groundrules: (Default)
let's set d o w n some ([personal profile] groundrules) wrote in [community profile] westwhere2023-05-15 05:49 pm

the sunken | part i



THE SUNKEN






Welcome to the first log of Arc VI: the Sunken, which covers 15 May – 2 June and doubles as a test drive meme.

Back/forward date as needed! The calendar date suggestions are indicative.

The TDM is open to everyone! If you decide to apply to the game, you can get an invite from current players or the upcoming enabling meme — or participate in the test drive meme and get in touch @ [personal profile] groundrules to chat things over. We currently have 13 slots available for new players.

Test drivers can use this post for logs and network posts — old timers, please make your network posts at [community profile] eastbound.

LOST AT SEA | TEST DRIVE TOURISTS


You wake, gasping, in a stormy sea, your thoughts slowed to a confused trickle. Skill, floating wood or a kindly stranger — who you can’t understand — help you to reach shore.

Villagers discover you collapsed on sand and provide critical (if rickety) communication and translation devices. They say you are in Sunken Yancai, a fishing village progressively overtaken by waters and cursed by the secretive ‘ladies of the lake’ to transit through time.

■ Rescuers group newcomers and supply questionable village couture, warm meals and accommodations in abandoned, half-flooded homes or spare small boats anchored in Yancai’s waterways. Huddle up, recover your strength and don’t think too hard on why your memories are hazy over the next three days.

■ Come morning, you visit village leader Quanze Tsaymien, then the sorceress Karsa — who explains you are otherworlders summoned into Akhuras by undead lords who wish to weaponise you in their battle against humans and one another. Karsa is an associate of the Merchant, who leads otherworlders towards ancient transport beacons east.

■ One such beacon rests dormant in Yancai. The group must infiltrate the village and wait a few weeks until it shifts to a point back in time when the beacon was active.

■ Newcomers are handed passport papers with their new identities in Yancai, where they may be known as a bankrupt merchant, perpetually drunk sailor, whale hunter, raft surveyor, mermaid who has just gained their legs, crab collector... feel free to invent a dutifully hilarious apt role for their seaside sojourn.


OLD TIMERS | THE DRIFTING


You dragged yourself here in a haze. You arrived long ago, as if in a dream. You were born and bred in this village. In truth, your memories of reaching lively Yancai feel nebulous and alarmingly inconsequential.

Characters are facilitated new identities and dwellings by the Merchant, or believe they have had them all along.

■ A weary Karsa warns to say nothing to party members with altered memories, until the sorcery that affects them runs its course.

■ Memory-altered characters progressively regain their memories within three to five days (by 20 May). They have their memories partially or fully back at night ( midnight to 5 a.m.). Throughout the day, memory regains can trigger migraines, eerie confusion and paranoia.

Hauntings begin once characters have fully regained their memories.

■ Once everyone is ‘back to normal,’ Karsa explains that Yancai periodically transits through time. The memory alterations are a magical solution endorsed by the village council, which ensures locals mentally weather these shifts. Villagers continue to blithely accept you as part of the community.


(DON'T) HOLD YOUR BREATH


Karsa reunites the existing party and newcomers, issuing first assignments. The Merchants’s information suggests the beacon of Yancai will be online once the village travels in time within weeks. A dubious Karsa asks the party to check on the beacon, located in the former House of Commerce of the largely inundated merchants’ district. Reach it by rowing boat.

■ Villagers say the Master of Commerce, a famous musician, took precautions against intruders.

■ All ground and lower floor entryways of the palatial House were boarded to restrict flooding. To enter, pick locks or climb the putrid stairwell towards upper balconies.

Inside, the hissing of running water — and, in the lower levels, of thin, slippery leeches whose bite numbs your limbs, while they attempt to feed. You seem to experience pronounced vertigo when entering any decaying rooms covered in black mould.

■ The beacon is located on a dais in the basement vault room, where water rises near 1 meter. Only a few scattered scrolls and golden decorations remain among decorations, while a large ceiling carving writes, greed deafens man to the cries of his conscience; music sets him free.

■ Some tiles of the marbled floor stand out as you wade — step on one, and all doors abruptly slam shut, while dozens of obscured holes in the wall start to rapidly spill water, threatening to fill the room to the ceiling within the hour. You hear the tinny, waning sound of a village song played from a hidden source.

