westwhere | sa-hareth | arrival (mingle log)

1. Salt Mines

For a dimension called the Void, it certainly wasn't empty.

Eleven rubbed at his wrists and followed the group as they descended into the mine. Had it always been like this? Or was this another corruption of Mordegon's design? It certainly seemed dark and otherworldly enough. He struggled to remember the names thrown around as he'd come to and the fog over his mind lingered, unable to focus his thoughts.

His eyes darted around the other captive souls, at unfamiliar faces. He'd come here in search of one soul in particular, but the scale of that task had grown substantially.

"I'm sorry," he felt compelled to offer those he walked with, utterly guilt-ridden. "I'll do anything I can to help."

2. House of Dew- Arrival

Eleven blinked around once he'd had time to wash up and change. A brothel. In a city located in the Void.

He sat down, far more puzzled than unsettled by the fact he was in one for the first time in... whichever life this was. He still had yet to fully shake the effects of whatever it was that left his thoughts feeling vague and muddied.

"I don't understand," he muttered aloud, like that would make them more tangible and thus, sensible. "How would souls end up here?" He dragged his hands down his face. "Unless this is the next life? But then, how am I here? I wasn't dead when he sent me.."

3. House of Dew- Gen

Eleven took to cleaning and mending without complaint, happy enough to have something to do and some way to repay the inconvenience of sheltering him while he waited for whatever it was he was waiting for. He kept his eyes mostly on his work and the floor, with a proclivity for turning red whenever one of the ladies elected to tease him as they were occasionally wont to do.

He gave a nod to any of the faces he recognized from the group of refugees, accompanied by a small, mute smile on days he lacked the ability to communicate. On other days, rose quartz hung around his neck, he managed a bit more.

"How are you faring?"

4. Other
[Got another idea? I'm game. Also feel free to PM me if there's anything you'd like to ask/plan out first.]

Edited 2021-03-28 02:32 (UTC)

His previous prison had been nicer than this. Sure, it had been a hastily appropriated storeroom, but there had been light and even a little warmth from the early winter chill.

Here, on the other hand...

He let out a long breath and leaned back on the cracked stone wall, closing his eyes and trying to centre himself. Perhaps he was dead, though he could not fathom why the afterlife would resemble this. In the end, it didn’t matter. He was here. It was as real as blood and bone, and he was trapped.

The chuckle started lowly in the dark, gaining vigour as he helplessly gave in to it. It wasn’t even that anything was funny, it was just so ludicrous to be beyond belief.

“I should have known better than to expect any rest,” he murmured to Korean to himself, though loud enough that the nearby cells would be able to hear it. “I suppose corrupt officials are universal, though usually I expect some vague excuse for imprisonment.“

He took another deep breath, shoving himself to his feet and wincing as his mangled shoulder flashed with pain. Ah. Yes. He would need to get that seen to. But clearly it was not a priority of his captors. He shuffled over to the bars of his cell, his feet chained loosely to shorten his gait, and then leaned against the metal, pressing his face as close as he could to get a look down the hall and to either side. Not even any guards, at least not right here, though he could see some figures shuffling a little ways away. A couple of cells down the door was almost rusted through, looking as if it would fall off its hinges at any second. His, of course, was unfortunately sturdy. He looked down at the heavy lock on his door, sighed, and started to search his cell for anything with even a scrap of usefulness.

1. Salt Mines

[It's cold, much colder than it had been when Xingchen was last conscious, back home. He doesn't even need to see to know that wherever he's ended up is not Yi City; the sounds are unfamiliar, the chill in the air burns his lungs with every breath, and the atmosphere just feels off. It's disconcerting, of course, considering he has no idea where this is, nor how he got here.

But worrying about that isn't going to help things, especially since it seems they're a wanted commodity. They. A group. Xingchen listens as they make their way down below the earth, almost hoping to hear a couple familiar voices.

He doesn't. On the one hand, that worries him more, not knowing where his charges are, but then this land seems harsh. Perhaps it's best if they don't endure this, as well.

The trek down through the mines is hard for Xingchen. He feels...weak and more than once he presses a hand to his lower stomach, frowning when he doesn't quite feel the constant existence of his Golden Core. As if that weren't already bad enough - and it is - this terrain is unknown to him and more than once he has to catch himself against the rough-hewn walls when his feet catch on a crack or uneven patch. No complaints on his blindness leave his lips, but he does purse his lips during these moments and exhale harshly through his nose. Frustrating.

