soddersays | APRIL 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

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APRIL 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to April's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: ENCHANTMENT HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: Enchanted food, possible body horror, mild finger injuries, magic based mind control, rapid aging, possible death
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

YOU UNCULTURED SWINE

Pork is on sale!! Time to buy it up for all your family meals. It also means anything with pork in it in all of the restaurants is on special and super affordable for just about anyone. New arrivals can even get a free meal of bacon, sausage and eggs at the diner! Seeing all the low prices, you find yourself craving pork more than ever. But who doesn't love bacon, right? Maybe you had ham and pineapple pizza at Peter's or those delicious and mouthwatering pork dumplings at the Hot Pot. You could have cooked a nice pork loin with your friends and family for a large get together. Candied bacon is a real treat to munch on in the park!

You're cooking it yourself or getting it from the local restaurants, so nothing bad could happen with a little self-indulgence, right? Just about everyone has learned not to trust the food at a giant feast in Deerington, but short of the lunch and dinner menus at the diner, the restaurants and the grocery store have never done a Sleeper harm! At least, that's the way it's always been before. Two years is long enough to start taking things for granted.

Anyone who has any of the specials from the restaurants or who cooks any kind of pork related product at home will find that once they have finished their meal, they will slowly turn into... pigs. It seems to vary on how fast a single person turns, some moving slowly over the course of days while they eat more and more food, and others will turn into a full blown pig in a manner of minutes. At first you can still talk to others and display your usual personality in pig form, but the longer you stay a pig, the more boarish you'll become.

So how do you break the curse? Locals say there's a magic stream up on the mountain that will stop these kinds of enchantments, but you can't go alone. Someone will have to carry you up and sing to you while you drink. It might be a friend or a lover or a complete stranger, but whoever you can nudge into it will have to physically carry you in their arms up the side of the mountain looking for this stream. It can take a while— the walk is fairly long, a few hours at best, but you'll know it when you find it. The stream sparkles unnaturally in the sunlight and it seems like none of the animals are willing to drink from it's unnaturally cold waters. The moment you take a long sip while your companion sings whatever song pops into their head, you'll turn back into a human. Hopefully your clothes turn back with you.

If your character does not eat meat/pork, then they'll be safe from this event!

GOOD ENDURES

Mirror mirror on the wall...

The pork doesn't seem to be the only enchanted object around Deerington this month. There are several of them cropping up all over the place and each one has a different outcome for those unfortunate enough to run into them.

Spinning wheels seem to be in the most random of places. Some of them will even just appear in your house. Sometimes multiple spinning wheels show up. Anyone who gets to close will have the strong urge to prick their finger on the spindle, the needle very easily cutting the tip and making you bleed more than you might have expected. Hopefully you have a first aid kit around.

Anyone who pricks their finger will find that they are forced to follow the next person they see around everywhere. They'll follow them to work, to school, to the bathroom, to the kitchen, even to bed. It doesn't matter if it's someone you've never spoken to in your life, you will follow them like a lost duckling every hour of every day. It's enough to drive anyone bonkers.

Mirrors will also suddenly be being displayed in every home and every shop, even if you never had them before. It doesn't matter whether or not you have a reflection, any person who looks into the mirror will find that they are forced to imitate the next person they make eye contact with. This can be their personality, their posture, the way they speak, their basic movements— you'll start to become a total mirror image. If it goes on too long, you might even start to find the two of you start to look more and more alike...

Apples start to pop up in all the stores as well as in your fridges. They're bright red and look so delicious, you can't resist taking a bite. Even if you don't like apples or are normally allergic to them, you'll want to eat these, and you'll find they taste delicious and don't bring harm to anyone. At least... not at first.

A few hours after eating the apple, you'll start to notice differences in your appearance. Your hair has start to thin and become gray and limp, your skin is wrinkled and covered in spots, your hands become frail and shaky. You're aging, and rapidly at that. Before you know it, you've turned into a hideous hag, one that would frighten children in any fairy tale book. But how do you reverse it?

The cure for all three enchantments is to tell three facts about yourself. Even just introducing yourself will show improvement if it's to someone who never knew your name before. Those who ate the apples will have to seek someone out, but anyone who pricked their finger or looked in a mirror will specifically have to confess these three facts to the person they're enchanted to follow/imitate. Once three facts have been shared, you'll be able to leave, return to normal, and age back to your regular self.

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

Threaded | Flat

[Arrival]
[He had been back at the BPRD, surrounded by kittens and stew, with Liz in his room and talking about things. It had been fine. Things were going to get better. So when the hell did he fall asleep?]

Aw crap... [he hissed as he woke up, remembering a strange dream before that. Deer and a girl, and a need for help. Fuck. Just what he needed. Whisked off to another damn realm where he needed to do something to help. GREAT.]

[After finding the blessing basket and reading the note, he meandered outside, frowning. It wasn't exactly what he thought he was here for. Some one needed help but this seemed more... well, quaint and different.]

Better then other shit realms you've been stuck in. [he said to himself, lighting up a cigar, taking a huff and sighing out the smoke. Fine. Might as well start walking. Let's see what we find.]

[Uncultured Swine]
Mmm, Pork.

[he hummed as he passed yet another restaurant that was offering pig on the menu. There ws a sale going on at the market, and each restaurant seemed to have low cost pork meals on the menu as well.]

As much as I'd love to delve into a plate of pork, I got a bad feeling about this.

[he spoke to himself, chewing on his cigar and looking around the place. A street full of people, townsfolk, that didn't seem too upset with him being there. Some lurched back, but most just offered free samples or discount meals. that felt fishy to him. Then again most of the time when you go to another realm they wanted you to do something you shouldn't.]

[He felt like this was it.]

[Seeing someone half hanged into a pig made him wonder if he was right.] Hey, you alright?

[Network]
Lets get this out of the way early.

[the Video shows a large man, or, well, demon, with a red face and yellow eyes staring at you. he's got a cigar in his mouth, and a stern look on his face. Not at all pleased looking.]

I'm not here for ya soul. I don't want your soul. I'm not a demon, or, well I AM a demon but not one like that.

I want nothing ta do with this place, so tell me what my quest is, who wants the help, and send me on my way again. Yeah?

[Wildcard!]
[make your own]

[ ARRIVAL ]

It's not the first time he's woken up in unfamiliar surroundings alone, but it is the first time he's woken up in such tidy accommodations for it. Usually at the very least there are messy bedsheets, and no one's ever given him a selection of clothes before. At least no one's demanded anything demeaning of him yet, which is better than the last time he woke up like this without having the slightest clue what happened.

