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.

blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (13)

Re: QUESTIONS

[personal profile] blackscales 2023-05-15 07:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Important question, can First Class passengers leaving the train to enter Yancai pull classic Terrible First Class Guest moves and take all the tiny soaps and free comfy slippers they can possibly load themselves up with? Asking for a friend. The friend is Wrathion. Listen, he already anticipates having a terrible time he wants to do so as comfortably as possible.

Secondly, on our long list of kidnapped gently escorted NPCs we have Mr Quicksilver Sam. Has he ever had reason to port here? Is there any good history/gossip about Yancai he might have known from his... extremely legit seafaring days?
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (8)

Re: QUESTIONS

[personal profile] blackscales 2023-05-15 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)
Excellent, Wrathion is beginning a hoard of comfort items. He is not sharing.

And, thank you! We'll find a use for that seafaring gentleman yet.
dontdeserve: (Huh?)

Vash | Trigun Stampede | tourist

[personal profile] dontdeserve 2023-05-15 08:43 pm (UTC)(link)
i. Lost at Sea

    Vash has never seen this much water in his entire life. Not that much water all in one place. That much water. He was born on a spaceship, and grew up (for about, oh, a century and a half) on an entire desert planet. The only sea he has seen has been the sea of sands, and that is entirely different. (He has seen footage of it, on the spaceship. And he has read about it. But even that was a long, long time ago.)

    But he is, after all, what he is, and all the moisture feels good despite the general... confusion that clouds his senses. But he is resilient, and unless one knows his pecular weak spots, illusions are never easy to settle around him.

    Right now, he is sitting, frowning slightly at the papers he has received.

    "Excuse me? Do you have any idea what a mermaid is ilke?"

    ... he's only read about them in a couple of books back when he was a year old or yonger. But if he has to pretend to be one, research is important, right?

ii. (don't) hold your breath

    Vash may be surprisingly useful on the search for the beacon. He's strong, he's fast, even with all the water - or especially because of it - and he can and will take hits for others and keep going.

    On the other hand, once they reach the room with the dias, he will get busy gathering up the scrolls because knowledge is good, right? (Are they readable? He'll find out later. Are they in a language he can read? Absolutely not. And... still.)

    And also, he starts humming the song they are hearing almost immediately, but once he realizes that it is actually helpful, he'll probably sing it, too. He's got you all covered.

iii. Wildcard

    ooc: hit him up with something else.
paperbutterflies: (Concern)

Lan Sizhui | The Untamed | old timer

[personal profile] paperbutterflies 2023-05-15 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)
i. the drifting - part i.

    ... don't mind him, he'll be up early in the morning - aaaalmost early enough to catch some of his real memories. The headache is absolutely not the best thing he's known, but it also isn't the worst. But it does mean he can't focus or accounts, not yet. Instead, you can find him belowdecks, bailing water.

    And he's not even complaining about it.

ii. the drifting - part ii - the haunting.

    The young children make Sizhui smile brightly when they first appear, but soon enough their words and tones make his face fall as he slowly walks to the prow, looking at the rapidly approaching shore. By the time they are mooring, anyone on ship or nearby can hear his soft, forlorn, baaaaa!.

    He is fine after that. Really.

iii. among us - part i - in person or network

    Of course he is kind to Miang-si. Even without what he knows about his haunting, that is just the way he is. He'll even bring her some (good) water and perhaps something to eat, once he realizes she's been brought from person to person without much thought for a break. Can they accuse him of benig an accomplice? Perhaps, but he has a boat to sail away on, right? Even though he knows he is not actually and never was an accountnt.

    But still, that is why how later, he finds himself staring at his hand, then activates his network device and murmurs, both aloud and over the communication channel,

    "Something might happen because of the moon." He is not sure, but anything written in blood must be investigated, even if it is too late.


iv. among us - part ii

    ... "Do you need help catching a toad?"

    Look, he is not saying you need it, but if you want help, he'll catch them for you!

v. wildcard

    ooc: hit him up with something else, he's around
clavesregni: (Default)

[personal profile] clavesregni 2023-05-15 09:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Caitlyn would like to ask Ming-si whether she's alright or whether she needs any help.
topoiran: (Default)

Su Xunxian | Oh! My Emperor | old timer | cw: memory of a death in second prompt, blood

[personal profile] topoiran 2023-05-15 09:54 pm (UTC)(link)
i. the drifting - crabs!