Thankfully, though, this group of theirs comes upon what he gathers is some sort of abandoned camp. So he gathers up a tattered blanket and wraps it around himself, the fabric cold against him at first, but he lets the shiver rush through him before letting his body heat do the rest. Grabbing another blanket, he lays it out on the ground and pats around for any other supplies that may still be salvageable.

Of course, he is still blind, the cloth across his empty eyes making this more apparent. Xingchen can't judge the size of this little camp in the limited time they have. So he turns to his nearest companion.]

Do you see anything else we should take with us?

2. House of Dew

[After the salt mines, Xingchen is grateful for warmth and structural stability. And flat surfaces. Being assigned cleaning duty doesn't even dampen his gratitude toward the lady of the house for giving all of them refuge. He happily scrubs the floor and straightens up the sitting area, among any other simpler tasks the other workers just don't have time to take on.

Of course, he can't be exactly sure how good a job he's doing. Has he missed a spot? Flipped an embroidered cushion upside-down?

Will you tell him or watch and see how long it takes for him to get reprimanded?]

3. House of Dew Again

[After picking up an odd gig of sitting in on some sessions with certain patrons in case he needs to protect the workers attending them, Xingchen has a small amount of money saved up for his efforts. This is good! This is what they need to do!

And then their possessions are returned to them, and Xingchen is visibly relieved when he seeks out his sword, fingers feeling along the delicately carved sheath of Shuanghua, but he is also reunited with his other scarce belongings, including two pieces of hard candy.

Those sweets have caught the eyes of some of the younger workers, making Xingchen popular once again, but he simply cannot split two candies among...well, he can't discern exactly how many voices surround him when they speak at once demanding his "treats," but it's definitely more than two. Choosing two lucky people wouldn't be fair!

He has that money saved up, though.

Surely some more sweets won't cost too much.

So he bundles up and straps his sword to his back and heads toward the door...only to realize he has no idea where the market is. Hearing someone nearby, he turns toward them.]

Excuse me, if I may bother you for a moment? How do I get to the marketplace?

4. Salt Mines Redux

[Okay, so his previous money ventures haven't been as successful as they probably should have been, but there is another way to make money, he's sure. Yes, it's more dangerous, but with Shuanghua at his back now, the undead residing in the mines won't be nearly as much of a problem as they were when he first traversed the depths. Besides, there is plenty of salt down there and seasonings and spices are always valuable. This is a great idea.

Thus, the blind man walks toward the front of the brothel again, intent of making his way out to the mines. By himself. With only his sword for protection.

He'll be fine. Right? Surely.

Right?]

5. Wildcard!

[You know how this goes. Want to bother Xingchen somewhere else? Hit me up!

I. Salt Mines

Moran... I hope I can be of use to you even like this.

II. House of Dew - Looking for Moran

III. House of Dew - Music

IV. Wildcard

Hit him up, or hit me up with questions/ideas, etc.

1.JAILHOUSE

[Moran certainly hasn't been enjoying the work, but he knows better than to lord his status from his own world over anyone here, because clearly, no one would care, and mostly, no one would even understand him, from what he can tell. None of the people he has met so far speak any language intelligible to him, and no one understands his own.

They seem to have understood he is a disaster at cooking though - not that the... honestly half-decomposing looking soldiers seem to be bothered - so instead he's been sent to scrub and clean. He's not very good at that either, to be quite honest, and his silk robes have taken quite a battering from it, but doing so has allowed him to try and listen to their captors, an attempt to keep his brain engaged by looking for linguistics patterns in their speech while doing the mindless tasks.

He's still pretty tired by the end of the day, and his eyes are closed until the moment where he feels himself being bound to someone else, and he opens them a slit to examine the person.]

2.HOUSE OF DEW - ARRIVAL

[Contrary to what one might expect, Moran does not even bat an eye at the type of establishment they end up in. He is glad to finally be clean, does not protest one bit about the quality of the food, nor about the slightly repurposed ladies' clothing he attempts to use as robes. Being clean, fed and clothes is more important than the 'how' of it.

If someone protests a bit too much, he will intervene.]

