villagemod: (ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ)
The Village Mod ([personal profile] villagemod) wrote in [community profile] villagememes2021-03-08 05:08 pm
Entry tags:

test drive — spring



SPRING TEST DRIVE

Welcome to the test drive and thank you for your interest in The Village. This test drive is not game canon but will allow players the opportunity to experiment with game mechanics, the setting, and the flexibility of choice allowed by this game. The following prompts are examples of typical situations characters might face in the game. At least one thread from the TDM is required as part of the game's application process.

Prospective players are welcome to play with any of the established locations within Mathias.

( Recommended listening: )





GHOSTS OF THE LIVING

The fog moves in quickly and without warning, not from the waterfront but the forest, cascading through every street in a thick wave of white. It is not a soft blanket enveloping the town, but a heavy weight pressing down, threatening to suffocate as the sky is blotted out and no one can see more than ten feet in any direction.

Those who are outside when it rolls in are left wandering blind, hoping that a randomly chosen direction will lead them to shelter or another living soul. There are perhaps even those who were lucky enough to already be inside when the fog descended, quickly closing doors and windows to keep it from creeping in. Wherever they are, the residents of Mathias will soon notice that they are not the only ones in the fog.

Anyone out in the fog is left disoriented, possibly losing their sense of time and place, and it is only after prolonged exposure that they will begin to feel off. A sense of being ill will cling to them if they are in the fog for too long, including dizziness, lightheadedness, or nausea — the time it takes to manifest varies from person to person, as does the duration it will last after leaving the fog.

With all of these elements at play, the first strange apparitions encountered may be assumed to be figments of addled minds, tricks played by psyches struggling to cope with the strange reality they've found themselves in. But before long, there will be no denying that the Others in the fog are real. Appearing almost wraithlike and startlingly recognizable, these figures even feel a bit like ghosts to those who can sense such things, though everyone will feel that there is something wrong about them. Truly, there are many things wrong that residents will begin to notice as they encounter more and more of the spectres that do not acknowledge their presence in any way. They simply exist, silent and subtly terrifying like so many things in this town.

Like misty ghosts of those who have been in the town at one point or another, the Others appear as those who have died or disappeared and even those currently within the town. The likeness is truly uncanny, to the point of being completely terrifying, made even more so when they realize there is no way to communicate with the Others. They do not acknowledge anyone's presence nor anything said to them. At times, they may be only one in an area, or there may be a dozen existing in the same space. There is no limit to how many people can see them — if they are there, they are seen by all.

The Others do not enter buildings and cannot be contained in any way. They can appear at one moment and be gone in the next, or they can exist in one place for hours on end. Whether standing stationary or slowly wandering throughout the town, there is no discernible purpose to them. There is something absent and distant in the way they hold themselves, the way they walk, and their expressions, as if even they cannot grasp what is happening.



A BIT OF EXPLORATION

There are plenty of places in which to get one's bearings and hide from the fog.

There are businesses on the square, nestled around and extending out from the Town Hall. There is a schoolhouse nestled by the southern treeline, not from the rather expansive makeshift cemetery at the end of Jackson Boulevard that is courtesy of a few kind residents in town. To the far north of the square is a sprawling garden, now covered in snow, and a greenhouse that once supplied the botanical shop. And to the east and west, beyond the business square, is are residential districts.

The eastern district sprawls all the way to the beach, with some houses in perfect condition and others beginning to show significant signs of age. The western district, however, is nothing but decay. From the beginnings of rot to completely collapsed and little more than a pile of proverbial bones, none of these homes are anything resembling livable. Well, as far as one can tell, at least. For between the streets of Hill Lane and Stine Road there is a crack in the earth. A dozen feet across and fifty feet down, there is no way across.



TO SEE AND BE SEEN

Standing at the center of Mathias, the Town Hall is a modest two-story building that would be welcoming if not for the faded sign, chipped paint, and deafening silence within its empty halls. It's a typical government building, with a reception desk at the front and rows of identical offices within, the names half faded from each door. But what catches the attention is a large bulletin board on the main wall beside the reception desk, once meant to hold flyers or announcements for the community.