[ SPINNING WHEELS ]

Ganymede has the sense not to touch someone else's spinning wheel, at least: it isn't a skill he's ever particularly practiced, either, which is fortunate in that he has very little curiosity about them. They're simply objects, albeit the more of them he sees the more concerned about wherever he is he gets. It's been a long life, he's learned to recognize oddities rather well.

That said he's likely to stop you and question why on earth you're following him.

[ APPLES ]

Ganymede has had a long life. A very long life. Enough to make aging a...slightly less terrifying event. He's been eating the apple that had seemed to call at him rather steadily, until he pushes his hair back and finds it a solid gray, and his hands thinner, the skin less taut. He might be staring for quite a while, but look closer: his expression is not horror. It's fascination.

you uncultured swine—

[ for a town called deerington, there are certainly a lot more pigs around than deers. he seems to be spotting them left and right wherever he goes. did they get loose from a farm in the area? he isn't sure and, quite honestly, he doesn't care enough to check. it does, however, discourages him from eating any pork. he would have never thought a day would come when he'd be guilt-tripped by pigs, but it seems that's where he's currently at in life.

▪ DINER— he... is just going to order a plain omelet with some hash brown and toast. no bacon, thank you. he doesn't have the stomach for it, especially since another pig seems to have invaded the premises and it's staring at him intently with its beady little eyes. please stop staring at him.

▪ MOUNTAINS— don't ask him what's going on. he could tell you, but he doesn't want to. it definitely has something to do with the pig he is carrying over his shoulder though. why is he carrying a pig, you ask? well, best to ask the animal yourself. yes, that's right. he is carrying a talking pig. hey, maybe you're the pig in question or maybe you're only a curious bystander — either way, erik just wants to get this over with as quickly as possible. ]

good endures—

[ if he has any lingering doubts about being in a dream, all the strange occurrences with talking pigs and magical objects seem to be working hard to prove it to him. he still retains some skepticism, but he is almost very nearly sold. now, it mostly leaves him with the question of why he has been brought here.

but that can wait. after all, his life is rather unpredictable these days—

▪ SPINNING WHEELS— he is intent on destroying each and every single spinning wheel that crosses his path. why? excellent question! it seems like he is not only attracting pigs but regular human beings too. maybe you're one of them, maybe you're not. disregarding your involvement, he has at the very least figured out that the spinning wheels are responsible for a portion of his recent run of bad luck. so, either help him with his endeavor or try to persuade him to play a light-hearted game of facts.

▪ MIRRORS— this is ridiculous. he is adding mirrors to the list of items he needs to destroy on sight. whatever magic is at play here really needs to fuck off. he is getting more and more irritated by the day, especially when he finds himself either getting stuck mimicking someone's movements or being on the receiving end of it just because he accidentally sees his own reflection in a mirror. godspeed to anyone who wants to deal with his temper right now. ]

wildcard—

[ taken post-x-men: apocalypse, pre-dark phoenix. pm for any questions or ideas. feel free to play around with any of the prompts or just surprise me. ]

[i. ARRIVAL]

[ It's a jarring experience for anyone to wake up in a new place, but most people at least have the bonus of seeing the new place. Matt is - no pun intended - in the dark for a few solid moments when he comes to. He listens, of course. It's painfully obvious he's not in New York, that much is certain, even the smell is fresher. Saltier, as if there's a coast nearby.

But not New York.

A deep inhale tells Matt he's not as hurt as he should be. He feels around his body, and nothing is painful to the touch, nothing feels broken or blood soaked. Strange. But stranger things have happened. It takes a bit of searching before Matt finds his cane, he discovers the basket, he dutifully eats a couple of pieces of cheese.

Then, he's outside, and he chooses a direction to walk in.

Someone help the blind guy out? ]

[ii. SPINNING WHEELS]

[ It's the click click click that attracts his attention. Matt follows the sound, because he's never been good at thinking reasonably even though a part of him is saying it's a bad idea. The closer he gets and the louder the sound becomes, the more Matt wants to find the source.

He figures it out as his hand settles on the wheel. Matt gives it a spin, he feels the spokes move past his fingers. He follows the shape of it up the spindle, and he wonders: just how sharp is it?

It turns out, it's very sharp.

As he listens to the blood drop, some of it splatting on his shoe, the sound of footsteps nearby distracts him. Matt's head tilts, but it doesn't take him long to decide he wants to follow that person.

At first maybe it seems like chance that he's going the same way as you. How long will it take you to figure out he's actually following you? ]

[iii. NETWORK - voice; @ murdock]

Hi, everyone. Social media's never been one of my strong suits, but it seems like this is the easiest way to reach out to people, so bear with me if I seem like I don't know what I'm doing.

I'm Matt. If it's not obvious I just got here, and I'm hoping someone out there might want to play tour guide for me. Show me around the town and all that.

[iv. WILDCARD]

Choose your own adventure! Feel free to do whatever tickles your fancy, or hit me up at

blackspire.

Edited 2020-03-27 06:27 (UTC)

arrival;

( Whatever comes next, Elijah knows that he and Niklaus will face it together. Whether they face onslaughts of torment or find a settled peace, or whatever in between, they won't be alone. Together, always and forever. Before life started to slip from him, he'd surmised that they both may end up settling in a state of eternal sleep; the sensations of death may even be akin to being daggered.

What does come next sweeps all breath from him, holding him in a space that's like a tale of fantastical horror. It is, perhaps, the punishment they deserve.

Attempts at grasping how the throes of dying have played out flood over him when his eyes snap open. He's in a cottage, alone, interior dilapidated and foreign. He happens to have died in a suit, though, so he's able to leave that place with haste. Forest around him, his face remains hardened and unyielding as he examines what could have been an idyllic scene, if not for the must and decay tainting the air.

He walks, at human speed, stance guarded wholly because that's how he usually finds himself, especially over the course of the past few days. He gets several paces away from the house when he stops, glancing slightly up at absolutely nothing, listening out to try to pick up on anything noteworthy. About half a minute passes before he speaks, question thick in his tone, the single word purposeful. ) Niklaus?

( He hasn't heard a sound indicative of his brother being nearby. Are they in separate hells? Only one way to find out...

Elijah continues to walk, spotting a town just past the treeline. It gives him pause, but he makes no show of that. He comes out into the open and finally makes a dash at heightened speed, pointedly at what could be the main street of any small town in America. When he stops, he lets one hand slide into a pocket of his pants, eyes narrowing as he gives a full, pressing gaze around. ) Who knew the afterlife would be rife with quiet. I'd expected the torturing of souls. Brimstone. Imps. Not a space without anything glaringly...sinister. ( Talking to himself, naturally, and he just continues to stand there as he looks around.