    Xunxian is between two visitors, planning for a next trip, when another crab crawls up his leg. Instead of leaping in panic or anything like that, he siply reaches a finger to stroke gently along the shelled back. "Hello, little friend. How are you today?" Then he smiles, the answer clear to him and, belinke, nobody else.

    But also he and Moran sleep undisturbed by them at night.

ii. the drifting - the haunting

    It is the first time that is the worst. For a moment, he actually thinks that their young friend is there, so he rushes after him. "Shang Yu!"

    But then Shang Yu does not turn back, and a sweet lady turns and reassures him that he is fast enough, he would get away from any danger, and Xunxian freeze, wide-eyed.

    Then he runs after the figure walking away, but even though Shang Yu never uses his power, Xunxian can't catch up, until he trips and crumbles to the ground, the tiny stain of blood from the scratch on his palm against the rocks remindig him of the much larger stain they found him in...

    Of the characters he had laboriously written in his own blood on the ground. Xunxian squeezes his eyes shut and punches the ground. He isn't sure who is doing it, or why, but he knows exactly how likely it is that that was not actually Shang Yu, but instead something to make him remember.

    Knowing does not mean that it hurts any less.

iii. (don't) hold your breath

    As a leach is about to bite into you, there is suddenly an elegant hand that reaches to gently pick it up. "Hello, little one."

    Xunxian makes a bit of a face as he gets the bite, but smile up.

    "Go on ahead. They won't hurt me too badly, anyway." And he is still not nearly good enough in a fight, if there is one.

iv. wildcard

    Or poke at him with something else.
fiercechains: (Default)

Wen Ning | The Untamed | Tourist

[personal profile] fiercechains 2023-05-15 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Arrival ]

He is not entirely sure how he ended up in a place filled with sand. Nor does he understand what it is that he's handed. It was probably a good thing that the device translates their words or he would not understand what they are talking about. Nor has he ever heard of Yancai.

The warm meals that are provided were not needed so he makes sure that they go to someone else, someone who needed them more. He knows that, for now, he needed to make sure that everyone was alright and that they were not in any danger.

Though, when morning comes he's none too happy about the message. After all, he's been considered a weapon before. As for the passport papers, he would find out what that was all about after taking everything in.


(DON'T) HOLD YOUR BREATH

There were leeches that bite and try to get something from him, to feed. Did they feed on fierce corpses, on the undead? Though, that was far from the problem that laid ahead. Especially when the hissing of running water seemed to fill the room.

If water were to fill the place then he would sink to the bottom as he did not swim. Perhaps if he were still human then he would but he was not human anymore. The water does not, however, stop him from heading off toward one of the rooms.

When there was need for help then he would do what he could to help.

ILL MET BY MOONLIGHT

The village was... wrong. That was the only feeling that he knew to put it as. Though, it does not show on his outside features. He has watched as the structures collapse and the shrieks hit his ears. Whatever the Tar-covered corpses are he does not care, not at the moment.

When the corpses go to swarm, go to drag anyone in, they will be met with chains. Wen Ning will do what he can in order to in order to help those that pass-by and keep them safe.


[ Wildcard ]

OOC: If something else catches your attention, toss it my way. ♥
fiercechains: (Default)

[ Network; audio; un: Ghost General ]

[personal profile] fiercechains 2023-05-15 10:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Figuring out the device that he was given is not something he particularly likes. Though, it could not be much worse (or better) than Master Wei's devices.

When he does figure out how the device is meant to work he, at the very least, figures out the audio. ]

Do we know what might happen?
downswing: (theodora)

[personal profile] downswing 2023-05-15 10:56 pm (UTC)(link)


...a girl, a witch, a stray. The work of her curse a wet knot, tightening with each pull of their adverse, amateurish incompetence. He feels a boy, dwarfed by the opaque impossibility of the task before him: half whim, half torture, all stink of arrogance, smug pride. He has attempted every word, every ward, every scrupulous process of orthodox practice, ruthless exorcism and private ingenuity he could muster, only to leave a drove of their companions reduced to bleating croaks and distorted forms, begging succor —

While Lan Wangji takes his son for his shadow and hunts down the old, ancient enemy: a well-fattened toad. Here, locals say, the creatures oft gathered: in this lake, where the midday sun has starched the waters silvered. The wind slaps pier pillars with gusts, each of Wangji's steps tickling frail wood, teasing its erosion. To fall in, or not to fall in — that is the question.

