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

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. ]

finally crawls in here, good lord

[frostfist]

[ He's had his fair share of "friend" and foe alike try to stab him in the back over the past decade or so, but never has it come from someone who knew him quite so well. Might as well have been him, some would say, the more the days passed and the more he started losing bits and pieces of himself. Not enough to permanently disable him but enough to make life inconvenient and difficult.

Such as right now, in the way he has to cough and clear his throat as if to fight for his voice back, and the slow deliberate movements of his arms and legs as he approaches. ]

Miss Arlecchino. [ Another clear of his throat. ] A pleasure to see you again. I appreciate you bringing that with you.

[ Said that cheerily pipes up again, remarking that it sure is nice to have someone come after him instead of leave him behind. Okay then. ]

[decussate]

[ "Miss Arlecchino" is a mouthful over "Knave," but he's free to call her whatever he wishes. (And according to the mannequin, he may or may not have abandonment issues, but Arlecchino truly does not care. Wriothesley is a grown-ass man.) ]

It was attempting to debauch my motorcycle. I only hope it didn't siphon your tastes along with your appearance.

[ She tosses the mannequin's legs to the ground, but holds onto the upper half for now. She eyes the state of Wriothesley, his awkward throat and stilted walk. She has her own thoughts about what should be done now, but she'll let him steer that conversation. His mannequin, his decision. ]

[frostfist]

[ Very well, he'll call her Madam Knave next time.

For now, he has bigger problems to deal with. A him-sized problem to deal with, more accurately, though he spares the briefest moment to sigh at Arlecchino. ]

Hey now, my tastes are just fine. Though I do hope your motorcycle came out of the incident unscathed.

[ What's wrong with a healthy dose of punk-goth? Which he hasn't even been dabbling into since arriving in Diadem, preferring to dress in more bland neutrals the slide into a crowd better. He isn't the Duke anymore; there's no need to dress like it.

Another clear of his throat. ]

Have you dealt with any of the mannequins before? [ Just probing the waters... ]

[decussate]

If you consider pink streamers and glitter glue unscathed, then I suppose it did.

[ If this had been one her small children's arts and crafts projects, as the result very much appeared to be, at least their extracurricular enrichment would have been a consolation prize. However, this was a grown-ass man(nequin), and knowing that is toxic. Punk-goth would have been better. But on to more important matters. ]

I've dealt with the mannequins, yes. My attempt to burn one pestering me caused quite the incident. [ So much screaming, and for what. ] I've also been fortunate enough to enlist the help of another burn my own.

[ She looks at him expectantly... ]

II.

[unsunder]

[ The concept of a mall is not entirely alien to Emet-Selch, but when one has lived as long as he has, there are not many things that are strange. The weird shadow figures are not usually a staple, however.

He’s been wisely keeping his distance, flitting around between stores to see what there is to see. Whatever world or era this place comes from has certainly made some… choices when it comes to fashion. He catches Wriothesley holding that shirt up and quirks a brow. ]

‘Tis not your color, I think. Any of them.

[ Why is it like that. ]

[frostfist]

[ Wriothesley looks over at the voice, and then up, and then up a smidge more. Mr. Emet-Selch, you are looking so handsome and also so tall? What's up with that.

But instead of being insulted by the disapproval of this mysterious stranger - it is certainly a unique shirt, even he can't deny that - he merely takes a second look at his monstrosity of choice. ]

Not even the red?

[ Sad. But he'll put it back onto the rack with a faux desolate sigh. ]

I don't suppose you have a better suggestion then?

[unsunder]

[ He’s got good genes.

Anyway, a shake of his head is all Wriothesley gets in answer to that. Not even the red, sorry buddy. As for the rest, Emet-Selch gives a lazy, long-limbed shrug. ]

Would that I did, but I’ve yet to find a shop that isn’t stocked with the most hideous clothes known to man. ‘Tis hard to believe people wore any of this.

[frostfist]

Well, you know what they say about fashion.

[ What do they say about fashion? The answer is: currently unknown, as Wriothesley completely fails to follow up on that cryptic statement and instead chooses to pull yet another shirt off the rack.

This one he holds up in front of Emet-Selch. ]

I don't know, I think this one would look good on you.

[unsunder]

And what is that?

[ Yeah, Wriothesley, what do they say about fashion?

Speaking of “what is that,” Emet-Selch eyes that new shirt like it personally offended him – which it sort of has. What the hells is he even looking at? ]

Absolutely not. ‘Twould be better served as fuel for the furnace than clothing.

how many more car prompts do you think we can do ( 1 )

[heritors]

[ She's far more used to traveling with others; so when a conversation over text messages eventually turns to the latest diffusion zones, they make plans to travel together. Her car's small, but it's at least a car that'll get them there, which is all they really need. She's a decent enough driver when the roads are easy. It's the perfect recipe for a peaceful, if uneventful ride.