What it holds now is decidedly different. Covering the board are tacked-on scraps of paper covered in an assortment of handwriting styles — requests for supplies should anyone find them, pieces of information shared in the hopes of someone understanding the strange symbols and mathematical equations, notes about those missing or recently deceased. And painted directly across the center of the board, visible in the gaps between the pieces of paper, is a symbol in dark red. While peering at that obscured symbol, a strange breeze ruffles the papers, revealing a little more, just enough to—

An eye. A strange, ornate eye with three lobes, painted in still-wet red. And upon close examination, a keen eye will realize that the paint is actually blood, perhaps even human.

The longer someone stands there, the more it will feel like they are being watched, even studied, with great interest. It's a sensation that lingers and stays with them even when they exit the building.



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trigeminalheadache: (207-053)

[personal profile] trigeminalheadache 2021-05-06 05:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[ it would be practically impossible to miss that ‘we,’ but in her mind, that’s a given. of course, it would be ‘we.’ she’s a stranger and he no doubt wants his coat back. even if he’d somehow arrived here with more clothes than she did, he’d want his property back. it’s natural. he holds out the coat and she eyes it carefully. it’s finely made, well-made, with some wear and tear. that doesn’t detract from its appearance; it looks worn-in, comfortable. the embroidery is ornate without being ostentatious, and she’d guess it was some form of ‘designer’ if she had to.

the polite song and dance of this would dictate that caitlin should gently decline, only accepting when he offers it again. perhaps that’s just a midwestern quaintness, but it’s the way things are done as far as she knows. but something in the chill in her bones says otherwise. if she declines, she may freeze right here. politeness like that can only go so far.
]

Thank you. [ the words are murmured as she reaches back to slip her arms into the sleeves. the material is warm from his own body heat, and it’s all she can do to not wrap herself tightly in it, as if that would force that warmth into herself. it would look a bit creepy, too, she surmises. best not to potentially ward off the first person she’s met. ]

I think ‘not ideal’ is putting it mildly. I think we’re still in the frying pan, though. [ she smiles at him. ] I’m Caitlin. And your name?
abrightboy: (just glad)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-05-07 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
Malcolm is from New York in 2021. The possibility of veganism is high.

He smiles.

“Ham and cheese?”
trigeminalheadache: (401-062)

[personal profile] trigeminalheadache 2021-05-07 01:53 am (UTC)(link)
"Ham and cheese sounds great," she says with a nod. She can't remember when she last had a sandwich like that, but it feels like just the thing right now.

"So, how many roommates do you have?"
darkestlights: (pic#14874282)

[personal profile] darkestlights 2021-05-07 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's strange, watching his expression change. She'd had it all wrong before. Thought the neutrality or scowl he often sported was the mask and not the other way around. And maybe she had witnessed a glimpse of his true self somewhere in there, when his intensity had a kind edge. When she'd found him curious and exhilarating and dangerous in the best way -- wasn't subjected to the weight of his cruelty.

She was a fool.

Studying the restraint in his face, it doesn't take much thought to glean a surface level of what he's hiding... Given how things had ended. She waits for the parted lips to curl into a warning snarl, but it doesn't come. Or that's what she'd thought before he opened that minacious mouth. ]


And why would I tell you that?

[ There was no point in being honest that there'd been no effort on her part to avoid him, not having even realized he was here. But, apparently, her interests in laying low, writing notes to herself, and starting once again on letters to Mal that might never reach him had been effective. ]

Just... Stay away from me.

[ She takes another step back, edging back towards the corner she'd rounded to retrace her steps out of the library. Alina was too vulnerable right now, the weight of feeling truly alone again crippling. She was in no mood to deal with honied words eager to lull her into some false sense of security. And yet -- she hadn't turned away from him yet, something in her painfully aware that she wouldn't be able to avoid him forever. Mal's voice echoes in the back of her mind, screaming for her to run, but the rational part of her knew it was pointless. They might as well get this over with now, whatever that meant. ]
nottevintersoldier: Icon created by me - do not take (Default)

Re: QUESTIONS?

[personal profile] nottevintersoldier 2021-05-07 02:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Random location question, if Dorian was looking for a wide space indoors to test his magics out safely away from the fog, do any of the locations have such a space? Like does the schoolhouse have a indoor gym/basketball court or track area? Or is there anywhere else with something similar?