He does not betray himself. Does not sink. Only reaches the end of the pier, watching the constellation of imperious toads spattering the waters at distance ahead of them, content and confident on the empire of their lotus leaves. This... will require swimming towards the creatures. No. Talismans, first. Silk deserves better than this swill-spillage.

"We must procure a triad." Given the number of their alliance afflicted by this — condition, any fewer would make mockery of their rescue operation. The grit of his teeth is a thinning line, gravel.

"...your senior Wei boasted a binding talisman." Fish like a cultivator.

makemeasong: (𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡?)

Clara Oswald | Doctor Who | Old Timer

[personal profile] makemeasong 2023-05-15 11:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ ooc: Top levels to follow! My plotting comment is here and her role/assignment/haunting can all be found here. More than happy to whip up individual starters if nothing below floats your boat. Feel free to ping on disco @ lifewasawillow#5524 or DM me! ]
Edited 2023-05-15 23:12 (UTC)
clavesregni: (107 04 02 04)

Caitlyn Kiramman | Arcane | Old-Timer

[personal profile] clavesregni 2023-05-15 11:30 pm (UTC)(link)
I. The Drifting

[Caitlyn has always lived in Yancai.

So why does she have a notebook, in her own handwriting, full of adventures she's never had in far-off lands she's never been to with people she's never met? She doesn't understand how there could be a love letter scribbled at the bottom of one page, written to a stranger, when she's never been in love. And most baffling of all are the photographs of things and people and places she could never have photographed. The rest must be a work of fiction, something she wrote late at night while fantasizing about what her life could be if she had the wherewithal to leave and then forgot she'd written the next morning. But the photographs...

She finds herself with a miserable headache if she looks at them too long.

Find her sitting outdoors, enjoying the weather and a cup of tea, pouring through the notebook with a curious frown on her face.

Or find her standing knee-deep in the water, trousers and sleeves rolled up, trying to train a fish and getting frustrated at her inability to do the job she's had since she was old enough to have a job.]



II. Hauntings

[She can't seem to escape him. Always sitting, crying, pulling at the mask on his face and begging for her help. At first, she isn't sure whether he's real, but she runs over to help him anyway, trying to pull at the mask that he clearly wants off. Her blood runs cold when she sees the name carved on the inside of it.

Those sharing the villa with her may run into her in the small hours of the morning, trying to gently peel a wooden mask off a young man's face while he weeps.

She finds him by the side of the road in town, too, and though she can't be sure whether anyone else can see him, whether she'll look mad for interacting with him, she still tries to help, tries to pull the mask off.

There's always another mask underneath, and they all have the name Marcus carved inside of them.]


Who are you? How do you know that name? [She asks the questions every time, trying to be as gentle as possible, not accusing him of anything. He never answers.]


III. (Don't) Hold Your Breath

[Of course Caitlyn is going to explore a strange sunken House that holds a beacon. Of course the obvious signs of danger aren't going to deter her, and neither is the fact that she hasn't got any experience traversing decaying abandoned buildings.

Rifle case securely strapped to her back, she makes her way to the old place, and is skirting the outside, trying to find a good way in, when she spots someone else also making their way around the building.]


Are you going in too?


IV. Among Us

[Caitlyn hasn't the faintest clue why she's dragged in front of a strange woman in the market square, who gently runs her fingertips over the three faint scars above Caitlyn's brow. There's something in the woman's eyes as she does, and Caitlyn can't help but wonder if she recognizes something about their origin - she got those from another 'lady of the lake,' after all. Or perhaps it's merely... sympathy? Curiosity?

Caitlyn takes the woman's hand and quietly asks whether she's alright, only to receive an answer that isn't really an answer at all. Little girls weep, but women help themselves.

Not even an hour later she feels an itching on her palm.]


Our fat moon rises red?

[She reads the lines written on her palm aloud, without any care that she might be overheard, wondering what they could mean.]


V. Ill Met By Moonlight

[Caitlyn is awoken at midnight by crashes and shrieks.

It takes a moment for her to orient herself, but she tumbles out of bed, grabbing her rifle and running out into the street with barely a moment spared to put on a pair of boots. There's shouting, the sounds of fighting in the streets, and someone tells her to get inside, barricade the door, and stay silent.

