groundrules: (Default)
let's set d o w n some ([personal profile] groundrules) wrote in [community profile] westwhere2022-10-22 07:42 pm

the clock tower


Happy Hallow-elevator! The clock tower event lasts between 22 October and 8 November. ICly, the tower incursion stretches around a week, and you’re welcome to have your character investigate something else, if they finish early!



THE CLOCK TOWER




ALL IS AS ALL WAS| TRIAL & NO ERRORS | THE TOWER




ALL IS AS ALL WAS

Play it cool, as Serthica’s customs officers pore over your passport papers, before grudgingly allowing you overground. Minaras, you hear, is hunting a delinquent.

Both it and Eidris fare well, with no sign of the damage that preceded the Unwinding. Locals no longer behave eerily, dragons and clockwork droids roam freely, and everyone hates taxes.

Yet perfect strangers insist they know you. Your assigned address leads to a different house. The roads, buildings and architecture look ‘lived in,’ but changed.

No one remembers the Unwinding.

Burlap mannequins sometimes watch from mirrors, windows and reflecting surfaces.

■ You might hear shifting and scratching in Eidris walls.

Minaras has doubled its bounty for a man not unlike Leonard McCoy.

Black fungal spores are found on the increasingly voluminous experiment vials, specimens and supplies thrown out by Minaras medical facilities.

■ Frail and confused, Ellethia survivor Zenobius finally awakens. A short thread is up for RNG grabs.




TRIALS & NO ERRORS

The guard troops that Eidris and Minaras assign to the Neutral Zone now protect King Thivar and High Councillor Arabella during the annual Sanctuary Reckoning trials. Both adjudicate cases that violate the ceasefire.

Prolonging the trials buys time for your companions in the clock tower.

■ Create a distraction — flood the judgement hall rooms? Fire? Illusions?

■ Pose as trial participants: perhaps you are of Eidris, and you caught this wicked Minaraian raiding your home? Mayhap this wretched man of Eidris stole your girlfriend? Wait, you’re a Minaraian who wants to kill King Thivar?

■ …organise breakouts, if Thivar or Arabella have your jailed. You are first imprisoned in makeshift Sanctuary cells — all but poorly locked, glorified closets. Get a trial sentence!

Thivar and Arabella treat the trials as a box-ticking exercise.





THE TOWER

As Eidris and Minaras play court, you can infiltrate the Neutral Zone clock tower of Vassarizhia.

■ Only token security remains. The door is unlocked.

Karsa supplies paper talismans that must be burned in the watch fire at the tower’s top level.

■ Each burned talisman amplifies the reveal spell that Karsa activates. Link a finished burning thread by 8 November to help the cause.

■ A November mod post will describe how much of Serthica’s ‘undeath’ characters can see.

■ Placing Magnus’ dragon eye before the tower’s telescope will allow characters to always see Serthica’s undeath, moving forward.




✘ ELEVATOR ETIQUETTE

Imperfect stillness dominates Vassarizhia: your footsteps do not click, words die in your mouth. The tower’s rickety gear slither silently. Your heartbeat aligns with the clock’s tick… tock.
You have the growing, gnarly certainty that you have invaded something ancient and alive.

The tower’s entryway level is large, deserted, stacked with gears. At its core is a dilapidated open elevator shaft.

A large sign says to find and pull the floor lever, if elevators stop.

■ There are two elevators. Each narrow lift can hold up to four people, crammed. The upper half of the carriage is chain-link fence, while the floors contain hatches that sometimes open mid-travel for 30 seconds. Hold on to ceiling-bound leather straps.

■ The ropes holding the elevators are thick, but tattered.

■ The elevator’s creaking squeals can awaken swarms of 1m-tall bats and bat wyverns. They rattle the lift, but ultimately withdraw.

■ The elevator can stop at as many levels as you want (or none!).

