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

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. ]

[churnback]

[ Amos gotten a better handle on driving, the jeep less of such a foreign thing to him. But, this still being a newer concept — driving, as opposed to just being a passenger on a ship in space — he's not the steadiest when a tremor hits, and he's pulled off a little ways into the field. Not much, but it's gonna be a pain dragging it out in a minute.

A minute, because not far from him, when he cuts the engine, he hears someone speaking, and he can't make out much, but they sound a little panicked. Ordinarily, this in itself wouldn't be enough to pull Amos forward. Whatever's going on, it's probably not his business. But the jeep's gonna take a minute to get out of this field, and maybe they help each other out, or something.

He grabs his own jacket from the back, puts it on, zips it up, heads out the short distance from the field to the road. He's not sure what he expected, but — a van in the road, some kind of plastic body, and a kid hunched near it, well...not that. Amos stays right where he is, but calls out — ]

You hurt?

[satanicpanics]

[ Eddie jumps about a mile high as someone calls out to him through the fog. He swears again, louder this time, kicking himself for feeling and behaving the way he does: like a coward, as usual.

He takes a deep breath and with a humorless chuckle, he calls back out: ]

Yeah, yeah. Totally cool, man.

[ No matter what he says, he’s not “totally cool”, or even halfway cool. It’s clear that no one is hurt. The “body” in the middle of the road is nothing but plastic, and Eddie doesn’t have a scratch on him. But his voice wavers, his heart is pounding with residual fear, and he feels like he just got run over by a semi.

Another beat of silence, another deep breath, and he calls out once more, attempting to steady his voice and inject some humor into the situation: ]

So, uh…why did the mannequin cross the road?

hitchhiker nonsense; ota

[satanicpanics]

A.

[ For all his disdain for conformity, Eddie is surely still a product of his time. Like any other young 80s adult, he sees a mall, he’s going to end up at said mall. He’d only gotten an opportunity to visit Starcourt once before it mysteriously burned down a month after opening, so he may as well live out his mall-going dreams now, this time free of mall rats and overpriced pretzels. This one is abandoned, sure, but it’s still standing.

You can find him:
★ Stocking up on tapes and CDs. Did you know he missed Metallica’s fourth album by two years? He’s definitely marveling over that, and not quietly either.
★ Scraping pennies out of the fountain. Hey, any wishes that were attached to them are null and void by now.
★ Gutting smaller electronics for parts.
★ Trying on an array of cheap rings to accompany his other cheap rings.

All the time, unaware of the crumpled plastic figure that’s following him, repairing itself slowly throughout the day. ]


B.

[ Eventually, he does catch on. In a parking lot, any parking lot, he approaches a fellow fluxdrifter and taps their shoulder. ]

Hey--do me a favor. Move out of the way, ‘kay?

[ He look frazzled, and his eyes don’t leave the horizon, where a mannequin stands. He climbs into his van, turns the key, and it’s full speed ahead. Hopefully his fellow traveller got out of the way in time, because he’s not stopping. He drives at full speed, and slams right into his mannequin, the same way he did when he first picked the thing up. Like Bella Swan if Edward weren’t there to save her from being crushed, you know?

He rolls down the window and calls back: ]

Think that took care of it? Or should I do it again?

B.

[godjr]

[ Jack is in a situation where the motorcycle is a problem. He has tried to tie the mannequin to him so he can drive back to the mall and leave it there, but it throws off his balance and he keeps crashing. And he's not supposed to crash his motorcycle anymore, it'll definitely break with the rough handling. So he's tried other things to try and handle it, but so far, it's all come up empty.

He's thinking about that when Eddie taps his shoulder, raising his eyebrows and then nodding respectfully. Of course he'll move. Eddie might be too distracted by attacking the mannequin to notice that Jack fully teleports out of the way rather than moves normally. He understands exactly what he's doing and why; a lot of people are a bit frazzled by them. ]

I'm not sure if it'll help. [ He admits. ] I fully disassembled Frank and he showed up the next day intact again.

[ Jack was relatively peaceful about it, he just hadn't been able to figure out whether it was cursed, so he thought that the easiest thing to do was to make it into parts. That didn't work out so well for him. For the first time, Frank managed to startle him after appearing again. ]

Have you tried sending it back to where it came from?

[satanicpanics]

[ Eddie absolutely misses that Jack teleports. All he knows is that he got out of the way quickly, and that’s all that matters by the time he revs his engine and shoots forward.

With a huff, he pulls his head back in the vehicle, masterfully backs his van up to the spot it was parked previously, then hops out to join Jack once more. He crosses his arms and glowers at the pile of plastic limbs, and begins to rack his brain for more options. Bullet? Doesn’t seem any more damaging than running it over. Lightsaber? Maybe if he could find one.

One thing’s for sure: he’s not looking forward to this thing healing itself and visiting him again tomorrow. It’s almost like it’s gaining sentience by the day. It seems more…human-like, though Eddie can’t put his finger on why. ]

What, like give it a lift back home? No, why would that—wait, wait, wait. [ He pauses to literally wave the previous topic away briefly. You're telling me that you named yours?

[godjr]

Yes, maybe it was curious and followed us, but now it can't go back home.

[ It's a naive idea of what these nefarious creatures might want, but it also could be true. Jack is absolutely the kind of creature himself who would follow someone out of curiosity and then get lost doing that. Luckily he can fly different places but at this point, the mannequins haven't gone full evil on them. They're just jump-scaring everyone and being weird. They should try most options, and bringing them back to a quadrant is one of them.

He turns his head to look at Eddie, his eyebrows furrowing. ]

Well, yes, I needed to call it something if it kept showing up. Frank just came to me.