Instead, she runs ahead.

The scene in the village is like something out of a nightmare. Tar-covered corpses rising from the water, dragging people down or tearing them apart. Caitlyn ducks into a nearby side street, pressing her back against the wall and clutching her rifle with white-knuckled hands.

She spots a shadow, someone - or something - moving, and raises her gun at whoever it is. When she speaks, she tries to sound stern and commanding, but there's an audible shake in her voice.]


Show yourself.


VI. Wildcard

[Hit me up with anything! Plotting comment is here if you'd like to plot.]
Edited 2023-05-16 01:09 (UTC)
lanclan: (65)

Lan Xichen | The Untamed | Tourist

[personal profile] lanclan 2023-05-15 11:39 pm (UTC)(link)
( arrival i. soup starter. )

At first he thinks he is dreaming, likely having a nightmare to take him away from the events at the temple, but no. The water is very real, as is his choking, and this place can't even be mistaken for a broken-down Lotus Pier because of all the strange mold and even stranger people. The only other thing that feels real and not like he is disassociating from murdering a close (albeit manipulative and sickening) companion is his grip on Shuoyue, trembling slightly.

When an old couple usher him to come sit with a band of similarly out of place folks, he makes no trouble and quietly sips the soup he is given. Although, if Nie Huaisang pops up and says he doesn't know what is going on, Xichen thinks he may not be responsible for his own actions.


( arrival ii. memory haze. )

For three days, Xichen's memories feel like fog. He can't remember how he ended up in water, in the middle of nowhere called Yancai, being conscripted by undead lords ...

Because he most certainly is not, is his first reaction when he hears that. He doesn't say it aloud, instead frowning as he listens intently with his head cocked in mildly polite (massive disrespectful, if you know how to read a Lan man) disbelief. When handed his new papers, he blinks slowly in exasperation at the title there: Lotus Picker.

Are there even any flowers around? The passport isn't even trying.


( arrival iii. asdfghjkl network. )

Offputting though the device is, he witnesses other people using it and decides he is going to figure out what to do with it too because frankly he is tired of Not Knowing things. Xichen sits on a stray bench and cycles through all the odd abilities the object boasts, finally starting to record.

Then it stops.

Records again, for longer this time, to show him arching a brow at the sight of himself on the little screen.

"Hello?"

He touches his own face to see the mirror-image comply like a reflection, as when he spoke, and gets promptly distracted by being asked for help by someone off-camera. The screen tilts and he can be heard saying "Of course, yes," in an obliging tone, though the video doesn't die for a good thirty seconds after that and just shows the floaty legs of his skirts wherever he is walking, banging off his thigh.


( ill met by moonlight iv. chopchop. )

The corpses fall like wheat before Shuoyue, though Xichen also attempts to play Clarity on Liebing purely to see how far he gets. Not very is the short answer, defaulting to cutting off their arms so they can't climb or swim back out of the water again once slammed back in.

It's almost cathartic to be so brutal after so long sitting idle, working out some of his own personal frustrations on the cursed dead.
moonsounds: (Ruka (7))

1

[personal profile] moonsounds 2023-05-16 12:24 am (UTC)(link)
It could be worse.

That's what Ruka tells herself in a mantra in her head, sitting motionless with the bowl resting on her knees as she watches everyone. Her expression isn't particularly harried--she's not upset or defensive. Just...watchful. Taking everything in.

When Xichen takes a seat next to her, she glances at him with open curiosity--everything from his hair (much, much longer than her own) to his robes are interesting and not at all familiar, even less so than things normally are for her. It reminds her vaguely, very vaguely, of a priest's robes.

Wordlessly she offers her bowl out to him as well, untouched from her.
makemeasong: (𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔.)

DAYS 1-4

[personal profile] makemeasong 2023-05-16 12:29 am (UTC)(link)
Dᴀʏ Oɴᴇ
Sʜᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ғʟᴀᴛᴍᴀᴛᴇs
[ The contentment Clara's felt at staying in a place like Yancai comes from one primary thing: knowing that her decision would make the Doctor proud. Not the bit about her job, but she helps where she can. Sneaking sweeties to kids, stepping in to teach stories, and keep people hoping for more. She likes her reputation of small but mighty. It's like the Doctor said: She's the Boss.