We are being given these for free. Let's be grateful and appreciate it.

3.HOUSE OF DEW - EARNING COINS

[So it will become very readily apparent that housework that is not very simple cleaning is quite out of Moran's usual purview, as in, he's relatively not very good at it. Not necessarily for lack for trying, but he's never, ever had to do these sorts of things for himself, and certainly not for other people.

He is, however, an excellent musician, and learned, so he can compose poetry, even though no one here would really understand it. But one certain evenings, instead of cleaning duties, he ends up int he main room to provide some musical accompaniment for the atmosphere, either on his own, or with Su Xunxian.

And if a guest gets too drunk and rowdy, they might end up being surprised to see that yes, the slightly waify-looking musician can, and will, grab them by their collar and eject them out of the door rather firmly. Fists, thankfully, are a universal language.]

4.SNOOPING AROUND

[This is a strange land, and Moran, always the politician, is eager to know several things. Namely, where is this, what is the history, the political situation, the lay of the land, and who is their rather generous benefactor.

He is, of course, hindered by his own lack of knowledge of the language. Before he manages to secure a quartz bauble, he'll have to rely on Xunxian, and his own learnings as he tries to listen to everything and commit sound patterns to memory.

Once he gets enough money to buy his own personal translation device, he'll attempt to simply have some strolls through the market at first, hidden under a cloak to not look too out of place, simply to listen to conversations. He might volunteer to go shop for food for the brothel on certain days just so he can try and put an ear to the ground and understand what is going on.

1. Jailhouse Rock

[It's all just almost a bit too much. Almost. It's all a whirlwind of sound and information and rushing about, everyone scrambling to get away. Winnie hangs back a little, watching everyone run about with a passive look on her face, like she's analyzing what everyone's doing, categorizing it all.

Then she blinksas soemoneenarly runs into her, looking as if startled from a daydream] Oh! Dear... It's all going topsy-turvy now, isn't it? [She remarks to no one, but there's a slight smile on her face as she turns to follow after some unfortunate NPC prisoners.

Unfortunate because they die moments later when some of those undead kill them. Winnie falls back and hits the ground with a yelp of pain, then freezes, eyes wide as she stares at the advancing corpse-person. Her mind whirls, but it... Doesn't seem at all interested?

She blinks as it just sort of walks past her, barely sparing her a glance. Winnie pauses and then sits up more, frowning as she looks around] I'm not even worth being killed? I'm not sure if I'm offended or not. Oh-- Look out! [She's not sure if the other person can understand her, but hopefully they can understand a warning when they hear one]

2. Can You Hear Me Now?

[FOllowing the rescue and escape into the city, Winnie has taken to the quartz gem with gusto, eagerly seeking out any familiar faces--and perhaps not-so-familiar ones, but ones that at least look as bewildered as one probably should be upon waking into such a foreign world]

Hello! Look! [She holds the rose quartz up with a little shake, beaming] I think we can understand each other now! Isn't this quaint? I've never heard of 'Sa-Hareth' before, have you?

[She doesn't look all that broken up about any of this though, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about it all]

3. Market
[She just wanted a taste, okay? She managed to get some money, she could spend it on some treats, right?? At one stall, she's popped a few berries in her mouth and looks quite pleased until the shopkeeper starts asking her for money.

She pats at her gown and checks her sleeves with a frown, looking perplexed] Perhaps we could just call it a 'free sample'? [She smiles sheepishly, but the guy doesn't look convinced of this great idea.]

Oh dear... [She looks around and turns to the nearest person, grabbing at their arm or sleeve and practically beams at them] Excuse me! Help a damsel in distress? I'm afraid I don't have my money on me and I, er... sampled a couple of berries-- Honestly, it was only a couple, I didn't think it would be that big of a loss, but he seems quite irate now so I suppose I really should pay for it, it'd be rude not to, and I honestly did think I had money but apparently I don't. But I promise I can pay you back!

[JESUS WOMAN BREATHE.

