the unwinding

[groundrules]

Heya! Let loose for Serthica’s Unwinding — our event spanning 24 September-15 October that doubles as a test drive.

This round’s test drive participants do not require an invite to apply. Applications open over 8-14 October. Enjoy!

THE UNWINDING

---

TEST DRIVE TOURISTS | OLD TIMERS | DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
SPILL THE TEA | DRIP BY DRIP | ALL A DREA —

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✘ NEWCOMERS | BARRELING IN

Soaring seagulls and splintered silence. You awaken on the shoreline of steampunk citadel Clockwork Serthica, recovered by the irritable witch Karsa.

She shares translation and communication devices, scarce healing and a rapid briefing: you have reached a world where undead forces seek to weaponise you in their battle for dominion. Karsa’s employer, the Merchant leads travel to beacons meant to return you home.

Other otherworlders have already infiltrated Serthica. Karsa steers newcomers into the impoverished underworld of the Mouse House, to board a rickety coal train serving the citadel.

■ Silver tongues can win you passage.

■ ...alternatively, hide in the obscenely large whiskey barrels the train also smuggles in.

■ Mid-voyage, the train quakes, slamming you into walls and windows. Around you, the stench of bleach, the warm crackle of embers and static magic that builds thick, nearly electric.

You feel faint and fainter, when you overhear Karsa’s murmured, “It’s too early” — “find” — “find” — “it’s like a drea” — “don’t unwind” — “all child’s play.”

And then you’re U n w i n d i n g.

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✘ OLD TIMERS | INHALE-EXHALE

Eidris, Minaras, the Neutral Zone: all abuzz with residential whispers of imminent Unwinding — an annual fixture natives dread without fully remembering.

■ In the two days leading to the Unwinding, characters struggle to tell apart or remember the physical features of natives.

■ Some locals steal you into dark alleys, where they become suddenly stiff, emitting a rusty, guttural Ke-ke-ke sound. They do not recall this after.

The Unwinding kicks off at 6am, when both Eidris and Minaras are overground. Jim Kirk’s fixed music box begins to play, its chipper rural tune overtaking your thoughts: “Up the mountain, in the grove, hand in hand to Ke-ke-ke — Ke-Waihu, fresh harvest’s a treasure trove, each fall we feast anew.”

Earth shatters seismically underfoot, magic depletes, the citadel’s clock tower strikes 6:00 — and an urgent communication from the Merchant is interrupted by static, “You can we-we-we-…-stand it, the white man come — remembrrrrrrrrrrrr live, you are alive, do not be convinsssss —ssss — ssssd otherwisssssss —”

But you’re already U n w i n d i n g.

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✘ DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

Down and down, you tumble, Alice — through a cavernous tunnel that widens and chokes arbitrarily. Sometimes you float and fly, sometimes you’re thrust sideways. Mostly, you keep falling.

■ Beware objects falling into you: from grand pianos to mystical balls of fire, stray beds, love letters and sharp-pointed weapons. Even a blood-spattered umbrella that shields against anything.

■ You’re dropped unceremoniously into an underground lair, as items keep falling down. Unclaimed, they disappear within minutes. Three jackalopes smoking opiate pipes point you indifferently towards a locked door. On its handle sit a bone dice and a note instructing, ROLL FOUR TO OPEN.

■ The dice can only be thrown every 10 minutes and feels too monstrously heavy to lift otherwise. Each roll makes the effect of the previous throw disappear. If you get:

one: gravity fades, the dice floats out of reach. ( The jackalopes enjoy the breeze. )

two: the floor, barring a few narrow steps at great jumping distance, is lava. ( The jackalopes check ‘hell’ off their vacation list.)

three: an irked dragon coils beside you. (The jackalopes prepare to tan.)

five: the thrower grows and grows and grows, until they must contort creatively to fit inside. ( The jackalopes charge rent. )

six: the room fills with water that nearly reaches the ceiling. (The jackalopes are competitive swimmers.)

seven: everything about your companion irritates you. They even breathe wrong. ( The jackalopes find this awkward. )

eight: The floor slowly expands into quicksand. ( The jackalopes hoverboard. )

■ Roll four and the door creaks merrily open. A second note slips loose, I’m sorry. Head in, your newfound possessions abandoned — and keep U n w i n d i n g.

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✘ SPILL THE TEA

You wake, dressed to the steampunk nines, at a tea party, alongside a companion and a slew of eerie guests: cog droids, faceless people and animated human-sized burlap mannequins. You only hear static and white noise when they speak.

When you leave the table, a fox butler passes you the empty kettle, asking you to, ”Make tea and finish here”.

■ You’re inevitably stuck in a decrepit dollhouse. Heavily boarded doors and windows ultimately open to show plague sickness in the streets. The fox butler closes them, reminding, ”He’ll make it go away.”

■ Travel a corridor of repeating rooms to reach the kitchens, and don’t dally. Every time the clock strikes a new hour, the partygoers grab their sharpest knife and stalk down the house to pursue you. The frenzy lasts 10 minutes before they return to their seats — barricade in deserted rooms, hide behind curtains or climb up the chimney…

■ For tea, the mannequin cook directs you to retrieve juniper and rosemary leaves from the greenhouse, where plant tendrils try to trap you, leaving marks of mould; rescue the milk container from a cat that’s running on the crumbling staircase, and sugar from a dish in the lavish nursery room, where ghostly hands might seek to drag you into walls and send you back down the rabbit hole.

■ Supplied, the huffing burlap cook prepares tea. Just as you’re about to taste the black brew at the party table, a man in white takes and spills your tea out in a plant pot. You only hear, ”You don’t need this yet” — before you’re U n w i n d i ng.

■ On exiting the Unwinding, your pockets burst with plants or leaves of juniper and rosemary. They can alleviate McCoy’s sickness.

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✘ DRIP BY DRIP

You wake up in bloodied clothes in a filled bathtub. You are hounded by urgency, as if you’re hunted. The unease never wanes, as you gather your bearings and join the bustling city streets, armed with a blood-spattered white umbrella. In your pocket, two paper notes: CHILDREN LIE and WHAT IS HIS NAME?(

Your memories are confused: half of you is certain you are a content citizen of Serthica. The other riots that you don’t belong. An excruciating migraine strikes when you try to remember how you arrived here.

Gravity’s a loose concept: you walk, or you float. The city is either perfectly still, or inundated with the screeching of hearses and criers. Locals — all faceless, or man-sized burlap mannequins — mill busily, despite the forlorn rain.

■ Hold on to your umbrella: linger uncovered in the rain, and your facial features slowly fade, while you desperately try to convince your teammate that you should stay here forever. You recover once dry.

■ The inhuman locals grow increasingly more hostile with time: carriages want to run you over, friendly burlap shopkeepers push you into a ditch. They chase if you ask their name.

■ Happily, this world is vulnerable to your desires: wish gravity undone, and you can walk on walls. Think a river into being, and it bursts ahead. Imagine buildings, and they pop up. Playing God comes at a price of bad luck: the staircase you envisage thins and breaks just as you cross it, your knife rusts after the first swing.

■ Your pursuers abandon you, when you reach a deserted marketplace and encounter a drenched, battered boy wearing a fox mask. He is playing with paper boats in the middle of a large black puddle. You feel deep and building hatred for him.

■ Seeing you, the child mentions one of you previously tried to kill him. He offers his name, in exchange for your umbrella:

a. Refuse or dally, and dark hands rise out of the puddle to pull you and your partner in, scratching you bloody. The last thing you see, before you wake up in the bathtub again (or out of the Unwinding), is a man in white who collects your umbrella. He holds it over the child, scolding, ”Did you forget again? This one never hurt you.”

b. To surrender the umbrella, step on the paper boats as you cross the puddle to the boy. Walking straight on water feels like stepping on knives. The child accepts your umbrella, whispering his name is ”Hyang-Won”, before you start to fade out of the Unwinding.

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✘ IT WAS ALL A DREA —

New or old, as the Unwinding ends, you wake up in Ma’am Mariol’s modest orphanage in the Mouse House. Mariol, the orphans and Serthica at large recall nothing about the Unwinding. Karsa, who dragged you in, is pale and exhausted, her memory patchy. She urges everyone to recuperate before heading back overground.

■ Your body shows only a fraction of any damage sustained in the Unwinding.

■ Ma’am Mariol’s labyrinthine home offers limited accommodations: share beds, floors, and household chores, while the orphans led by curious Gavroche, peer in.

---

NOTES

■ You can make network posts outside of the Unwinding.

■ Feel free to mark if you're a test drive tourist or an old timer in your top level!

■ The Unwinding is a shifting of realities not a dreamscape.

■ You can opt out of the Unwinding by keeping characters in the Mouse House. Here, nothing seems amiss.

■ QUESTIONS!

Comments

QUESTIONS

[groundrules]

No jackalopes were hurt in the making of this event.

[revengeisalie]

In Spill the Tea, are there any consequences if a character refuses to make the tea as the fox instructs them?