All in all, he looks like he always would. Suit well-tailored, clean, ironed. His hair is neat, face shaven. He doesn't appear to be lacking in confidence, though he's undeniably stoic. He lets a quiet, resigned sigh slip from his lips as he swallows just so. Wherever the fates have taken him, he only hopes that Niklaus has found any semblance of peace. For all the darkness either of them have wrought, it's his younger brother's final deeds that really should matter most: Elijah isn't wholly surprised to be in what appears to be a bizarre purgatory, not after all he's done. He'd rather the outcome be different, but at least he'd had control over choosing to be there in those final moments of two far too long lives. Now, well, who knew what would transpire, truly. )

good endures;

spinning wheels

( Elijah explores his surroundings, likely a bit more informed about the whole of the situation he's in. He does absorb information quite well. One of the spinning wheels is the first jarring item he comes across. Or, he spots someone else pricking themselves upon its needle. The smell of blood fills his nostrils as he conjures up an expression of muted concern after making steps over to the person. ) Can I be of some assistance? It doesn't appear that this device remained gentle with you.

( He even offers a little smile, donning his suit and perfectly willing to sincerely provide aid. He's not familiar with what kind of consequences enchanted items may have, whoops. )

( ooc: please do feel free to pm me with any questions; also feel free to throw a wild card prompt at him! )

Edited 2020-03-27 12:52 (UTC)

YOU UNCULTURED SWINE (A)
[ A combination of factors, topped off with pure, dumb luck, is what saves Jeff from the pig curse. See, it's not that he's suspicious of all the pork, ham, and bacon being pushed front and center here. Back home, he'd probably accept a plate of bacon and eggs without a second thought. But there's nothing like waking up in some kind of living dream (nightmare?) world, separated from his kid, his home, his job, and everything he knows, to really turn a guy's stomach. Nothing greasy or meaty feels particularly appetizing right now.

Plus, it doesn't help that he's seen more than one person scurrying around looking kiiiiinda.... porcine. And that's not getting into the actual pigs he nearly tripped over while exploring the town. He could wear one of them even snorted out a bunch of curse words at him.

Which would be crazy! Because pigs can't talk! And if they could, Jeff was sure they'd be way too polite and sensitive to call him a clumsy cocksucker who needs to watch where he's friggin' going!

And it just so happens that some lucky person, whether Jeff's chatting them up on the street or in the diner, gets to hear him relay all of this back to them, in an increasingly anxious monologue. ]

--but rudeness of that one pig aside, there's no way I could eat any pork-product right now, you know? It's one thing to enjoy a slice of Hawaiian pizza back home (and I'll defend Hawaiian pizza as a totally legitimate and delicious combination of toppings 'til the day I die), but that's, you know, without any living, breathing, possibly-talking pigs and pig-people in the general vicinity! I just can't do it here under the current circumstances without feeling like a total dick! Like, what if some slice of ham is somebody's cousin? Sibling? Parent? Which I guess could be said about any piece of meat, anywhere... [ A beat. ] Huh. It really makes you think...

[ Quick, now's your chance to get a word in. ]

YOU UNCULTURED SWINE (B)
[ Okay. So the pigs aren't really pigs; they're people who've been put under a curse. Got it. Makes sense. And, according to the rumor mill, they need somebody to carry them up a mountain, to an enchanted stream, and sing them a song.

Really, it's a solution tailor-made for a bard. So Jeff considers it his duty to help. Really, it would be irresponsible not to use one of his only talents for the greater good.

So, here he is, escorting a talking pig up a mountain, in search of a magical stream. Whether the pig's the chatty sort or not, Jeff's going to pass the time with 1) a lot of talking or 2) a lot of cheerful singing. We're talking Walking on Sunshine. Like A Prayer. Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. Hooked on a Feeling. (Will his piggy companion add some oogachakas to the mix?) He's got a knack for un-self-conscious, embarrassing, totally earnest dorkiness that seems to come naturally to suburban dads. Chat along, sing along, protest, or endure in grouchy silence, the choice is yours.

At least, when it comes time to break the curse, he'll take requests. ]

GOOD ENDURES (SPINNING WHEEL)
[ It happens without any conscious action on his part. As soon as Jeff gets too close to one of the mysterious spinning wheels, it's like there isn't a single thought in his head. No doubt, no apprehension, no desire, even. Just the overwhelming impulse to reach out and touch it, his hand moving as if somebody else is pulling the strings.

It's only when the needle pricks his skin and draws blood that his head clears and his body's his again. ]

Ow!

[ Well. At least he didn't go all Sleeping Beauty. Jeff winces, frowning, and sucks on his finger on impulse. And, sure, maybe he starts walking, meandering around aimlessly, just to clear his head and shake some odd, unsettling feeling. It doesn't even occur to him that his seemingly thoughtless, random path just-so-happens to totally match some stranger's.

It's an absent-minded sort of stalking. There's no awareness to it, certainly no conscious intent. He doesn't even realize he's following this person, even if their path takes him to someplace he really shouldn't be. Even then, Jeff's just following with his head in the clouds, and the only thing that'll bring him back down to earth is a confrontation.

(Though, any initial accusation of stalking might just be met with confused blinking, and a totally eloquent: Huh?) ]

WILDCARD
[ CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Character info in the journal. You can hit me up at

weeyotch or weeyotch#8200 (discord) for any plotting. ]

Edited 2020-03-27 21:10 (UTC)

Apples

On a street corner somewhere in Deerington: A man juggles apples.

Dressed in a billowing coat, his man is wearing a mask, but it's an odd sort of mask because it looks like his face except with black holes where the eyes should be instead of normal eyes. He seems quite comfortable wearing it, and it doesn't seem to hinder his vision as he watches his apples float gracefully through the air.

"Apples are the perfect flying fruit. Aerodynamic, colorful, and never accidentally send a person into the future to force him to work as a waiter. Come up! Come 'round! Marvel if you like. I don't mind. It's your privilege and my honor."

At first it's a simple cascade, three apples in constant motion. He reverses the cascade, tosses one over the top, behind the back-- simple tricks but flashy enough to gain a spectator or two's attention. A passerby tosses him another apple which he adds to the shower... and then he gains a fifth. The tricks are starting to look more impressive now as the apples sail higher. "What I wouldn't give for a juggling partner. They're so hard to come by these days." He does a trick, then another, and never fumbles his toss.

"You there! Catch!" He knocks one apple out of sequence into the (un)suspecting hands of the person he calls to. Then another.

Once he's down the three, he begins to take bites of them as part of the trick. The mask doesn't hinder him.

After a few bites, he catches the apples, two in one hand and one in the other. He takes a deep bow, "Thank you. Thank you so kindly," regardless of the size of the crowd.