She smiles hopefully. HELP HER OUT]

4. Wildcard

[for other shenanigans! I can do prose or bracket style, whichever.]

i. house of dew - mending

Sleep hasn't found Mingyu since he arrived. Being robbed of his hard-won magic sets him on edge, takes him even farther back than losing Fox. Here, in this foreign place, this alien world, he is a helpless child. He is worse. He has no weight to his family name, no legacy to exploit, no safety net at all. And still, always, sharks circle the waters. The shambling undead have been an unpleasant point of consternation so far, but Mingyu isn't particularly worried about them. They are an immediate, readily apparent threat. Their motivations are straightforward (eat people), and the solution clear (avoid being eaten).

The people are the real issue. People always are. The ones here are strangers, of foreign culture in a foreign land, but Mingyu's understanding as diaspora himself is that people are fundamentally people. There is no outrunning the core tenets of humanity, and people boil down to two types.

People who can't be trusted, and people who aren't going to make it.

He expects no different here, their rescuers reeking of opportunists waiting to cash in. On what he can only guess, but he keeps an eye out for it, going along because it's a wiser choice than chancing it alone. Some arrangements can be mutually beneficial, played carefully enough. Mingyu holds his cards close to his chest.

So far removed from his world, his cause, he has been surprised to find succumbing to despair has not been the most difficult thing. Instead, he finds his skin crawls and his teeth itch with the insidious nature of hope, promising him unbearable things.

If the magic that took them could rob him from his bed, past every ward, every cloak, every trap and defense in his possession, it is entirely possible it bring Fox as well. It could send them home together, or they could simply make a life here. Either way, Mingyu has to dig deeper, has to find out more about this world and what makes it tick.

It would be so much easier if Fox was here.

Mingyu is exhausted to his core that it's always him, that he's the one with the burden of this freedom. Fox could do this so much better. Fox would have saved him by now, were their positions reversed.

He has to keep going. He can't stop until Fox is saved, or existence itself has paid the blood price of taking him away.

...right now that means mending clothes for the brothel that is housing him, which is a spectacularly interesting sentence he never imagined he would have to string together in his life. He volunteered because he's at least done a little sewing of his own, rescuing the occasional stuffed animal in his pre-magic life. But the light in here is dim and spell components haven't worked right since he arrived. He's still working out if that's because of the world itself or some residual effect of whatever sedation he was under. Either way, it means there's nothing he can do about how he squints at the eye of the needle, multiple poke injuries on his ungloved hands.

Heaving out a sigh, he briefly shuts his eyes to rest them, then tries again.

ii. house of dew - hustle

Sex is a tool, a bargaining chip. Fox taught Mingyu many things, some intentional, others not so much. He did not mean to teach Mingyu this, but Mingyu learned it all the same. Sex can gain you a bed for the night, can stretch a person's tolerance, can barter you safety day by day, one safe harbor at a time. It's not so much a stretch to adapt to using it to get coin as well in a place like this, the House of Dew.

Acutely aware of his standing here, or lack thereof, Mingyu treats his approach to establishing himself in a professional capacity with caution. First, he identifies the social hierarchy within the brothel. The favorites, the ones in power, the hanger-ons, the ones on the outs. Every social circle has an order to it, predictable patterns if you know what to look for in the ranks. Those at the top have no reason to give him the time of day, and those at the bottom have severely limited usefulness in the short term. They would have more utility if he planned to stay, but for his needs in the moment—

He goes for the girls doing moderately well for themselves who are perhaps hungry to do a little better but by no means worried about their status. He ingratiates himself to them, paying warmth and encouragement, tending their errands, offering them his friendship. He listens to their troubles, and then when conversation turns to shop as it always does, he offers his services. To them, and not in any official capacity. Just if they need a little help with a fussy customer, or if someone has a particularly voracious appetite, he's happy to help out for whatever they're willing to spare him. A few coins, a small bauble, he's just happy to be of service and make a little allowance while he's at it. And he'd be extremely grateful for their tutelage.

So he starts taking on work and learning the trade, keeping his head low as he can and ruffling as few feathers as possible. But he's driven, works hard, and proves a quick study so what comes next is almost inevitable.

The proprietor senses talent, moves him up in the ranks. He gets nicer lodgings, starts having a few clients of his own. Then comes the unrest, the jealousy.

Mingyu returns from reconning the Sa-Hareth market and ports to find his door ajar. Within, his things are upturned. His working robes are slashed, what few hairpins and accessories he had broken. That's fine. He'll mend what he can, sell the rest for parts. His mother's chest is missing which is a larger issue, but it's both warded and has a tracking spell on it so mostly that's just going to be a pain in his ass.