Mikazuki Munechika || Touken Ranbu || Newcomer

[tsukijiji]

A. [BARRELING IN]

[Well, it's not like ending up in an unfamiliar place and time is a rare occurrence for Mikazuki Munechika. He kinds of stands out, though, with his outfit.

And he very confidently says with a straight face to the train attendant...]

Oya, I am an old man. You wouldn't make me sit with cargo, would you? not that I haven't done that before, but I would appreciate something to lean my back on, if you'd be so kind, hahahahaha!

[And wouldn't you know, it actually works and he gets a seat.]

B. [DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE]

Oya, a game, is it?

[Dice, huh? they look different from the ones he's used to, and he suspects they don't really have the same function either. And you need four to be able to go along?]

That sounds ominous, doesn't it? Not an auspicious number at all.

Well then, shall we try?

C. [SPILL THE TEA]

[Whoever's idea it was to ask Mikazuki Munechika himself to make tea, they're probably going to regret it. This old sword is very, very particular about tea, and once escorted to the greenhouse, well, he looks around and shakes his head.]

This will not do. This will not do at all.

[All of a sudden, the tachi that's hanging at his waist gets unsheathed and wielded in a wide arc, cutting all the vegetal tendrils that were creeping up.

But the main concern is...]

You don't even have a single tea bush in here. How do you expect to make tea?

D. [IT WAS ALL A DREA —]

Oya oya...

[This feels a bit like waking up in repairs, except the warm glow of the saniwa's power is totally absent. As is any inkling of how to demanifest from this time period and return to the citadel. Well, well...]

Aruji, I know I often cause trouble, but I am quite certain it isn't my fault this time.

B!

[fushichou]

[Aaaaand he's falling.

This sucks.

Why does this world suck.

Like, Kanesada has been through some crazy shit, but at least the ground stays solid when everything gets bad. This? This is just stupid.

And then he hits the ground pretty hard, though he does his best to roll out of it. Thankfully he's more than an actual human or else he's pretty sure half his bones would be obliterated by this point.

That doesn't mean getting up is any easier.

He groans and dusts himself off, checking to make sure the sword at his hip is still undamaged -thank goodness, it is - and gathers up his hair to throw behind his shoulders.

That's going to be a nightmare to brush out. Fuck this place, for real.

He ambles past the antlered rabbits and follows where they sort of direct, only to then see something - someone - he hadn't expected.

Anyone at the honmaru would recognize those rich blues and golds in an instant and Kanesada is no different. For a moment he thinks he's saved. Maybe Aruji has managed to find him and sent a team to get him out of here!

His steps grow more sure and he rushes toward that familiar figure.]

...Mikazuki Munechika!

Asano Rin | Blade of the Immortal | fresh meat!

[revengeisalie]

BARRELING IN

[revengeisalie]

[ It's cold, is the first thought that comes to her as she begins to wake up. There must be a draft coming into the house. But it's too bright behind her eyelids, which she slowly opens to the wide open sky.

That's when things start to register: this is not her bed. She can hear waves crash and seagulls cry, and thus realizes she's lying on sand. Suddenly awake, Rin sits up and stares out onto the sea.

Soon, she is approached by a strange woman in strange clothes, who hands her a kind of small clock with the barest of explaining words. Rin starts to ask her questions, but then the woman has already moved on to the next poor person lying on the sand.

Still confused, she lets herself be ushered along, until they stand in front of-- ]

What is that?

[ It's some kind of metal monstrosity, the likes of which she's never even dreamed of. She's told to get inside, and, excuse her? That's when her temper bursts. ]

Oh, of course! Yes, indeed, I will get into the giant strange thing after being, I don't know, kidnapped! What do you even want with me? If you're in it for the ransom, why don't you just get it over with?!

Michael Burnham | Star Trek: Discovery | all new!

[raisedbyvulcans]

BARRELING IN

[raisedbyvulcans]

[ Waking up on a strange beach is -- well, strange, but after traveling 9 40 years into the future, Michael thinks there's not much that can top her previous experiences.

So she quickly decides to treat this new experience with curiosity, and, of course, with the decorum of a Starfleet Captain. She thanks the strange woman who hands her what looks like a 19th century pocket watch, only to be informed that this is her communicator. ]

Huh. Alright, I'll take it. Thank, you, again... ?

[ The woman introduces herself, and Michael is about to do the same, but the woman has already turned her back. Well. It seems Michael is not the only one in need of her help, so she'll let the woman continue her work.

Soon, they are all briefed on the situation. Michael listens attentively and nods along, taking mental notes, even if it all seems a bit unreal. Michael's seen a lot, but the undead? That's a little out of even her wheelhouse.

Then again, she once died for a few minutes. Maybe she has not so little in common with this world after all.

Upon being ushered onto the train, she is almost excited. This train is old, the likes of which she's only seen in books and holograms. To be riding one should be quite the adventure.

Unfortunately, the ride goes less smoothly than she imagined, as she has to hide in a barrel and is thrown from side to side. ]

Ow! I gotta say, I imagined my first vintage train ride to be a bit more, um... gentle?

[ Not to mention the undeniable smell of bleach that permeates the car and bites her nose, and a crackle of... something. ]

I thought this was a steam train. Why is there electricity?

Xie Lian || Tian Guan Ci Fu (novel) || Old-Timer

[scrapgege]

A. [DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE]

[What does it say about Xie Lian that ending up hurtling down a seemingly endless hole while surrounded by more or less sharp objects is not even a first for him or the most dangerous situation he's ever been in?

He gives a small reflexive 'ouch' as he hits the ground, but honestly it didn't really hurt. And once he sees the jackalopes and the dice, his hand reflexively goes to the bandage covering his neck.]

Oh no. No no no. I really, really shouldn't.

[With the curse marks back and Hua Cheng not here, this is a recipe for disaster. Not to mention...]

Why is the way out the number four anyway? Who would want that?

[traaaaaash]

[ Honestly, at this point, it's so whatever? They're falling down some kinda hole. Fine. It's not very comfortable, though, so Eda takes her staff out of her hair and sits on it. She looks around, trying to determine if the better way is up or down, when she sees some poor sod who is less lucky than her and takes pity on him. ]

Hey there. Want a ride?

Clara Oswald | Doctor Who

[makemeasong]

★ 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙸𝚗 ★

➳ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗

[ Clara's managed her way onto the train with dimples and big brown eyes; her clothing made her seem more demure than she really is. As soon as she's through the door the act drops, her face falls. She knows she lost consciousness in a room full of mechanical people who were possibly going to kill her. She also knows she woke up on a beach with others with no clue how she got there.

Now she's sitting in a locomotive (that looks like it's out of a time period she can't quite place), staring out of the window. She'd seen the Doctor and his big angry eyebrows just as she boarded. He'd left her behind at the faux restaurant, now he could figure out how to get on board on his own. With the freshly regenerated attitude, she doubts he will.

Finding a seat, she huffs and slumps down, but doesn't close her eyes. Instead, she watches everyone who comes on board, trying to see if there are any other familiar faces, and scooting over just enough when someone needs a seat. She gives a small nod but doesn't smile.

She hasn't seen anyone who is. ]

➳ 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎

[ It was a bad day to be wearing a dress. She's falling and falling, and it feels so familiar, only she isn't running this time and she's trying to shield herself from a debris storm. She lands, still trying to dodge objects when suddenly there's a person coming right at her and she shouts, jumping out of the way and banging into a bookshelf on its side.

When she finally notices the interesting-looking, smoking animals (is she dead? did she die when she passed out before arriving here?) they point Clara in the right direction as vaguely as possible just before a large table blocks her from the other person's view. ]

Come on, there's a door! Are you alright?

[ She's trying to go around the debris that begins to slowly fade but still manages to get tripped up, hitting her knee and letting go a very inappropriate word for a school teacher. ]

➳ 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊

[ Clara wakes up, glad to be rid of the period-piece clothing from before but not loving anything else. Robots, droids - whatever they call themselves, she's wary but not rude. They aren't Cybermen, not Daleks, and not everything made of metal and wires was out to kill all humans. She tries to leave the absolute craziness that's a fever dream of a house but can't, denied by another weird animal, and so she tries to figure out the puzzle and make the stupid tea.

And who's "he?"

Just as she spots someone ahead of her there's the sound of the clock and then chaos. Angry guests begin coming at her and the person she was catching up with, wielding knives. Clara yells at the one person not frothing at the mouth, trying to get their attention, to run and follow her.

Slamming against the first door she sees it gives easily - easier than she thought so she stumbles through. It looks like a bedroom or playroom, and she sticks her head back out, shouting. ]

Hurry! Come on, quick, we can barricade the door!

➳ 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊-

[ Clara is tired, but at least the scratches and bruises have mostly faded. There are still some, but nothing that hurts. She decides she doesn't much care where she sleeps because she wants to drop. ]

Can't remember the last time I slept.

