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thisavrou_ooc2016-12-02 06:24 pm
hohnkai) wrote in thisavrou_ooc2016-12-02 06:24 pm
Entry tags:
tdm 14
T E S T D R I V E |
"living is an act of courage."
|
chara "cter" dreemurr | undertoot | will match prose/brackets
inconsequence
2016-12-03 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
a; "we are number one" but every "one" is replaced with a knife knife sword; cw: body horror
[A child ends up on the deck plating, face down, their hair an untidy spill over their shoulders and across the floor. You might easily mistake them for something dead (ha ha), something cast-off. A corpse.b; according to all known laws of aviation there is no way the bee should be able to fly; cw self-harm references
Then they move.
Their fingers twitch, dragging over the matte black of the ground. It is not like a fistful of flowers or grave dirt. The ground is not comprised of rich earth, and it does not crumble beneath their touch. It's atypically firm - solid.
When they lift their head to peer into the murk, their eyes are a bright and unnatural red. Their cheeks are rosy, a smile alight as though printed on their features.
They're still here.
Of course they're still here.
They start to laugh almost at once. It's high and bright, like glass shards tinkling against the floor, like knives scraped over a hard surface, as they right themself, pulling their body to their feet. They stare at their hands, and they laugh as they blink, feeling the scrape of eyelashes against air and skin, the sensation of a body that is theirs and not someone else's, a body that should be withered into nothing more than bleached bones and blackish rot but isn't. They're even in the clothes they were wearing when they fed that poison into their veins.
The sensation of being is so abnormal and unnatural that they almost forget that it is - not typical to have flowers (golden flowers, of course) cropping up out of one's skin, all along one wrist and up their arms and out of the side of their neck, mossy growths of it clinging to their cheeks and the skin of their collarbone.
How disgusting.
They laugh and laugh and laugh, the sound jagged and hateful and overly shrill, violently uncontained as it echoes.
They're still here.
Of course they're still here.
This is it, then. Their own personal hell. Why not, then? That's where kids like them should be, is it not? Of course. Of course it is.]
When their awareness is theirs once more (was it ever?), they are sequestered in the dark of something massive and rocky and cave-like. Perhaps they are too shameful to be exposed to the light of day. To touch something as fragile and kind as life and light - that was never for kids like them, was it?
No. They are better off in here, in the gloom. They can pick flowers off the skin of their arms and wrists and around their shoulders and smile as each plucking motion yields a fresh stab of agony, as though ripping the hair from their scalp.
Maybe they'll bleed out.
Wouldn't that be something.
How would this world find a way to bring them back this time? Why, they have no idea. Why don't they find out?
Slip and Trip
[There's more than a little to take in after the initial shock of showing up on a strange planet. Adam's not quite sure that he's not still in a dreamscape and that being pulled from the scrying bowl hadn't just been a part of it. His head is aching and everything about this place has him feeling left of center.
It's easy to feel lost in the middle of this and his eyes seek out looking for Ronan because if he was still in his dream then he would have to be here.
But what if this is real? His brows furrow. There's more people than he would have imagined in any dreamscape but stranger things have happened in the last few months.]
Jesus fuck [The words are a soft mutter of frustration because despite earlier explanations the weird status of his watch and clothes now after whatever it is that has happened makes it seem like he is still stuck in a nightmare but there's also a disconnect that he wouldn't have felt.
Maybe he's actually dead and this is hell.]
Wildcard
(Hit me with whatever.)
(ooc: will match styles)
[There's more than a little to take in after the initial shock of showing up on a strange planet. Adam's not quite sure that he's not still in a dreamscape and that being pulled from the scrying bowl hadn't just been a part of it. His head is aching and everything about this place has him feeling left of center.
It's easy to feel lost in the middle of this and his eyes seek out looking for Ronan because if he was still in his dream then he would have to be here.
But what if this is real? His brows furrow. There's more people than he would have imagined in any dreamscape but stranger things have happened in the last few months.]
Jesus fuck [The words are a soft mutter of frustration because despite earlier explanations the weird status of his watch and clothes now after whatever it is that has happened makes it seem like he is still stuck in a nightmare but there's also a disconnect that he wouldn't have felt.
Maybe he's actually dead and this is hell.]
Wildcard
(Hit me with whatever.)
(ooc: will match styles)
[The sound of someone's voice makes Emma lift her head up. She feels strange. Something is different. There are voices all around her, drowning her own mental voice out. She clings to the reality of someone's voice to avoid drowning.]
[When she looks over she sees a boy, about the same age as her students. She frowns a little and puts her mind in order, shoving out the voices, or at least dampening their volume to a low whisper. She stood on shaking legs, moving toward Adam.]
Are you alright?
[Her voice is different. Emma looks down and gasps, putting her hands to her chest as though she's never seen her breasts before.]
What. The. Hell.
[When she looks over she sees a boy, about the same age as her students. She frowns a little and puts her mind in order, shoving out the voices, or at least dampening their volume to a low whisper. She stood on shaking legs, moving toward Adam.]
Are you alright?
[Her voice is different. Emma looks down and gasps, putting her hands to her chest as though she's never seen her breasts before.]
What. The. Hell.
( a. slip and trip )
This isn't the first time Mei has ended up disoriented and confused from being pulled through (or being in) a device. Cryofreeze left her dizzy like this too. But even after the dizziness fades, she finds she can barely walk. Her knees are shaking and barely holding her up. She stumbles to a place she can sit, hoping with a little rest, the feeling will go away.
Once she has the story of what's going on here, she looks around with a frown.
"I would be happy to help you explore, once my legs are stronger." She ends the statement by massaging her calf, but it doesn't seem to help.
( b. introductions aren't awkward. )
Despite her recent disability, Mei is determined to go with the others to this central hub, but it's slow going for her. She walks gingerly, hands outstretched in case she needs to catch herself if her legs give out. Along the way, she wants to know about her traveling companions: how long they were aboard the ship, where they're from, and what they plan to do now.