Or it was supposed to be. ]

— Has it? [ She spares a glance from the open road ( which has been nothing but a straight line for the same twenty minutes the supposed song's been on repeat ), brows pinching together at the radio. As if on cue, the song comes to and end ... and starts again from the beginning. ]

... Perhaps we should change the channel? [ Maybe this station's just haunted. That must be it. ]

all of them if we believe

[frostfist]

[ Lucina really has been unfailingly helpful in so many ways ever since his arrival. She deserves a proper thanks once all this is said and done. Maybe a nice meal or a trinket for her room, wherever she's staying. Maybe they'll even get lucky and find something in one of the diffusion zones.

For now, they can worry about her radio. Hers is a good suggestion, and he nods his head and reaches out one hand. ]

Worth a try.

[ He twists the knob to change the channel. There's a brief burst of static before...you guessed it, the same song continues playing. ]

Huh. [ Moon's Radio's haunted. ]

ye oldes and their car adventures

[heritors]

[ She's been mostly sleeping in her car because having a real bed is weird after all these years, he should get her something for his dash. One of those lil solar-powered bobble head things.

Not that looking at it bobble will do anything for her ( definitely ) haunted radio... The same song starts again, and her frown deepens a fraction. ] Strange. [ ] It hadn't been doing that earlier, had it? [ Was she just focused on driving and hadn't noticed??? ]

I suppose it could be an effect of this area... [ Well, nothing to be done for it. It's not a bad song, just the same one, and whether it keeps playing or not will have no bearing on her driving. Except — now that she's noticed the song, she's pretty sure she's been past that cluster of trees already. ] Hmm. [ Her frown is even deeper, now. ]

[frostfist]

[ He's been so focused on the radio he hasn't noticed the (lack of) change in scenery. Though to be fair, after two hours worth of driving, everything starts to look the same. A bit more fidding with the old radio - changing the volume, (have you tried) turning the audio off and on - hasn't changed the song any, so eventually gives up. It's not a bad song so why not leave it?

But her deepening frown grabs his attention, and consequently his own deepens as well. ]

Something wrong?

[ Other than the apparent everything that is slowly going wrong. ]

help why did i just leave an empty set of brackets in that last tag

[heritors]

I'm not... sure. [ The entirety of the Diadem is very good at making her paranoid — which means every sense of wrong comes with its own healthy dose of skepticism. So Lucina leaves it at that for now, eyes darting to the side of the roads a little more frequently than usual.

Wriothesley's not kept in the dark for long, though. Barely a minute's passed before there's another 'hmm'. ] ... I think we just drove through this section of the road a moment ago.

Those trees — [ She tilts her head towards the trees on her side of the car, letting them pass by. ] I think it's the third time I've seen them? [ It's ending in a question because that shouldn't be possible, and she's not quite sure if she should believe her eyes at this point. Help. ]

iii

[longtooth]

[ Fern is starting to wish that she had never driven anywhere near this awful town.

It's the fog that had drawn her in first, as this sort of thick fog immediately brings to mind Barovia. And wouldn't it be possible for a small sliver of that cursed land to show up here as a diffusion zone? She doesn't actually know, but on the off chance that one of her other companions was here, she'd ventured into the town.

Only to witness the horrible effects of that searchlight and the massive, unseeable presence that reacts as soon as the light lands upon something. She watched a rodent get crushed, then another person, and she'd realized her best chance was to book it toward an abandoned house for shelter.

It's while she's trying to put together a plan of what to do next in order to get back to her motorcycle that the front door slams open. She races over from the dust-covered living area to see the cause of the ruckus, her dagger already drawn from its sheath (it could be a raider, after all), but then stops short when she sees who it is. ]

... Wriothesley.

[ Her companion in food sampling. Who would have thought they'd run into each other here? Fern heaves out a shaky sigh, relieved that he's shut the door tight behind him. ]

Are you all right?

[frostfist]

[ Wouldn't have been the first time someone's pointed something sharp and stabby his direction. (And highly likely it won't be the last.)

Still, he's grateful that when he turns around to the dull glint of metal that it belongs to a face he recognizes. ]

Miss Fern.

[ Yes, even in highly tense situations like these, he still defaults to his usual politeness, a slight strained smile on his face. Old habits die hard. The hands that had automatically risen in defense lower slightly, though they don't drop all the way back down. ]

I see you've also been caught in this unfortunate situation. [ Understatement of the year. ] But I'm fine, to answer your question. Still whole and hearty.

[ Unlike so many of the other victims out there. He glances towards the door behind him. Decides not to mosey to the nearest window just in case. ]

Have you been in here long?