[ It's a sort of apology as she sinks down next to someone because there are no other beds right now. Her mind is too wired to actually fall asleep but she's glad to be off her feet and not dodging anything. ]

I was told it was this or the floor, I'm really hoping you show mercy.

spill the tea

[downswing]

( He wakes, once more misplaced. The table, the litany of tacit guests. Blood in his mouth, aftertaste raw, like base metals. His rattling bones, his thinned joints. His body delays to remember itself, the fit of each limb makeshift on the string of his impulse to move, move now. They say, prepare tea.

As if he were a bride seeking to please the parents of her new house.

Lan Wangji pursues. Then, when the great yawning clock chokes the fresh hour — he is pursued, fast on worn feet, blade Bichen biting into hands that glimpse the clumsy strangeness of his new dress, that graze his wrist. He drifts up and up again, seas of the frenzied swarm lingered beneath. When the woman calls —

First, he thinks her a cat, shrunk to nothing behind the weight of her shielding. Then, perhaps a lure — and how often do spirits not play the same game, offering bait? Helplessness attracts reckless rescue. And yet, she wears a human face.

Beam of his gaze throttled to a slim line, he eases inside the room, beside her — a nod of greeting, under duress — and lends his shoulder to the task, propping the door fleetingly shut. It will not last them, not with the numbers of their assailants stacked against them. They have but seconds, and stoking footsteps, coming up the creaking stairs, and grit of his teeth is a pained thing, drawn out: )

Retrieve parchment paper. ( A concession: ) Cloth. Inks or wax or water. ( Ah, but where are his manners? ) If you may.

the doctor (12) | doctor who | newcomer

[twelfthsong]

– barreling in.

[After being cheerily waved off with a two finger salute by Clara (or at least what felt like it with her dimpled smile and furious eyes) the Doctor wasn't about to just be left behind at the station. He didn't like the idea of having to charm his way onto the train because it would require bantering and he had decided that that was not his cup of tea anymore so sneaking on was clearly the only course of action here.

After a rather comical run and leap onto the train that was absolutely not stealthy or necessary as the train slowly crawled out of the station, he had found his way into the cargo hold finding some conveniently empty – but still smelling strongly of whisky – barrels. It was a bit of a feat folding his lanky frame into it but he couldn't help but feel pleasently proud with his clever plan. Pleased that is until the train lurched into a steady pace and he finds he can't open the barrel and his sonic screwdriver isn't working either.

Anyone who wanders into the hold or even might even be stuck there too hears a ramming against one of the barrels and a very frustrated Scotsman trying to get out.]

– down the rabbit hole.

[There's a lot of furious shouting as he's plummeted towards the ground while trying to dodge objects flying at his face. When he finally hits the ground (and rather ungracefully we might add) a fez plops onto his head like gravity is placing a cherry on top of its successful work. Eventually he picks himself off the ground, smarting, but too fascinated by the smoking jackalopes and their dice game to process the fall or the fez.]

He's mulling over the game of chance out loud paying little mind to the other body that comes careening out of the sky with him.]

A one in eight chance of getting a four? Not awful odds but…I'd rather know what the other dice rolls will get us, don't you?

– spill the tea.

[He tries and dials to make contact with the party guests but it's hardly a deterrant when there's other things to explore.

It's not in the Doctor's nature to take orders so he definitely dallies making his way to the kitchen. Each room he comes across gets a look through if he can and he doesn't pay much mind to his companion or altogether ditches them like some kid in a toy store.

The clock chimes on the hour and the Doctor is far too absorbed in his exploration to notice. On his way to the next room he hears a clamouring of clockwork and uncoordinated feet stampeding towards him and he's taking off down the hallway maybe running into you.]

Apparently we're late to tea – move it along, snail!

– it was all a drea -

[The Doctor is sprawled out in one of several beat up arm chairs with a tea set in front of him. He looks positively disheveled, and might be half dozing off. It's hard to tell. But either way, some of the more daring orphans are chancing it with a marker as they edge closer and closer to him to try play a practical but harmless prank on him.

You could step in or see what happens. Frankly he'd deserve a drawn on monocle and villain style mustache.]

down the rabbit hole }

[faceblocker]

[ This is the second time she's been thrown down the rabbit hole, and at this point she looks almost as ragged as she feels. Unable to shake what it felt like for those shadow hands to grab at her just as she'd been making some progress in the creepy nursery room—or maybe she hadn't made any progress, maybe that's why the shadows sucked her right back down—she's still having to hold back her urge to shudder. A stream of curses exits her mouth as the voice of some old man echoes nearby, and as she staggers back onto her feet, her steel-blue gaze passes over the jackalopes and to the source of the voice.

When he suggests that getting a different number might be interesting, Vi groans, rubbing at one of her arms from where a random snow globe had landed on it after the fall. She still hasn't been able to re-locate her gauntlets, though she can fair just fine without them. Her muscles speak for themselves, and she looks like they've just barely kept her out of trouble. Barely. ]

No, I don't! Trust me, you don't want a five.

[ This would be so much easier if she had her own loaded dice. Vi looks about ready to try and punch one of the jackalopes in their smug face. ]

Kumoi Yuuri | Zettai Karen Children | Newcomer

[wantshappiness]

i: Barrelling in

[Yuuri is far from silvertongued and while she, technically, has a way to get herself on that train easily she thought, surely she should try to ask first? Just in case that works!

It doesn't, in fact work, and she's unfortunately found a worker who wants to extort her for money. Alas. Sometimes that's how it is.]

B-but, I don't have any money...

[Help her??? She's going through her pockets trying to find something she can pay with but she's got nothing.]

ii: Drip by Drip

[She stands outside, frowning deeply from under her umbrella. She presses a hand to a nearby wall, thinks thoughts of soft, pliable pillows--and the brick gives under her fingers.

Her frown deepens, confused.]

...it's real though. [Is muttered like the conclusion to a long, complicated problem. In the back of her mind, there's a distant muttering, indistinct but constant. The other 'her' she had temporarily locked away. She pulled her hand back as she back away from the wall, watching the indent she pressed into it fill out again.] This doesn't make any sense, it shouldn't be--

[And that's when she backs into you and screams.]

Ah! [Then she stumbles forward and trips, trying not to face plant on the pavement while also trying not to drop her umbrella.]


iii: Is that a child I see before me?

[She knows it's bad to be in the rain without her umbrella, even so...she thinks it's even sadder that this little boy is without. And the paper did say, what is his name.

Still, what is most important to her is...

What would Kaoru-chan do?

So she hesitates for a second before tightening her grip on the umbrella and taking a step forward...but she jerks back when she feels pain when she steps on the first paper boat.]

Ow.

— barreling in

[twelfthsong]

[ The Doctor also doesn’t have any money (it’s hard when you travel across time and space and currency becomes more of a burden than a necessity), and unfortunately for the both of them, his brain hasn’t quite connected all the proper synapses to remember that he has his psychic paper on him.

Instead of helping though he’s sighing a little loudly behind her. ]

No point in harrying her if she doesn’t have any money. Haven’t you ever just done something nice in your short human life?

[ The worker only seems to arch an eyebrow and glare at him which only results in a glare right back. …It’s entirely possible the Doctor is making the situation worse than he is better if the worker puffing up is any indication. ]

Caitlyn Kiramman | Arcane | Newcomer

[clavesregni]

I. Barreling In

[The first thing Caitlyn registers is pain. There's a soft but persistent ache behind her eyes, and something worse, something sharp... She reaches down to her leg, her searching fingers finding the thick cloth of her uniform. And that's when she remembers.

Jinx.

The blurry edges of the world slowly swim into focus, the dull echoes of a voice resolve themselves into words. A woman is explaining something - another world, undead, a pocketwatch - and Caitlyn is doing her best to listen. She's half-processing all of it, her mind subconsciously storing the information for later while she tries desperately to piece together the last thing that happened.

Jinx--

She's dressed at least. Thank goodness for small mercies. It does beg the distressing question of whether Jinx dressed her, but rather than dwelling on that, she opts to put the thought away and never revisit it, setting it aside in favor of taking in her new surroundings.

As she pushes herself to her feet, hissing in pain as her leg struggles to take her weight, it becomes clear that she's meant to follow the woman towards a train. Seeing no other obvious option, she does so, desperately scanning the group for any familiar faces.]


II. Down the Rabbit Hole

[It's not that Caitlyn's afraid of heights. She has a very healthy and rational fear of falling from very high up.

Which is, of course, what she abruptly finds herself doing.

She raises her hands over her head, doing her best to brace as a chair knocks into her before crashing into the wall and breaking into pieces. There's so much debris, whizzing past her - or being lost as she whizzes past it - that she can't keep track, but she tries to anyway, her mind cataloguing everything in futile attempt to distract herself from the fact that there is absolutely no way to think herself out of this and she's going to die when she hits the ground.

When she finally does hit the ground, it's face-down, all the air knocked out of her body. Somehow, not dead. She doesn't look up in time to notice the person plummeting directly towards her.]


