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

hitchkers 🌌 open

[diametrically]

UNWANTED PASSENGER
" i always feel like somebody's watching me "

[ Admittedly the mannequin is more of a nuisance to Cassian than anything for him to be really concerned about. Is it weird? Sure. Annoying? Definitely. But aside from showing up in inconvenient places, Cassian is doing his best to take it in stride. Kind of.

Early attempts at trying to get rid of the damn thing all end in failure. Everything from heaving the mannequin off the roof his building into an alley, dismembering it and dropping it into various dumpsters across Panorama, running it over with his car (several times), pinning it under several pounds of pallets - it doesn't really matter what he tries because it all results with the mannequin coming back. Maybe it's one of these attempts that you stumble upon Cassian.

Eventually his hitchiker's constant attempt at jumpscares is making Cassian look like the world's most tired man. Eventually the sudden appearance of his hitchhiker wears off resulting in him reacting rather calmly when it appears in the cooler he's trying to shop from. Maybe you catch him staring tiredly at it before proceeding to play a game of, "You go left, I'll go right, no your other right" (except the mannequin matches his every move making his attempt at getting at his item impossible).

Or maybe you catch him one early morning in a diner calmly pulling his blaster on the mannequin that's suddenly appeared in front of him, shooting it point blank in the head before returning calmly to his coffee. Clearly he's handling this turn of events just fine. ]

TRADING PLACES
" you're seeing doubles / you're just the same as them "

[ The changes are gradual. He only begins to notice the stiffness in his joints a couple of days after the blaster in the diner incident but chalks it up to a rough day at the shop crawling under cars and maybe bending down funny to pick something up. It's nothing a little off-brand Salonpas can't fix. But then his right elbow begins to squeak. His pinky is suddenly shiny and smooth. And then his hair looks like he's put a tub's worth of gel in it and used a lot of hairspray (It's plastic. Like Lego). But it's not even his body parts turning into plastic (which is not fantastic, in case you were wondering) that causes him the most concern. It's when he wakes up one day and realizes a memory or two is missing. Something he knows he should remember. A hollowness where something should have been.

That's when he finally caves and reaches out to someone. If you're a friend of his you might receive a text - which is strange considering it's him and he prefers to keep to him - but it's a text all the same. Whether he's mentioned the hitchhiker is up to you, but either way, he provides nearly zero context to his question. ]

Is anything weird happening to you?

[ And where his hitchhiker during all of this you may ask? Pretending to be the suave, charming thief that he used to be, of course. There are some instances in which it works - but there are others where it definitely doesn't. Either way, it'll always try to do its best to convince you to lend him a couple of joolies with the promise that he's good for it and that he'll pay you back. (And why wouldn't you believe him when he has such great hair?) It's also entirely possible that it's just decided to try it's hand at stealing. Is that your wallet? Not anymore. And if you happen to confront Cassian about it, he probably won't have any idea what you're talking about. ]

RELATED INCIDENTS
" it's quicker and easier to eat your young "

[ Turning into plastic isn’t ideal (less than, actually). Neither is all the trouble that his hitchhiker is gleefully getting him in. But what he has the biggest issue with is the fact that it’s somehow gotten ahold of memories. Memories that are his and remnants of a life gone by that he can never return to – even if he does find a way back to his galaxy. Memories of people that are no longer here, of people that he’s lost through fault of his own or because of a system he rails against.

That, it seems, is more than enough to spur him into action. Thankfully there’s enough leads to help guide him on his path to getting a hold of his stolen memories.

Returning the hitchhiker back to where it came from is the first thing that comes to mind. But tracking down his mannequin is easier said than done, particularly when it seems to have inherited a stubborn streak and an inability to stay put in one place. He might ask for some help tracking it down or you might encounter him in the process of wrestling his hitchhiker into the trunk of his car. If you continue to stand there, he might catch you out of the corner of his eye and grunt out a - ]

A little help?

[ But maybe his hitchhiker manages to escape and driving out back to where he'd found it isn't an option. And if that's the case, setting it on fire seems like the next best thing. How he manages to wrangle you into helping him is up to you, but if the set of his jaw is any indication as he unearths a box of matches, he's certain about his decision. ]

related incidents because i'm here to make things Worse

[catharses]

I would rather you not choose that option, actually.

[ The matches do make it clear what choice is waiting to be made (or already made, as it is). Aside from what's already said, anyway, and under any other circumstances it would be tempting to blend those words with The Harmony to make it impossible for any match strikes to follow. For good measure, Sunday frowns just to really make his feelings on that known while making absolutely no attempt to take the offered box.