( c. dealer's choice )
Maybe a kind soul will be willing to help Mei walk with an arm around her waist, or even carrying her. She wouldn't mind a lift. And she'll figure out a way to repay you someday, once her legs are better!
...they'll get better, right?
This isn't the first time Mei has ended up disoriented and confused from being pulled through (or being in) a device. Cryofreeze left her dizzy like this too. But even after the dizziness fades, she finds she can barely walk. Her knees are shaking and barely holding her up. She stumbles to a place she can sit, hoping with a little rest, the feeling will go away.
Once she has the story of what's going on here, she looks around with a frown.
"I would be happy to help you explore, once my legs are stronger." She ends the statement by massaging her calf, but it doesn't seem to help.
( b. introductions aren't awkward. )
Despite her recent disability, Mei is determined to go with the others to this central hub, but it's slow going for her. She walks gingerly, hands outstretched in case she needs to catch herself if her legs give out. Along the way, she wants to know about her traveling companions: how long they were aboard the ship, where they're from, and what they plan to do now.
( c. dealer's choice )
Maybe a kind soul will be willing to help Mei walk with an arm around her waist, or even carrying her. She wouldn't mind a lift. And she'll figure out a way to repay you someday, once her legs are better!
...they'll get better, right?
[ Dutch is used to this shit by now. The crash is old news to her. She's rummaging for scrap, lifting heavy hunks of metal when she sees the newcomer. Never one to turn away a newbie, she sets aside the scrap metal and approaches the apparently distressed newcomer. ]
Hey.
[ She runs a hand through her messed up hair. Something is wrong with this guy and he seems to know it. ]
You al-- [ Cutting herself off, Dutch bites her lip. Of course he's not alright. ] You need help?
[ She's not certain what she can do to help him. Maybe offer some sort of explanation. Beyond that, though, Dutch is pretty much useless. ]
Hey.
[ She runs a hand through her messed up hair. Something is wrong with this guy and he seems to know it. ]
You al-- [ Cutting herself off, Dutch bites her lip. Of course he's not alright. ] You need help?
[ She's not certain what she can do to help him. Maybe offer some sort of explanation. Beyond that, though, Dutch is pretty much useless. ]
It's the laughter that draws them over.
The captains had not given any specific order to seek out the people falling out of these broken Ingresses, but it was an excuse to get away from people. Away from several very specific people, ones that Frisk has been trying their best to disentangle themself from ever since their mind broke apart. Mettaton is isolating himself just as much as they are, Asriel is a mess, and Toriel...
It's better this way. Frisk is too much of a danger to them all.
The sound carries over crags and broken stone, and something in the sound makes their breath catch. This particular laugh, it's not one they ever heard themself--not in the normal sense, anyway.
A string of 999999999, the world rent asunder in a single stroke--
They're running before the thought is even complete, tearing across the landscape without a mind for watching where the ground might crumble or whatever strange creatures might suddenly pop out of the landscape. All their mind is focused on that voice, they have to find them can't lose them again can't lose them--
And from around a stand of jagged stone they appear, wide eyed-and laughing, staring at hands covered in yellow flowers. It's them, it's them, * It's me and Frisk cries out as they run over, tears streaming down their face.
"CHARA!"
The captains had not given any specific order to seek out the people falling out of these broken Ingresses, but it was an excuse to get away from people. Away from several very specific people, ones that Frisk has been trying their best to disentangle themself from ever since their mind broke apart. Mettaton is isolating himself just as much as they are, Asriel is a mess, and Toriel...
It's better this way. Frisk is too much of a danger to them all.
The sound carries over crags and broken stone, and something in the sound makes their breath catch. This particular laugh, it's not one they ever heard themself--not in the normal sense, anyway.
They're running before the thought is even complete, tearing across the landscape without a mind for watching where the ground might crumble or whatever strange creatures might suddenly pop out of the landscape. All their mind is focused on that voice, they have to find them can't lose them again can't lose them--
And from around a stand of jagged stone they appear, wide eyed-and laughing, staring at hands covered in yellow flowers. It's them, it's them, * It's me and Frisk cries out as they run over, tears streaming down their face.
"CHARA!"
Edited (fuck you html FUCK YOU EXTRA) 2016-12-03 01:08 (UTC)
Slip and trip
Emma groaned as she sat up, rubbing her head. There were so many voices around her, so loud. It was a strange sensation. She hadn't felt like this since she was a girl. Luckily a few deep breaths and some mental effort put her back to rights, the voices dampened down to whispers.
She looked around, annoyed to find herself in a strange place. What the hell had happened? While she looked around she stood, looking for others. She would notice her physical changes soon enough, for now she was simply engrossed with trying to get her bearings.
Emma groaned as she sat up, rubbing her head. There were so many voices around her, so loud. It was a strange sensation. She hadn't felt like this since she was a girl. Luckily a few deep breaths and some mental effort put her back to rights, the voices dampened down to whispers.
She looked around, annoyed to find herself in a strange place. What the hell had happened? While she looked around she stood, looking for others. She would notice her physical changes soon enough, for now she was simply engrossed with trying to get her bearings.
frisk you ignorant slut these are clearly blades of GRASS ha ha
inconsequence
2016-12-03 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
For the first time in their memory - in living memory? Gosh, that's just hysterical! - somebody came!
And it's you! Curious, isn't it, to see them through another set of eyes instead of through a mirror or in the reflection cast in a darkened puddle, a reflection that was ever-so-slightly incorrect in some fashions. But we can't get caught up in the details, can we?
And they name the fallen human.
The fallen human keeps laughing, but they swing their stare around to pin them with a vicious gaze, their eyes burning with the unspoken threat that they should not touch them, not here and not now and not with that passionate familiarity that spills out of their eyes (how peculiar!) in the form of thick, pale droplets.
They grin, the fixed rictus locked on their features, their stare intent and unblinking.
"* The true name."