■ To stop the pouring water and open the doors, sing the song you hear, or find the music box that produces it amid debris on the water-covered floors. Wind it, and it plays its song in reverse, revealing the voice of a laughing elderly man who says, Depressingly, Anurr was right to worry.

■ Don’t forget to check the beacon — and report back to Karsa that it looks structurally untarnished.


THEY SLEEP


After surprising revelations at previous citadels, Karsa tasks you to investigate just how… permanent death is in Yancai. Villagers share that their dead are buried in a strange rite at sea — part of which will take place within days.

■ The dead are ‘entombed’ in one-man sarcophagi ships with carved and chained lids that depict their likeness. These burial boats are set at sea on the first day of each season and return three months later.

■ Join the harbours around 22 May, when mourners gather to receive the burial boats. Characters must pretend to be greatly anguished relatives, acquaintances or debt collectors to join the grieving.

■ The boats float towards you, seemingly of their own volition. Gaze afar and spot a boat carrying a man in black — the same who haunts some characters — who observes until the last burial ship has reached the piers, before he disappears.

■ Sailors draw up the boats and unpeel the untouched chains and lids, to reveal… no corpses. Peer closer and find neither biological signs (stench, liquids) of discomposure, nor the magical chillness of spaces where cadavers have lingered long. Scratch marks litter the inside of some boat lids.

■ Mourners seem grateful that the waters have ‘accepted’ the bodies. Some say that their relatives whose boats have yet to return must have been stolen by the ‘ladies of the lake,’ a villainous witch coven. Speak to mourners or sailors for clues.

■ Linger long near opened burial boats, and you feel tempted to throw yourself into the sea, slowly losing consciousness — until someone rescues you.


AMONG US


On 25 May, village leader Quanze Tsaymien drags the chained and half feral mistress Miang-si to households and Yancai’s largest market square.

The young woman, he says, was seduced by the ladies of the lake — the furtive witch coven that condemned Yancai to time travel. Luckily, the village elders have… coaxed Miang-si back onto the righteous path.

Miang-si is brought door-to-door to point out her 'accomplices.' Ill at ease, villagers whisper of similar witch hunts leading to false accusations and blood-curdling repercussions.

■ Both men and women are suspected and brought before Miang-si. Perhaps she takes an eerie interest in you, getting especially close to catch your scent, touch or remark on (in)visible hurts, or even dotingly kiss you. If you whisper quickly while she’s near, you might be able to ask one question.

■ If you are patient and kind to Miang-si, she briefly squeezes your hand as she withdraws. Within the hour, you find blood writ on your palm that warns, Our fat moon rises red.

■ If you are agitated, or if Quanze rushes her during your visit, Miang-si erupts into sudden, side-splitting cackling — while you find yourself croaking like a toad, or transforming into one and retaining human speech. The spell dissolves after eight hours.

Quanze’s long-suffering men say this sorcery breaks faster if you kiss one of the curmudgeonly emerald toads that hide in some of Yancai’s lakes. Catch one such delightful, slime-spitting creature or barter it from merchants at a costly premium.


ILL MET BY MOONLIGHT


A full moon is set to rise within days of Miang-si’s visit, on 27 May — just as Yancai shows signs of time shifting. Villagers are prone to stilling and staring askance, seeming lost or adrift.

The village itself evolves: one moment, the same house appears freshly new, then drowned, while waterways overfill with water, then seem barren. Overall, the village deteriorates.

■ That day, the sun suffers a midday eclipse, while droves of black birds circle the woods and village outskirts, attacking those who come close.

■ The waters increasingly thicken and darken, preventing boats from entering certain waterways.

■ An exceedingly bright moon and a diffuse lunar replica rise with nightfall. Come midnight, the village is alive with the sounds of ripping, structural collapse and shrieks. Tar-covered corpses emerge from the waters, clawing on and climbing up piers. They swarm, drawing passers-by into waters to drown them. Help them — and foremost, yourself.

■ Light and fire keep the dead at bay. On some waterways, wildfire now spells, WHAT IS WET WAS WRONGED

■ Weaker alone, fresh corpses climb into your rowing boat, pretending they are innocents who seek shelter. They betray themselves by speaking very slowly, struggling to keep track of the conversation or obliviously peppering it with details of their death. They stubbornly ask questions about you, repeating your answers, and become violent if you say they are dead. Push them into the water at first opportunity.