III. Spill the Tea

[Tick tick tiiiick static and the sound of clock gears grinding as Caitlyn finds herself seated at a table, everything needed for tea set out in front of herself and the other... guests?

She smiles awkwardly at one of the clockwork men, but when he opens his mouth to respond, the only thing that comes out is white noise. The smile becomes more strained as she looks away, her eyes catching those of the only other person at the table who appears human. Are they what they seem?]

I really must be going. [She says it politely, neatly folding the cloth napkin that was in her lap and standing up. She can't stay here. Even if it weren't utterly disconcerting, she couldn't stay.

The fox butler is quick to hold out a kettle. Assuming he's offering her tea, she sidesteps with a polite shake of her head and a quiet but firm 'no, thank you,' as she heads for the door. It's boarded over, but she manages to get it just open enough to see... And the butler slams the door shut. He holds out the kettle again, this time asking her to make the tea. An utterly absurd request, especially under the circumstances.

The clock is ticking down, nearly ready to chime the hour.

Caitlyn squares her shoulders, her already rigid posture becoming even stiffer, her brows furrowing heavily as she frowns at the fox. They can't keep her here against her will.]

Let me go. I'm not going to make tea for you.

[The clock begins to strike.]


IV. Drip by Drip

[Caitlyn practically erupts from underwater, scrabbling at the edge of the bathtub as she struggles to breathe again. She doesn't know how she got here, all she knows is she can't stay.

Bloody clothes. Full bathtub. Bloodied umbrella. Of course her clothes are bloody, her leg's still bleeding. There's a damp dark patch spreading across her trouser leg. But all of this can't possibly be her blood. Nothing in her pockets except a couple damp scraps of paper - she can just barely make out the words CHILDREN LIE. Her brain starts taking stock, organizing, deducing. How did she get here? She lives here. No, she doesn't. How did she get here? Her head suddenly aches.

She doesn't know where she is. She's home. She's never been here before. She's lived here her whole life. All she knows for certain is that she has to leave. Now.

She grabs the umbrella and opens it as she steps out into the street. Most of the people here look-- perfectly ordinary --wrong. Faceless things milling about. As they always do. She turns to someone, the first person she passes.]

E-excuse me. Do you know-- [She was about to ask 'how we got here,' but the sudden splitting headache causes her to cry out in pain, her eyes scrunching shut as her teeth clench together.]


V. It Was All a Drea–

[Caitlyn is exhausted. Perhaps more exhausted than she's been in her life. But she can't rest yet, not without finding Vi.

She's limping a little, but that's not slowing her down as she hurries from room to room, quickly letting her eyes rake over everyone inside before moving on. The only thing keeping her going at this point is the adrenaline, the spike of fear that shoots through her every time she imagines all the terrible things that could have befallen Vi since last she saw her. She can't bear the thought of Vi alone and injured, let alone... let alone worse, so she keeps going, keeps searching, her voice laced with urgency as she asks person after person if they've seen her.]

I'm looking for someone. A woman. About this tall. [She gestures to indicate a few inches shorter than herself.] Short red hair. The letters V I tattooed on her face? I have to find her.

barreling in }

[faceblocker]

[ Vi does not the patience to listen to whatever practical joke this Karsa lady is trying to play on them, and she's ready to get combative about this displeasure if she can't locate a familiar face. Of course, she looks for Caitlyn. Of course, she looks for Powder with even more urgency. She doesn't know what she'll do if she locates the latter, but even now she wants to plead with her. To scream and cry, yes, but still she wants to grab her and hold her. Even with the distant image of the rocket fresh in her mind, somehow she hopes that she can reverse the inevitable.

At least she finds one of the two she seeks, and the relief is immediate. She's at her side in a flash, reaching for the other woman's arm to help steady her while they walk. Lucky for the rest of the group and their guide, the touch alone keeps Vi's panic levels lower than they could have been. She's also a bit dazed, even in shock, but the scant healing that Karsa had offered the party has left her in better shape than when she arrived. Emphasis on 'scant', by the looks of Caitlyn's slight limp. ]

Hey! Was beginning to think this was a nightmare. You okay?

[ Yes, Vi means the leg, but the way her brows are furrowed and the tightness of her jaw suggests a deeper concern as well. Obviously Caitlyn can't be okay, but what else is she supposed to say? I'm sorry feels too raw in such a public space. It was clear where that rocket had been going to end up, and she's prepared to shoulder Caitlyn's inevitable grief.

Why can't Vi remember how she got here, though? Powder must have knocked them both out and dumped them somewhere across the continent. How? A hex gate, maybe? The why makes the least sense.

She wants to hug Caitlyn, to hold her and protect her from whatever's coming next (undead, apparently), but given what the atrocity they both just witnessed her sister commit...she isn't sure she even has the right. ]

wen qing | the untamed | old timer

[silverneedles]

SPILL THE TEA

What madness is this?

[ Wen Qing mutters the question under her breath as she shoves a chair in front of a door, ignoring the rest of the room as she makes sure no one can get in through that door. There are faint sounds of slashing and scraping against the door, the doorknob rattling, but the door and the chair wedged against it seem to hold fast.

With a quiet sigh, her shoulders slump for a moment, then she straightens, looking around the room. It's simply a deserted bedroom, nothing to speak of; not even the vanity, in disarray, holds anything noteworthy. But it's a safe space until the furor dies down. Anyone in the room with her will have a pleasant ten-minute conversation.

Ten minutes pass, and the rattling stops. Wen Qing, cautious but impatient, cracks open the door to peek out, and when she sees nothing, ventures out. The guests are back at the table, all static and stiff movements, teapots and cups passed between them, knives gleaming on the table. ]

Hurry to the kitchen. [ The kitchen offers a reprieve from the guests, with tasks, a potential escape. Wen Qing ventures into the greenhouse, a knife in hand, to harvest plants, pocketing extras and anything else she might find, plants and flowers included. ]

Herbs are a rare resource.

WILDCARD

[ ooc: Wen Qing is available for all of the other prompts, as desired; I will happily write personalized starters. Or throw things at me, and I will roll with it! If you'd like to plot, PM this journal. ]

[downswing]

( ...she evacuates too swiftly. This, then, is the excuse of it — why a door creaks reedy and open in hefty increments, and Lan Wangji, ten minutes savaged by swarming, red riotous on his silks, turns Bichen's pallor to her neck. Instinct, then control: the blade, surging from Wen Qing's left, does not graze skin, lest she steers herself into the press, lest impulse guides her.

He wonders, briefly, viscera scattered on the turn of his sleeves, if she is beautiful under dappled light, young in a house of dust and makeshift silence. A level below, glimpsed down the stairwell, guests retreat to their table like marshalling legions, ungainly while they learn their drills. One neglects to recover the blade, thrust neatly in tapestry. It catches the light, sheen oily.

Upstairs, a string of closed, carved doors, each fortress or prison. Better they keep to where they have refuge for when next the diners resume their hunt.

He lowers Bichen. )

Apologies. ( A trinket of courtesy, mouth dry. ) We should fetter them within their hall room.

( Better the murderers are enclosed, than that Lan Wangji and Wen Qing should take cover repeatedly. )

Lila Pitts ☂ The Umbrella Academy ☂ Newcomer

[littlemimic]

☂ Barreling In

[ A beach was not what she's expecting to wake up on, sand coating her skin and clothes and strangers all around her. Her hand reaching for a weapon she has already used up. Scanning the bodies on the beach show a lack of otherworldly warriors attempting to murder her, so it falls away easily enough.

Ending up in new places is an easy recovery for her, accepting the watch that serves as a communication device with ease. The brief debriefing has Lila cursing slightly under her breath. ]

Bloody hell. Where's the Hargreeves with power over the dead when you need him?

[ Regardless, it's onward as usual. Into the underbelly of the city she goes, on towards the train, where Lila debates her options of trying to sweet-talk her way into a proper seat or getting herself into a barrel. Being among the natives means being able to gleam more information off them, but higher risk of exposure.

It's a charming lie that gets her in the relative comfort of a passenger car, coming to her lips as easily as a new identity the way she was taught by her mother. Lila will pretend to sleep the whole time, up until the train starts shaking. ]

☂ Down the Rabbit Hole

[ From a train to a tunnel, almost right. Here she is falling without a parachute and there's plenty of obstacles to dodge, which Lila manages with all the grace of someone who has had training in something similar. She may even help out another wayward soul by kicking a potentially fatal impact by reaching out to push them to the side. Once on the ground and no more objects threaten to kill her from above, she looks around at the surroundings with interest. Approaching the door and dice, picking them up with interest. ]

A four, is it? From one madhouse to the next, I suppose.