Clara's done outside for the day and returns home to her villa, wearing the gaudiest of rings on one hand and a tin of cookies in the other. She'll find the nearest roommate and offer a plain, but well-executed sugar cookie. ]


Feel like helping me reap the rewards of a good day of gossip?


Dᴀʏ ᴛᴡᴏ
I'ᴍ sᴜʀᴇ ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ
[ Another day, another batch of people at the harbor with potential knowledge. There's a brief moment when someone steps in her path and while she would never actually demand anything of anyone, automatically they apologize as if they've done something awful. Waving it off, Clara smiles, all dimples, and carries on.

Just as she's about to hit the docks, right when one of the long piers comes into view, she's hit with a memory, of being on another dock, in another place. It comes and goes so quickly that she stumbles and has to lean against the nearest wall, closing her eyes, feeling faint. She's about the color of wallpaper paste and takes a few deep breaths in and out, wondering what the hell? with one hand pressed to her forehead. ]


Dᴀʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ
ᴘᴀʀᴛ I
[ Today, when Clara is making that same trip down to the docks, the sun glares in her eyes and her head feels like a knife split straight through it. But beneath that, she remembers a friend. A friend with so much red hair. And then it's gone again, but the pain isn't.

This time when she tries to stumble her way to the harbor (trying to find a place to sit) and someone bumps into her, she has the least Clara Oswald reaction imaginable. ]


Is there anyone here who can pay attention? Bloody hell.

[ She winces again and remembers more detail, a conversation on a train but no names yet, before the memory(?) is gone. Forehead still creased in pain she does feel guilty, but she also doesn't think she can do anything until the pain goes away, once again leaning against the nearest solid object. ]

ᴘᴀʀᴛ II
[ It's some time later in the day that Clara makes her way to the apothecary. Her headache hasn't quite abated, she needs something else, and she realizes she has no idea what she's looking for very quickly. Exhaling loudly, she rubs her forehead and then looks around for someone who seems like they know what they're looking at.

She's much kinder this time than she was to the poor person earlier. ]


Sorry, the clerk is busy and I want to find something fast. Know what gets rid of a migraine for good?


Dᴀʏ ғᴏᴜʀ
sᴀʏ ʙᴏᴏ
[ It's been a hell of a thing, trying to reconcile what Clara thought was her own decision with what her life actually is: stuck. Trapped. The good thing, at least, is that she knows she has friends here. She's been holed up in her room for the day, pretending to read when a woman appears; well appears, because this is undoubtedly a ghost. It's always ghosts.

You're going to be the next famous explorer, I think.

The voice—her mum's voice—is coming out of the ghost's mouth, and for a few seconds Clara is stunned into silence, eyes about as wide as they can get.

Your dad and I can't wait to get postcards from all over.

Except her mum's dead, Clara isn't famous, and she never sent postcards to her dad. When the woman in white pats her hand, it breaks the spell; Clara bolts out of her room and into the closest one, slamming the door shut behind her and pressing her back against it. She's in her pajamas and looks like...well, like she saw a ghost. ]
Edited 2023-05-16 20:42 (UTC)
makemeasong: (𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟)

(DON'T) HOLD YOUR BREATH

[personal profile] makemeasong 2023-05-16 12:34 am (UTC)(link)
[ There comes a point where Clara wants to explore, and what she wants to explore is whatever the ruins are. So, she has to take a boat, she can do that. She's never paddled one, but how hard could it be?

When she finds an oar, it's almost comically as big as she is, but she's gamely carrying it toward a boat, only stopping to readjust her grip. Instead of spitting in the face of the buddy system, Clara looks around for anyone else who might seem to be heading that way and makes her way over. ]


Not that you asked [ She smiles with her dimples, trying to charm with her big eyes. ] but would you mind going across with me? I've learned that going in pairs tends to go over a lot better here.
Edited 2023-05-16 20:42 (UTC)
somebadnews: (300)

Five Hargreeves | The Umbrella Academy | Old Timer

[personal profile] somebadnews 2023-05-16 12:38 am (UTC)(link)
[ Prompts below. Feel free to wildcard or ask for something different. If you want to plot out something specific ahead of time, feel free to make use of Five's plotting comment or hit me up on my usual channels. Happy to match action or prose as you like. ]
somebadnews: (69)

The Drifting

[personal profile] somebadnews 2023-05-16 12:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ There was a time when Five thought only his family was capable of scattering away from him the very second they see an opportunity This group never was a team, but it's still aggravating how easily they lose track of what's important and get distracted by their own little issues. (Allison keeps up the sibling tradition by disappearing in the haze before they can so much as make a plan of where to meet up.) At least he could keep track of where they were on the train. Now everything is confused, and as alarmed as he rightly should be, he can't shake the feeling that this is where they were meant to be.