Mirrors

Valentine stares in the mirror in the shopfront window for a long time. It is so unlike the MirrorMask, but it holds his attention with the same raptness for quite a while.

He's not even looking at his face, hidden by his mask. He's simply caught up in the act of staring. Could these mirrors be exits like the charm was? If he stares, could it provide answers of some kind? The Very Useful Book had told him something about mirrors, but he hadn't been paying attention, so he found one and became entranced.

When he finally looks away, he sees a person passing. "Hello! Does this mirror seem unusual to you?" says the man in the mask.

► UNCULTURED SWINE

( she hasn't touched the meat. lilith had learned a long time ago to not trust much of what was in this town and suddenly returning here, realising that she'd forgotten even being here-- well, it was a dream.

but that's easy to forget as she walks through the town, people around her-- turning into pigs. it's almost like a spell, something even a novice witch could pull off but there's no lingering trail of it. so she sighs, looking at one of the closest pigs and then the nearest person to her )

I hope you didn't eat.

► GOOD ENDURES

( as distrusting as she typically is lilith's still a curious witch and when curious, unusual objects pop up all over town-- she gets close to one, hand running over the wood, trying to sense any sign of magic from it--

and even with her careful gestures she ends up pricking her finger. it's more an annoyance than painful, lilith sighing, bringing her hand back from it )

Just like the stories.

YOU UNCULTURED SWINE

[ Hours before this, Raven had eaten pork. Pork tenderloin with oven-baked carrots and mashed potatoes. The best meal she’s ever eaten in her life. But, with all good things, it always comes with a price.

And this price just so happened to be turning into a pig. A kind soul found her as more pig than human. Just enough time to know that Raven was in desperate need of help. They held her gently, cradling her almost and sang a little off-key up the mountain in search of this magical stream. Another hour and they had found it. ]

GOOD ENDURES

SPINNING WHEELS

[ She’s been following you, everywhere. Even when she tries to go in another direction, you two bump into each other. Raven’s explained a few times, that she can’t help and even accuses you of following her. ]

Listen, I’m going to stay here and you just go. Stop following me.

MIRRORS

[ Raven looks at her reflection, there’s nothing abnormal about her appearance. She’s not aging or turning into a pig.

Next to her is someone and whatever they are doing or saying, Raven mimics them, parroting back whatever they are saying. She pinches her lips together, unsure of what is happening. She’s not consciously wanting to copy the person next to her, but, for some reason, Raven is very compelled to annoy this person. ]

Hey, Pig. Yeaaaah, you...

Passing the diner, the unmistakable smell of pork sausages is painfully delicious. Jonothon has to stop and turn toward the open door, wishing for about the trillionth time that he was able to eat. He can't, lacking the necessary parts.

Something that, for once, was maybe a good thing; it isn't long before he notices something exceedingly strange happening to one of the customers leaving the restaurant. It's a bit like that scene in Willow, really, where the evil sorceress was turning everyone into...

~Pigs? Oh. Oh, uh, you alright, mate?~

Spinning Wheels.

It's not enough that he seems to have woken up in hell - that is, a small town somewhere in America - it seems the place also has some sort of hipster arts-and-crafts obsession. Why else would there be spinning wheels everywhere?

They are oddly magnetic. And he's never been particularly bright, so perhaps it isn't shocking that he gives in to the urge to reach out and touch...

~OW! BUGGER ME!~ The spindle has cut deep (not that that in itself is too concerning when you can't bleed to death) but it hurts like a mad bastard. Jono holds his hand to his chest and looks around, eyes falling on the nearest person around.

That is, you. Don't mind the creepy goth guy with half his face hidden following you around town?

Wildcard!

Anything you like! (Will match format!)

CWs:general themes for chris include underage smoking, alcoholism, child abuse, domestic violence.

spinning wheels: stop following me

(It was bad enough waking up in some new shitty Maine town, but to have some asshole following him around? At first Chris had figured it was some sort of bad coincidence. He was minding his own damn business, hands shoved in his pockets, cigarette dangling out of his mouth and steadily smoking, keeping to himself as he tried to figure out what was going on. Then he started to realize that the feet following him sounded the same, the reflections in the store windows never changing, and after about five minutes, he knew he was being followed.

It sent a shot of hot insecurity straight down to his gut. He had people harassing him all the time in Castle Rock, and some part of him wondered how in the hell the Chambers name managed to make it out to bumfuck nowhere. It had him stopping at last, spinning on his heel, and staring down whoever was following him.)

Listen, if you gotta problem with me, let's get this over with now.

(Chris didn't like to resort to violence, and his posture was still mostly relaxed, but it was clear by the tight set of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders that he was prepared for violence. And that he was prepared to throw some fists if he had to.)

mirrors: simon says

(Chris wasn't a vain person. But when he walked by one of the body-length mirrors in one of the store windows, he does stop to give himself a hard, critical look. It's not the look of someone trying to see if they looked good or not, but instead the look of someone trying to figure something out. He bends forward to gingerly touch his fingers to the edge of his cheek where there was a fading bruise. Just about gone now. He didn't like the idea of showing up in a new town wearing his pop's handiwork.

After that, he doesn't really think much about it. But then he's making eye contact with some rando on the street, and he's feeling this gut-instinct pull. Chris's body shifts into a different posture, and he doesn't even realize he does it himself. He just moves. And then when the person he's looking at does something, he's doing it too, and he can't really figure out why. It felt like some hokey kids game, only he couldn't remember the last time he played something like this, and his face scrunches up in uncomfortable confusion.)

Stop moving. (Is he saying it to himself or you? Who knows.)

wildcard

pick any of the prompts/make a starter of your own! i'm down for whatever.

Edited 2020-03-29 00:34 (UTC)

i. Arrival;
[ She's been around long enough to get the hang(ish) of things. This place sure as hell isn't New York City, but at the very least she actually sort of fits, fashion wise. After claiming the house she woke up in--and it'd had been strange, not hearing Zelda prattle about, making her family breakfast--and spending the better part of half of the getting oriented and letting the fact that she was in a completely different place sink in, she's ready to take on Deerington properly.

First thing's first, though: she's got to humour whatever weird dream this is, and the device she's been given is obviously important, so it's time to shuffle onto the porch of the quaint little house and spot someone looking just as out of place as her walking to God-Knows-Where. ]

Heya! [ It's cheery and pleasant: Midge is dressed to the nines (she'd rather die than leave the house looking nothing less than a proper lady) and she lifts a hand to flag them down like one would a taxi. If they stop she'll meet them on the sidewalk, Fluid in hand. ]

Please tell me you're not busy. I have no idea how to use this. [ She's got a distinct New York accent, heavily rushed but properly enunciated--people familiar with it can easily pin her down to the borough of Manhattan, if they're sharp. ] I actually have no real idea where I am. I know who I am, at least, which I suppose isn't a very promising thing to say, but what can you.