[ Here goes nothing, and by nothing, Lila rolls a five. Suddenly, this five foot and five inches woman is growing bigger. May want to get out of the way before there becomes very little room to move. ]

☂ Spill the Tea

[ And here is the tea party, a fox handing her a teapot - madder and madder. There's an upturn of her lips at the instruction to make tea. Is she questioning the fact that the fox can talk or there are cog droids and faceless people? Nope, not at all. This happens when someone around her was a fish. Let's not forget everything that is weird about the Hargreeves.

Making tea? That's what the British do.

Traveling a labyrinth of hallways and rooms is a familiar feeling, as is being chased down by weapon wielding creatures. The clock has chimed, and she's running for her life. It should be terrifying, but this is just how her life has been going lately. ]

Think they've got a weakness? Wouldn't mind getting my hands on some of their sharp cutlery.

[ Being unarmed sucks, she should have picked up something in that tunnel as she was falling down. ]

☂ Drip by Drip

[ Bloodied clothes, her body instinctively pats herself down to find any injuries that might have happened. Lila isn't entirely sure why she does it, but she does it while on the move. Keep moving, says that prickle on the back of her neck. It's how she finds the two notes in her pocket, the words swirling in her head even after she tucks the back in.

The headache of trying to remember coming here prompts her to open her umbrella early, to block both the rain and some light - hoping to ease away the pain with less to look at. ]

Move with the crowd, find where the information is flowing.

[ Words mostly said quietly to herself as she watches the people move along in the downpour, though not quietly enough for anyone nearby. ]

☂ It Was All a Dre-

[ Mission done. Lila isn't one to sit still for long, no matter how long it felt she was in the Unwinding. So she's up and moving about the orphanage, hands in the pockets of her large coat. Looking for familiar faces that she may have met on that strange journey, or any Umbrellas or Sparrows.

She may be found crouching in front of the kids with a bag of sweets - lifted from the Sparrow house. ]

You lot can have these if you all promise to share them.

drip by drip

[mad_here]

( Don't mind the gentleman slithering close, entrance, stage right: one [1] Alice (?), drenched in his weight in rain waters, slow to keep pace. White of his linens a paltry contrast against the slate desaturation of the milling street.

The woman attracts him — generally, but for the permanence of her features in notable particular. When he brackets, their umbrellas nearly clash in a teeth-gritting, reedy squeak.

He should apologise. Doesn't, line of his shoulders drooping, while a chill rides his bones, back unfairly wet. A man of sophisticated posture might manage to keep himself under his umbrella — another thing not to apologise for, as he sidesteps rows of cogs and debris. )

You're not about to ask the name of every man you run into, are you? Even for a modern woman, isn't that a little too forward?

charles xavier | xmcu (newcomer)

[perceptive]

✘ ＢＡＲＲＥＬＩＮＧ ＩＮ

i.

( the last thing charles remembers is being on a beach in cuba. it wasn't a holiday. just an attempt on the x-men's part to stop a war. it was their first mission gone to hell, apparently. erik had killed shaw while he'd held him in place for him with the use of his powers. charles had tried to stop erik from resorting to cold-blooded murder, but letting shaw go would've put erik and all of them in danger. he simply hadn't been strong enough to do more. charles had lost any and all attempts to reach out to erik; to get through to him. his dear friend had been consumed by his rage, hatred and vengeance. when charles had tried to stop erik from killing thousands of innocent men onboard the vessels out at sea, men who were just defending themselves against what they thought was a threat, charles had gotten into a scuffle with erik, and he had been knocked out with a fist to the cheek, waking up some time later in serthica. )

My name is Charles Xavier. I am looking for the following individuals:

Raven
Erik Lehnsherr
Moira MacTaggert
Hank McCoy
Sean Cassidy
Alex Summers

They are my friends, my family. If you've met anyone by that name, please do let me know. Thank you.

( he sends the text through using, what he's been told, is a communication device of some sort that would get him in touch with other individuals who are here in this strange new world he's in. if he is here, he's assuming the rest must be here too? charles hasn't been able to sense any other mutants around him so far, but he's hopeful. or it could be that he's the only one unfortunate enough to have been taken to... what was it? to be weaponized by undead forces? yeah. no. that is not happening. over his dead body, he thinks. )

ii.

Excuse me, do you happen to have met anyone by this name...? ( he's stopping random individuals as he's waiting to board the train, looking for his friends, asking if anyone might have met them or heard of them. he's not looking to board the train until the very last minute. charles has secured passage for himself by using his telepathy. easily done, and he'll be happy to help anyone having difficulties with that. he usually would never misuse his powers this way, but they're all just looking to find a way home, aren't they? )


✘ ＤＯＷＮ ＴＨＥ ＲＡＢＢＩＴ ＨＯＬＥ

i.

( falling down a long cavernous tunnel, charles is screaming the entire way because what sane individual wouldn't? especially when he has to avoid being knocked out by falling objects as he swipes at them with his hands. he's going to die is repeated over and over in his head as he's falling, and then he's suddenly floating and charles gets hit on the head by a book, which is fortunate but also hilarious, and he manages to breathe out a chuckle before he lands on the ground with the breath knocked out of him. he blinks, surprised by the fact he's alive and he hasn't broken any bones. turning around, he screams again at the sight of a grand piano falling at great speed towards someone else on the ground. )

Look out! ( the words are yelled out as he scrambles and gets up to shove at the individual, managing to get them both out of harm's way as the piano slams into the ground right beside them. miraculously, it remains upright, not in pieces even. charles stares at it in shock before turning his attention to the person he'd just saved, his arms still wrapped around them. ) Are you alright? ( he promptly lets go of them, apologizing and moving to a stand. )

ii.

Roll four to open... ( charles is standing in front of the locked door, studying the dice for a bit and he breathes out a sigh of relief when he senses someone coming up behind him. ) Would you like to give it a go? ( he'll turn around, offering the dice over to whoever's with him now. ) I keep rolling one and gravity seems to disappear. I really think I might be out of luck here. ( that would explain why his hair is in complete disarray and his face is flushed. he'd been upside down, floating for the past ten minutes, three times over now. it's not been a great day for charles and he's close to losing his patience. )


✘ ＤＲＩＰ ＢＹ ＤＲＩＰ

( frustrated and exhausted, the two most prevalent emotions charles is having to deal with right now. that, and confusion. it's front and center. it's everything and nothing all at once. he's not sure why he's here, where he belongs and how he came to be here in the first place. he's not unaccustomed to dealing with migraines however; that sharp pain shooting through his head, the throbbing of his temple, that splitting headache. but it's even worse now as he's no longer able to block out the voices he's hearing. he's exposed to people's pain, despair, anger, sadness and more. it's everyone else's feelings but his own as his gets drowned out and replaced. )

Stop. ( he keeps thumping the palm of his hand to his temple, repeatedly, trying to get the voices to quiet down before he gets shoved and pushed and ends up in a ditch in the rain, clutching at his umbrella. when charles stands, he almost gets run over by a carriage next as he's trying to cross the street in his attempt to run away from his pursuers. what do they want with him? he hasn't done anything wrong. he tries to will them to sleep with his telepathy. the inhuman locals will fall to the ground, and then he's staring back at whoever might have noticed him do that. or he'll run and keep running, wishing he was back in familiar territory, imagining the familiar buildings of new york, and strangely enough, it appears before him, and he's glad to see his home, except there's a bridge he must cross first, with turbulent waters underneath it and there's the risk of drowning. it rains harder now, the winds howling, a typhoon incoming -- his imagination gone wild, and crazy, and dangerous as he stands there on the edge of a precipice. who knows what else he'll be imagining next? to whoever's with him, godspeed. )


✘ ＩＴ ＷＡＳ ＡＬＬ Ａ ＤＲＥＡ —

( charles, who had looked like death when he'd been brought in, with his mind in complete shambles courtesy of the unwinding, ends up sleeping the day away after arriving at the orphanage. when he's finally up and about again, he's looking more like himself. he has color in his cheeks again, but more importantly, he has complete recollection of everything he'd experienced and he is certain it hadn't been a dream. he'll try to ask around, seeing if anyone here has had the same experiences he had the night before. or in the days before. or in the weeks before. who knows even how much time has passed since he'd arrived. )

Did you fall down a rabbit hole? Did you roll a dice to open a locked door? Did you attend a tea party? ( these are the question he'll ask at random to whoever he meets. he'll also be thankful to see any familiar faces. those he'd helped or even the ones he might have inadvertently hurt with his telepathy when he'd been in a confused state of mind at one point. it's time for apologies. he really wasn't himself. )


✘ ＷＩＬＤＣＡＲＤ

( anything goes! i didn't put up a prompt for the tea party and the search for ingredients, but i'm totally 110% up for that if that's what you want to do! )


[ooc: charles canon point is at the end of x-men: first class, right before he gets paralyzed by erik. he's a telepath so he's able to read minds, but i will never have him read your character's mind or use his telepathy on them without player permission! if you want him to read your character's mind feel free to include it in the narrative or pm me to discuss things. ]

drip by drip }

[matermali]

[ Though she holds an umbrella, the rain has drenched her dress and her skin and her bones─is there any blood left? She had stood long in the rain upon escaping the tub and building, hoping the dark red would wash away and trickle down the drains, but why should she worry? The black of her dress should make it impossible to see, but somehow it's all she sees when she looks down. Uncertain of whose blood it is, and struggling to remember how she awoke in such a predicament, the need to cleanse herself is almost frantic at first. Vanessa isn't afraid of blood, but she is afraid of losing control, and she worries she's committed a crime she can't recall.