Then again, perhaps he should not tempt fate since using it seems to draw his own mannequin closer. It's not around him currently as far as he's aware - and Sunday's unsure if that's better or worse given the possibilities of what it might be up to - though the lack of resonance in general is unnerving enough he doesn't reach to try to find the silence which shouldn't be there.

Back to the actual problem: imminent fire. ]

You don't know that the fire won't harm you, and I won't take those from you. There has to be a better method than this.

if it's not worse i don't want it

[diametrically]

[ Unfortunately for Sunday Cassian's been on the receiving end of plenty of frowns in his life. They haven't deterred him yet and it isn't likely to start now. Not when he's already set his mind to it and is ready to be done with this entire ordeal.

His outstretched arm doesn't budge. ]

That's what the blanket is for.

[ And despite being said dryly, it's said like it's the most obvious thing in the world. This is only made more obvious as he motions (with the box of matches because the rattle is the emphasis) towards his open trunk. Is that a fire blanket? No. But it's a blanket and at least it's something that he can just toss in the bin if it goes up in flames.

After another beat of silence however Cassian lets out an annoyed breath. ]

What other method would you suggest then?

[catharses]

Is this blanket somehow more fireproof than it appears?

[ Said in a tone somehow exponentially unimpressed than seconds ago as he looks to the blanket in question again; as far as Sunday can tell, it looks like an average blanket. Possibly the same material as the one on his bed back in his room, and if so then it seems like it would burst into flame at the first opportunity to do so around fire.

He catches the sound of annoyance but regards it just as impassively as before with no signs of it moving him any. They're equally matched in stubbornness there since while the matches continue to be held out Sunday continues to not take them. ]

What exactly are you hoping to accomplish? That would give me a better idea of where to start.

[ The fire itself is rather self-explanatory, but also: it does not account for whatever the aftermath to it may be. It seems like no guarantee to Sunday that it will end well - for Cassian in particular since he can't pretend to care about the mannequin's state of being.

There are other options beyond going back and forth about the matches, but clarifying that first would help selection what will (hopefully) work best. ]

[diametrically]

[ It's amazing how much can be conveyed with a mere look. Said look in this case is completely flat and devoid of anything remotely close to pleading like others might be inclined to do if they were trying to convince someone of something. Unfortunately Cassian isn't really the sort, so dry impatience will have to do instead.

(But to answer his question, no. The blanket definitely isn't fireproof. It'll probably combust at the first strike of a match even if it isn't touching it. Happy, Sunday?) ]

Get rid of my hitchhiker. Nothing else has worked so far and sometimes rumours hold enough truth to them to try.

[catharses]

Surely you have heard the other part to the rumor which is less a guess and more an actuality for those who were injured.

[ The severity has not lessened!! But: despite that, the other man's words have softened him somewhat. Incrementally so and in degrees, the first of which surfaces in which Sunday takes the matches - not without an attempt at some stern eye contact as in the same motion he puts them into a pocket of his tailcoat with zero hesitation - and then sighs in what also isn't surrender but further thought. ]

Either way, it sounds like your actual goal is separation. If that's the case, I might be able to attempt something. It was more recently used for unification but there is no reason it should not work in reverse.

[ Or here's hoping, anyway! ]

unwanted passenger (ish)

[heritors]

[ They're at a convenience store. The mannequin's popped up behind Cassian, and he's turned around to shoot it right in the head before going back to comparing different instant noodle packets or something. Just another day that ends in a y, probably.

... Except the pile of humanoid plastic beings to shamble back up, completely silent, unfazed by the smoking hole in its head. Once it's upright, it's making its way toward Cassian again, arms raised above its shoulders and —

The head's sliced off cleanly at the neck, a dull thunk reverberating in the aisle when it hits the floor. The mannequin collapses back on the floor again. Lucina meets eyes with Cassian the moment she points her sword back down on the ground, and freezes.

A pause, then: ] It looked like it was about to attack you. [ Hi. ]

[diametrically]

[ Typically when he's shot something or someone with his blaster said something or someone is usually down and out for the count. It's not particularly common for something's or someone's to get up again even if it's a droid. But this is not his galaxy, nothing here is exactly his definition of normal, and the mannequin is not just any old inanimate object.