And it's you! Curious, isn't it, to see them through another set of eyes instead of through a mirror or in the reflection cast in a darkened puddle, a reflection that was ever-so-slightly incorrect in some fashions. But we can't get caught up in the details, can we?
And they name the fallen human.
The fallen human keeps laughing, but they swing their stare around to pin them with a vicious gaze, their eyes burning with the unspoken threat that they should not touch them, not here and not now and not with that passionate familiarity that spills out of their eyes (how peculiar!) in the form of thick, pale droplets.
They grin, the fixed rictus locked on their features, their stare intent and unblinking.
"* The true name."
Edited 2016-12-03 01:28 (UTC)
☄ introductions aren't awkward; this is not where i should be
Technology Sombra's never heard of means technology Sombra is fascinated with. She's like a child let loose in a toy store, all motion and hands and trying to take a look at everything up close...
...while, of course, maintaining a calm and professional air.
(Not really.)
Curious of the strange inhabitants but all the more curious about their tech, she maintains a friendly attitude to all, smiles and cheerfulness and easily, so easily slipping on her most charming of demeanors. Is she popping up over her shoulder (was she there a second ago) to take a look at what you've got before you? Perhaps standing with a gloved finger at her lip, tilting her head as she regards the view of the rocky planet before her?
Or maybe she's outright approaching you, getting straight to the point-
"So, you've been here a while, right?"
☄ slip and trip; we take this in our stride
[She notices it some time after she's settled down. When she's taking a moment to digest it all, go over everything in her mind- her back itches. And it's not easy to get a look at it, but when she does, she loses her breath.
Sombra augmented her body with cybernetics - but these are not them. These are far beyond what she had done to herself, and beyond any tech she's familiar with - practically biomechanical. Maybe it's the angle, but she can hardly tell where her own skin ends and this organic metal begins, looking almost like a cancer that's threatening to take her over.
But let it never said she's let anything keep her down for long. She's quick to get back in her clothing, back on her feet, back on the move, finding the nearest person and-]
They have doctors here, yeah? You know where any are? Kinda important.
☄ open; but I will never change
Make up your own prompt, I'll match format.If you want to do a new/different/thread and/or continue from the last TDM, we can do that!
Technology Sombra's never heard of means technology Sombra is fascinated with. She's like a child let loose in a toy store, all motion and hands and trying to take a look at everything up close...
...while, of course, maintaining a calm and professional air.
(Not really.)
Curious of the strange inhabitants but all the more curious about their tech, she maintains a friendly attitude to all, smiles and cheerfulness and easily, so easily slipping on her most charming of demeanors. Is she popping up over her shoulder (was she there a second ago) to take a look at what you've got before you? Perhaps standing with a gloved finger at her lip, tilting her head as she regards the view of the rocky planet before her?
Or maybe she's outright approaching you, getting straight to the point-
"So, you've been here a while, right?"
☄ slip and trip; we take this in our stride
[She notices it some time after she's settled down. When she's taking a moment to digest it all, go over everything in her mind- her back itches. And it's not easy to get a look at it, but when she does, she loses her breath.
Sombra augmented her body with cybernetics - but these are not them. These are far beyond what she had done to herself, and beyond any tech she's familiar with - practically biomechanical. Maybe it's the angle, but she can hardly tell where her own skin ends and this organic metal begins, looking almost like a cancer that's threatening to take her over.
But let it never said she's let anything keep her down for long. She's quick to get back in her clothing, back on her feet, back on the move, finding the nearest person and-]
They have doctors here, yeah? You know where any are? Kinda important.
☄ open; but I will never change
Make up your own prompt, I'll match format.
Edited 2016-12-03 01:33 (UTC)
[ here a group of them were, exploring this broke ass piece of shit, setting up a sprawling camp to rest for a while, when suddenly, the degraded tech starts vomiting out people.
which, sort of annoying, because andyr's been in the process of trying to find one person in specific, which was already difficult enough with how large the crew is. now add on a handful more and it's just obnoxious. ]
Heeeere, Fluffy Fluffy Fluffy. [ andyr's calling out, as he pushes up on his toes to look over and around some of the new arrivals, frown on his features. Probably over with the vehicles being an autophile, like he does. what's more annoying is that his back is aching, the ports a constant, throbbing pain that's down to the bone. he's determined to carry on as if nothing's changed, but even that movement to peer around had brought on a flinch. no, he doesn't have the patience for this crowd, shouting out instead. ] Ronan!
[ andyr turns sharply, ready to head towards the other edge of camp, where the jeeps had been parked, when he nearly runs straight over some slightly blond kid. pretty, but seemingly distracted the the accessory now fused to his skin, andyr blinking down at it with something that's probably more nonchalant about this than he should be. ]
Oh. Gross. Was it like that before?
which, sort of annoying, because andyr's been in the process of trying to find one person in specific, which was already difficult enough with how large the crew is. now add on a handful more and it's just obnoxious. ]
Heeeere, Fluffy Fluffy Fluffy. [ andyr's calling out, as he pushes up on his toes to look over and around some of the new arrivals, frown on his features. Probably over with the vehicles being an autophile, like he does. what's more annoying is that his back is aching, the ports a constant, throbbing pain that's down to the bone. he's determined to carry on as if nothing's changed, but even that movement to peer around had brought on a flinch. no, he doesn't have the patience for this crowd, shouting out instead. ] Ronan!
[ andyr turns sharply, ready to head towards the other edge of camp, where the jeeps had been parked, when he nearly runs straight over some slightly blond kid. pretty, but seemingly distracted the the accessory now fused to his skin, andyr blinking down at it with something that's probably more nonchalant about this than he should be. ]
Oh. Gross. Was it like that before?
1. This could be better
[The first thing he registers as his head begins to clear and his eyes begin to focus again is that his left arm feels numb and heavy, like a dead weight. It doesn't help that there's blood running down it from the bullet that had grazed it before he came here, but he didn't think it was in a position or deep enough to render his arm completely useless.
The second thing he notices as he's frantically trying to bend and stretch his fingers to make them move again is that he is standing precariously on the edge of a ridge on the side of a very high cliff.]