The longer she remains in the rain, the easier it seems to accept the atrocity. What atrocity? No, something pulls at her. Something deep and old forces her hand to lift the umbrella again and seek cover, to try and keep her from forgetting who she is. She can't disappear entirely, else it will as well. For once, the Thing inside seems to guide her towards sense, but even that is fleeting. Confusion makes its home inside as someone shoves her her into a brick wall. What are you doing?! Don't I belong here? Before she can strike back, the assailant falls away. She turns to see not only him, but others around her collapse. Beyond them, a single figure stands.

Who? Who are you? She has to know. A friend? Lover? Enemy? Vanessa can't remember. Have they always lived here together? Are they lost? Is she lost? Perhaps that's why he saved her. Perhaps he's there to finish her off. She has to know, she has to find her footing again. She can't lose herself again, and so she holds her umbrella tightly like a talisman, something unknown in her refusing to let her drop it away again. Wanting to be close to him, it seems as if the distance is instantly closed without her even needing to move. Is that how it's supposed to be? It is, isn't it? It's just the way things are now.

Not now. How they've always been.

Shivering, Vanessa tries to reach for him, to grip at his sleeve as a lifeline. Are we friends? Are you my enemy?

When she speaks, her voice is so raw that it's barely a croak. She is tired from screaming, though now she can't remember why she was doing so in the first place. ]

What is his name?

[ That's what one of the notes had said, wasn't it? Maybe this one knows. Is it his name she's meant to discover? Will that soothe her soul? Shouldn't she know it already, if they're old friends? ]

[ ooc; Anything written out as her thoughts, or written in normal italics, are open season to his telepathy! If anything involving Amunet comes into the mix, I'll bold it as well. That might be harder for him to read, but it's a rarity, anyway. ]

number one ► star trek ► oldbie

[unas]

► down the rabbit hole

( the fall is a little uncomfortable, though not quite as uncomfortable as some of the bumps that una had from other falling objects as she made her way down. nothing's cut or broken, she's not hurt, just a little bruised and sore from it all. she pulls herself up, rubbing her elbow for a moment before looking around the room that they've been dropped in. and finding the note )

Either we'll be lucky or we'll be here all day.

( and with the look of the other creatures in the room with them she doesn't want to be here all day. even if they're not yet doing anything )

► spill the tea

( she'd tried to keep the other person that she'd been with behind her, away from the sharp knives and using herself as a little bit of a buffer. not that it had meant much when the other end of the corridor had ended up having more strange people coming at them with knives )

There.

( una points to the nearest door, hoping to slip into it and not find any other partygoers behind it. clock struck, people moved. clearly not the time to be out. but where are they now? )

► network ★ girl on top

Where were you before you woke up?

( she wasn't in a bed, she wasn't in an orphanage, but there's a niggling feeling that there should have been something )

down

[biomed]

What?

( Everything is sore, everything feels battered and unused, creaky as one of those clockwork droids as he peers over her shoulder.

He eyes the note, the jackalopes sitting together, the bone d8, and where sarcasm might have been let loose, or a dire comment about their odds, McCoy offers only a colorless: )

...oh.

( That doesn't feel like enough. He tries again. )

We won't know until we roll.

Kahl-175 |⍓| Warframe |⍓| Newcomer

[kahl_175]

The sun's warm on Kahl's face. Bright, too. He turns his head to put it in his blind spot. Losing an eye was good for something.

Wait. Why is there sun? Kahl got into the Bolkor, dozed off while flying to mission--

One orange eye snaps open, looking up at sky. No Bolkor. No camp. Where is he?

He hauls up, sand falling from armor, looking for landmarks. Water on one side. City up above. Nothing he remembers.

He flips on his radio. "Blue Girl, what happen? Where is ship?" Nothing. Just hiss. "Blue Girl?" He tries again. Tries other channels. Nothing. No Blue Girl, no camp, not even Tenno.

Kahl is alone.

Barreling In

[kahl_175]

A black-haired woman gave Kahl a gold machine. An Orokin machine? Narmer? Maybe Narmer. When Kahl touched it, voices started making sense.

Only voices though, not words. What is undead? But he understands just enough--Undead want slaves. Go to beacon instead. Go home.

Okay. Kahl can help others not be slaves. That's what Kahl does.

First step is a train, leading far into the city. But the train guards are turning people away. Kahl would fight--but he has a better plan.

"You go on train too? Kahl help," Kahl says to someone eying the train. He speaks low, slow, and clearly--and not in Grineer. The little gold machine might change words, but Grineer language always confuses others. Machines can get confused too. Better not to use it.

"Say here to work. Load cargo. Sneak you in. Nobody think hard about Grineer working," he thumps his chest with metal knuckles. He's big--a solid build made bigger by armor, helmet scraping two meters in height. With a rough face made asymmetrical by a wound mostly hidden under an eye patch, he looks like a brute. That's what he was made to be. And that's why people never expect when he can think.

number five | the umbrella academy | old timer

[somebadnews]

ooc: Starters below, but feel free to let me know if you'd like a custom one. I'll add to this as needed. Action or prose is fine with me, I'll match you!

drip by drip

[somebadnews]

[ If Five was worried about losing his mind before, he really shouldn't be so surprised when it finally happens. He didn't think it'd look exactly like this, but there is an odd familiarity to everything, from the bloody umbrellas to the city of mannequins. He can't remember why he's here, or what just happened before he found himself in the bathtub, but even the migraines that spike whenever he tries to seem normal. Everything is as it should be, but so wrong, or he's wrong and everything is fine.

For a long while he's lost in the streets with his umbrella, staring at the notes in his pocket while dodging a line of hearses and the faceless, increasingly hostile locals. Even blank-faced, they seem to stare at him wherever he goes, and they're all too tall and shove him whenever he passes by. One nearly makes him drop his umbrella and he shoves him back and glares where his eyes should be.

A shopkeep shouldn't be any formidable threat, and yet when Five swings a knife at him it immediately breaks. Confounded (where did the knife come from?) he pulls back. Everything in him tells him to run, and of course the shopkeep pursues, turning the heads of the crowd and gaining.

Five reaches a dead-end alley when the man is close enough to grab him, but just as he reaches for him, he suddenly trips and falls. When Five looks back he finds a one-armed mannequin sprawled on the ground, her expression frozen up at him in a soft smile. He mouths a name that sticks in his throat, but after one step towards her, she crumbles into dust where she lies.

The umbrella drops and rain falls over him as he numbly gets back up and stumbles back down the alley. ]

mccoy | star trek (aos) | oldbie | cw for illness, infection

[biomed]

spill the tea cw: decay

( he's been here before, jerking awake at a tableful of dolls. last time, last time he'd been caught by hands and sent falling again, rolling dice again. he felt singed still, and took the kettle from the fox without any questions this time.

the kettle drops on the burner with a clatter and a slosh of lukewarm water, and McCoy stares down the tray of accoutrements, fever-hot and breathing raggedly from chasing down cats and tangling with irate garden weeds. speaking of...

there's mold on the left cuff of his dove grey jacket. fuzzy-soft and white and unnoticed where it touches his wrist, the skin beneath too-pale, except where it's blooming patches of coal-black.

he looks at his companion, a reaction just a hair late. )

Did you find the sugar?

it was all a drea– cw: blood

( the head-spinning shift is over, cold reality asserting itself, and he's already pulled himself out of bed against any warning, aware and utterly frantic for what it means. )

Please, I need to– ( –get back to the lab goes unspoken, dissolving as his breath seizes. McCoy turns away to cough wetly into a handkerchief, and then again, a long fit that wracks his frame and shakes his shoulders. he sits back on the mattress, dizzied, until the white square of cloth is red-damp, his blackening fingertips sticky. )

( ooc: McCoy is coal sick and varying stages of contagious, as the process of unwinding has yanked him out of quarantine and away from easy access to Team Medical. It's entirely up to you if you want your character to get infected via interaction with him! Please check out the link above for all the nitty-gritty details and the timeline that would entail 😏 )

all a dream

[winscenario]

[ Jim has come to just moments before, and he barely gets to process Bones lying down nearby before he's practically jumping awake, startling everyone around, including him.

He only has the time to walk over to him, but it's enough to be able to catch him before he falls over. Well, he probably wasn't going to fall over, but better safe than sorry. ]

Bones. Bones, stop, please. You're not in any state to go anywhere right now.