[longtooth]

[ That politeness in the face of just about anything is something Fern has become accustomed to, between Adrian, Alden, and even Shump. For that reason, she can't really be bothered by it, and even finds herself briefly smiling as she returns the dagger to its sheath.

Yes, "unfortunate situation" is one way to put it. Fern looks toward the nearest window, shaded with some blinds, and as tempting as it would be to peer out and see the location of the light, she doesn't want to risk it. Especially now that it's not only herself she would potentially be endangering.

It does seem that the damage done by the owner of that light is all or nothing, so Wriothesley's answer makes sense. At his question, she shakes her head. ]

No more than a few minutes. I was just trying to decide what to do next. I think... our options are either to wait this out, or to see if we can route a path that might return us to our vehicles while remaining outside of the light's reach.

[ One is certainly the safer option, even if there's no telling when this light might let up. ]

[frostfist]

[ Both seem like not-great options, but given the severity of the situation outside, he'll take not great over dead. He may not have any major purpose here in Diadem but he still enjoys being alive. And he imagines Fern probably feels the same way. No one really enjoys being dead, after all. ]

Hmm...

[ He hums to himself as he surveys the small cabin. It's in good enough shape, albeit worn, and though it's furnished most of the adornments and smaller items appear to have been stolen or used. ]

We may not have enough supplies to last us depending on how long we'll need to wait. [ And he doesn't relish the idea of trying to make a run for it while tired and starving. ] Though it wouldn't hurt to wait and see if there's any sort of pattern in the light.

[ Other than just latching onto the first moving body. ]

ii

[argumentiste]

[ They don't have gigantic shopping malls in Eorzea either. Giant markets, certainly. But structures like these built solely for shopping? Definitely not. It's both awe inspiring and mildly unsettling all at once - thanks in part to the shadowy corpses that fill the liminal space.

Despite her curiosity being inherently piqued she's got enough street sense (and her brother's vehement insistence) to know that touching them probably isn't the best idea. But the curiosity is still there. And Alphinaud has wandered off in another direction so they can cover more ground. So...

The tall man holding up the loud shirt to his chest however is more than enough to draw her attention away from the shadow-y figures. Her eyes linger bemusedly on the pattern before settling back on him. ]

It certainly adds to the mystery of this place. And the unsettling air. [ And then - ] Are you planning on taking that?

[frostfist]

What, this?

[ Said with a wiggle of the shirt still dangling off its hanger. The bright colors add another touch of eerieness to the place, popping out almost garishly against the other monotone setting of ashen figures and off-white light filtering through.

He pauses a moment to take in the unusual features of the young woman before him, specifically the way the ends of her ears come to a point, but he offers her an easy smile nonetheless. It may be an uncommon feature, but it's nothing he hasn't seen before. ]

It's not anything worse than what I've worn before. [ Which means...? ] But if you have other suggestions, I'm all ears.

[ He'd be the first to admit that he's nowhere near any sort of fashion expert. ]

[argumentiste]

[ The ridiculous little wiggle earns a little snort from Alisaie despite herself. She can't help herself. There's something amusing about the juxtaposition between the built man and the eyesore of a t-shirt.

It's nearly enough to soften any offense at the very pointed pause as he took in her features. It wouldn't have been the first time. Since arriving, some fluxdrifters had been almost too comfortable with staring openly at she and Alphinaud's ears. Just because they seemed to be far and few, she couldn't have imagined that their appearances were so strange to warrant being rude. ]

Worse? [ If he isn't going to expand, she's going to ask. ] I find it hard to come up with anything that might be worse. But if that's a challenge, I'm sure I can find something in this place. There's no shortage of stores.

[frostfist]

[ Ah, caught by his own bad habit of not elaborating. The shirt goes back on the rack as he tips his head to one side, thoughtful. ]

I wore a dress once. Got a little cocky about a bet I made once and...well, things didn't turn out quite the way I planned.

[ Factually stated, without a hint of embarrassment in his voice. It's clear that his dignity hadn't taken too much of a hit throughout the whole ordeal. If she listens close, she might even be able to hear a thread of fondness running through. ]

Mind you, I'd prefer not to wear a dress again unless absolutely necessary so if you could choose something else for me, I'd be very appreciative.

iv ;

[diplomatiste]

I —

[ There has been no small number of odd happenings recently, perhaps due to the appearance of diffusion zones or because he is still trying to adjust to this strange city, deciphering the normal from the abnormal.

It's why he doesn't start too badly when he's grabbed by the arm and gestured to look in a specific direction. And while he doesn't see anything for himself, he believes that this man has.

Calmly, he asks: ]

Unfortunately, I didn't. What did you see?