Quanze Tsaymien and other men of the village take arms, urging villagers to barricade in the nearest home, harbour or warehouse and weather the night. They advise to be silent and beware the dead who imitate living voices, warning not to touch any black mould or water that suddenly appear in your home — which alert the dead of your presence within.

■ Some dead try to tear you apart, while others seek to feed you a disgusting, tar-like black mould. A small taste of it makes you sluggish and feeble for two-three hours, while an entire fistful can kill.

■ If the undead infiltrate your house, hold your breath, do not move and keep from screaming. The dead have weak sight and olfactory senses and might pass you by, as long as you stay silent. It can be more efficient to fool than kill the dead.

■ By 5 a.m., houses start to replenish themselves, gaining a new appearance, while water and mould retreat. The dead withdraw into waterways. Outside doors have been marked with blood: vertical lines tell how many living people remain inside; horizontal ones count how many within died overnight.

■ You step to seize a brave new day — while Yancai enters a new time period (further details due in the next plot update).


NOTES

■ The game enabling meme goes up on 25 May.

Hit up available NPCs here or in their new inbox!

QUESTIONS.

nachocheese: (Default)

Sweet!

[personal profile] nachocheese 2023-05-26 08:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Nacho smiles a little, very softly, despite himself.

"Uh, yeah..." he says. "So. Uh. Witches. Real ones. What do you make of 'em? All this 'ladies of the lake' shit? What's your opinion, man?" His eyes glint. "You gotta hear some good gossip, right?"

He feels a faint tug on his line, but then it's gone. Just a nibble. Oh, well. Like the man says. Another one'll come.
weifinder: (cup | i wanna help you)

[personal profile] weifinder 2023-05-26 08:03 pm (UTC)(link)
( A somewhat amused look sideways at Lockwood — all is fair, Wei Wuxian had been terrible at studying because he picked everything up too fast and didn't need to study, per say, but his attention holds better on situational importance and he's been here for years. Nacho was the result of a man walking face first into a situation where he ended up called out on his own contributions to blackmail, and Wei Wuxian's petty vengeance. )

We're on a world at war with a handful of dead warlords created after an intelligence of some kind was summoned from the other side of a mirror into this world. How that's reflected ( hah-hah ) on life and the inconstant state of death here isn't unique only to the time since the country responsible, called Ellethia, fell to its own research, but it's plunged this world into a kind of war it hasn't expected at large before now.

( Which isn't particulars enough, but that conversation is large and long, and so far, Lockwood hasn't indicated he wants that so much as the simplicity. )

Resurrected dead existed here before the current warring lot. Now it's widespread, linked to curses that often have a basis in what we call dark waters, and present here, I'd stake my robes on it. Those boats, the empty ones? If time reversed and people lived again, or if the dead within each boat was called out and to the waters, part of what we'll need to determine is how the curse and dark waters are present here. So that when we activate the beacon to send people home this go around, and we move forward, no one's consumed or converted in the process.

( A pause, the raised eyebrow, a hint of good humour but also seriousness in his eyes: )

You did catch that we're prime fuel for the undead warlords, ah? We, specifically, carry more energy coming from our other worlds, that our capture and use creating creatures of death is a primary fear of the man managing our eastern trek, and a point we need to avoid at all costs. Including our resurrections back to ourselves, and ties to the ones who resurrect who aren't the dead.
beautifullies: (ιт ιѕn'т geordιe.)

[personal profile] beautifullies 2023-05-26 08:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He deeply reminds her of Jamie, especially once he makes the decision to send her ahead, even moreseo when he grins. He might not get the scolding he's expecting, but if he gets injured, he'll definitely get an earful. But she does go; not before uttering a few more words. ]

Don't you dare get hurt.

[ Then she really is gone, one arm hanging limply at the other still holding onto her rebar. She realizes just as she reaches the door that she doesn't even know the young man's name, and she turns quickly, closing the door behind her to watch for him, ready to open it as soon as she sees him coming. ]
downswing: (corset)

[personal profile] downswing 2023-05-26 08:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Such work —

( Is beneath the First Jade of Lan, completely. A crass and loathsomely pedestrian task, better suited for lesser men and children. For his part, yet stubborn, Lan Wangji punishes himself that he could not protect his brother from this calamity with another taste of the...