■ Beyond the second level, you feel intensely paranoid and see your companions as the persons you most hate/fear for five to 10 minutes. Reaching the top, you are tempted to cut the lift ropes of those who follow. (The ropes and elevators recover, after crashing to the bottom. )

■ On each floor, as you exit the elevator, a nearby wall shows a different scratched instruction, signed by DAVID.


LEVEL I: THE LABYRINTH| LEVEL II: THE ANCESTOR | LEVEL III: TAG! YOU’RE IT
LEVEL IV: THE ROOM WHERE NOTHING HAPPENS | LEVEL V: IT’S RAINING (AGAIN)




LEVEL I: THE LABYRINTH
CONTENT WARNING: MINOTAUR, BODY HORROR

Step into a jail maze, flooded to knee level. Confusing corridors narrow, widen and contort, while wall torches dim.

Intermittent howling reveals you’re not alone. Hiding, you see child-like chalk drawings of forest animals on walls — and a great minotaur. Keep silent.

■ David S P’s wall scrawl says, IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY.

■ Collect some of the many discarded daggers or axes. Rope bundles float in water — use them to paralyse your captive or briefly force them under your control.

■ Don’t linger in one place: rotting, bodiless hands surface to restrain you.

■ Bad news, if you swallow water when the minotaur or dead hands try to drown you: your skin stretches and bursts, while your bones pop and extend. You mutate into a half human, half woodland creature, all bloodlust. ( Inspiration, anyone? ) Your companions should still recognise you; between hazy memories and constant pain, you might struggle to remember them and even attack.

■ Morphed characters can (painfully) return to normal within minutes of re-entering the elevator.

■ A smaller and distressed three-headed minotaur also roams the labyrinth. Two of its heads sob, while the third urges you to hide with it when brother approaches. It tries to throttle you with a noose to make brother happy, if you follow. David did say.

■ The minotaur and its sibling have poor sight. They cannot enter a corridor where you’ve drawn or laid down a line.

■ Pull the lever, and a straight corridor leads you to the elevator.


TOP | LEVEL II | LEVEL III | LEVEL IV | LEVEL V




LEVEL II: THE ANCESTOR
CONTENT WARNING: GIANT SKELETON, BLOOD DRINKING

Here, only barren stone and thin rivulets of fresh water pouring from wall fountains with sharp-tipped ornaments — your spilled blood quickly infects the basins. Knives, pins and bowls have been abandoned nearby.

High pressure and vertigo overwhelm you. Follow a rhythmic heaving to where the upper half of an enormous skeleton — the Ancestor — has broken through a wall. White, silk thread fetters it. Dried blood rims its cracked mouth. Before it, the stone floor has been tarnished, up to a 5m radius.

The Ancestor appears dormant, a crown of iron thorns on its head. It clutches the lever tightly in its right hand. Above it, an engraving urges, SPILL WINE FOR YOUR ANCESTOR.

■ David S P’s elevator scrawl says, WATER TO WINE.

■ Dally staring and you feel dizzy, nauseous, depressed and compelled to share your close-death encounters. Before you know it, you are stepping into the Ancestor’s radius…

■ …where it plunges for you, if you don’t bear a filled cup. The silk ropes keep the Ancestor from reaching beyond 5m.

■ Two carvings under his fists read HONOUR THY FATHER and DISHONOUR THY MOTHER.

■ Quickly distract the Ancestor from crumbling his captives, tearing their arms or attempting to eat them.

■ The Ancestor is instinct-driven, consumed by thirst. It cannot see or smell, and only remembers taste. Sounds divert it.

■ Improvise: there is no actual wine here. Infuse water, spill blood, or vocally pretend you are delivering wine, and the Ancestor might spare you.

■ If sated, the Ancestor releases the lever.


TOP | LEVEL I | LEVEL III | LEVEL IV | LEVEL V




LEVEL III: TAG! YOU’RE IT
CONTENT WARNING: SCARECROW, SKINNED CREATURES

Enjoy pitch dark, dread and bile spreading in your gut. Take a candle from near the elevator and roam through small, unlocked rooms that feature tattered beds, strips of tanning leather and blood or wax spilled on the floor.

