll call out. If you've not met him before, maybe you don't find it odd that he has a cloudy right eye, or a strange stiffness in his left arm. ]

MISC.

( ooc: Plotting here! Jayce has been talking to storm chasers about info/rumors about finding a way home, if you'd like to have eavesdropped on him at some point to approach about that. In general, Jayce and Viktor drive to each diffusion zone together and split up to explore. If you'd like a custom starter lmk! Please keep in mind weapons made by the hitchhiker are meant to be used once and/or fall apart/explode. )

1

[decussate]

[ The Knave isn't a stranger to figures huddled in corners, though they're usually much smaller. She could easily pass him by and leave him to grapple with his troubles in his own time... but she's here for information, and there's no sense in leaving stones unturned.

The headphones over the man's ears prompt her to come closer, the measured clicking of her high heels marking her approach. Still, he startles. She catches his swing by the wrist before the hammer can land, her grip strong, maybe even rough, but not cruel. ]

Control yourself.

[ Not the gentlest of manners. Her voice is deep with command. But there's patience in her solid hold as she waits for the man to become a little more grounded. ]

marc spector ⏾ marvel comics

[vestments]

( plotting comment here | starters below, hmu at spandex or phonomancing @ disco!
cw | violence, blood, hallucinations & disorientation | moon knight thematic cw apply )

⏾ temple, open

[vestments]

( he pays more attention to the forum than he'll admit to, a recent, semi-formed habit of searching out events, the sorts of things people at home used to seek out mr. knight for assistance with. delicate things that might need a less delicate touch. weird things for the FREAKY GUY to deal with.

the temple doesn't get mentioned, not in the same way the missing girl had been mentioned, but word had spread in its own way, and once he catches sight of it, marc finds himself stopping. he's not sure he even really means to do it, not even when his bike's parked off to one side and he's stood in front of the structure. he knows he's not alone, there are other vehicles parked up, none of them carrying enough signs of disuse or neglect to imply that they've been here for an inordinate amount of time.

it's the sort of detail he notes absentmindedly, that sits at the edges of his thoughts as he finds himself thinking of selima.

he hadn't been looking for a daughter then, but a father and daughter had ended up changing his life (death—?) entirely. it'd been hot and sticky, and he'd been hot and sticky, but it'd been something he'd done enough times for the unpleasantness of it all to be bone-deep familiar.

here and now, he's hot and sticky and clammy, heat having given way to a chill, but it's different. there's no desert, no sand finding its way into every crevice, and no unrelenting sun bearing down on him. no dehydration. no shivers, no headache. now, it's just the discomfort of sweat; then, it'd been blood and sweat combined, and for a long time, he'd never quite been sure if the voice he'd heard had been real, whether it'd been madness, or whether he'd just been delirious.

(marlene had certainly thought it delirium. jean-paul, too. marc, meanwhile, had placed all sense of and belief in self in a statue.)

"come to me and be reborn in my light."
"you will be mine. you will be my hands. my eyes. my vengeance. you will be my knight."

he remembers the words, but it's not what he hears now. home. is he? (isn't he?)

the sound of movement just behind him doesn't go unnoticed, but he does little more than turn his head an almost imperceptible amount. it's not because he assumes there's no danger, it's not even arrogance or ego, it's simply because it holds more of his attention.

it doesn't occur to him, not yet, that it could be someone he knows, and he certainly doesn't wonder why they'd stopped — the same reason he had, oddly drawn in? or because they'd noticed his (still blindingly bright) orange bike? )

—She could be in here, ( he murmurs, seemingly apropos nothing, tone caught somewhere between soft and gruff, as if he's caught between knowing why he's here and having quite entirely forgotten.

and that's it, that's all he says as he walks towards the gate, barely hesitating as the stone gate lifts. )

rowena macleod ★ supernatural

[magike]

( plotting comment! starters below, a mixture of open and closed. pm or message skitties for anything else! )

★ OPEN | MALL SHOPPING

[magike]

( if there's an option to go to a mall, then rowena's taking it. it might be abandoned, it might not be the most inviting of places, but the stores near the motels are pretty dismal. it makes the lights being on in the building more hopeful than she'd expected. though rowena takes a moment to make sure that the frozen "bodies" aren't about to start moving, it doesn't take her long to walk to the first store.

clothes are her goal, honestly. though rowena will check out other stores later (books, stationery, anything potentially that interests her), it starts with finding more quality things to wear first.

so when she finds a clothing store that suits her requirements, she takes her time walking around it, examining both what is on the mannequins and the hangers.

when someone walks by her, there's a dress in her hands, lighter blue in colour. she loves the style but not the colour )

Do you think they ever had this in some other colour?