Despite that, he's well acquainted now with its irritating plastic squeak and he's about to raise his blaster again when the sound of something slicing through plastic and a dull thud of something hitting the floor is enough to give him pause. Good thing too. He'd nearly shot Lucina who is definitely not a mannequin.

Of course this now means that they're left staring at one another in the aisle with his blaster raised somewhere around her forehead while clutching a bag of instant noodles with a chicken that has flames coming out of its beak ("EXTRA SPICY!") in the other. Hm. This doesn't look good, does it? Immediately he holsters his weapon, awkwardly clearing his throat. ]

Thanks. It's been trying. [ There's a quick scan of the area around them, clearly looking for hers (or to see if she has one) before - ] Do we have to worry about yours?

[heritors]

[ It's fine, she gets it. What's a little weapon-pointing between friends? It'd sort of look like she was sneaking up on him with a giant sword if there wasn't a pile of plastic body parts between them; so said sword gets sheathed the same time the blaster gets holstered, her hands now weapon-free the next time she looks up. ]

I don't believe so. Mine seems more keen on trying to... startle me. [ You know: the smooth off-white glinting at the end of a dark alleyway, there-and-gone in the crowd when she least expects it. She's whipped around at the sound of something behind her to only find nothing there. ] But it's never tried to get close.

[ ( For now. ) She looks down at his hitchhiker. ] Has it been bothering you for a while?

[diametrically]

[ Exactly. Can you really say you're friends if you haven't accidentally pointed a weapon at them before? ]

You don't seem like the type that would startle easily.

[ And he means that as a compliment. Someone with a steady hand to wield her weapon the way she does sort of needs that quality. The type to buy trinkets that claim to ward off something or other though...Well. That's okay. He talked her out of some the first time and hopefully it would be the last.

His gaze follows her down and he nudges his boot not-so-gently against the mannequin to get it out of the way as he drops his instant noodles in his basket. ]

Since I got back from the mall looking for that missing girl. Though the attacking is new.

[ That he's picked up a hitchhiker is a small price to pay for the girl being found safe and sound. Mostly. ]

[heritors]

[ A brief quirk her lips into an almost smile, a tiny tilt of her head. ] Thank you.

[ It's taken as a compliment — but it's hard to say if she's happy about that. Maybe she should be more afraid of a mannequins sudden appearance when she least expects it. Who's to say what the proper reaction is; she's lived through corpses coming back to life. This isn't... that far off, in some ways.

That's neither here or there. So— ] Mine as well. I didn't notice it immediately after my return, however— [ She glances down at the packet of noodles. ] Ah. A moment.

[ She walks back the way she came from to pick up an empty basket of her own. The original purpose was to grocery shop until she was rudely interrupted ( or he was almost interrupted, same difference ), and the mannequin's gone now, so... ] I suspect it was one of the trips that brought them here.

[diametrically]

[ Afraid isn't the word Cassian would use to describe how he feels about them. Creeped out at first, perhaps. Maybe a little unsettled. But now? Annoyance can be a strong emotion. Strong enough to blot out any sort of discomfort that may come with inanimate entities following you around and trying to attack him for no reason that he could fathom.

Which is why pulling out a blaster in a diner or a sword in a grocery store is something he'd heartily support by means of self-defense.

He watches her gaze go towards his basket before watching silently as she wanders off. But as per her request, he doesn't move. Some of that does have to do with making sure that his hitchhiker doesn't try to get back up again. Upon her return he begins to move down the aisle again of sparse dried goods. ]

You took more than one trip out there? [ The question is less judgemental than it is curios. ] Did you find anything?

[heritors]

[ His first question nets him a nod, her eyes darting over to him, then the mannequin, before it returns to the shelf. There's exactly one more package of instant noodles she doesn't hesitate to put in her basket. ( Which, as an aside, are absolute marvels; quick to cook and filling enough despite the deceptively small packaging. When will the wonders cease? ) ]

Circumstances required it. [ Or in other words: she was supposed to go to the mall the first time around, except she stopped by the temple and got brainwashed into taking care of an egg for a night or two. But saying any of this out loud feels ... inappropriate. They just started grocery shopping after absolutely destroying a mannequin, surely they can be normal for like five more minutes. ] I was far from the first to visit, but it was still well-stocked — I found it to be worthwhile. [ +1 Hitchhiker or otherwise. ] I hope your search was fruitful as well?

trading places

[churnback]

[ In contrast, nothing actually weird has been happening to Amos, but — around him? Sure. Plenty. Outside of the whole 'everything's a little weird' — shit has ramped up lately. What, he's not entirely sure of yet, it's just...odd. People actin' funny, funnier than usual. Sure, he hasn't been here long, but at least with some he's been around more regularly now, he feels like he's got a general sense of how they are, what to expect.