The worst part is knowing he's got a target on his back. It makes him tired, is something that will need reassessing, recalculating before he gets backed into a corner here. He can't brute force this, can't make the people in his way disappear. He sighs, slipping into his room to clean, leaving the door ajar behind him, too occupied with his thoughts to notice.

[ Feel free to barge in to ask him what happened, get invited to his nice lodgings for tea and snacks outside of this revenge crisis, or sit down with him after recovering his mother's chest so we can open it and have ten dildos fall out. PM/discord me if you wanna hash something out! ]

There's Enough Salt Down Here for Mummies, All We Have is Necromancy Mum

It was the best of times, it was decidedly not actually the best of times, but also not the worst of times, which said something about his life expectancies in general. Coming out of his first narcotic spell haze to find himself staring down at the most decidedly wretched and strange manifestation of what surely wasn't a puppet, surely was some poor being caught in some level of decay had set thoughts about demonic cultivation a'twirling in an entirely useless manner, given as soon as they occurred he was struggling to fight off the depths he was sinking back into.

He'd firmly clawed his way out by the time the night of rescue arrived, leading to a series of events that culminate in cautiously stalking his way through the latticework tunnels with a ratty bleached-out, more than slightly salt-encrusted blanket tossed over his shoulders and worn like a sad, poor man's cloak, and a lantern burning and tied off to a long pole that's seen better days. Listening, and having a dark cloth to drop over the lantern as long as he avoided the open glass panel, was doing wonders getting through since he was separated from other living souls.

Which may or may not explain why, when he ran into another living soul, it was while his lantern burned merrily on its side on the ground, and Wei Wuxian was spidered up a wall, ratty blanket covering most of him while salt was generously covering his back, and he was moving his hand to indicate come here while murmuring intently, "Down the left tunnel, now."

Dropping from where he'd been perched, he darted for the lantern, hid it within his ratty blanket cloak, and promptly heads for said tunnel. Elsewhere something wheezed like an asthmatic dog trying not to snore when it had a lung infection.

Dewdrops On Roses, Whiskers on Patrons

For the lucky soul in their situation who met him that first day of his arrival, Wei Wuxian was a smile and then a long, hard stare at the warm millet served with more plentitude than he strictly deserved. He stared into his bowl, nonplussed, mumbling about spices, and why this of all things was familiar, before settling in with the slack faced determination of a man ready to internally complain about the spice of hunger because if nothing else, that is more groundingly familiar than the rest of this, so far.

In the day and days that follow he was nothing but smiles and light flirtation and a quick learner of what smaller things needed doing (the mending, ah, he managed it in the chunky style that said he was immediately not managing it past his first darned stocking) until he could get himself errands for petty cash that was leading to more coin, or at least opportunities to work on lightfinger skills he'd pretended not to need for a good chunk of his life but was falling back into with all the grim faced gusto of a man who stole knockoffs of his own inventions from the charlatans wandering around claiming to be him, only better funded.

As one does.

It also means he makes efforts to learn the faces of those in the same situation, popping in and out to say hello and introduce himself and catalogue each of them in this situation. Which may well be why he showed up with a second cup of weak tea, or the morning rations of millet, or at one point, a series of partly burnt flatcakes which were more than edible if one scraped off the extra carbon, and handed it to one of his fellow escapees.

"Here," he said, settling down on some nearby surface. "Have anything exciting planned for the day?"

Lock Target: Market Forays and Other Miscellaneous (Mis)Deeds

He moved to act as errand boy, as dirtied and bedraggled denizen, as a shadow on the street, as no recognised face, and while some of the time it was to legal and unremarkable means, others, it was less so.

Wei Wuxian lingered over the combs he could afford without having the memory of Wen Qing telling him we can do without, and stares at the unremarkable wooden comb that has teeth wide enough without being too uneven, and no particular carvings etched into its handle, but something like the waves of a storm at sea. "This one," he said to the shopkeep of the small store, who'd been watching him half out of boredom and half out of keen suspicion, but the understandability of his speech and the quality of his smile has them narrowing their eyes and smiling in return.