( she could just enchant the colour to her preference )

Jonathan Strange | Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell

[kingsroads]

( open and closed starters in comments!! )

let's go to the mall everybody!!! | open

[kingsroads]

[ This entire mall is confusing. Oh, Strange can understand the basic concept. It's an arcade, a promenade full of stores, though fully enclosed so they don't have to grapple with the elements. What confuses him are the contents. Some of this clothing...it certainly is something. Why the devil would you have gloves with the fingers cut off? And so many of these clothes looked and felt too big. He wants something close to his size, not this oversized nonsense!

Still, Strange has managed to find a few clothing items of interest. The bucket hat clashes horribly with his dirty and slightly beat-up Regency attire, but it does a marvelous job keeping the sun off of his face so he shan't complain. He's shoved the few items he's found in an Abercrombie and Fitch bag, sitting at his side, as Strange investigates a new device: the Walkman. ]

I know these things are supposed to go over my head, [ he muses, as he gestures to the Walkman's headphones. ] But surely there must be a way to play the music for everyone? Is it in one of those devices that don't work? [ said as he gestures to the cosmic-touched boomboxes.

The Walkman, for what it's worth, is playing it's contents at full volume, slightly audible through the headphones, an objectively buckwild accompaniment for the thread. ]

dr. stephen strange (supreme) | what if...? / mcu | ota

[elriche]

I ✦ Mall Rats

[ As promised, a post from Bjurstrom pops up on the mobile-friendly forum with all the pixelated elegance expected of the early 2000's. A girl has gone missing and the Storm Chasers need help finding her. It will be dangerous – who knows what's out there.

Answers, Stephen thinks, and he leaves that night.

The hours on the road pass by in uneasy silence, punctuated by the intermittent burst of a song on the radio, or cracks of lightning in the distance. An ethereal morning glow signs the break of dawn as Stephen pulls over and steps out, squints at the boxy concrete structure jutting out of the landscape, complete with bright retro signs for brands long dead. The sun crests over it, glinting in the hundred windshields of the cars dotting the parking lot, which merges like a Salvador Dali puddle into the road in front of him.

It doesn't take long for him to find a spot for his beat-up Volvo station wagon, and even less time to step through the functioning automatic doors into the mall's atrium. His astral eyes see the dark figures before his vision does – packets of spacetime decayed beyond their eons, so quickly that these people couldn't have known what hit them. Stephen's cosmic senses flex outward, take in the length of the open hall, the shops throughout the levels. An entire complex full of humans – gone. Touched by something old and dark.

Something whose power still lingers, weaved through their molecules like radioactive dust.

Movement in the corner of his eye. Maybe it's you, as you step closer to one of the dark silhouettes. Maybe you turn away from the shadow figure with a healthy instinct for self-preservation, or maybe your curiosity gets the best of you, and you reach for the arm of someone frozen in time. Maybe you manage to touch it, or maybe not – either way, the man in a dramatic cape flourishes his hand and you feel a wave of force push you away from it. ]

Get away from them, [ the man calls out, urgent, as he marches toward you. ] They're long dead and I don't want anyone to join them.

II ✦ Distracted Driving

[ You're heading through Quadrant 1 when you see it. Headlamps approaching from the opposite direction, likely leaving the site of the mall anomaly you're intending to investigate. Seems to be the standard vehicle of another fluxdrift, a common sight across the flatlands of the diffusion zones – although the windows and windshield appear unnaturally dark under the midday sun. Either way, you make appropriate space, maybe flash your headlights, and continue on your way.

Until the car veers violently. Maybe toward you, or maybe toward the barren wastes, then screeches to a halt so sudden and precise that some outside force must have assisted its old brakes. In either case, it's a narrow miss, and the driver's door slams open as it comes to a full stop.