...tea. Grimaces. Shudders. Moves on. )


Does not become you.
lanclan: (112)

[personal profile] lanclan 2023-05-26 08:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Wangji, you have been living in a cave.

[ A poignant silence lingers. ]

We cannot be picky with our ways and means. [ Gently; ] I am capable and willing, it does not demean me.

[ Thank you for caring. ]
recklessenough: (pic#16321377)

[personal profile] recklessenough 2023-05-26 08:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It is hard not to wonder if he hasn't jumped from the pan to the fire. What is happening back in his world feels like a pale shade to what he is learning about this one, but he can't help wondering if this would be where The Problem might lead them. Were it to go unchecked.

He doesn't try to continue the conversation at this point, lost instead to a combination of his own thoughts and steady watchfulness. Though he can do flippant dickhead with the best of them, this man he steps along aside has made it clear he has no tolerance for such foolery and even Lockwood can read the room.

At least so long as he doesn't have a reason to keep stepping on toes.

His tactical mind wars with his arrogance, because it would be easy for him to toss around words such as then let's go find him! and other calls to arms. But he's learned to temper his brash confidence with a certain level of practicality. He doesn't know nearly enough about what is happening here to be making proclamations. Hell. He's just trying to survive the night in one piece.

A gust of wind, carrying the stench of rotten flesh, draws him from his thoughts and the youth pauses. Apologies to the reserved older man, but lean fingers alights briefly against his shoulder. ]


Company.
wantshappiness: (sad || resolution)

[personal profile] wantshappiness 2023-05-26 08:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[She knows those feelings. She knows those feelings far too well.

Except, she doesn't have the courage to say so.]


I'm sorry. I hope she leaves you alone after this.
aprescoup: (Default)

[personal profile] aprescoup 2023-05-26 08:28 pm (UTC)(link)




"It's no gossip... he... ha, you think I'm like a little Missus, ehhhhh? Ehhhh? Me?" Him? For shame, to look at him, still struggling to choose a new fishing ground, when he bring his rod wire up, and sets fresh bait in. Finally, he throws it out again.

"We loved with'em long enough, eh? Was quiet, mostly? Little bit of trouble, here and there, but that's just life and loving, heh? Ha... hahahhhaaa..."

Another moment, so the elderly man can enjoy his own joke. "Now all of a sudden... they're cursing us? Well? Well, if better man say so! They're so high and so up, heh? Must be they... they've got a good view! Seeing all I'm not! Used to be one of them ladies brought me goat milk every... every day! Best milk I've ever had! Best goat, too! You think... you? A bad witch would have a mean old goat, wouldn't she?"

The smile, far too pleasant, seems almost rehearsed. A man who is trying not to criticise, but perhaps failing.

recklessenough: (pic#16321378)

[personal profile] recklessenough 2023-05-26 08:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Safe as houses!

[ Despite his devil may care smiles, Lockwood is fairly adept at keeping himself in one piece. At least when it comes to battling the dead. He checks her progress a time or two, falling back in stages as he takes battle after battle making quick work of his opponents. Adrenaline junkie or not, he won't be lingering and it is in fairly short order that she will see him dispatch one of the dead and then break off entirely.

It may have appeared that he was hacking at random, but as he turns and begins to scurry for the apothecary, it will become obvious that he built himself a bit of cover by dropping the bodies in the path of their oncoming fellows. While the ramshackle corpses struggle to get across the other bodies, Lockwood leaps nimbly along the boardwalk until he can dash the last bit of open path, heading for the door. ]


Hate to drop in unannounced ...
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (8)

[personal profile] blackscales 2023-05-26 09:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Age before beauty? Wrathion studies Clara, a smile twitching idly.

"I suspect that would be you first, actually."

Not that he's going to force the matter. He begins picking his way down the stairwell, testing each step as they go, and studying the surroundings with a frown of concentration.

"From what we have been told, it's expected something will happen to this village that changes things here. Time magic, presumably pulling it back in time to before all of this. The beacon is seemingly not functioning currently, depleted or damaged by the flooding. That means I may be unable to sense it."

Which just leaves searching the long way around. He frowns in thought.