■ David S P’s wall scrawl says, O CATCHES IT.

■ Ahead, you see candle-bearing mannequins that dance a hora to the same song played by Jim Kirk’s music box: “Up the mountain, in the grove, hand in hand to Ke-Waihu, fresh harvest’s a treasure trove, each fall we feast anew.”

■ The creatures are patched abominations of wax, skinned flesh and burlap. In the middle of the hora is a wiry scarecrow, eyes blazing with candle fire as it points a large cleaver. In certain lights, the scarecrow’s face briefly contorts into that of your mother. It wears priestly robes that Arc III survivors may recognise from the House of Ravens.

■ As the dance finishes, you notice the lever in the middle of the circle, where flame spells out TAKE THEM, NOT ME. The game begins.

■ The abominations run, gleefully manic and screaming TAAAA~AAAAAG. YOU’RE IT! The scarecrow unflinchingly cuts them down while pursuing you. Hide in the abandoned rooms, or risk snuffing your candle to avoid detection.

■ Some abominations slap you, hold you, or alert the scarecrow. Others offer shelter. A few peel off wax skins from their limbs — showing black fungi beneath. They murmur, IT NEVER GOES AWAY.

■ Parchment strips fall from the scarecrow’s sleeves, reading, HAPPY NAME DAY, MOTHER KNOWS BEST, THE SIN RAN DEEPER THAN SKIN, IF YOU CAN BEAR IT, IT’S A GAME.

■ Bless David: draw the scarecrow into a drawn or makeshift circle to trap it.

■ Intense, paralysing fear arrests you, if the scarecrow catches you. The wax abominations chant, TAKE THEM, NOT ME. One might even take pity and move your numbed mouth to utter the words. Say them — and the scarecrow lands deep cuts on your arms, then pursues your companion.

■ If you betray someone, the abominations take the appearance of your worst version: whether physically mutated, with a temper that amplifies your worst features, or both.


TOP | LEVEL I | LEVEL II | LEVEL IV | LEVEL V




LEVEL IV: THE ROOM WHERE NOTHING HAPPENS
CONTENT WARNING: MANIPULATION, MENTAL COERCION

You enter a quiet room. The lever sits on a table, beside rope and a dagger. As you approach, your surroundings transform: perhaps your dearest dead appear to warmly welcome you. Crowds of your doubters celebrate your success. Or you are in a calm oasis, where nothing hurts.

■ David S P’s wall scrawl says, THIS DREAM IS A NIGHTMARE.

■ Whatever your deepest wishes, the room’s vivid illusions provide. With time, your beautiful dreams deteriorate into horror. Sometimes, you hear whispers of, Make a wish.

■ The room increasingly drains your life force. Within half an hour, you have gaunt flesh, brittle bones and a hunched back. Or you might feel compelled to harm yourself, clawing your arms and face, or pulling your hair out.

■ The damage comes undone minutes after reaching the elevator.

■ The room focuses on one person: if someone joins you, they see fainter echoes of what the room shows you, but they are not enthralled. They must coax or drag you away.

■ If you are under the room’s influence, it forces you to make any later intruders stay.


TOP | LEVEL I | LEVEL II | LEVEL III | LEVEL V




LEVEL V: IT’S RAINING (AGAIN)
CONTENT WARNING: PLAGUE, THE CHILD

At the tower’s open-sky top, fire crackles from a small stone pit, shielded by a familiar, immovable blood-spattered white umbrella. Nearby, discover an immense rusted telescope and other discarded astronomy tools.

You trip on rain-battered yellowed bones at every step. One skeletal hand holds a watch piece, engraved for Mr. David Sebastian Pumpkins.

■ David S P’s has only scrawled his signature.

■ You might reach the flame easily, or be overwhelmed by sickness, black fungal spores blooming on your fingers, while you cough blood and experience intense fever. The symptoms wane once you reach the fire.