Spock | Star Trek | Old Timer

[intermingled]

Down the Rabbit Hole
[ Spock knows this place and not just because he's repeating. He clings to the sound of his mother's voice in his head reading him Alice's Adventure's. It's all too familiar from the way she'd read it to him as a small boy to the way he'd heard her reading it to Michael through a door when he had become too Vulcan to accept the open affection any longer.

He lands on a bed with a gentle bounce long enough to catch his breath only for the air around him to shift and jerk him hard to the left and then he's falling again only to catch himself on the handle of an umbrella. The cartoon logic of this cave doesn't disappoint him at first and the umbrella works as a parachute, slowing his fall.

Then a few feet from the ground the umbrella gives way and flips up a drops him the remaining feet into a hard crouch that he feels in his knees. He straights and jerks the umbrella until it flips right side out again before closing it. ]

Curiouser and curiouser.

Wildcard
( If you would like to do something else, hit me up at blauren or toss me something. )

[downswing]

( ooc: friend, are you feeling some drip-drip with a creepy child? happy to set up if so! )

lucyna kushinada < cyberpunk: edgerunners > tourist

[edgerun]

• barreling in
  

  ( it's not been a good day. no one lakes waking up sandy with the gulls screeching over head for food you don't even have. while her head pounds the witch, Karsa, sputters nonsense at her and just expects her to go with it. like she has a choice.
  
  Lucy takes the offered device with a snatch of her hand, and makes her way to the coal train Karsa more or less pushes her towards. when she arrives, the aforementioned trace is nothing like Lucy expects. but what did she expect of a whole other world?
  
  she's still not sure she bites.
  
  when it comes to getting onto the train, Karsa is suddenly less than helpful. eyeing her options, Lucy spots another one that Karsa seemed to be pushing around before. ) Apparently first class seats were too much for her. ( she throws a glance to Karsa, then back to the other newcomer. ) Let's work together?



• down the rabbit hole
  

  ( the falling would be more disorienting if Lucy hadn't played in anti-gravity braindances enough times to get the hang of being weightless. sure there's the concern of the landing when it comes, but the situation is very much one where she seems to have only minimal control.
  
  as the earth nears, Lucy flips herself mid-air and tries to catch herself on her legs. she doesn't lock them in landing, but instead falls into a roll to try to absorb as much energy from her fall as possible. it works... too well.
  
  but she doesn't have time before three jakcalopes are pointing at a door with a bone dice. Lucy narrows her eyes at the jackalope before approaching the door. she lifts the dice and tilts her head. ) And if we don't land on four? The rules seem loosely defined.



• spill the tea
  

  ( the clock strikes as you walk down the hallway. maybe it's your first time hearing it, or maybe you're becoming an old hack at this. either way, lithe arms grab you, pulling you into a room before slamming the door behind you both. ) I'm getting a little tired of this.
  
  ( she puts her ear to the door, making sure that none of the party-goers saw them. they seem to have a few seconds. she turns her gaze back to the other person. ) Have you got anything for the tea yet?



• drip by drip
  

  ( after a certain point, waking up in strange places becomes very passé.
  
  when Lucy makes her way to the child, she stands at the distance, watching him with narrowed eyes. ) If it wasn't me, it should have been. ( she remarks, her voice dripping with venom. she doesn't think it was her, but her head feels fuzzy here. not quite right.
  
  she turns her attention to one of the others instead, pulling out a piece of paper. ) It says children lie. Can we trust him?



• @ lunar.rabbit
  

  WELL THAT WAS FUN. THE NEXT TIME WE TAKE A GROUP TRIP, WARN A CHOOM.
  
  WHAT ABOUT OUR HOMES?

network

[mad_here]

...if you've got more than the one, don't flaunt it.

lumine (the traveler) | genshin impact | newcomer

[unalign]

NEWCOMERS: BARRELING IN
for once, waking up in a nice bed while in a different planet would be swell

[ lumine can't say this is the first time she's woken up on the beach; it's happened before, she supposes it only makes sense that it'll happen again. perhaps the only difference is, well ... she's not supposed to be here. she's not supposed to be on this different planet, strange and very much unfamiliar. she's also not supposed to be receiving a welcoming party that's composed of one (1) person who's unceremoniously shoving her items and information that she's ...

unable to perceive? what? ]

Battle for dominion ...

[ she repeats it quietly as she's ushered towards a train. it doesn't seem like they're welcome to ride it, and it's clear by the way some people are trying to smuggle in. creeping in, hoping they won't get detected. lumine's eyes flicker towards a bunch of barrels and boxes to the side, ignored by most people.

if anyone notices her, she's currently scaling one of the bigger barrels as surreptitiously as she can (even if she's pretty tiny). help? ]

UNWINDING: SPILL THE TEA
after burning the leaves and adding the water

[ lumine stares at the kettle and then stares at the fox who tells her to make tea. again, not unusual to see a talking ... animal. so her expression isn't exactly surprise, but more of confusion—where are the leaves? where's the water to make this tea from? she can only suppose that she'll have to make do with whatever she can find, if she can find anything at all.

if you're in the greenhouse, you'll find her cutting tendrils away with her sword, electrocuting them with purple energy.

if you're in the nursery, well—good luck trying to get in. it's currently sealed off by what seems like huge, glowing meteorites as lumine tries to catch the cat. one will hear crashes inside, porcelain and glass breaking and wood creaking, voices grumbling and pleading to just give her the milk and sugar, please. ]

UNWINDING: DRIP BY DRIP
what makes you think she's not a god elsewhere?

[ on a good day, she might've fought back her pursuers.

on a good day, she would've held her ground fairly well. but as it stands, lumine doesn't seem to be in her right mind, her memories and her thoughts a jumble in her head. it's not helped by the fact that everyone seems to want to kill her: carriages, shopkeepers, even children. and as much as she wants to fight back, she can't. even in her current state of consciousness, she's more than certain that they won't be able to keep up with her.

she jumps over a puddle of water, eyes widening when dark arms to shoot out of it, and colliding hard into another person. almost immediately, she jumps back from them (just in case, they try to, you know, kill her too), skidding over the water and groaning when she feels something sharp dig into her skin. ]

Sorry, sorry. I ... didn't see you. It's my fault.

NETWORK: @ traveler

Teyvat.
Paimon.
Aether.

WILDCARDS: CARDS BE WILDING
etc etc

[ lmk if you'd like a custom starter! feel free to wildcard any of the prompts also, i'm happy to wing things. ]

BARRELING IN

[perceptive]

( charles has been waiting on the platform since he'd secured himself passage, hoping to see a familiar face, continuously scanning the crowds, fingers pressed to his temple, listening. when he senses someone close by in dire need of some help though, he abandons his search temporarily, deciding to head over to where lumine's at. the moment charles spots her, he raises his eyebrows slightly. the struggle is real, apparently. he isn't sure if she's even dressed appropriately for this sort of thing, but there she is, attempting to scale one of the large whiskey barrels. it would be comical if not mostly concerning. )

I hope you don't mind me asking, but is that really a good idea? ( is there even any breathing room in that? what if it's full of liquor? what then? also, in his personal experience, opening a whiskey barrel is incredibly difficult to do and does require the use of some tools. not that he's about to judge her ability to get something done. she does look pretty determined even if she's having a lot of trouble scaling the large barrel at present. )

Well, here. Let me help. ( he'll give her a boost up by allowing her to step on his forearm. he might not think this is the best idea, but he is also curious to see what her next move is. )

the doctor (11) | doctor who | old timer

[thedreamer]

➤➤ 𝗜𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗔 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔 -

[ So, the infamous Unwinding. The whispers preceding it certainly did, on this occasion, quite accurately presage the madness that followed. As these things go, the Doctor has been through worse, certainly, but this is the worst thing he's faced here so far, and it's naturally got his constantly working mind running on overtime. It's a relief to see the others here, safely in the Mouse House, and the Doctor takes his time checking in on Ma'am Mariol, the children. Their ignorance regarding what's happened is, perhaps, a small mercy. He dreads to think of the little ones remembering something like that.

Assured of their safety, his thoughts turn to concern for the welfare of those in their group. The worn and wearied faces, slumped shoulders, lingering and varying looks of confusion, fear, anger, all lead him to one solid conclusion: they could all do with a hug. A hug for anyone who needs it, given willingly and without any additional inquiry, explanation, or conversation. This is, simply, a chance to connect and rest a moment.

So, to anyone who happens to be walking by, they'll be met by the Doctor, who is perhaps not smiling quite as brightly as usual, but smiling nonetheless, and offering his arms out as he says: ]

You look like you need a hug and I happen to be very good at those!