Holy shit!!
[He backs up immediately, pressing his back against the rock face behind him. It doesn't provide much comfort, as his shoes are hanging over the edge. He looks up. He's just out of reach from the top of the cliff, but it's still too high for him to climb it with just one hand functioning. What's worse is he can feel and hear the rocky ledge he's standing on start to move and crumble under his weight. Still looking for another way up, he does the next best thing he can think of:]
Hey! Is anyone up there? Could use a hand here!
[Oh god this is how he's going to die. Not in prison, not hunting Avery's treasure, but out who knew where, by himself, and without a cigarette on hand. He watches as a piece of the cliff falls off, dropping down to its rocky death below.]
Oh, shit! [There goes another part of the ledge. And there goes his resolve. Still frantically searching for another path up, he begins to mutter under his breath in rapid recitation:] Hail Mary full of grace our Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus! Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at thehourofourdeath!
[Help?]
2. Give a guy a break
[Now that that extremely harrowing experience is over with and Sam has caught his breath a little, he sticks close to whatever civilization has been established, walking around the camps to see what the situation is, as well as looking around at his surroundings. The blood under his nose has dried, but his arm still bleeds and feels weak, so he always makes sure to stay within close proximity to people just in case. His eyes scan groups of people for someone familiar, but it's his surroundings that really draw his attention.
He's having trouble wrapping his head around the idea of all this, which is why he's taken to wandering around. Compared to the lush and vibrant jungle he was just in, this seems rather barren--no seas, no signs of pirate civilizations. Definitely no Avery treasure here. He would be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed in addition to everything else he's feeling (concern, regret, fear, anger). He sighs heavily, addressing the universe and anyone who might be near:]
Jesus, what's a guy gotta do to get a smoke around here?
3. Wildcard!
[Hit me with anything you'd like and I'll follow you!]
[The first thing he registers as his head begins to clear and his eyes begin to focus again is that his left arm feels numb and heavy, like a dead weight. It doesn't help that there's blood running down it from the bullet that had grazed it before he came here, but he didn't think it was in a position or deep enough to render his arm completely useless.
The second thing he notices as he's frantically trying to bend and stretch his fingers to make them move again is that he is standing precariously on the edge of a ridge on the side of a very high cliff.]
Holy shit!!
[He backs up immediately, pressing his back against the rock face behind him. It doesn't provide much comfort, as his shoes are hanging over the edge. He looks up. He's just out of reach from the top of the cliff, but it's still too high for him to climb it with just one hand functioning. What's worse is he can feel and hear the rocky ledge he's standing on start to move and crumble under his weight. Still looking for another way up, he does the next best thing he can think of:]
Hey! Is anyone up there? Could use a hand here!
[Oh god this is how he's going to die. Not in prison, not hunting Avery's treasure, but out who knew where, by himself, and without a cigarette on hand. He watches as a piece of the cliff falls off, dropping down to its rocky death below.]
Oh, shit! [There goes another part of the ledge. And there goes his resolve. Still frantically searching for another path up, he begins to mutter under his breath in rapid recitation:] Hail Mary full of grace our Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus! Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at thehourofourdeath!
[Help?]
2. Give a guy a break
[Now that that extremely harrowing experience is over with and Sam has caught his breath a little, he sticks close to whatever civilization has been established, walking around the camps to see what the situation is, as well as looking around at his surroundings. The blood under his nose has dried, but his arm still bleeds and feels weak, so he always makes sure to stay within close proximity to people just in case. His eyes scan groups of people for someone familiar, but it's his surroundings that really draw his attention.
He's having trouble wrapping his head around the idea of all this, which is why he's taken to wandering around. Compared to the lush and vibrant jungle he was just in, this seems rather barren--no seas, no signs of pirate civilizations. Definitely no Avery treasure here. He would be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed in addition to everything else he's feeling (concern, regret, fear, anger). He sighs heavily, addressing the universe and anyone who might be near:]
Jesus, what's a guy gotta do to get a smoke around here?
3. Wildcard!
[Hit me with anything you'd like and I'll follow you!]
Edited 2016-12-03 01:44 (UTC)
( ooc: prose is totally okay too!)
1. dealer's choice
[ The Ingress that spits Pepper out sits on top of a hill; not a very tall one, but unfortunately rather steep and rocky. She barely has time to properly comprehend what's happening to her when she looses her already precarious footing and tumbles down the hillside on a startled cry. She rolls down several feet, stones and little shrubs scraping and pummeling at her before coming to a stop at the foot of the hill, curling in on herself and groaning in pain. She's not sure how long she just lays there, trying to draw air knocked out of her on impact back into her lungs.
Gingerly, she eventually straightens her aching limbs, opening her eyes to take a look around... but everything is blurry, her vision swimming. Did she hit her head? She touches her stinging temple with shaky fingers, the tips coming back bloody. Fantastic. She squints as she takes another look at her surroundings, but her eyesight doesn't sharpen in the least. Everything further than few feet away is out of focus, blurry shapes on an equally blurry canvas.
Are those shapes in the distance people? After a moment of hesitation, she takes the risk. ]
Hey...! [ It comes out barely as a croak. Coughing, she pushes herself up on her hands and calls out louder this time. ] Hello!
2. introductions aren’t awkward
[ Pepper has no words for this. She's still half-convinced she's dreaming, standing around almost numbly in her rumpled and torn business attire, previously neat ponytail ruffled and a smear of blood drying at her temple. Most of these people seem to know what they're doing, going this way and that; assisting others, gathering supplies. Alien planet? Spaceship crash? Seriously? On top of it all, her eyes aren't working like they should for some reason, already tiring from all the useless squinting she's doing in effort to see properly. Breathing a shuddering sigh, she brings both hands up to her face to rub at her closed eyes. ]
This is not how I pictured this day would go.