"So, where would we keep a beacon? It's an artefact, not unique but not common place. Likely not in a kitchen or common area. Perhaps a display cabinet, in a collection? A room dedicated to trophies and collectables?"
downswing: (二)

[personal profile] downswing 2023-05-26 11:27 pm (UTC)(link)


( ...death, walking dark around them. He does not feel it. Night-shrouded, smell of damp green lively and sharp in his nose, and the blood caked thick and crawling on his back and his limbs, he senses only himself. Rustling are leaves wind-cradled or his filth-stiffened silks, folding. He breathes, and waters ripple in a necklace of small puddle-ponds, and it is one of them, deafening, or the other.

He flinches at the boy's touch, revulsion immediate. Do not. But he watches, steadily, as alerted.

The dead are energy to Lan Wangji, an unsettling. The first one comes, bright and wild-eyes, like an animal, half-crawling — and the second after, peeling from a tree's skins, as if it can only hope to kill now that they're swarming. And look, its arm decimated. A third hefts up, half its torso dissolved in waters, from the marshes.

And beyond him, more swim towards ground. This particular lake-pier may have been more infested than most. A sound choice, for hunting.

Silvered, Lan Wangji's blade draws out in a tired, mute unwinding. He finds himself adjusting his pose, back settling behind the boy's.

The first wave of attacks is inevitable. Amid the swinging, at some turn, he hisses behind himself — )


Find lamp oil. Drench your sword. ( From one of the many braziers, downed with their men. ) We give it fire.

( A heated, devastating little skewer. Perhaps an improvement on what that needle of a sword can achieve on its own. )

downswing: (wildcard)

[personal profile] downswing 2023-05-26 11:29 pm (UTC)(link)


( ...of course. Even in this, he lacks the ability to protect, to fend, to honour. His brother, the better man, is at once reduced to accepting this dubious turn of events towards crass poverty, and better equipped to weather it through.

Lan Wangji's head bows, teeth gritted. Aching. He speaks nothing, not a word of protest, not another of harm.

Until, finally: )
Your wish, my command.

redhourglass: <user name=vertigo site=insanejournal> (vertigo10)

oh no poor doctor!

[personal profile] redhourglass 2023-05-26 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
( it's ... well, it's kind of a miracle the man is still standing, let alone babbling at her. she hadn't known she had a punch like that in her, not really, and his enthusiastic response has her startled out of her personal existential crisis. halfway through following with a second punch, she catches it at the last moment and stares, slightly open-mouthed — an interesting way to say hello. guilt floods in, and dropping her arm, she pulls back. )

I... ( natasha feels the opposite of okay. she feels ... shattered. like she's two different people at the same time. the natasha that knows yancai like the back of her hand is embarassed, annoyed, shocked — and maybe other natasha isn't so different, but there's something else there that she can't quite parse out. a sense of wrongness that a punch won't fix.

the pain in her head flares, and she clasps both hands to her temples. )


Sorry. I don't know what I was... ( another stumble. she shouldn't care, really. but that other her, the one at war in her head, growls at the implication she can't stay standing on her own. ) Have we met?
traumatology: (001)

[personal profile] traumatology 2023-05-26 11:47 pm (UTC)(link)
( she doesn't leave because of course she doesn't. he tries to take a few breaths to get himself under control, wincing at the continued question in his head. )

Nothing.

( well, he can try to lie. )

Stay away from me.

( just in case. )
westviews: (SIDELINE)

[personal profile] westviews 2023-05-26 11:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[Leaving would require a greater sense of self preservation. She's not so sensitive as to think this is specifically related to her, but the frown on her face does deepen when he tells her to stay away.]

I can help you.

[And probably not get smacked across the map in the process.]
redhourglass: <user name=megascopes> (Default)

🕸 (don't) hold your breath

[personal profile] redhourglass 2023-05-27 12:11 am (UTC)(link)
(don't) hold your breath (boat edition) ( open to all! )
( a mission.

that's what this is — at least, that's what natasha wants to see it as. she can do missions. the rhythm is something she understands, and karsa had seemed to understand it as well, asking them to go and check on this 'beacon' (a concept she's only vaguely familiar with). it's better than dwelling on those days she'd lost, the ones where she'd thought she was married, that she'd been here her entire life —

the boat is cramped, but she takes up an oar, doing her best to match the cadence of the other person who is rowing, lest they go in circles. )