[ Somehow, she's managed to say all of that in 15 seconds or less without stuttering or swallowing a single word. ]

ii. Spinning Wheels;
[ She may not like it, but she's here, and because she's still incredibly in denial that she'll never see her kids or family or friends, she's decided to keep as busy as possible. This means walks, both because it keeps her from losing her mind and also helps her get a lay of the land. It's strange not being in New York--everything seems flat. Bland, even, and far less busy than she's used to.

Those spinning wheels are a neat little local decoration. Quaint, she thinks, and eventually curiosity gets the best of her when she walks by one, which turns into a prodding poke, which means she pricks herself.

The first person she'll see she'll follow--the clicking of her high heels is unmistakable and loud, and if they turn back, they're met with a 50s housewife-esque girl smiling broadly at them but otherwise not saying a single word. ]

iii. Network: un: Mrs. Maisel
To whom it may concern,

I have no idea how to start this: I'm looking for the best club or bar that does comedy. The BEST, not a variety. If there's even a variety here. While you're at it, if someone could point me to what passes as a deli here, that would be a huge help.

Warm regards,
-Midge

𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚕 -

As the little commandeered rockjumper pitched into orbit to intercept the sling-back, Ezra’s last conscious thought as he stared out the window was that Green Moon looked almost peaceful. It’s a feeling that lasts through waking, which strangely does not occur aboard the long-haul space freighter as expected. When the light finds his eyes there’s nothing artificial about it.

Ezra reaches instinctively for his pistol. Instinct wants that the grasp come from his right arm, and it takes some time to remember that he is without it. His mind might be inclined to dwell on the lack of this primary weapon for longer if everything else weren’t so demanding of his attention. But even before Green Moon, he’s not seen anything that resembles the place he finds himself now.

The music draws him to the hearth and the food is a welcome sight, strange berries unrecognizable in structure and taste. When he finally cracks the puzzle of the jar lid - wedging the vessel in his armpit and unscrewing with his left - Ezra eats his fill and thinks how nice it is to chew and taste a natural sweetness that doesn’t come from rationed slurry packs.

He dons his environment suit before he opens the door. The filter is half-worn out and dispenses oxygen in sparing puffs that make Ezra gasp if he inhales too deeply, but what’s a man to do? Everything around him is strange. He clomps along in the jumpsuit with the needless length of the empty right sleeve folded up under his armpit. The first person he sees, Ezra calls out for.

"Ho, there! You! Could I have just one moment of your time, illustrious traveler?"

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎 -

He’d almost forgotten what a symphony of delight the mere act of eating could be. On Green Moon, Ezra sustained himself on rations of slurry packs and Bits Bars - nutritionally sound but lacking a certain panache a man should rightly desire in the things he puts in his mouth. But here he’s only needed to follow his nose to find delightful fare the likes of which he hasn’t known since leaving Central some time ago.

With some reluctance he’s allowed himself to be convinced of the security of the atmosphere, so Ezra is without his environment suit as he shovels string beans as though he’s never tasted anything more rapturous. He doesn’t know patron from preparer and he doesn’t rightly care. The next person to pass while carrying anything resembling edible is getting stopped.

"I must tell you that what you have there smells absolutely divine. If you don’t mind the asking, what do you call that?"

𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 - 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 - 𝚞𝚗: 𝚔𝚎𝚟𝚟𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚜 -

The technology of the Fluid - whether too archaic or too advanced - is just plain foreign enough to give Ezra trouble. The video begins with a minute of chaos as the screen is tapped and adjusted. Just as the man steps back it falls from its perch, and the picture twists and tumbles before showing an extended shot of the ceiling. From offscreen comes a long string of extraplanetary cursing - at least seventeen languages’ worth - and finally a tired-looking man holds the device like he’s taking a selfie.

It’s the one arm he’s got, so forgive him for not waving hello. Instead Ezra flashes a charming smile. "Gentle citizens, I can’t tell you how good it is to be among you all. Your hospitality rivals even that of the Toharjia, and I’m sure you are aware that no one throws a party like a Toji compère.

However, ah…" Ezra grimaces, catches himself, and smiles even brighter, "I have something of a predicament that begs a few queries, if I may trouble?"

𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍 -

(Lay it on me.)

Edited 2020-03-29 06:13 (UTC)

YOU UNCULTURED SWINE

( This isn't Oliver's first multi-layered multiverse rodeo. With Mar Novu nowhere in sight, and, likewise his friends and team, he supposes this is yet another lesson he'll have to learn on his own time. It has nothing to do with his past that he knows of, as he's visited small towns before, but none named Deerington. The letter is a specific touch and it gives him pause, as does the Blessings Basket and the vodka awaiting him in the jar nearby. He's not normally one to partake this early, especially when he has a mission to -- decipher -- but he's compelled to drink its' contents anyway.

By the time he explores the home he's woken up in, a vehicle left for him and the general property around it, whatever he drank has made its way through his system. His metabolism always was something to behold. That, and his extensive training.

He's hungry and realizes he should get something to eat. Nothing like a time loop has happened yet and he still hasn't run into anybody from back home.

Pork is on special and everything is better with bacon, so he does accept an order of bacon and eggs. He waits for it to be made, scrolling along whatever device had been provided him. it's only him and one other guest, which Oliver does pay attention to. With everything that's happened, every single mission, he knows every detail matters. The other person pays the check and the waitress disappears into the back. It's when that person elicits a noise - one familiar to him and one he's not expecting, that Oliver takes notice. )

Hey. Are you okay?

( He's sliding out of his booth, slowly approaching the person as he witnesses first hand what eating pork is doing.

Oliver Queen has seen it all.

And now Oliver Queen has watched a human being turn into an honest to Sodder pig. He frantically looks around him and watches as the pig attempts to scamper over and out of the raised boot but Oliver swoops in and catches him before he falls to the ground. He's a little at a loss with a squealing pig in his arms, and one that used to be human. )

Um. Help. Out here. Someone - come! ( Nobody is coming, and so Oliver... rushes the pig out of the diner, forgetting the bacon and eggs that are set down for him as he passes the window outside. Timing, right?

He stops on the corner. What... does he do?? Now??