➤➤ 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗗

[ ooc: Also very happy to write individual starters and do absolutely anything with the other prompts! If you have an idea and you're not sure, please feel free to PM me or plurk @ geekorthodox ]

[cairhien]

( moiraine is certainly not someone that's accustomed to hugs, even if many of the children that she's laid a comforting hand on in this place have reached for her instinctively, the power that she's used to comfort them, warm them a little and help make them a little sleepy to guide them to dream making her feel comforting to them, making them hug her.

she's tired when he sees her, drained of much of her energy when he offers the hug, though thankfully not yet at a stage where she'll drop from exhaustion (as she's known to doing). instead he does get a smile, as bright as her tiredness will allow )

Will a hug cure my ills?

lan wangji | untamed ( old timer! )

[downswing]

down the rabbig hole ( v. 1.0 ) | a man... stuck under a piano.

down the rabbit hole ( v. 1.1 ) | a man... who wakes up choosing violence.

spill the tea | a man... who should polish that green thumb.

drip by drip | a man... rightfully terrified by a small child.

it was all a drea — | a man... rightfully terrified by many small children.

wildcard | where you lead, I will follow!

down the rabbit hole | v. 1.0

[downswing]

( A hard fall, spine-unsettling.

There’s the exhilaration, on landing, of final destinations reached in wake of travesties of magic.

Churned, cooled ground beneath his back is a dull ache. The jagged twitching of his joints, as if his body barters recollections of itself in piecemeal increments, is a concern.

…the piano that falls down, strategically entrapping his sword arm in the narrow space between crushed soil and its legs, is barely an inconvenience.

( Fate favours him: his limb is stranded, but not crushed. )

Watch as this wise, reputable and definitely not tragically flustered cultivator trashes heroically on the floor, kicking, gritting his teeth, and gently pondering if scrying an explosive talisman on the piano’s flank would eradicate his caught arm along with the obstacle.

Enjoy the jackalopes, hopping on top of this fine gargantuan monarch of classical musical instruments, and sprawling on their new perch.

Point and perhaps laugh, when a series of household stuffed plush animals keeps dripping down through the tunnel, slapping Lan Wangji’s head.

...oh, and push this piano off him, please and thank you. )

steve trevor | dceu

[nevercease]

»» barreling in

( 'Stay quiet and let me do the talking', he'd murmured to his new cohort, all forward momentum, a shearing away of what was left before he woke. The results speak for themselves: through charm and the tactical application of angelic baby blue eyes, he's secured them a passenger compartment, leaving that shore behind.

Amazons and gods. Now undead, now witches, and now another brutal war.

Steve resists the urge to play nervously with the watch, but he lets himself examine it slowly, turning the timepiece in his hands. Diana's reach for his, or he's taken hers, the memory rising in his mind's eye: pressing his father's watch into her palm, wrapping her fingers over it– )

What did Karsa say they were? ( He licks his dry lips, contemplative, desperate to think about something else. )

For communication?

»» down the rabbit hole

Okay, ( he declares, squeezing the water from his shirt. He's already dumped out his boots, and his heavy winter coat hangs on his frame like a dead animal.

A match flares in the corner.

Steve glares at the jackalopes.

The jackalopes are indifferent.

He nods to the poor soul who'd fallen with him, handing over the dice. )

Okay. We try again. Your turn.

»» spill the tea

( there are no closets, no cupboards, no armoires full of clothing to hide behind; the curtains are filmy gauze and– a hand slaps the back of your foot, emerging from beneath the bed. )

Down here!

( he hisses, and gestures the other person toward him; yes, hurry, belly to the floor and wriggle backward under the bed, hitching the dust ruffle in place. Quiet, he motions, finger to his lips as the jerky footfalls of their pursuers grow nearer.

A jar of sugar is pressed tightly to his chest.

His life is officially out of control. )

»» it was all a drea—

What the Hell was that?

( he's intact, at least, and should be glad he's still alive after all that.

Unless...

)

...oh God, are we dead?

( so he might be freaking out just a little, at last. )

it was all a dream

[inkfire]

Pretty sure we're still alive. [ he's been there for a few hours now and so far, he seems to be alive. nothing weird has happened since he's been in the house, at least, and the tea smells and tastes good.

he hands steve a cup of steaming tea. ] It's not poisoned, as far as I can tell.

Christopher Pike | Star Trek | Newcomer

[failed_astrophysics]

1. Barreling In

[The first thought that enters his mind, after of course realizing that the air is real, not recycled, is what the hell just happened. Chris opens his eyes and looks around, a shoreline, that's unexpected.

He's given a communicator and a briefing about their situation. Being used as pawns in someone else's game is never something he enjoys, but it's happened on too many occasions to count, this is just another one.

The steam train is a nice touch though. He hadn't been on one of those since he was a child and it was in a museum. Though he suspects that one was a lot smoother when it came to actually traveling on it. This one feels like it's out to beat them all up.]

I think they need to redo the tracks.

2. Down the Rabbit Hole

[The only thing Pike feels is the unmistakable feeling of falling. The last time this happened he was in a pod hurtling through space and not a tunnel keeping pace with a very fancy grand piano. In both cases, he was fairly convinced that this was the end. He was going to go 'splat' on the nearest surface.

He hits the ground and gets the wind knocked out of him before a very quiet]

Ow!

[Then he sees that piano and rolls out of its way.]

✩ down the rabbit hole

[unas]

( she's out of uniform, a rare sight for una chin-riley though given the apparel that they were graced with here... necessary. she'd left her hair loose, though after falling through the rabbit hole and her less than gracious landing (ow! indeed) she's regretting that.

the various objects she'd unfortunately bumped into had left her feeling a little sore and bruised, along with the harder landing on her ass, though nothing that she wouldn't recover from. there's a deeper breath, hair being pushed out of her face and then the realisation of that ow! hits her-- )

Chris?

( she's still sat on the floor, though has to quickly push herself back when that piano gets closer, a quick yell amidst the dust and debris-- )

Are you okay?

mo ran | husky and his white cat shizun | old timer

[inkfire]

[ ooc: open prompt(s) and a closed starter to follow. let me know if you'd like something specific or a personalized starter! ]

a. down the rabbit hole

[inkfire]

[ A rough drop into an underground lair and Mo Ran rises to his feet with a grimace, rubbing his shoulder and looking around. He's no stranger to long drops and unceremonious falls but can't this place give him a little dignity? Just a little— only no, a stray mattress clocks him and buries him under it. Muffled yells and curses can be heard, and a moment later, he shoves the thing aside, looking up at the falling detritus with a sharp glare. The umbrella is his, damnit.

Once he has it, along with a few other possessions— knives come in handy, especially in this place— he talks to the jackalopes. The door he's pointed to gets another grimace; nothing here is good, it seems.

The first roll lands on a six. ]

Fuck, can anything go right?

[ The water rises quickly, but it takes Mo Ran a moment to notice, the water almost at his ankles in seconds, then his knees, and higher and higher. A strong swimmer, at least, he shrugs off his jacket and goes with the current, swimming to the top, trying to make sure he can breathe.

Did he ever learn a spell for underwater breathing? What did that old dragon tell him? Fuck— ] I can't die here! [ Shizun Everyone would be so mad at him.

It stops before it reaches the ceiling, leaving him a few inches of space to breathe, although he keeps diving back down to attempt to roll the dice again. ]

River Song || Doctor Who || Old Timer

[spoilers]

down the rabbit hole

[ Once upon a time, there was a little girl called Alice who fell down a black hole.

Except she hasn't been a little girl for a long time and it's really more of a pit than a black hole. No matter, she's falling all the same, too quickly for her liking. And while she sees the odd individual sailing past her or floating strangely above her, some familiar and some not, none of them is the Doctor.

The tunnel seems to go on forever, then just as suddenly it comes to an end. She lands hard on her shoulder, masking a wince. That's surely going to leave a bruise. But she's on her feet quickly, brushing herself off like it's all some minor annoyance.

She gives the jackalopes only a passing glance as she heads toward the door. ]

Best get to it, then.

[ She rolls a six. Here's hoping you know how to swim. ]

it was all a drea-

[ River wakes as sharply as from any nightmare, battered muscles tense. She's clean and dry, her bruises and scratches mostly faded, but her memories are haunted by a city drenched in rain. She hates when people play with her mind.

Her surroundings, at least, are familiar. Maybe she can chase down a pot of tea. ]

wildcard

[ ooc: Feel free to come at me with your own starter for any prompt of the event or hit me up via PM if you'd like to plot something out. ]

it was all a drea -

[downswing]

( They wake to worn bodies, to flesh rusted, to bones aged. To their private resources hollowed. He feels as if he has performed every drill of his youth at twice the haste required of it, absent respect for forms.

His spine is long flashes of lightning ache. Walking the corridors, the heavens gaze down to smile in blessing, when the children, in a rare exception, do not stumble in his path. More the better — back stiffened, shoulders tight. He encounters the woman, brazier candle dead in his hand, and does not know her intent &dmash; but feels compelled, intrinsically, to warn: )

Soft steps. ( Whispered, hazy. Thoughts of late have felt misted, weak. Watery, slow to coagulate. As if each moment is a slow, saccharine awakening. ) They lack sleeping quarters. Children rest as they please.

( Under staircases, in nooks and crannies. Ever alert, prepared to swarm. )