■ Burn paper talismans and link finished threads to help Karsa’s spell.

■ The child with a fox mask from the Unwinding could appear. Sign up for one of three short threads, which must finalise by 3 November.


NOTES

■ Some of the bigger plot clues have been emphasised, to help navigate through the horror details.

■ You can hit up some NPCs during the trials.

■ Check out plotting posts for last-minute team-ups.

Back to the top.

QUESTIONS

weifinder: (intense | i'm fighting and i'm bleeding)

[personal profile] weifinder 2022-10-27 10:57 pm (UTC)(link)

( There's a memory of nails clean of grit and mould, but he's given that up as he's given up the idea of clean until they find baths, leaving this place. If this is his due earnings for arriving late, having contributed to the delays, then so be it. For now he smiles, seeing Bichen, and shakes his head, before his husband speaks.

There is fall, and falling, and an autumn removed from this place. There are graves and the silence that lingers with them, and there are the haunts that howl, echoing down to them, from the floors above and below.

Lan Zhan speaks, and a memory of a far distant time wiggles loose, the impression of resentment catching him as a physical thing, and he shudders, deep in his empty core, for the memory of it. For the design of what it had been, once upon a time.
)

Enough to cover the both of us, or enough to catch what else lurks?

( Pleasant conversation, but not the hinging part, as he breathes in, shapes his lips, begins to whistle. There's cajoling to it, the velvet over steel of his will, and he feels, can even see, as that which has little form responds, flows towards them from all angles, cries. He never misses the shrieking, the sobbing, the coaxing. All the cries of what is beyond life, seeking something left in the mockeries of it. A particularly strong addition to that which gathers near slithers across his shoulders and yowls off again, sending up a gust of air to tug at Lan Zhan's dangling robes, cool, humid air reaching for calves and just higher.

A note to his whistling song: calm. The momentary stillness that follows, anticipation before an exhalation.

Higher up, a stone trembles, jostles free. It falls, aimed halfway, toward Lan Zhan's crown. Wei Wuxian shifts to the left, following where his hands tell him grip lies stronger, and the moaning, echoing roar of the minotaurs below rattles up, and up, and up, along with an unidentified, unknowable scream.
)

thedreamer: (0303)

[personal profile] thedreamer 2022-10-27 11:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, you love it.

[ He tosses back over his shoulder, without missing a beat. As if this is the most important conversation they could be having right now. ]

I have been able to read, oh, at least the last century, believe it or not. No, no, he's not the Ancestor. Not my ancestor. No, this fellow - [ The Doctor inches closer, slowly. He may be curious and fling himself headlong into danger most of the time, but he's not an idiot. Well- He won't be gleefully charging up to it. ] - this dreadful looking chap of ours, let's call him Fred. Eh? Fred, what is it you want? Visitors, is it? A party - oh, that's it! A party, all the makings for one.

Lovely atmosphere, charming music, fabulous decor, I mean really fabulous. The blood's a bit grim, but we all have our preferences, I suppose.

[ Because he's stepped closer, though, he finds himself getting increasingly dizzy and nauseous himself. So, he stops where he is, kneeling down - mostly to get his footing again - and while he's there, he swipes a finger across the floor and brings it close, almost to taste it, but not quite, just smelling the aroma. Yes, as he suspected. ]

Spill wine for your ancestor. On the nose with that one. We've got plenty of wine for you, not to worry.
makemeasong: (𝐶𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑂𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑑)

i gotchu boo

[personal profile] makemeasong 2022-10-27 11:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Clara walks out of the elevator with every intention of getting the hell out as fast as she can. There are two cuts on her arms that obviously bled but were messily cleaned with what's now wrapped tightly just beneath each cut: neon green yarn. It was all the Doctor had, so the dried and flaking blood is more streaked than wiped away.