Or maybe he's just been traveling too long.

It became clear soon after that faces he knows aren't remembering themselves, confirmed by Karsa's warning not to tell them who they are. Thankfully, aside from his preexisting memory problems, he isn't among them, but that doesn't make him any more willing to sit back and let 'sorcery run its course'. Like Hell. The assignment he's given is ridiculous, and probably purposefully mocking, but it does give him an excuse to go door-to-door in search of any retained sanity.

Even if it means peddling some fish god that he knows nothing about and spends no time researching. He's not even sure he can pronounce the name right, but whatever gets his foot in the door. (A cult is a cult, right? He's seen enough to get the gist, and if his brother can do it, how hard can it be?) He knocks at each entrance and impatiently waits, barely resisting the urge to blink inside before someone finally comes out. ]


Hi there. [ He watches them with a briefly scrutinizing gaze and smiles too wide to be at all convincing of what he's about to say. ] Have you welcomed Kathoo'lul into your life?
moonsounds: (pic#16320546)

Ruka Minazuki | Fatal Frame 4 | tourist

[personal profile] moonsounds 2023-05-16 12:50 am (UTC)(link)
A. Lost At Sea

She drifts. She drifts and she dreams and she lays on the sand not waking for what feels like eternity.

When she finally awakens, she just follows along with a sense of having missed something. It's a terribly familiar feeling, honestly, and she's not sure what to do with it, except to follow along with the villagers who help her.

She says nothing the entire time, quiet and watchful, almost unnervingly so. The first words she utters are a quiet, "thank you," when she accepts food, though she only sits with it in her lap. She feels hungry, but only vaguely. It's not enough to make her actually feel like eating.

The explanations wash over her and, while she's sure she's not dreaming, she's not sure how much of 'reality' this is either. It's disorienting.

"A traveling musician and a singer... I suppose it's not terrible. It's not far off." She mutters aloud as she looks at the passport before she puts it away, staring straight ahead. "This could all be worse."

It's said matter-of-factly, like perhaps if she says it out loud it will make it more true.

B. They Sleep

Nothing good comes from empty caskets like that. Ruka lingers with a frown, watching the burial boats with a growing sense of unease. That can't be all there is to it, is there? She supposes she can't say anything against their burial beliefs though. Better than whatever her island home had going on.

But as she lingers, she feels that odd, uneasy feeling tugging at her very soul, drawing her closer to the water's edge. She doesn't look in, very deliberately avoiding it so as not to see her warped face in her reflection. Moonlight Syndrome meant failing to recognize oneself in a reflection, and she didn't want to aggravate it.

That doesn't mean she's safe though.

She sways, her eyelids feeling heavy and her vision tunneling to a pinpoint before she begins to collapse, likely headed right for a collision with the water unless someone grabs her.

C. Ill Met by Moonlight

She hates the moon.

The full moon brings a familiar frenzying feeling, a desperate need to be up high, high, high and close to it. It's not a strong urge--her Moonlight Syndrome hasn't advanced at all--but the pull is there. It makes her breath catch and a feeling of primal fear well up in her at the eclipse. It's wrong.

As if driven by instinct she goes to wherever a piano might be set up--an inn or tavern for the locals? Someone's house she breaks into? Who knows, there's a piano SOMEWHERE and Ruka has found it. She plays, calm and gentle at first, and then growing increasingly desperate as her mind fails to remember the entire thing. It loops and lingers, haunting, but beautiful.

It works on some corpses, but maybe not others. Some still try to get in where she is, while Ruka plays on and on until her fingers ache, until they crack and bleed and still she plays.

Those with memory issues might find themselves starting to remember bits and pieces of things they wouldn't normally when the music plays. Even those without memory problems might find themselves resonating with the music, conjuring up some kind of memory and feeling.

But the music doesn't work on all of the corpses and they'll quickly overrun her if someone doesn't help out sooo you know. Get on that please chopchop.

D. Wildcard

The 'Everything Else' option!
Edited 2023-05-16 00:51 (UTC)