When he'd filched that particular quartz earlier, he'd kept a less quality one dangling around his neck, and a small coinpurse tucked away like he'd eyed more of those moving through town did. If the point was familiar enough patterns in a twice-ravaged and conquered city that saw plenty of naval merchants in and out, he could fit himself in well enough for now, sweeping back out into the streets with another goal in mind. Paper, this time.

Wildcard

( Hit me up with whatever! I'll match your tagin style, went with prose for my ease. )

1. Salt mines
[ Mina woke up in some unknown place, and while she'd usually be loud, this time she stops and assesses her situation; she has no powers currently and she doesn't know anything about this strange place, but she knows she is in some prison of sorts and people around her are in the same predicament if not worse - she can see the bones, after all. While it's unusual for her, she remains mostly quiet and tries to get to know the place she is in and tries to formulate some sort of plan -

and then she is rescued.

Naturally, she runs but not until she ensures everyone else comes along. In fact, she stays until last, waving at the other captives to move along ] This way, careful with your step!

[ and like that she moves through the corridors of salt. Whenever she comes across abandoned camps, Mina's hero instinct is to again protect others. Offer them water and food first, give them clothes that they might need. And once that is done, she takes the salt spikes to use as a weapon, and even grabs some wood to attempt to use as a shield. As usual, she makes sure no one is left behind by staying behind the group herself. ]

it's okay- [ she whispers with a grin ] We are almost there! [ she says that with a cheerfulness characteristic to her - she may not know for sure if they are almost there, but she will keep their hopes up ]

2. House of Dew
[ After arriving and being shoved behind the scenes, Mina happily takes the food offered to her. Millet is more than fine when you are starving and tired, and Mina's cheerful expression never changes, thanking everyone loud and clear with a huge grin. And once she puts the food in her mouth, she can't help but to gasp ] So yummy~!! [ that's what hunger does to you, you don't get to be picky.

One thing Mina learned was that she needed to stay hidden due to her skin color. At first, she didn't quite get it - in her world, humans come in all colors and shapes! - but once she looks around and realizes everyone looks very regular, it sinks in: she is recognizable, easy to spot and easy to track. So Mina is offered basic body paints by the lady of the House, and while the girl is thankful, it's easy to see she is... well. A bit upset? Having to hide her own skin feels wrong (even though she understands why). The horns are hard to hide but she can just say it's an accessory, though she has no solution for her eyes. While she paints herself, Mina turns to the closest person nearby while she looks at herself in a mirror ] Hi- sorry! Can you paint my back for me?

[ and finally, she also offers first aid to those in need. She is no doctor - and her powers are not medical at all - but she knows basic first-aid, which every hero must know in order to help other people. So if she sees anyone hurt or in need of help, Mina will approach with a big smile while carrying some bandages ] Hi! Do you need any help? I can dress wounds! [ and do basic check-ups too.

Whatever it is, Mina just wants to help. ]

3. Assignment
[ Coin is needed. While she is at the brothel, Mina does her best to help the workers and Lady Tamaiu, either by cooking, bringing them food and paints, or by helping cleaning and keeping the place tidy and nice; due to her age, thankfully she is graced with not having to directly deal with any -ah- sticky situation, but that also means she's very limited in how she can help the group gather the money they need to move on from Sa-Hareth.

In the end, and once her powers have returned completely, Mina gets to work: making acid! it sounds silly until you realize just how useful it is. In fact, her first clients are the prostitutes of the brothel, while she shows them that by pouring this ~mysterious liquid~ (which she won't divulge where it comes from) onto trash, it makes it melt away; amazed by this feat, they surely appreciate doing it with ease, and so Mina's little empire of acid begins.

With empty bottles she finds, she fills them up with acid in all sorts of concentration and viscosity, and eventually even asks some of the brothel workers to try and sell them to the clients - or at least to show them the product is available. That allows her some coin which she uses for basic needs - rose quartz necklace, decent food and clothes - and this also allows her to think further ahead: how to sell it outside the brothel.

Whoever passes by Mina's room will probably see her filling up bottles with acid - be careful when entering, you don't want to get your boots burned if you step in an acid puddle - and Mina herself with a thoughtful frown while she murmurs to herself. ] Uhmm... I wonder if I can just hire someone to go sell it outside.