So he's — surprised by the text, but also not. Kinda. Not in a way he could explain.

He also offers little in the way of context or explanation as he responds. He skips over answering the question (is that answer enough?) — which is a no for him — goes right to the point. Which, to him, seems to be, that something weird is happening to Cassian, so, might as well ask. ]

What kind of weird?

[diametrically]

[ The lack of response is a response in and of itself. And despite his predicament, he can't help but feel a little prickle of relief at the knowledge that Amos seems to be escaping unscathed. Cassian wishes that he had that type of luck. But no, apparently his luck only decides to come into play when it feels like it. Figures.

Anyway. Could he have waited to ask Amos in person during their next shift? Probably. But even a shop where there's the constant hum of drills and motors running to drown out a quiet conversation, it isn't exactly private.

Amos' question volleyed back to him gives him pause. How much does he need to admit all at once? If at all? ]

There's been something following me since I went to that mall out in the diffusion zone.
And it's causing...things to happen. To me.

[churnback]

[ Causing things to happen to me feels like a wide spectrum. For a minute, he thinks back to their last shift; did he notice anything off? Yeah, a few things. At least one of those was pretty visible. ]

Like your hair being weird?

[ Hard to miss it, though he'd just figured it was some new thing maybe Cassian was trying out. Objectively, he feels like it's hard to deny that it didn't look good, and he has no qualms saying it, but at the same time, he wouldn't have judged it. A real, you do you attitude about it all. Now it's just — well, maybe it's actually part of everything that's happening to him. Maybe not.

But, he does take this seriously despite that. Enough to ask. ]

You get any kind of look at it yet, this thing?

[diametrically]

Hey. We said we wouldn't talk about my hair.

[ It probably isn't a stretch of Amos' imagination to see the absolutely flat look that accompanies Cassian's message. He's told himself that it doesn't really matter to him, and that it's less about the look than it is how weirdly difficult it is to do certain things like wear a hat or wash his hair (...which technically doesn't need washing now because the water just slides right off) - but. Okay, it kind of does matter. No one wants their hair to be plastic.

And though he's already fired off his message, Amos did ask him so it's only fair. ]

Yes and yes.
It was a mannequin until maybe a couple of days ago. Now it's starting to look like me.
Including the hair.

[churnback]

You said it.

[ Amos was — present for the conversation, that's about all he'll agree to. But yeah, he can absolutely picture the look on Cassian's face, which is all the more reason to rib him about it. At the same time, he's not overlooking the potential seriousness of it. If the situation was reversed, he'd be trying to think through a way out of this whole thing, a way to ditch the mannequin and reverse what's happening. Except, what even is happening right now? He may not have answers, but he won't just ignore him, either. ]

Like a shitty tagalong.

[ He'd seen some of those things in other spots, too, just. Weird shit on the way to the mall. ]

Alright.

[ This might seem to be the end of Amos replying. Some time passes after he texts that last lone word. Finally — ]

Can figure how this goes.

[ #helpful

But — give him a minute... ]

[diametrically]

[ ...He did say it. But it's still kriffing rude. 

Though if the positions were reversed, Cassian probably would have done the same to Amos. How else were coworkers meant to interact, if not to give each other a bit of a hard time? Funny how they're both thinking along similar lines. It certainly helps cut some of the seriousness of the situation. ] 

They're calling them hitchhikers.

[ When Amos doesn't respond Cass assumes that's the end of the conversation. He doesn't feel put out about it or even like he's left hanging in the lurch. He'd asked him a question and in a fashion similar to how he might approach a situation when it's just a coworker, he would have let it there because he's just a coworker and this isn't his problem to solve let alone worry about. At least that's what he'd like to think he would do.

So instead he (tries) to go about his day, combing through the forums for any other hint of a clue to fix his problem. ] 

related incidents + wildcard ;

[diplomatiste]

Yes, of course.

[ Alphinaud had been about to offer, once it became clear that the mannequin was not going to be tucked into the trunk quietly. There are some noticeable differences he can spot between the two men — as if they'd swapped certain characteristics (that hair looks strange, for one thing), and it fills his own heart with no small amount of fear because he'd recently picked up his very own hitchhiker, quite by mistake.