A little later in the day, he's accepted responsibility for the NPC pig and has found an outdoor cafe and something that resembles a leash. Feel free to pass by as he casually eats not pork while the pig below laps at a dish of water. As far as lessons go, he's got zero idea at what he should be learning. But, the pig is kind of cute. )

GOOD ENDURES

( With pig still in tow, Oliver wanders the shops along one of the main streets. He stops at a window, catching sight of an antique mirror. He finds himself in the reflection and part of the pig he's claimed at the bottom. Huh. Someone, you, sidles up next to him and he congenially gives them a smile. His lips remain together and it's in complete politeness.

It's then that suddenly Oliver feels compelled to match their gait, their steps and their walk. It's a bit odd considering he has a pig in tow, but his demeanor and posture completely changes.

And then if they speak, say anything, he just repeats it. At first it's only repeating, and it's under his breath, but pretty soon he tries to overlap and even beat them to what they're saying and how they're saying it.

It's probably not fun to be a part of.

Believe him, it's less fun for him to be doing. )

NETWORK SPAM

un: queen

Is anybody else on this thing having the strangest day they may have ever experienced? This includes accidentally switching lives with one of my close friends and traveling to different universes. This wins over both of those experiences, and they happened at the same time.

Does the name Mar Novu mean anything to anyone here?

Also. Does anyone feel like adopting a pet pig. He's also a person, though, he isn't right now. He's very well behaved.

Edited 2020-03-29 17:00 (UTC)

Arrival

[ Lavellan was at Skyhold, having returned from the well of Sorrows. Things had been finally going their way. Corypheus was close to defeat and maybe the world could breath some sort of sigh of relief of having that problem dealt with. However, that's when a strange fog of exhaustion overtook his mind. He didn't know he had been that tired. So tired in fact he had blacked out.

Then the dream comes and then the words. Was it a spirit of the fade or a demon trying to trick him. He tries to force out the words, push back the beings trying to speak with him. Then he awakens in a strange and unfamiliar house it's enough to set him on edge. Well, whoever kidnapped him was dumb enough to leave his staff and other affects.

Exploring his surroundings, the letter, the food basket, when it's dealt with the elf is out wandering the streets. This eerie atmosphere is enough to set anyone at unease; the atmosphere reminding him of the Fallow Mire or Crestwood when that eerie rain and fog was set upon the land. Does Lavellan dare call out to anyone? As stupid of an idea as it was there would be no way of knowing who was here; ]

Is there anyone around? If you're a person I'd like some answers! If a demon...well...just stay the hell away.

Spinning Wheel

[ Whether errant curiosity or a strange compulsion this wheel had, Lavellan all but pricked his finger onto the needle in fascination. The pain but all broke him from the stupor of the Wheel's call, but a new compulsion set upon him. When he saw the stranger pass by him, his legs felt like they weren't his own and bidding him to follow. It probably becomes noticeable at this point that he's following.

If you look distressed at the strange elf following you, don't worry; So does he. ]

I'm sorry, I don't normally wander after strangers. Normally, I'm just dragged around by strangers; in chains.

[ This is his attempt at humour to try and break the tension...we'll see if it works. ]

Network

[ So, when the video goes on it's of a light haired young man, pointed ears and all. He still looks uneasy using this...device. He tucks a strand behind his ear, giving something of a strained smile. ]

So, I'm beginning to grasp that this isn't the Fade at least not the one I'm familiar with. Though I'm a little confused as to why we're all here. Strange vague voices of needing help is all well and good but, actual answers would be nice.

If you know anything the goings on here I'd appreciate it. Oh and you can call me, Lavellan.

Wildcard

[ Message me if you want a custom one! ]

arrival.
a. [Ephraim dreams of the forest again. No matter where they begin, his dreams inevitably converge here; there's a certainty in the smell of pine, of timber drifting slowly in out of the corners of his vision. Suffocating. Encroaching. Inescapable. This one doesn't feel different, not at first. Every dream for the past season has felt so real and his reality, well-- the two are hardly discernible. It's the deer that's new. It's the deer that convinces him-- Oh. Something's amiss.

And before he can think on it much at all, he's awake.

The waking he can take. With open arms, in fact. It means he's off that godforsaken fucking rock-- a place (a, fuck, a dry place) where no one knows him. That realization sinks in slow and smooth.

Laughter bubbles to the surface, slow at first before all at once tumbling out. He laughs so hard he could cry. Maybe he is crying. Who knows! And you stumble in on him in the midst of this, hand pressed to the soreness in his ribs, absolutely manic with what feels like freedom. But fuck is it uncomfortable to watch.]

b. [...Or maybe you stumble on him later, wandering around Deerington and taking it all in. It's not unlike what he's used to, but Ephraim is rarin' to get used to it as quickly as possible. In search of familiarity, he begins to ask the only thing he seems to know--]

What've you got in the way of work?

spinning wheels.
[He could never be strong in the face of a siren song, no matter its form. Not for long, anyway. The spinning wheels call him and Ephraim is like a moth to the light, hand outstretched and near begging for what comes after.

So here we are in the after: an unassuming man in overalls following your every move. Obsession pulls taught at his chest, urging him ever-forward.]

S'cuse me-- [He ventures. Try as he might to play it casual, there's a frantic energy in his wide eyes that just won't look away from you. You can see a small dab of blood at the corner of his overalls pocket, fists tightly curled inside.] I'm not lookin' for no trouble, just a place to fix m'self up. Couldn't trouble you to point me in the right direction, could I?

wildcard.
[No gods, no masters, no rules-- toss somethin' wild at me.]

{ ARRIVAL }
[This is not his ~~beautiful~~ ship.]

[There's no sound of engines, there's no distant hum of life support. No occasional sway of navigation in hyperspace. Nothing. It's quiet. There are... birds? There should not be birds in space. Unless the kid decided to forgo baby noises and start making chirps.]

[Possible. But not likely.]

[No one else is present in the house for his rude awakening. For the ensuing frantic search for a tiny green head, a pram, anything. For a sign. Nothing. Nothing but a basket, which is slammed down with frustration -- no words. Just that gesture.]

[He exits through the back door. Prowling through the streets like a caged animal, poking through small spaces, lifting lids on trash cans. Townsfolk stare, whisper, and he rounds on them -- on the natives, abruptly.]

Where is it? [Stern and sharp. Determined. The townsfolk whisper still and step away.] You heard me!

[Maybe his translator is broken...]

{ NETWORK | text }
I need a ship. I can pay.

[That's it. Short and sweet. It's easier to keep your tone level and calm over text, too. Don't give away the unease, don't let anyone know you're missing important things -- ]

[Don't ask about the missing little goblin.]

A. Arrival

He hates it, thanks.

It's the first time he's lost his juice and woke up somewhere else. The problem is, he didn't expect to wake up at all. And he has no fudgin' clue where the hell he is. Both of these prospects are kinda scary.