4. Rose Quartz Network - Username: Taste of twilight’s trickled honeydew
Hey! Has anyone tried the network yet???
I might need a hand with something!!!

Also my username is SO CUTE I LOVE IT!!!!

5. Wildcard
[ If anyone would like to make some coin using Mina's acid, the ooc plotting post is here! Also, feel free to approach Mina wherever, or you can contact me through PM or plurk

vilani if you have any idea for a prompt! ]

Edited 2021-04-02 22:53 (UTC)

1. Salt Mines

[ This is unusual for Catra.

Oh, she's an expert at sleeping in and being late to things, but she's also a very light sleeper, ready to jump up into full consciousness at a moment's notice. Now, she's phasing in and out of sleep, and in those brief moments of wakefulness, she can't seem to pull herself fully out of it despite the biting cold permeating her very being. She'd panic if she had time to, but before it can really take, she's drifting off again.

While she wakes -- or while she sleeps, she couldn't really tell you -- she sees visions. Of beings, terrifyingly emaciated and with an inhuman glow in their eyes, surrounding her, closing in, but then not, far away, wanting, wanting. She wants to run. Her legs do not move.

That is, until there is a racket and a noise. People shouting, and someone is shaking her, telling her to get up, she needs to run, they're here to rescue her -- and y'know, she'd protest that normally, because she doesn't need rescuing, but her mind has not fully caught up yet, so she limply lets herself be pulled to a standing position and blinks a few times, hoping to finally return to the land of the fully conscious.

Finally, her eyes focus, at the same time her body remembers the cold, making her hair and fur stand on end. Which turns out to be a bit of a paradox, because she is surrounded by fire.

She's alert instantly, taking in her surroundings at a glance. There is only one exit, and the person who woke her is nudging her towards it. Hardly trustworthy, but it's the best she's got right now, so she bolts toward said exit in a rush of adrenaline -- only to see that it is an entry. Down, down it goes, into the darkness, reeking like the air above the seas of Salineas, and she almost has to puke being reminded of that boat ride. There's a rickety minecart with a lever on the side, and Catra has to choose.

She looks around her again, sharp eyes searching for any alternative, but there is none.

Alright. Time to pull a lever.]

2. House of Dew

[ A brothel.

Catra has heard of such things. But whatever she imagined, as a child listening from her hiding spot in the vents of the Fright Zone as soldiers told each other of their visits to such places, this wasn't it. It looks almost like a palace, richly decorated and lavish, with stylishly decked out people milling about it.

That is, until she is acquainted with the brothel keeper and ushered off to... the servant quarters? Are you kidding her? Well, fine, that particular thing will have to be cleared up, but for now, she's given clothes and food. The clothes are threadbare, but she'll take anything to ward off the cold a little better right now; the food is tasteless, but it's food. No worse than the brown ration bars for sure.

When they hand her a bucket of water to clean the place, she laughs. "Awww, it's so cute that you'd think I'd clean up your messed for you. Here, watch this," and she kicks the bucket, making the water spill all over the place.

The lady who gave her the bucket is less than amused. Catra knows that look, seen it too many times on Shadow Weaver's face, and later in Hordak's. This woman is ready to get violent to keep her in line. In response, Catra flashes her fangs with a growl and unsheathes her claws. She's not going down without a fight.]

Edited 2021-04-03 09:32 (UTC)

| Jailhouse

They got him.

Five spends most of his time in the cell pacing or otherwise ignoring everyone around him while he fights over one of a dozen possible theories for how in hell this happened. For someone who has the capacity for understanding things well beyond anyone's grasp, Five is at a complete loss, and that's liable to drive him crazy before anything else does. Was this some secret prison the Commission created to take him after the board assassination? It seems unlikely, but he can't imagine anyone else being behind this, and he feels like a fool for daring to trust them into letting him take one of their briefcases. He even wonders if his own siblings corrupted the timeline again and they'd royally screwed it up beyond repair. (Or maybe he's lucky and there's a simpler reason: that frying pan that smacked him in the skull could have done more damage than he initially thought. Considering the truly insane shit keeps getting glimpses of, it can't be ruled out entirely.)

Wherever he is, he keeps getting interrupted before he can figure it out. Mostly by their strangely grotesque captors taking advantage of his confusion and ordering him around to do mundane tasks. Well, they try to order him. Five seems to be a slow learner when it comes to understanding mime, because he only responds by squinting and gesturing back at them.