Now he grasps at the flailing feet, keeping them close together. The mannequin is strong when he tries to resist, but it's still made of plastic enough that Alphinaud remains stronger. He follows Cassian's lead, pushing the creature forward and into the trunk. ]

How long has it been?

[ ... since he'd picked up a hitchhiker. ]

[diametrically]

[ Sadly, the mannequin is just as a bristly as the man it takes after. Unfortunate, really for, Cassian. Plastic shouldn't have so much strength but apparently everything he knows is being quickly rewritten faster than he'd like to admit he's comprehending.

Feeling Alphinaud's hands wrapped around its feet only prompts the mannequin to kick out more. But thankfully with the pair of them working together, forcing it into the trunk a little easier than it had been on his own.

Unfortunately there's no telling how long it'll stay in the trunk. And it's drawing a lot of attention already. A stray hand lashes out, catching Cassian in the lip and he grunts, gripping the mannequin's wrist before twisting it back into the trunk. ]

Since I picked it up? Or how long have I been trying to track it down and wrestle it?

[diplomatiste]

Now that you've said as much, both I suppose.

[ While Alphinaud had been interested in the former question, the latter also opens up another thread to their conversation. ]

Would that I had a spell to force this creature asleep. But I don't know if such things work on ... synthetic materials.

[ But with the mannequin now firmly stuck into the trunk, however squirmy and wrestly it might be in its confines, it should be kept away from causing any trouble for a bit. At least until Cassian manages to do whatever it is he means to do with it.

That's ... another question he has in mind. ]

[diametrically]

[ Cassian opens his mouth to answer one way, only to find his brain stalling on what Alphinaud had just said. "A spell to force this creature asleep"? He might be sleep deprived to a certain extent himself, but not so much so that he wouldn't have misheard that particular phrase. 

He's heard enough first hand accounts of the different planets and galaxies that other fluxdrifters had been pulled from, but this is the first time that he's come across the concept of magic as a topic of conversation. And it's not that he's denying the fact that magic exists in some capacity in a different galaxy, it's that he's always been a non-believer of it in the context of his life. There is no "magic spell" that can magically fix bones and bruises, no "Force" that can mend that which is unseen. If someone were to call him a skeptic, he wouldn't deny that. But in the same breath, he'd also say he's a realist and sometimes all too pragmatic in his ways. Magic doesn't fit into that equation. 

But he isn't one for debating what Alphianud can or cannot do. Instead he offers - ] 

That would have come in handy. [ Before, ] A couple of weeks maybe. And longer than I would like. [ He has yet to actually close the trunk, but he can already see the mannequin trying to wrest itself from its bonds. ] It was trying to impersonate me. 

related incidents

[oomfies]

[ Violence is never an answer, right?

So why is wrangling these — whatever they are — so hard? Feels so weird and makes her chest feel tight and uncomfortable? Cassian's doppelganger has already run away and left. Lottie's is its own beast, trapped and effectively screaming inside her own locked car. Turns out having coworkers who tend to flip cars for a living has paid off, making the metal trap her vehicle is a little more effective at keeping it down and out when they take down her look-a-like first.

By the time they catch his, it is wrestling, wriggly and so unsettlingly tied at the foot of his trunk. The chase he gave was one that nearly triggered her asthma — Lottie is still breathing shakily as she stares down at the box of matches in the real Cassian's hands. Temple sweaty, lips a little chapped from her nose being clogged and breathing from her mouth. ]

..Are you sure this'll work?

[ Setting it on fire is the next best thing, and while that sounded like a good idea on paper, in practice she has hives. Is worried about what the hell will happen if this is a bad idea when she can't take anymore. ]

[diametrically]

[ That Lottie feels uncomfortable and uncertain Is completely normal. Far more normal than whatever it is Cassian is feeling, which is mostly a mixture of irritation and tiredness that he can't shake after this entire ordeal has dragged on longer than it should have. He should probably feel some sort of way considering how similar they all look now but if he gets caught up in the morality of this then the job will never get done. 

But that doesn't mean it won't be something he'll think about later once it's all said and done. ] 

No. 

[ Really reassuring, Cass. Sometimes being truthful isn't the best way to deal with situations.There are moments when he can lie for the sake of it. But he knows that there's no point in trying to sugar coat what they're about to do. And by that point, he'd tried everything to destroy the damn thing only to end up right at square one. ] 

But we won't know until we try. 

[ For the first time since they started this though he pauses, the hard expression in his gaze softening a touch as he takes her in as he says not unkindly - ]
 
If you don't want to do this, I can ask someone else.