Staring down the table with the lever she knows there's some sort of trick, something she'll have to go through. Fingers clenching into fists at her sides, Clara decides to make a run for it, straight to the table. With every pound of a foot against the ground, her childhood home becomes clearer around her and she pauses, standing in what's now the middle of the dining room. Skin prickling with dread, there's clattering in the kitchen, so she walks into the room and feels her breath catch. Her mother, her perfect, beautiful mum is right there, pulling a tray of soufflés out of the oven.

There you are. You nearly slept too long.

Clara blinks quickly, looking down and realizing she's in her pajamas. ]


...Oh.

[ The warning she read, where did it go? Turning around, she goes back through the dining room. Down the hall, she hears a door open and there's Sabine, hair messy and wild as she rubs her eyes. It stops Clara in her tracks to see her; she died, she knows she did. There was an accident and she was gone. But here she is now, standing in front of her perfect as ever.

Your friend's so weird. You know he brushes his top teeth, then rinses and starts all over again to brush the bottom?

Clara's confused, because she has no idea who Sabine means. Not until the door at the end of the hall flies open and there's the Doctor, straightening his bowtie.

Ready for breakfast, off we pop!

She lets herself be pulled along until she's sitting across from her mum, her friend, and the Doctor. The three people she loves most, the three people who've been taken away from her. But there are nightmares to go along with dreams, but they go away eventually; already she feels it fading. No regeneration happened, no train ride, no tower. It was all a bad dream, and with the perfect soufflé in front of her, Clara smiles. This makes more sense, and she can forget the life where all her favorite people are gone.

This is where she wants to be. ]
chosenbylight: do not take (schematise-012)

[personal profile] chosenbylight 2022-10-27 11:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[Anduin nods, encouragingly. A smile tugging at the corners of his own lips as well.]

They do, don't they? Sometimes right from underneath your nose, if you aren't careful.

[Anduin is quiet for a moment, lingering in the thought of the sea and the gulls, before he continues:]

How did you come to work at the Institute? From the Panagos. You were -- in Research? A scholar?
slippin: (pic#15858600)

[personal profile] slippin 2022-10-28 12:25 am (UTC)(link)
Jimmy, three seconds from asking Can he shriek?, tables that for the time being. He makes a disappointed noise—promptly added to the bird's repertoire—and steps back, contemplating the animal as if its beady gaze might hold some insight into its character.

“Yeah, good call,” he says to Kim, voice dipping into a more thoughtful register. To John: “A lot of this is gonna be”—he mimes zipping his lips—“mum's the word from our fine feathered friend. Less is more, etcetera. How's he with crowds and loud noises?”
strewth: campbell; a green and pleasant land. (in their vases)

[personal profile] strewth 2022-10-28 12:54 am (UTC)(link)
Well, in for a penny... John holds his hand up, and a coin flashes between his fingers with practiced ease. The light catches it, a twinkling flash, something shiny for the bird to stare at.

"You lot," he says, voice low and pitched for humans. "Don't look at the coin. Basic hypnotism."

His eyes flicker to the woman, Gizelle. A brief look he hopes she doesn't catch, and then, back to the bird. The coin flickers from one hand to the other, quick as stage magic, and the bird whistles, low, before going silent.

A moment passes, two. Then John points at the ceiling, and the bird screeches, "village graveyard!"

John turns to Jimmy. "Reckon it likes you."

[personal profile] sansdoute 2022-10-28 12:59 am (UTC)(link)
( And then he's back again, umbrella alongside him, trickling close like the rain he seems to have — for now — eluded. He reaches again, and nearly touches, but withholds once more.

The dog-wolf isn't for petting today.

And he remembers, fleetingly, to spread his umbrella over Clara's head. )


I won't. I make things sick.
sansdoute: (zenobius)

[personal profile] sansdoute 2022-10-28 01:04 am (UTC)(link)


I don't... ( Remember. But then, he strains himself another moment, and then another more, and he's binding truths and half truths, and the evidence adds up together. )

I was there. An institute is for scholars. So I was one.