1. dealer's choice
[ The Ingress that spits Pepper out sits on top of a hill; not a very tall one, but unfortunately rather steep and rocky. She barely has time to properly comprehend what's happening to her when she looses her already precarious footing and tumbles down the hillside on a startled cry. She rolls down several feet, stones and little shrubs scraping and pummeling at her before coming to a stop at the foot of the hill, curling in on herself and groaning in pain. She's not sure how long she just lays there, trying to draw air knocked out of her on impact back into her lungs.
Gingerly, she eventually straightens her aching limbs, opening her eyes to take a look around... but everything is blurry, her vision swimming. Did she hit her head? She touches her stinging temple with shaky fingers, the tips coming back bloody. Fantastic. She squints as she takes another look at her surroundings, but her eyesight doesn't sharpen in the least. Everything further than few feet away is out of focus, blurry shapes on an equally blurry canvas.
Are those shapes in the distance people? After a moment of hesitation, she takes the risk. ]
Hey...! [ It comes out barely as a croak. Coughing, she pushes herself up on her hands and calls out louder this time. ] Hello!
2. introductions aren’t awkward
[ Pepper has no words for this. She's still half-convinced she's dreaming, standing around almost numbly in her rumpled and torn business attire, previously neat ponytail ruffled and a smear of blood drying at her temple. Most of these people seem to know what they're doing, going this way and that; assisting others, gathering supplies. Alien planet? Spaceship crash? Seriously? On top of it all, her eyes aren't working like they should for some reason, already tiring from all the useless squinting she's doing in effort to see properly. Breathing a shuddering sigh, she brings both hands up to her face to rub at her closed eyes. ]
This is not how I pictured this day would go.
Edited 2016-12-03 02:15 (UTC)
The words hit in their chest, heavy and hard and making them stumble to a stop, trembling and confused. It's...it's just like the first time. They don't even need a weapon to make their point this time, all they have to do is glare and speak and the metaphorical line in the sand is drawn.
How did they forget? They...they can't have forgotten...
But they didn't know before, either. Their memories hadn't matched then, though trying to catch the specifics makes the static rise up in the back of Frisk's mind. Is this...like back then? A 'different' Chara, with their own timelines and their own Frisk?
It's not fair.
"You..."
No. They can't break down here, not like this. Swallow back the painful lump, push aside the crushing feeling closing around their SOUL. The details don't matter, they never mattered. All that matters is that they're here, their partner is here and now everything will be okay.
It has to.
"That's always been your name."
How did they forget? They...they can't have forgotten...
But they didn't know before, either. Their memories hadn't matched then, though trying to catch the specifics makes the static rise up in the back of Frisk's mind. Is this...like back then? A 'different' Chara, with their own timelines and their own Frisk?
It's not fair.
"You..."
No. They can't break down here, not like this. Swallow back the painful lump, push aside the crushing feeling closing around their SOUL. The details don't matter, they never mattered. All that matters is that they're here, their partner is here and now everything will be okay.
It has to.
"That's always been your name."
Mettaton isn't making much use of himself these days. It's not something he cares about right now. There is, in fact, a very small number of things that he cares about anymore, and the majority of them are currently ranked slightly above himself.
He's wondered for a few days if this was how Sans felt. Why he had taken such offense to all of Mettaton's extended kindnesses, even up to the point of his eventual departure.
Mm. That's not a thought he wants to linger on though. People leaving.
Idly, he reaches a hand up to touch at the tattered scarf he had chosen to wear--it was not something he ever intended to keep in his PacDisc unless its wellbeing was threatened--and he's reminded of why he doesn't like to think of it.
It's while he's lost in his thoughts that he happens across Chara. Oh, he knew who they were. They were the annoying Dreemurr child who he hadn't really gotten along with very much. Shitty sense of humor and all that. But for a fleeting moment, he feels as if maybe it's a good thing. Because Frisk and Asriel were very upset when Chara disappeared, and Toriel...? She loved her children unconditionally.
Best make nice, right?
But as he approaches, he notices what they are doing.
He realizes the flowers are attached to them, a part of them. And that they were playing quite the sick little game of "he loves me, he loves me not." Mettaton's seen enough strangeness on this ship to know that it can't be painless and whatever happiness he felt fades into something he can't describe.
Striding forward and into view, he glares down at them, arms crossed.
"Doesn't that hurt?"
Don't you care about your family's feelings? Did Frisk or Asriel find you yet? Why are you wasting your life?!
He's wondered for a few days if this was how Sans felt. Why he had taken such offense to all of Mettaton's extended kindnesses, even up to the point of his eventual departure.
Mm. That's not a thought he wants to linger on though. People leaving.
Idly, he reaches a hand up to touch at the tattered scarf he had chosen to wear--it was not something he ever intended to keep in his PacDisc unless its wellbeing was threatened--and he's reminded of why he doesn't like to think of it.
It's while he's lost in his thoughts that he happens across Chara. Oh, he knew who they were. They were the annoying Dreemurr child who he hadn't really gotten along with very much. Shitty sense of humor and all that. But for a fleeting moment, he feels as if maybe it's a good thing. Because Frisk and Asriel were very upset when Chara disappeared, and Toriel...? She loved her children unconditionally.
Best make nice, right?
But as he approaches, he notices what they are doing.
He realizes the flowers are attached to them, a part of them. And that they were playing quite the sick little game of "he loves me, he loves me not." Mettaton's seen enough strangeness on this ship to know that it can't be painless and whatever happiness he felt fades into something he can't describe.
Striding forward and into view, he glares down at them, arms crossed.
"Doesn't that hurt?"
Don't you care about your family's feelings? Did Frisk or Asriel find you yet? Why are you wasting your life?!
[The situation is grim, that's for damn sure. Pretty much everyone Nate cares about on the Moira made it through the crash alive, but there was still a crash, and that's bad for a lot of reasons. They're far from civilization, they've got limited resources, they're in goddamn outer space and now without a ship that can take them anywhere close to home...it's not his best week.
But hey. They'll never make it home if they're dead, so things could be worse. He tries to think positive, more like Elena. And he actually smiles when he hears a complaint about the lack of smokes as he makes his way through the camps. This guy and Sully have a lot in...