A man stumbles out as dust and smoke billow upwards from the tires, presses a fist to the top of the station wagon. If you choose to pull over, you might notice a strange quality to the way he's hunched over the roof of the car, like dark tendrils are emanating from him, writhing around the vehicle, finding purchase around its windows and doors.

Then you get closer. He turns, and the darkness must have been a trick of the eye. Before you ask him anything, you see the mannequin in the passenger's seat, slumped over like a corpse.

The man continues to gasp for air amongst the kicked-up dirt. ]

III ✦ Test of Faith | Heretic

[ After the third time he tosses the mannequin to the side of the road, he decides – okay, fine, maybe it's time for a break. Maybe the damn thing can stay in the car if that's what it wants.

In truth, he's also intrigued by the structure of this place – a temple? Whatever it is, it's weird, which makes it a welcome change to the more grounded environments of the resort and mall. Not that Stephen thinks this place is native to the diffusion zones – very little probably is – but it's still another data point. A subject of exploration.

He studies the sigils as he nears the gates, commits them to memory. Even as he approaches the temple, he feels the whispers meant for beings less perceptive than him, meets them with invisible tendrils of cosmic comprehension to probe their source and quality. They quiet, but only just – only in a column around him – and reply in turn with astral barriers that feel cold to the touch. Smooth, impenetrable, just like the walls now towering around him.

He takes in the entrance hall – furnished, candle-lit, oddly homey if not for the fact that some alien idol is leering down at him. He leans down, snatches an apple off the table, levitates it over his palm as he studies its patterns and pores. Takes a bite, swallows. Seems real. Huh.

He glances down the hall. Your footsteps echo toward him as you return from your own exploration, or the comfortable room you've claimed – or maybe some other luxury this place has presented. Regardless of which, he twists his mouth up into a smile. ] Honeycrisp. Guess this elder god has standards.

IV ✦ People Are Strange

[ Stephen grits his teeth, digs his nails through fabric into his chest. Unlike many others affected by the rogue "hitchhikers," the effects of his particular doppelgänger have been invisible on his skin but perceptible in other ways – crinkles and cracks within his spine, stiffness in his gut, as if some portion of the bodies inside him are changing, solidifying, shifting from dense organic mass to something more artificial – less malleable.

He staggers toward you on the street corner, a gaunt man in a strange cape, looking like death – dark circles more pronounced and skin more ashen than usual. ] Hey, [ he gets out, as he grabs the nearby traffic light pole for purchase, ] you seen a guy in a red cape around here?

[ He looks like me, are the words he doesn't say, like the man I used to be. ]

V ✦ Surgical Precision

[ Maybe you're on your way to Saint Margery's Hospital or the Pavilion Medical Clinic – or en route to somewhere else entirely – when you collapse to the ground. Either way, you find yourself immobilized, propped up against the concrete building beside you – either because your leg stopped working on account of the synthetic polymers now making up your joints, or because you're clutching the stretch of skin along your arm or fingers where plastic strands meet flesh and turn your nerves to pure, burning agony.

Something sparks in the air nearby, outside your peripheral vision. Steps approach on the sidewalk and a shadow looms over you – larger and darker than should belong to a human.

Except then the owner of the shadow crouches down, and it's just a man in casual wear that would look oddly new – if not for the blood spattered over its sleeves and pants. ]

Hey, [ he says, forcefully, as a doctor might, as he reaches for your shoulder and grips it gently. ] How you doing? Where's the pain coming from?

[ Given the severity of this particular cosmic storm, sounds like you aren't today's first patient. ]

VI ✦ Wildcard / Planned

[ Feel free to riff off any angle in these prompts if the prescribed hooks aren't grabbing you! If you've got any other ideas for scenarios, feel free to hit me up @ LaCidiana, Discord @ LaCidiana, or PM this journal! ]

IV

[unsunder]

[ Well, this is certainly a much less dramatic entrance than the last time Emet-Selch saw Stephen. Gone are the shadows and the swirling tendrils of something other, which sort of makes the cape sit a bit at odds with the man himself, looking much worse for wear.

Emet-Selch looks him over coolly for a moment, watching him lean on the light pole. The signal turns and the small throng of pedestrians move to cross, leaving the two of them more or less alone. ]

Pick up a new friend, did you?

[ He wouldn’t be the first Emet-Selch has seen. Likely not the last, either, but Stephen seems to be having a particularly difficult time. ]