( But he seems hesitant, in the way of a man who builds his certainty off the evidence presented to him, sooner than his own recollections. )

And I had the care of the sea, too. And the bastard seagulls. ( He frowns, midway. ) Why is it you're paying for the care of a man you know nothing about? Who are you?

sansdoute: (zenobius)

[personal profile] sansdoute 2022-10-28 01:06 am (UTC)(link)


( In his hand, the crystals gleaming, like toys you wouldn't give a pauper, fragile and cheap. He purses his lips, nodding along, tempted to cast away his gains. )

I don't know no merchant. Fat scheming and overcharging lot. Why would I try to speak to a man I don't know?

( And then, patiently petulant: ) You think I'm that desperate? That lonely?

weifinder: (ask | where shadows hide)

[personal profile] weifinder 2022-10-28 01:11 am (UTC)(link)

( Wei Wuxian is as patient in turn, used to worse from those older than his years, and knowing how disconcerting it is to wake and be behind on all relevant knowledge of a world around you. His recovery was... less kind, in many ways, than even this. )

Only you know how you feel. It's an option, not a demand, nor a request. He uses the name "Raven Master," if you decide to reach out.

( There, the pitcher: he shifts and slides his fingers around the handle, pulling it close. )

More water? Any other questions I might attempt answering for you?

downswing: (magnolia)

[personal profile] downswing 2022-10-28 01:56 am (UTC)(link)



Leave me. ( And softened, because they are no longer the children who depend on stiffness and animosity to explain away their private truths, who must shield themselves with the conceit of formality: ) Your ghosts, my qi. Dissonant.

( Resent tarnishes, he need not whisper, hours, days, weeks of songs of clarity yielding no success throughout an age of war, past communicating intent plain: to right the wrongs that assailed the husked heart where Wei Ying's core might once lived, but no longer thrives. Resentful energy transits the body, clogs it, besieges it like black of mould. Wei Ying has learned to metabolise its storm of aggressions as strength, but Lan Wangji's qi remains more fragile, the balance threadbare. It would harm him to dress in the dark of Wei Ying's ghosts at length, sooner than it might defend him.

And yet, when the shrill wisps of Wei Ying's whistling coagulate, he does not flinch, nor pull away, but allows the Patriarch's ghosts to know him like their grief, to walk him like the dirt of their graves, to traverse and inhabit him and move past him, into their master's hold. Only then, he calls Bichen to hand, silver of her blade darkening in his hold, flimsy, biting.

When the first bat-wyvern spills into their space, clumsily scuttling in, creaking plates of metal, its wings folded to its body in te narrowness of the shaft, he knows the creature is only pursuing reconnaissance for its brother — that they must dispense of it quickly, Wangji jumping up to send his sword down its spine and reap lines of blood, until the bat's propelled down, for Wei Ying and his dark children to feast on.

Two work better than one. He hisses down, listening for more: )


How many do your dead say to expect? Handful or legion?

saintclaire: medesesperas (and I knew that you'd end up a-cryin')

[personal profile] saintclaire 2022-10-28 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
John unsettles her. The shreds of what she knows about him are damning if true and alarming if false. That she’s hidden so much from him in turn feels irrelevant; she isn’t packing some ability to control people.

Her free hand settles deep in her coat pocket, just to have somewhere to wind unseen, and she watches John — might as well, if she’s not to look at the coin. Her expression is studious.

“Okay,” she says. “It should work.”
makemeasong: (198)

[personal profile] makemeasong 2022-10-28 02:04 am (UTC)(link)
[ The relief of the umbrella. It makes her feel better and she looks up at it, then at the child with his mask. ]

If I could pick, I would rather make people better. They'd be happy with me all the time. Probably never run out of friends.

[ Clara doesn't want to upset him by interrogating him, so instead she gives a small shrug as if she's asking a casual question. ]

Don't you think that would be better?
downswing: (一)

[personal profile] downswing 2022-10-28 02:05 am (UTC)(link)


( There is madness in this man, a lack of moderation. Wei Ying might say, he knows laughter.