All that works out to being chained to another prisoner, as if that's going to suddenly help him figure out what he's being asked. Any minute now he expects someone to come along and gloat about all this, but they never do, and he's almost... nervous. Nobody's ever been able to catch him quite like this. He's seen constantly pumping his his fists, trying to will his abilities to work, but he's completely tapped. Not even a glimmer.

He's hardly asleep when the alarm sounds at night. There's really no choice but to go in the same direction as the other captives. Especially when he finds he's still chained to one of them.

| Ferry

Getting this far was harrowing enough, and by the time Five sees the ferry, he's at a breaking point. He makes a path directly for the man unloading supplies and pays no attention to anyone else around him. Already there's an unwelcome wavering in his voice (obviously from the cold) when he informs them that he's going to be letting him on his boat. He might have done well to play up his appearance for sympathy, but he's beyond his capacity to put on a show. Fortunately that necklace he was given with those loose instructions are enough to send him in a direction.

When he's met with resistance, he finally loses his temper. The choices he gives are these: either take him to the mainland or get strangled by these small dirty hands and packed up in one of your own shipping crates. He seems serious; just waiting for a laugh to give him an excuse. It's that kind of energy.

| House of Dew

It'd been a welcome change of scenery. Once Five reached their destination, he'd been treated with a lot more consideration than he expected. Well, he had been invited, and they practically ushered him in like they were genuinely concerned. By this point, he's getting used to being mistaken for a child, and as much as it grates him, he doesn't always correct them when he can play it to his advantage. For his part, he doesn't immediately verbally assault anyone who calls him a kid, or little one, so he's doing well to seethe quietly or give a tight smile instead. It's hard to deny that he's at a disadvantage as long as he's kept in the dark, and he's determined to learn everything he can before revealing more about himself.

Five knew what kind of establishment it was almost immediately, and he couldn't care less about being out of place. Nor is he making any great effort to start right to work to earn coin. (As soon as he's eaten and rested, he's sure his powers are going to come right back to him, and then he figures he'll simply take whatever he needs.) He's more interested in the ones who helped him escape from the jail. More importantly: descriptions of anyone else who might have seemed out of place. Like him. He studies anyone he speaks to carefully, and he isn't putting on an act when he tells them he's looking for family. The poor boy.

1. hero to zero, at 60 m.p.h. [Salt Mines]
The stinging salt in her cuts is part of what keeps Rachel jolting out of her still semi-drugged haze. She still felt ready to throw up, and she hadn't been able to break out of her shackles on her own. She was willing to blame that on the nausea and the drugs, but she still felt weirdly weak. Is this how everyone else feels?

She turns to the nearest co-escapee. "You seen Temple of Doom before? 'Cause I'm definitely getting that vibe. If someone tries to rip out your heart, run."

2. i've crawled my way out of here before but i keep on coming back [House of Dew]
Cuts, scratches, abrasions, everything was coming up ouchies for Rachel. Having a scrub had helped; at least getting the salt off of her made it feel less like she was, well, having salt rubbed in her wounds.

She'd never been to a brothel before. Truly, she wouldn't have known where to find one. At first she'd been pissed to see kids wandering around, but once she was assured they were merely assistants with nothing unsavory happening around them, she was ready to relax. Good - she'd have hated to Hulk out on her gracious hosts.

Speaking of, she'd found herself asked to accompany a few of the working girls out as a discreet escort for some money. Girls had to look out for each other, and since she was getting her strength back, she was more than happy to do so.

It's nice to be able to take a breather. You'd probably be able to find her resting at the House of Dew if she's not shadowing one of the courtesans, but she seems a little bit wary, even at rest, like she's ready to bolt despite no apparent reason to distrust their hosts.

3. intoxicated, higher than the iss [House of Dew, also]
Rachel dug through her backpack, looking for something. When she couldn't find it, she stood, zipping the bag and slinging it onto one shoulder.

"Hey, anyone seen a..." then she stopped, faltering. "There's a...I'm missing something."

4. i'm not getting out of here this time, i brought a lemon to a knife fight [wildcard!]
[just jump in or hit me up at

chatvert if you want to plot!]

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Jail House Rock: Pre Escape