What do you think is waiting for us? ( normally comfortable with silence, the awkwardness was getting a bit much even for her. )

(don't) hold your breath (it's a trap!!) ( open to all! )
( it's unclear which one of them mis-stepped — natasha will, of course, deny it, but it easily could have been her who stepped on the wrong tile. the water starts filling in once the doors slam shut with finality. swearing under her breath, she goes almost supernaturally still, eyes darting from the doors themselves to the carving on the ceiling and the music playing.

her companion probably doesn't take things in stride the same way — even she has to admit there is a bit of an element of a jump scare to it. or maybe they're just as calm. )


There has to be a way out. ( she mutters, eyeing the way the water starts to fill with an appraising glance. they have time. it's not ideal, but it's not immediate. )
redhourglass: <user name=megascopes> (megascopes34)

[personal profile] redhourglass 2023-05-27 12:14 am (UTC)(link)
1. do the villagers know or have theories on what determines whether a body is accepted or if the ladies of the lake take them?
2. are the boats of the bodies that the ladies take ever found?
damnable: (143)

understandable!! 2 beautiful bi-ladies on a boat 😍

[personal profile] damnable 2023-05-27 01:40 am (UTC)(link)
Shit. I hope not. Never liked flying even if it was in a plane, and they're fairly foolproof.

( But the very thought is... not appealing. She never has flown in a plane, but she knows how common they are in the modern world, how easily people trust their lives to those floating metal containers in the air. She smiles though at the sound of Clara's laughter - it's a good sound especially given how she nearly died last place they were at, especially given they're going into more danger now. )

...invisibility? You got skills I don't know about?
inferus: (🗡️ 1 1 7)

[personal profile] inferus 2023-05-27 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
Wrath could nearly curse her husband's forethought. He was aware of his curse, aware he had been told centuries before that he would lose what he loves whenever he did find love, and yet he was not prepared. He confessed his feelings for his wife, and he watched her disappear before his eyes, and then he- then he exacted retribution, allowed his monster to be free.

It took time to get his wife to remember, and she still has forgotten so much of their life before, remembered a whole life without him.

He pauses then. She says many words that do not quite register with him - 'back up', 'database'.

"...did this world give you a body, or did you have it previously?"
inferus: (🗡️ 3 5 5)

[personal profile] inferus 2023-05-27 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
Wrath holds his breath as he feels the warmth of her hand settle over his own. His eyes close, and he breathes in and then releases that breath once more, allowing the feeling of her fingers brushing over his knuckles to settle upon him. There is understanding in her touch that reaches him.

He only opens his eyes when she speaks again. It is the answers he needs even if he is simply left with more questions.

"...my mind should have been strong enough to resist."

There is a sharpness to his voice - anger aimed at himself, at this world for knocking down defenses he spent centuries building. He breathes in again, turns his hand until it faces her own - their fingertips pressed together.

His gaze lifts from their hands to her face - her beautiful, striking face, setting all of his ice to blaze. "You were looking for solutions."
scrapgege: (005-01)

[personal profile] scrapgege 2023-05-27 08:44 am (UTC)(link)
... I'm not sure it will be that simple. When a ghost finds a specific target, they don't usually let go unless you make them.

[And that's going to be a problem if he can't catch her.]

Have you been troubled too?
reparo: (obliviate)

[personal profile] reparo 2023-05-27 11:08 am (UTC)(link)
Hermione, in hindsight, would probably have a very complicated reaction to finding out the truth of who he is, though undoubtedly she'd accept it. Albeit with some hysterical laughter.

(It's funny, see? Salem witches got murdered when accused of consorting with the devil, and here she is making him tea.)

Ignorance is bliss, but facts can no longer be ignored.

"Yes? That's it? How - how are you immortal?" She gestures towards him, as if All That can't be immortal, see? Then thinks of something else, too. "Is Emilia immortal too?!"