And there is a wonder in Lan Wangji, wilted to the floor like a plum blossom past its blooming season, if he is the spectator, accomplice or subject of John Constantine's latest farce. If this is all an elaborate game the man and the deathly, enormous, glaring creature of these halls play together, at Wangji's expense.

Cards, then. He has heard of this, at court, in certain circles. Some of the sects, lent to indulgence, find it fashionable.

Though he does not favour the exercise, Lan Wangji affords it every last trickle of his concentration, frowning at the dancing spread before him, at John Constantine's wastefulness of... dexterity? Sorcery? Perhaps the twain. He chooses a card in dim, hollow light, and slips it down on hard stone, for John Constantine to turn over. And he hisses: )


We lack the time for play.

sansdoute: (zenobius)

[personal profile] sansdoute 2022-10-28 02:07 am (UTC)(link)


Just the one, boy. ( If it pleases you, though it seems to embitter Zenobius to give the ask, and he delays, gathering his thoughts, filtering them of profanity or impatience.

Give him time, give him time. )


What... who do you need me to be now? Wasn't for my pretty eyes you did.... what you did. Whatever you think you did for me. You want something. I'm asking... name that price.

strewth: campbell; quiet. (another suburban family morning)

[personal profile] strewth 2022-10-28 02:12 am (UTC)(link)
We've all the time in the world, mate, and this ain't play. It's work.

[John runs his fingers over the card before he turns it over, revealing the three of disks.] See?

[He's hoping for some reaction, something the giant can see, to add a little mystery, wonder or excitement. Time is of the essence, Wangji is right about that. But if they don't use it well, it's wasted all the same.]

[And when John has a plan, he won't let himself be moved.]

[personal profile] sansdoute 2022-10-28 02:12 am (UTC)(link)


( It's the dog he wants to touch, the one he keeps turning to, the clatter of his fox mask's lower jaw suggesting perhaps he keeps opening, then shutting his mouth.

It is such a big an handsome dog — and he retires his hand behind his back hastily, no sooner than the girl's done speaking. )


I think you're going to die. Because that's all you know to do. ( He looks away. ) You should just leave me your dog. I'd look after him.

saintclaire: commission by <user name=splatstick> (when you're too wise to trust me)

[personal profile] saintclaire 2022-10-28 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
Kim’s relief comes in pairs: a roommate that is still alive and seems to not need a trip to some quasi-Victorian ER, and a husband just put together enough to still be determined to sample every cuisine possible. Her sigh of relief is inaudible now, but the ease to her shoulders is obvious. Everyone in one piece for another night, thank god.

She’s still trying to fish out her pack of cigarettes when Jimmy descends on her to take hers, but she lets him have it. She throws a lingering glance his way, something that goes with the lipstick stains on the cigarette now in his mouth, but Yelena still needs a fix. She pulls one out and passes it to her wordlessly, ready with the lighter.

Her expression is expectant. Same question.
weifinder: (mmmno | and you know the safest)

[personal profile] weifinder 2022-10-28 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
What I said before. Later, when your memory serves, I want your insight into what happened in your institute. What you believe Matthias wants.

( a pause, and consideration. )

It's all tied in to the Brotherhood and their undead legions in some manner, the ones who summoned us here, and that really needs to stop.
snowcleave: (pic#15553215)

[personal profile] snowcleave 2022-10-28 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ She hadn't been aware that her statement was something of a test of his mettle until he passed it, and when he rebukes the idea of them meeting their end she's doubly pleased to knuckle down, ignoring the request that she drink it, and instead waiting for him to take the flash and have his share. It feels right now.. ]

Hurry up so we can take the lever from this drunkard and go.
snowcleave: (pic#15830932)

[personal profile] snowcleave 2022-10-28 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
Lan Wangji. [ She returns it weakly, even as every cell of a body bent on shifting further fights against it. The claws tipping her fingers graze Youhuang's hilt, leaving marks behind in the places not built from the greenish-golden metal the rest of it is.