But from the general vibe, he's thinking scary is what Deerington was aiming for, so good job, he supposes.

Whatever, whatever, he'll just do some snooping, it's fine, he's fine. But he woke up in the middle of the night, so he's searching around town in the middle of the night. There aren't many people around, predictably, but he prefers that right now. Better to get his own eyes on the situation before he starts asking around the joint.

He's still walking around at dawn just as shops begin to open and the town begins to liven. He passes by a store front window, and the display catches his eye. It's mannequins dressed in robes, one white and flow-y with a lit halo and the other red and thick with gnarled horns. Both mannequins' faces look wrong, almost melted or maybe just factory defects, but it's enough to get him to sneer.

"Wow, this place sucks." Then he sees the man currently unlocking the shop's door, staring at him. "No, no, I didn't-... You know what, yeah, I did. It sucks. Get better mannequins. This place isn't creepy enough? Hell, at least try to do it right-"

... Deep breath. He keeps walking.

B. Spinning Wheels

Honestly, whether it was the strange calling that the wheels seemed to exude or Gabriel's general dumbass-ary, it's impossible to know. In fact, whether the thing is actually taking effect or if he's just like this is also impossible to know. Because he sure seems pretty damn comfortable about it.

"What we lookin' at?" he asks, hardly a breath away. When did he get here? Where did he come from? Why is he standing so close? The least Gabe could do is look at you but he almost seems to be totally ignoring you, save for the question. Maybe he does know what's happening... Doesn't seem to be amused, if that's the case.

Did you answer? Were you about to? Does it matter? "Hey, you've seen those spinning pokey things around, right? Is that like... normal or-?"

C. Wildcard

[ ooc: It's really late and I saw the emp ad and was like 'what the hell i'll test the waters.' Feel free to slam anything and everything in his direction. I'm also open to it all. You can find me at JB#9174 or linatrinch.

Current canon point is after the whole thing in S13. The icons were just the ones that stuck around when his paid went out. ]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞
( 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. )
[ To say that this town was strange would be putting things quite mildly. Of course, the past few months of Charles' life were spent on the road searching for mutants. Whirlwinds, it seems, were becoming fairly commonplace in his day to day.

The house he woke up in offered no clues in how to leave, nor did the grounds. Heading out into the rest of the town seemed the next logical step after days of exhaustive searching. They were in the midst of training at his old family estate to go up against Shaw after the attack on the CIA. The last thing he needed was to be here.

His abilities were dampened somewhat. He couldn't figure out precisely how but now and then his head would start to ache if he pushed too hard or quickly. It was unbelievably frustrating. There were other moments reminiscent of when he first came into his powers when he would lose tenuous control and the cacophony of other minds would overwhelm him.

Unsure of what this day would bring, Charles chose to go to one of the diners and gather himself. Find the best course of action. It was during all that he began to notice the pigs wandering. After he sat down at a table to order, he witnessed the transformation of another patron. The waitress seemed nonplussed and cheerfully awaited his order as he tried to gather his wits: ] Just tea, I think.

[ After he's left alone, he slides out of the booth to investigate. It's a transformation unlike any he's seen thus far. Raven could mimic people, but---this is both amazing and disturbing at once.

Feel free to interrupt his trying to figure things out or be the once person in question.]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞
( 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. )

[ If anyone runs into Charles during the trek up the mountain, his pig is surprisingly well-behaved. Likely due to the fact that he's actively speaking to it and sending soothing, comforting thoughts between them. While he hasn't experienced this transformation, he doesn't need an active imagination to feel the panic and terror that comes along with it.

There's a fight between emotion, thought and reason versus animal instinct that is trying to bury it all. A particular sharp burst of panic causes him to wince and grimace, teeth set on edge. He nearly loses his grip on his unexpected charge. ]

I know, it's very frightening. Just focus on my voice. Calm your mind.

[ Are you a bystander or his current, wriggly charge? ]

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝!

[ ooc: for if i missed anything. if you want to chat or plot hmu. this is dmitri brushing off the dust.

oceanscolliding or my disco @ intention.#6804 ]

arrival.

[ Bad dreams have a habit of leaving her out of sorts. By that, she wakes up feeling wrong in her skin and wrestling with brain fog that lasts the whole day.

Sometimes, she's back in the corridors of her school. Rain falling in thick sheets of grey that obscure everything not protected by a roof. Beyond that, rapid footfalls and screams. Always, the screams.

Sometimes, she's in the workshop at TALOS. There's flood water up to her knees and out of the corner of her eye she realizes the sparks at the far end of the room are the reason why the water's getting really warm. She can't ever leave the room, and the lights end up shutting down one by one.

Waking up here was different: in the dream, there was a forest. But it's not like the protected areas from back home. These are like the ones she's only ever seen on TV with really tall trees and that eerie silence.

Her ankle still hurts. Or she thinks it does. But walking helps. ]

[ You'll find her standing in the middle of the street; a little wide-eyed and worse for wear.

Fuck, it's cold.

She's from the tropics. They don't get weather like this over there. ]

good endures; spinning wheels

[ She's plunked her butt down on a bench in the middle of a park of some sorts and has tucked her hands squarely in the pockets of her jeans. It's a little weird that she's come across a couple of spinning wheels and even weirder is that feeling of wanting to stick her finger on the spiky end.

She's not a big fan of needles (thanks, childhood trauma) so wanting to touch it is freaking her out ten ways to Sunday.

Also, what is it with this freaky town and why has she seen that same person in the last five places she's been in? ]

dealer's choice.

[ Kaya's short a couple centimeters of five feet tall and looks like she should still be in gradeschool even if she's been fourteen for the last five months. Feel free to chat her up or... something. ]

Edited 2020-04-01 10:26 (UTC)

you uncultured swine—

[ It's been a while since she's felt the kind of hunger that can actually be satisfied, but after a brief taste of life the diner is still an inevitable lure. Seems to be the only place she's spent any significant amount of time lately. A meeting place. Maybe she's faintly hoping to find something more than grease and coffee.

Eating from the jar had been risky enough. The offer of a free meal? Even if it would do her any good, she's spent too long around gods and faeries and all the things between to trust a gift like this in a place like this.

On goes her softest, most sheepish smile as she scoots along the counter to the next person over. The act enhanced by how tiny she is, how harmless she looks. Her recent brush with life still warm in her cheeks. ]

Hey. Hi, excuse me. Do you want this? I'm not hungry.