His thought trails off as he sees a ghost. Except it's not a ghost, Sully said he was alive. Nathan just didn't expect to see for himself for a long time.]
Sam?
But hey. They'll never make it home if they're dead, so things could be worse. He tries to think positive, more like Elena. And he actually smiles when he hears a complaint about the lack of smokes as he makes his way through the camps. This guy and Sully have a lot in...
His thought trails off as he sees a ghost. Except it's not a ghost, Sully said he was alive. Nathan just didn't expect to see for himself for a long time.]
Sam?
Crybaby.
The cruel jab swells up in their throat like bile, and they smile wider, wider, forcing it down with the impossible upward curve of the edges of their lips. They say it with such certainty, so used to their every word becoming law. They set the rules. The play the game and beat it, and they delineate every rule they like. That's simply how it is with them, is it not?
Of course it is.
At the very least, they have stopped. Stopped dead, even.
Ha ha.
Their tone is bright and disarmingly chipper, syrup-sweet. "If you say so, I suppose!"
The cruel jab swells up in their throat like bile, and they smile wider, wider, forcing it down with the impossible upward curve of the edges of their lips. They say it with such certainty, so used to their every word becoming law. They set the rules. The play the game and beat it, and they delineate every rule they like. That's simply how it is with them, is it not?
Of course it is.
At the very least, they have stopped. Stopped dead, even.
Ha ha.
Their tone is bright and disarmingly chipper, syrup-sweet. "If you say so, I suppose!"
An interruption. A distraction. A diversion. A strange metallic thing, or something that walks around pretending to be something it isn't, something they've no interest in speaking to at any length. They sit there and they smile and they look at him, locking eyes with him, finding a way to turn the stare into something of a challenge.
Slowly, deliberately, they dig their fingertips into the roots of the flower growing from their skin and pluck it out, twirling it idly between their fingertips.
They hold the pretty golden bloom up to their nose to smell it. How interesting. It seems their nose works again as well. Smells like they remember flower smell, though they cannot shake the feeling that they must reek of grave dirt and rot.
How fitting.
"Did you know that some flowers can grow without sun?" says the child, still smiling, their tone light and conversational. "Interesting, don't you think?"
Their arm is running red from where they picked the flower free, startlingly dark and crimson. Humans bleed. Humans are not like monsters. Humans do not get the luxury of being able to crumble simply to dust upon encountering a pitted and callous wad of cynicism.
They don't seem to care, that they are bleeding. It's inconsequential. They've opened sores before, old injuries and scabs on another being's body. This is no different.
Slowly, deliberately, they dig their fingertips into the roots of the flower growing from their skin and pluck it out, twirling it idly between their fingertips.
They hold the pretty golden bloom up to their nose to smell it. How interesting. It seems their nose works again as well. Smells like they remember flower smell, though they cannot shake the feeling that they must reek of grave dirt and rot.
How fitting.
"Did you know that some flowers can grow without sun?" says the child, still smiling, their tone light and conversational. "Interesting, don't you think?"
Their arm is running red from where they picked the flower free, startlingly dark and crimson. Humans bleed. Humans are not like monsters. Humans do not get the luxury of being able to crumble simply to dust upon encountering a pitted and callous wad of cynicism.
They don't seem to care, that they are bleeding. It's inconsequential. They've opened sores before, old injuries and scabs on another being's body. This is no different.
slip and trip
[ This was not the cockpit of the Falcon. And as much as he protests that the ship's not his anymore, that really is where he's meant to be right now. Not... in a cave somewhere, tripping over stalagmites as he tries to find another living soul.
He passes a small pool of water and catches his reflection, except-- that can't be right. He hasn't looked like that in a decade! ]
What in stars name is going on here?
introductions
[ After he gets the spiel, he wanders the hub, looking for a way to keep busy. He was a business man, and before that a smuggler. He doesn't know how to be a refugee. But he knows how to make himself useful, so when he sees somebody struggling or in need of assistance, he'll step in to lend a hand. ]
Hey there, friend. Looks like you could use some help with that. Mind if I...?
[ This was not the cockpit of the Falcon. And as much as he protests that the ship's not his anymore, that really is where he's meant to be right now. Not... in a cave somewhere, tripping over stalagmites as he tries to find another living soul.
He passes a small pool of water and catches his reflection, except-- that can't be right. He hasn't looked like that in a decade! ]
What in stars name is going on here?
introductions
[ After he gets the spiel, he wanders the hub, looking for a way to keep busy. He was a business man, and before that a smuggler. He doesn't know how to be a refugee. But he knows how to make himself useful, so when he sees somebody struggling or in need of assistance, he'll step in to lend a hand. ]
Hey there, friend. Looks like you could use some help with that. Mind if I...?
[Adam blinks looking up from where he's ended up staring at his watch. He doesn't quite focus on her right away his mind still racing trying to logically piece this place and what has happened together. Even when it's right in front of his eyes sometimes he has a hard time accepting things that are out of the natural order as he knew it before.]
I'm... [He trails off because he finds that he doesn't really know the answer.]
Are you...?
I'm... [He trails off because he finds that he doesn't really know the answer.]
Are you...?
Hey. [Adam returns the greeting out of habit more than anything, looking up at the person speaking and she seems to have a friendly enough face. At least he's sure she probably isn't a demon at the least.]
I really don't know. [It comes out like he's almost on the verge of laughter, not the happy kind but the kind that comes out when you're nervous or scared and you don't want to let on.]
Is this really real... [Though, if you're asking a dream if it's real will it know?]
I really don't know. [It comes out like he's almost on the verge of laughter, not the happy kind but the kind that comes out when you're nervous or scared and you don't want to let on.]
Is this really real... [Though, if you're asking a dream if it's real will it know?]
[Emma shakes her head and removes her hands from her chest, embarrassed at such a slip. Still, she has changed physically and that isn't normal, even for being kidnapped to another world. She frowns and refocuses on Adam, who looks quite dazed.]