Crying out as her insides twist Fei staggers back, looking away from him and over her shoulder, desperate to find a turn to take and flee before the crashing pillar bars her way and fills the labyrinth with its thunderous splash.

The hand not still clinging to her weapon goes to her middle before she doubles over.
]

The water. The monster.

[ A thin trail of blood streaks her chin as she raises mournful eyes towards him, reaching out without reaching. ]
snowcleave: (pic#15553214)

[personal profile] snowcleave 2022-10-28 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ Putting on the guard's clothes over her own, Fei's process mirrors Yelena's to some extent, as she too, is forced to cuff her pants a few times to atone for a difference in height between herself and the man she's knocked out.

Yelena's question pulls a chuckle from her as she straightens up, adjusting her belt before tucking the wide sword she carried into it securely.
] You look like you're ready for patrol.

[ One hand stays on Youhuang's hilt while she gestures at herself with the other. ] What do they feed these guards here? They're all so big and useless. [ Then, after giving Yelena another nod. ] Let go. Maybe we'll find someone with a ring of keys.
snowcleave: (pic#15600089)

[personal profile] snowcleave 2022-10-28 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ She doesn't know this individual but the certainty in his voice when he tells her he's watching her back is all Fei needs.

This giant skeleton is horrible, and she doesn't want to approach it, but she also doesn't falter, one hand holding tight to her sword, the other on the neck of her flask, keeping her head held eye as she regards the massive bag of bones.
]

From Jianghu.

[ You're welcome.

The contents of the flask are tipped into the bowl and as she pours she looks over her shoulder at her companion, giving him a nod. So far so good.
]
snowcleave: (pic#15568443)

[personal profile] snowcleave 2022-10-28 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ That's not the answer she expects, but, seeing the way his dark hair has become increasingly streaked with silver she has no time to dwell, heading further into the room as her expression clouds with fear. ]

Come, we have to go.

[ As more of his hair loses its beautiful color Fei sticks a hand out for him to take as she tries her best to read the emotions playing across his face and put it together with the faded version of whatever the room made him see to determine who it was he saw instead of her. Maybe if she used the right name he would come around and listen to her. ]
weifinder: (calm | as i walk)

[personal profile] weifinder 2022-10-28 02:55 am (UTC)(link)
( He smiles, without clarifying, as guard, not as fuel to his husband: he understand what answer was given well enough. Then what comes, comes, and the chatter of resentment peaks and whines and soars, crying, as the bat-wyvern slips and clatters and climbs lower, lower, to then meet Lan Zhan's steel.

They want to strike even before he calls the note for it, wrapping around and fettering wings, a dark and quiet to most ears howling of anger, of grief, and of intention. There's the question being asked, and he whistles another note, answer coming in voices that overlap and whisper, shriek, or moan. Size limits, such as it is. But life does not, much as the lift itself can repair, the broken and degraded coming back to whole again and again, cyclic.

He remembers the tower, and he answers, his song left on a lingering note, his lips already aching.
)

Handful, not counting this one.

( The bleeding creature that shivers and lashes and then goes still, held across the breadth of the shaft, downturned. Dying, yes, he can feel it in its way, but still alive now. )

More large bats? I don't know how large they meeeaaaah!

( Flapping of wings, and bats a third their height drop down, deadly in a dive. Wei Wuxian hurriedly resumes his song, the raw strength of it less melodious in parts for the lack of his flute's finesse, and the resentful energies thrust upward, the bat-wyvern born aloft and turned into shield, smaller bodies hitting and shrieking in shrill high notes as they make contact, thud, thud, thud.

The hurried nature of his manipulations makes for little room where they hold, and the invasion of the wyvern's dying mind turns it spastic, not smooth at first. It comes near to knocking him down, does likewise with Lan Zhan, in its progress upward, leaping, to intercept the bats falling thick as hail, heavy as boulders.

Small boulders.
)