That might be Emilia's story to tell. But! "Is that why she finds it easy to throw herself into danger? Or why you know so much about magic and - and - and war?"
vestments: (Default)

marc spector, marvel comics — tourist

[personal profile] vestments 2023-05-27 11:56 am (UTC)(link)
( top levels below!

general content warnings for moon knight (violence, (internal) religious conflict, mental illness) apply — tbh there are some that are unlikely to be touched on at all, and others that are simply unlikely in an introduction thread, but in order to avoid any unpleasantries or discomfort, i have an opt-out post located here! )
vestments: (Default)

— lost at sea, arrival

[personal profile] vestments 2023-05-27 11:58 am (UTC)(link)
( marc is no stranger to hazy memories, muddled thoughts or to questioning reality. he's been here (not here) before — to misremembered pasts and presents he doesn't quite understand. he's been through worse — or that's what he tells himself, at least, as he's sprawled on sand: he didn't drown (this time), so that's a positive.

the negatives, though, are numerous. firstly, the obvious: there's barely enough sun to dry him or his clothes, sodden wet and uncomfortable, clinging to his skin in all the wrong places. there are locals speaking in a language he neither understands nor recognises (not the first time), who offer him a device he takes, looks over, and then pockets for later.

(it helps with the understanding.)

they don't stick around. )


Ugh, god—

( intoned in the way that makes it quite clear he means 'fuck', it's a quiet noise of resignation, frustration and — ultimately — acceptance. acceptance that this is where he is right now and that no, he doesn't really know what happened. there are thoughts, here and there, fragments of memory that are formless and teasing. as if, if he doesn't try and reach for them too obviously, they'll reform without prompting.

he's not dressed for the beach, not by any stretch of the imagination: white shirt (long sleeved), white tie, white waistcoat, white suit jacket, white trousers, white gloves, white boots and — finally — white (of course) mask. that sits beside him on the ground, having been pulled off ungracefully and desperately as he'd inhaled a mouthful of wet, and judging by the amount of sand clinging to it, he won't be putting it back on any time soon.

in contrast to the suit (or, at least, how the suit presumably looked BEFORE), marc is — unkempt. dishevelled. brown hair drying into messy waves frame a face that wears an assortment of day-plus old bruises, a nose that's been broken several times and not quite healed right on at least one of those occasions, a scar that runs through his left eyebrow, and he could do with a shave (unless the stubble's a choice, but who knows).

he moves to stand, abrupt and decisive, taking a moment to futilely attempt to brush sand off his suit (he'll be finding it in crevices for days—). he knows he's not alone. he can hear the sound of breaths behind him, and he reaches, slowly, carefully, deliberately into an inside pocket of his jacket. cold, wet metal. familiar. good. doesn't do anything with that knowledge. instead, he turns his head to one side, just a touch, to glance over his shoulder.

a slight frown — not notably unhappy, more the frown of a man who wears it as his de facto expression. )


Don't. It's not polite to sneak up on people. ( a level, pointed comment, hoarser than he'd usually sound (salt water). )
Edited 2023-05-27 11:58 (UTC)
vestments: (Default)

— ill met by moonlight

[personal profile] vestments 2023-05-27 11:59 am (UTC)(link)
( this is more marc's speed.

it's not that marc has always felt as if the moon called to him — that'd been new, that'd been khonshu, though now marc feels as if it'd been all of his life. the moon here is different, yancai is not anywhere with which he has familiarity, but that doesn't mean his duty has changed. that does not mean his debt, his mission is any different. he is still moon knight, he must still protect the travellers of the night, and anyone here that is not dead (undead? the exact semantics are unclear—) is one of his.

(khonshu is quiet, silent, and marc is not sure if that's because of where he is or if it's because of where khonshu is. the difference barely matters, and marc had been trying — pointedly, deliberately — to call upon him less, speak with him less.

(attempting to take over the world hadn't been his finest moment, and yet—.)

marc has impatient, frustrated questions he'd like answered and though khonshu may not help (when had he ever helped?), marc thinks there'd be some form of answer.)

he situates himself at a house near a pier, its owners having fled some time before. the finer strokes of what's happening — 'what is wet was wronged' is otherwise ignored, ultimately perceived as less important right now, less decipherable than 'punch zombies'. marc's approach to fighting is skilled, certainly, but he fights as a man who considers the concept of 'defence' a mere suggestion than something inherently advisable.

(reckless, then. marc spector is reckless.)

movement, closer than he'd like it to be invites a short, sharp, sudden blow — a truncheon (white, stark in the moonlight) thudding into the wall (a crack) next to—

—someone not dead? it's difficult to truly say, as tar-covered as both they and marc are. )


—You should be more careful.
Edited 2023-05-27 12:00 (UTC)