[Her eyes follow his down to his watch, which is clearly part of him in a way no watch should be. Emma reaches out and touches it delicately, tapping on the glass above the face of the watch.]
My name is Emma Frost. We're going to find a way out of here, okay?
[Her eyes follow his down to his watch, which is clearly part of him in a way no watch should be. Emma reaches out and touches it delicately, tapping on the glass above the face of the watch.]
My name is Emma Frost. We're going to find a way out of here, okay?
[The way his watch is fused into his skin might be the most disturbing thing about this -- though, maybe that's just easier for him to focus on than the break in reality that happened by just being here. He's already run through hundreds of explanations -- dream, hell, nightmare, some alternate dimension inside of Cabeswater. None of it really adds up and he's starting to suspect that this just reality and that whatever god there is is playing some cosmic joke on him.]
Huh? [He'd heard someone say Ronan but he thinks he imagined it when the person is apparently asking about the weird fusion that had happened.
Now, Adam sort of wished the Orphan Girl had kept his watch longer.]
No... [His brow furrows as he traces it and it makes him feel slightly nauseous.]
Huh? [He'd heard someone say Ronan but he thinks he imagined it when the person is apparently asking about the weird fusion that had happened.
Now, Adam sort of wished the Orphan Girl had kept his watch longer.]
No... [His brow furrows as he traces it and it makes him feel slightly nauseous.]
☄ dealer's choice;
[ So. This is pretty damn bad.
Stephen finds himself in a cave suddenly and he doesn't have anything that could help him get to that opening that is most definitely several feet up. No Cloak, no Eye of Agamotto, and, worst of all, no sling ring. He is so screwed. Looking back up at the opening, he mutters to himself, ]
Wong is going to kill me.
[ Maybe he could try climbing up it himself... He positions himself and closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath, reminding himself to concentrate. Don't panic. That won't do you any good. And he's been in tight spots before. He still has his magic. That's something. He can work with that. Yes.
His eyes snap open and Strange moves his hands, casting a spell for both hands, the glowing circles engulfing them. He approaches the wall of the cave and tests his weapons. They let out a ting like they are made of metal, chipping off some small pebbles. Okay. Good. He takes in a breath, lean back and hurls one circle into the rockface. He does the same with the other but a bit higher. Using the circles like they were pickaxes, he starts to slowly climb up.
But just because the spell works, it doesn't mean it's easy. He's trying to navigate in the dark with only the light from the circles to go by. There's a little more illumination as he gets further up but not by much. His foot slips and he yells out. ]
Shit!
[ The spell starts to flicker a bit and his heart jumps into his throat, ]
No, no. Don't!
[ He seriously does not want to fall. Not from this height. ]
☄ introductions aren’t awkward;
[ Once he's out of the cave and around the crew - or that's what they call themselves - Stephen tries to focus on what he's got to work with. He's still in deep shit without any way to actually get back to his world but panicking, again, won't help. So, hands on his hips, still dressed in his blue tunic and boots from the sanctum, he breathes out a laugh, trying to act like none of this is actually phasing him. ]
So, anyone seen a xenomorph? Ever run into the Nostromo while you were out there? No?
[ Does a gesture to the sky, wiggling his fingers and everything.Stephen, you're not funny. ]
[ So. This is pretty damn bad.
Stephen finds himself in a cave suddenly and he doesn't have anything that could help him get to that opening that is most definitely several feet up. No Cloak, no Eye of Agamotto, and, worst of all, no sling ring. He is so screwed. Looking back up at the opening, he mutters to himself, ]
Wong is going to kill me.
[ Maybe he could try climbing up it himself... He positions himself and closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath, reminding himself to concentrate. Don't panic. That won't do you any good. And he's been in tight spots before. He still has his magic. That's something. He can work with that. Yes.
His eyes snap open and Strange moves his hands, casting a spell for both hands, the glowing circles engulfing them. He approaches the wall of the cave and tests his weapons. They let out a ting like they are made of metal, chipping off some small pebbles. Okay. Good. He takes in a breath, lean back and hurls one circle into the rockface. He does the same with the other but a bit higher. Using the circles like they were pickaxes, he starts to slowly climb up.
But just because the spell works, it doesn't mean it's easy. He's trying to navigate in the dark with only the light from the circles to go by. There's a little more illumination as he gets further up but not by much. His foot slips and he yells out. ]
Shit!
[ The spell starts to flicker a bit and his heart jumps into his throat, ]
No, no. Don't!
[ He seriously does not want to fall. Not from this height. ]
☄ introductions aren’t awkward;
[ Once he's out of the cave and around the crew - or that's what they call themselves - Stephen tries to focus on what he's got to work with. He's still in deep shit without any way to actually get back to his world but panicking, again, won't help. So, hands on his hips, still dressed in his blue tunic and boots from the sanctum, he breathes out a laugh, trying to act like none of this is actually phasing him. ]
So, anyone seen a xenomorph? Ever run into the Nostromo while you were out there? No?
[ Does a gesture to the sky, wiggling his fingers and everything.
Edited 2016-12-03 02:25 (UTC)
Big Sister | Bioshock 2 | Warning for loud noises in linked video
handofrapture
2016-12-03 02:22 am (UTC)(link)
a. slip and trip
[It happens too quickly to comprehend. She’s hunting a splicer, a low, worthless thing whose only light is the ADAM singing through his veins. It’s not his, and she’ll make him pay for stealing from her sisters, rip the ADAM out at the point of a needle. She’s so close, she can smell his fear mingling with the ADAM in his blood, making it burn all the brighter, a beacon in Rapture’s dark--
And then she is gone.