[ Jack thought that made the most sense, but he often thinks in ways that sounds strange to everyone else around him, so he figures this is one of those times. He's other than human. ]

I tried many options that people from home do with cursed or possessed objects, but nothing's worked so far.

a

[argumentiste]

[ Malls don't exist in Eorzea. Open air markets, certainly. Individual store fronts, absolutely. But there's nothing quite like this. She'd probably be a little more in awe (and probably a little bit overwhelmed by the sheer scale) were it not for the unsettling shadows that occupy the space.

Having someone with her had certainly helped with that. So had coming here with a mission in mind. And while she's certainly still intent on trying to find this missing girl she's still a teenager (with elf ears) at the end of the day.

After picking out some clothes to fill out her very sparse wardrobe she's on her way back to meet with her brother when the music store catches her eye - along with the person inside of it who is neither young girl or shadow. It's how she ends up being looped into his very enthusiastic explanation of what she has to assume is his favourite band and looking mildly confused as a result. ]

Metallica? Does their music sound like metal? Or are the instruments they use entirely comprised of it? Is that why it's called that?

[satanicpanics]

[ Eddie whirls around from where he holds the tape in a death grip, like he’s ready to fight anyone who dares to try taking it from him before he can even give it a listen.

His eyes narrow suspiciously, but as he looks Alisaie over and takes in her questions, he comes to the conclusion that she’s not the type and lets down his guard just a bit. She clearly isn’t a fellow metalhead with an unhealthy obsession with music and sticky fingers. ]

Because. It's a cool name.

[ He actually doesn’t know why the band is called that…he feels like an awful fan, but man cannot read every metal magazine in the world in hopes of learning this information. ]

But, uh…yeah, you’re halfway there. There's no actual metal, but the type of music is called metal because the sound is heavier than rock music. You know—like metal.

[ Please don't make him explain why rock music is called rock music next... ]

It’s kind of just...flashy and loud and noisy—sort of like a really intense thunderstorm.

[argumentiste]

I never implied that it wasn't a cool name. That sort of music just doesn't sound anything similar to the music we have on the star I hail from. 

[ Luckily she isn't the sort to scoff at someone for not knowing something like the meaning of a name. His enthusiasm about them - regardless of his knowledge of the band lore or not - is evident in the way that he grips the tapes tight to him like she mug him. Eddie, what makes you think a practically 4'7" girl is going to mug you? Just because she's got a rapier strapped to her side doesn't mean that she's inclined to use it on him. Especially for a tape of a band she's never heard of before. And as if to prove that she holds both of her hands up to show that she was coming in peace. 

Unfortunately for him, she is going to ask about rock music next. ] 

So by your definition, is rock music meant to sound more akin to a landslide? 

a.

[seavere]

[ there's a strange boy in the fountain. well, everyone's strange to her lately, but anne caught sight of him earlier yelling about something metal and now he's diving for coins. she doesn't hear any running water, and he doesn't seem to be splashing... hm. maybe it's not a bad idea. it's free money. ]

[ she's liberated herself a cool leather jacket straight out of the 1990s, but otherwise she is still wearing her floppy pirate hat and other miscellaneous 18th century garb as she stands at a short distance away, almost looming in the doorway of some other abandoned shop. ]

It ain't got no water?

[satanicpanics]

[ It is free money! Eddie is a bit shocked he’s the only one he’s seen give it a second thought. In fact, he’s shocked that there’s anything left in here at all. He glances toward Anne and her frankly jut plain cool leather jacket/pirate hat combo as he shoves a handful of pennies into the pocket of his own leather jacket. He can’t and won’t judge; he refuses to move on from band t-shirts and ripped jeans, even if there is much nicer stuff for the taking in the mall. ]

You know, I’d say there’s a near zero risk of drowning.

[ He grins and loudly taps his foot against the bottom of the fountain, as if to convey the lack of splashing. Bone dry, not even a puddle; it’s clear that it’s been empty for some time. ]

At least, uh…[ He pauses to skim the empty fountain and do a few calculations in his head--or estimates, rather. ] Fifteen dollars in pennies left though. If you’re interested.

[seavere]

[ anne pushes off the wall and walks over to the fountain at his response, moving to confirm the lack of water - not that water's an issue for her anyway. coming to the edge of it, she peers into the fountain and the scattered coins across the tiles. ]

[ she hums. fifteen dollars... sure. whatever that means. coins are still valuable! ]

Most people ain't interested in sharing.

A.

[kidproof]

[ Welcome to team gutting smaller electronics for parts. Joel's got a small tote from the bookstore in the mall that says BOOKS ARE JUST WORD TACOS and it's filled to the brim with scraps, materials, and his haul. As well as a few personal commodities, like some old cassette tapes, and a worn-down copy of a bad joke book, 101 Puns, it's water-stained and warped, but even Joel's not immune to nostalgia.

Now, though, he's got his hands on an empty cash register and he's yanking the wiring with one hand to see which of them still hold a charge. ]

Wouldn't happen to have a pair of pliers, would you?

trading places; ota

[satanicpanics]

[ Eddie does what he can to ignore the mannequin, but it’s more than a little concerning when it begins to take after him. It’s no longer crumpled and cracked. It moves. In fact, he’s caught it making calls on his phone, stealing his jobs, and playing his guitar.

He heckles the mannequin, the mannequin heckles him. He flips the mannequin off, the mannequin flips him off. it’s a never ending cycle, but Eddie is handling it, just hoping that something will take fake-Eddie out and free him of his anxiety. Until the tip of the middle finger on his left hand grows stiff and shiny. Like plastic. ]

Yep. [ He grimaces, sucking in air between his teeth. ] Yeah…that’s gonna suck.

[ And to the first peson he sees: ]

Hey. You, uh…you think I should see someone about this?

wildcard; ota

[satanicpanics]

[ Surprise me, or hit me up for plotting! ]