[ A lovely plate of bacon, sausage and eggs. She doesn't want to be cursed by the food but she also doesn't want to be cursed by wasting the food, so you know. Covering her bases. ]

... cultured swine—

[ Laura's seen enough weird shit in her afterlife that a sudden spree of porcine transformations barely has a shot for the top ten. But there's something just nasty enough about it, just funny enough about it, that the surrealism gets her.

There's a pig in her path. It's the seventh today. Lucky number seven makes it this pig's lucky day - she stops. ]

Nobody watched that movie as a kid, huh?

[ You know, the one with the eating the food and the turning into pigs. Could've saved yourself a whole lot of trouble. ]

spinning wheel

[ There's something alluring about the way a sharp object catches the light and with it the imagination. Laura steers herself away from the first handful of spinning wheels she comes across but with every one the mental picture grows sharper: a living finger drawing living blood.

She's in her house when the urge finally gets the better of her. Where there should be pain, sharp and electric, there's only the dim awareness of flesh parting. For a while, she's stares at the tip of her finger where no blood wells... then hisses out frustration and goes in search of a bandaid. She can pretend.

Except there aren't any. Perfect.

Unwilling to be robbed of the little things like applying a bandaid to a cut instead of stitches and steel to a torn off arm, Laura steps out into the world to head for the Pharmacy, unaware that she's just royally fucked herself.

Who's she going to bump into first? ]

wildcard

( feel free to wildcard her/inbox her/whatever! )

Uncultured Swine

[ There are people in the world who look at bacon and think: Ew, gross. No thank you. Rogue is, sadly, not one of these people. Also, she's new enough in town that she's not expecting anything bad to happen from consuming a delicious cheeseburger topped with bacon, other than having to exercise with a bit more fervor the next day.

She is entirely unprepared for the slow transformation of 'walking upright mutant person' into 'my what big ears you have and now suddenly you are on all fours and oinking' sort of person. She is entirely unamused, and the penny has dropped as to why people in the restaurant were talking, loudly, about a stream that you need to get to, up in the mountains... with company.

So! That restaurant you were about to go into? It's suddenly blocked by a pig. Trust her, she is doing you a favor, as she tries to herd you toward some of the loudly talking NPCs discussing curses and magic rivers. Come to think of it, there sure are a lot of pigs around, aren't there? Maybe thinking twice will stop you from making the same mistake. Maybe you could do her a favor too? ]

Good Endures

A: Spinning Wheels

[ The first time she sees a spinning wheel, she gives it a w i d e berth. A wide berth. The last time she became sleeping beauty and people kissed her to wake her up, there was a string of knocked out rescuers in her wake. Unfortunately, compulsions are compulsions, and she circles back around to it. She reaches out to touch it - she can't help herself - but her thick leather gloves keep the needle from pricking her finger. The compulsion, however, has been satisfied, and she's finally able to back away.

She does kick it with a muttered: ]Take that! [ as she backs away from it, hoping that by knocking it down sideways on the ground, she's saved another poor soul not similarly equipped. It's truly sad that as she walks away, the spinning wheel rights itself. ]

B:Apples

[ As soon as she sees the apple, she knows she shouldn't eat it. For one, she didn't put it there. For another - spinning wheel? Okay. Poison apple? Probably. She does not want to eat the apple. She recognizes the compulsion to eat the apple as something that is not her own. Rogue is very, very good at resisting her desires; she's had a lot of practice. She puts the apple down.

She puts it down, she walks away... but oh, it is gnawing in the back of her mind. You may encounter her: 1) when she is doing her level best to resist the compulsion, and may therefore be somewhat distracted irritable or 2) when the compulsion has won and she has taken a bite, you can catch her throwing the apple far away from her with a: ]

I'm really starting not to like the food in this place.

Wildcard
Anything else? Hit me up!

Edited 2020-04-04 23:07 (UTC)

[Arrival]

[Itherael drifts along the streets of Deerington, not wandering too far from the house they woke up in. One hand holds a large scroll; their blessing basket hangs on their elbow. It's hard to tell due to the lack of a face and all, but they're very, very confused. Wordless, aimless, Itherael levitates just over the road and around the block.]

[You're seeing the angelic equivalent of a system crash.]

((OOC: Itherael works with they/them or he/him pronouns. First time playing at this game at all, patience appreciated. Thanks for your time!))

ARRIVAL
1. Broken record

this.

You never really remember the beginning of a dream. You end up right in the middle of it...

2. Re-connection

[ Eames doesn't need to look around in his Fluid for long before he notices that time has been rushing past him while he was sleeping like a certain princess. Or maybe something else happened.

He doesn't know yet. But he types in his DeerFeed: ]

Losing time might be a usual occurrence here but it's quite disorienting. Anyone want to fill me in? What's going on?

GOOD ENDURES
3. Spinning Wheel

Edited 2020-04-05 11:29 (UTC)

Arrival
[ Well. This is an improvement on his usual dreams, but that is a dreadfully low bar.

Jon… isn’t sure that this is a dream. To be entirely honest, he has no idea what this is. The heavy, buzzing prickle of being watched—second nature to him, now—feels oddly distant. The inside of his head feels disconcertingly light and silent without it, as though someone’s turned the volume down too abruptly and his ears are still ringing with the loss.

Not that he’d like to call the absence of an eldritch voyeur a loss. He decides not to examine that too closely. He can still feel its gaze on him, anyway; it's just not as acute as before.

So Jon wanders, inspecting street signs and house numbers with an air of acute suspicion, and then begins knocking on strangers’ front doors.

Open your door and you may find a man—skinny and rumpled, his face and neck dotted with pockmark scars, his right hand marred by some old and terrible burn—blinking at you in surprise, as though he really didn’t expect anyone to answer. ]

Uncultured Swine
[ Oh! People are turning into pigs. Why didn’t anyone say so. This, at least, makes some semblance of sense.

The first time Jon encounters one of the newly-transformed, he eyes them with a mix of pity and wariness, gently edging backwards so as to keep his distance. ]

I do hope you don’t try to eat me. [ There's a sort of tiredness to it. ] That sounds… extremely unpleasant.

Spinning Wheels
[ From the moment he sees the spindle, an old and familiar panic kicks up in the back of his head.

It should help. It doesn’t help. He should be too powerful for this, for it to compel him, for it to puppet him like this—

So here is Jonathan Sims, an exhausted-looking man with an expression of absolute terror on his face, hesitating with his finger held poised above a spindle.

Whether you make it to him before he brings that finger down is up to you. ]

Threaded | Flat

Page 2 of 3

APRIL 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

YOU UNCULTURED SWINE

GOOD ENDURES

Character Arrival

Hellboy | Hellboy 2004 | OTA

Ganymede | mythology

erik lehnsherr | xmcu

Matt Murdock // Marvel's Netflix