Rubble rushes up to meet her. She catches herself on her hands, breath coming in ragged gasps. Has she been hit? There’s no pain, no rush of ADAM to a wound. Just weight, constant and crushing. Armor feels like a mountain resting on her shoulders. She tries to stand, can’t. Tries to lift her head, and succeeds with almost unbearable exertion. She wishes she hadn’t. There is rubble everywhere but there are no walls. The blue of the ocean is too bright, too distant, impossibly suspended overhead. Vertigo sets in, an old rhyme looping in her head (”In the house of upside down, cellar’s top-floor, attic’s ground--”) She drops her head again, fingers curling into the loose rocks beneath her hands. She can’t stand. She can’t defend herself. But her sisters must be somewhere and she still has the power to reach out to them in the only way she knows how.
Anyone even remotely close to the Ingress will hear the inhuman screaming that pierces the planet’s quiet atmosphere. One could almost mistake it for the screech of grinding metal, if not for the desperate, animal anguish that undercuts it. Whether it’s a cry for help or a warning to stay away -- that’s even more uncertain.]
b.introductions everything is awkward at all times but especially now
[She’s had to remove the metal pieces of her armor just to be able to move. The fact that she needed help to remove it at all only adds to her anger -- not to mention her confusion. The people who found her had every reason to take advantage of her compromised state, to tear her open and gorge themselves on ADAM like any other splicers. But they hadn’t. Instead they had brought her here. To “camp.”
She looks smaller without her armor, now only covered by a stained undersuit and helmet. Truth be told, the helmet has become uncomfortable as well. It had felt like a part of her body for years before, but now it takes effort just to keep her head upright under its weight. As she grows more fatigued, the heaviness eventually becomes intolerable, outweighing even her desire for the protection it provides. Movements rigid with agitation, she reaches up to wrench the helmet free -- only to find that she can’t. It’s rusted in place, and though such a paltry challenge wouldn’t have even slowed her before, now she finds that she doesn’t have the strength to twist it free.
If you, brave soul, would like to help the Big Sister who is steadily growing angrier as she struggles with her helmet, the rest of the camp would probably thank you for itand solemnly remember your noble sacrifice.]
[It happens too quickly to comprehend. She’s hunting a splicer, a low, worthless thing whose only light is the ADAM singing through his veins. It’s not his, and she’ll make him pay for stealing from her sisters, rip the ADAM out at the point of a needle. She’s so close, she can smell his fear mingling with the ADAM in his blood, making it burn all the brighter, a beacon in Rapture’s dark--
And then she is gone.
Rubble rushes up to meet her. She catches herself on her hands, breath coming in ragged gasps. Has she been hit? There’s no pain, no rush of ADAM to a wound. Just weight, constant and crushing. Armor feels like a mountain resting on her shoulders. She tries to stand, can’t. Tries to lift her head, and succeeds with almost unbearable exertion. She wishes she hadn’t. There is rubble everywhere but there are no walls. The blue of the ocean is too bright, too distant, impossibly suspended overhead. Vertigo sets in, an old rhyme looping in her head (”In the house of upside down, cellar’s top-floor, attic’s ground--”) She drops her head again, fingers curling into the loose rocks beneath her hands. She can’t stand. She can’t defend herself. But her sisters must be somewhere and she still has the power to reach out to them in the only way she knows how.
Anyone even remotely close to the Ingress will hear the inhuman screaming that pierces the planet’s quiet atmosphere. One could almost mistake it for the screech of grinding metal, if not for the desperate, animal anguish that undercuts it. Whether it’s a cry for help or a warning to stay away -- that’s even more uncertain.]
b.
[She’s had to remove the metal pieces of her armor just to be able to move. The fact that she needed help to remove it at all only adds to her anger -- not to mention her confusion. The people who found her had every reason to take advantage of her compromised state, to tear her open and gorge themselves on ADAM like any other splicers. But they hadn’t. Instead they had brought her here. To “camp.”
She looks smaller without her armor, now only covered by a stained undersuit and helmet. Truth be told, the helmet has become uncomfortable as well. It had felt like a part of her body for years before, but now it takes effort just to keep her head upright under its weight. As she grows more fatigued, the heaviness eventually becomes intolerable, outweighing even her desire for the protection it provides. Movements rigid with agitation, she reaches up to wrench the helmet free -- only to find that she can’t. It’s rusted in place, and though such a paltry challenge wouldn’t have even slowed her before, now she finds that she doesn’t have the strength to twist it free.
If you, brave soul, would like to help the Big Sister who is steadily growing angrier as she struggles with her helmet, the rest of the camp would probably thank you for it
Whether they are interested in giving Mettaton the time of day or not, Chara will suffer his presence, because he wants to talk to them, unlike how he feels about almost everyone else.
Even if the reason is just to serve the purpose of others. He doesn't care on his own. But when Chara proceeds to taunt him with their self-inflicted violence, his eye narrows and his lip curls back.
Challenge definitely read. Accepted? We'll see.
"Did you know that humans can die from blood loss? I'm sure you aren't quite stupid enough to be unaware." Not ignorant. Stupid. They were being stupid. "Death has permanence here these days, and although I struggle to say it, you are fortunate to have been pulled through that damnable Ingress. So I would highly suggest that you don't waste your gift. I'm pretty certain Asriel would be upset if he found out."
His words had an edge to them that suggested he would do something about it. And he can back that up for a while, despite his laughably truncated HP. It's easy to make threats when you have the LOVE not to feel regret for it. And when you're not fused to your body.
Even if the reason is just to serve the purpose of others. He doesn't care on his own. But when Chara proceeds to taunt him with their self-inflicted violence, his eye narrows and his lip curls back.
Challenge definitely read. Accepted? We'll see.
"Did you know that humans can die from blood loss? I'm sure you aren't quite stupid enough to be unaware." Not ignorant. Stupid. They were being stupid. "Death has permanence here these days, and although I struggle to say it, you are fortunate to have been pulled through that damnable Ingress. So I would highly suggest that you don't waste your gift. I'm pretty certain Asriel would be upset if he found out."
His words had an edge to them that suggested he would do something about it. And he can back that up for a while, despite his laughably truncated HP. It's easy to make threats when you have the LOVE not to feel regret for it. And when you're not fused to your body.
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