Thanks!
villagemodama: (ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ)

[personal profile] villagemodama 2021-05-07 05:11 pm (UTC)(link)
The schoolhouse is quite small, but the Town Hall has an open space that is used for large meetings that could serve this purpose!
nottevintersoldier: Icon created by me - do not take (Default)

[personal profile] nottevintersoldier 2021-05-07 05:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Great! Thanks again!
nottevintersoldier: (three)

Dorian Pavus | Dragon Age: Inquisition

[personal profile] nottevintersoldier 2021-05-07 06:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Intro/Ghosts

Dorian wakes up, groggy, disoriented and damp. The rest is all fine and dandy its the damp he could do without. He groans and picks himself up, fingers digging into the sand as he finds himself on a fog covered beach. He’s softly cursing and grumbling under his breath as he tries to brush the sand off of himself and shake it out of places.

“Why is it always some Maker Forsaken beach with miserable weather? Why can’t it be sunny and pleasant, filled with half-naked men carting fruity beverages? But Nooooo. That would be entirely too convenient wouldn’t it?” He shakes his head, complaining to no one in particular. He’s patting himself down and squinting through the dense fog, realizing there’s the lack of a familiar weight on his back.

Kaffas! Where’d the bloody thing go?” He’s stalking around, somewhat low as he tries to peer at the ground for his staff. He doesn’t see any footprints or any clues of how he got here. Did someone bring him here? Did they take his staff? What of the others? There's no marks, or trail, or really anything of note.

The Fog itself is growing eerily uncomfortable the longer he’s wandering around in it. He catches movement out of the corner of one eye and snaps his attention to it.

“Hello?” He takes a few steps forward and sees a figure walking away. “You there! Wait!”

He hurriedly follows but they’re suddenly gone. He spins in place looking, listening, straining his senses for someone.

“Hello? What kind of games are you playing? Can’t you see I’m in need of assistance??” He calls into the fog with some annoyance before sighing. He frowns, that feeling of dizzy disorientation not quite going away. He can hear the ocean but he’s not sure which direction it's in. He doesn’t know if he had been walking east or west. He turns a random direction and starts moving through the fog with determination. He just has to get out of it and somewhere safe to get his bearings. Not just because he can’t bloody see but its just … unnerving him. Like being lost in some waking dream of the fade or worse. He’ll find his staff later when the fog clears… hopefully.

Locations/Exploration

Dorian will be wandering about and will likely spend some time in the following locations.

Grey Gull Likely his first stop after waking up on the beach. He’ll head inside for shelter and look for something stiff to drink.

The Library where you can see him perusing the shelves and seeming more at east or comfortable in his own element. Though many of the texts he will likely not recognize, he’ll spend quite a lot of time here.

Boarding House After seeing some things on the Bulletin board he will seek out the boarding house in search of others and answers. Or maybe some place to stay? If you’ll have him.

To See and Be Seen

Bulletin Board
Dorian eventually finds himself in the middle of town, wandering into the Town Hall looking weary and a little sick. He’s got an odd glowing, flickering energy around him that is helping to fend off the nausea from his continued exploration, but it’s only doing so much. It’s keeping him upright at least. He’ll go right for the Bulletin board, looking over all of the notes and perusing through any information. There’s something mentioned about the fog there and he scoffs.

Stay out of the fog. You think?” There's a succinctly snide tone to his response. He doesn’t recognize what “carbon monoxide” is but he gets the idea it’s bad. Considering he’s been wandering around in it for likely way too long.

“A warning like that would’ve been much more useful hours ago.” He sighs, talking to himself as he picks through the notes. He nearly takes the one that says can someone teach me magic. But thinks better of it. He tries to make a mental note of the address for later. He’s also making mental note of all the places to check in for friends or supplies.

Standing there long enough he does see the red markings underneath and moves a few of the notes around to get a better look. It's just another odd thing about this place, it gives him that sense of being watched and a chill runs up his spine. He leans in closer and touches the wet red, smearing it between his fingertips and frowning.

“Blood magic?” He murmurs, his eyes snap up and around when that feeling intensifies briefly but he doesn’t see anyone. He’ll go back to covering up the eye, just in case. He debates dispelling whatever it is but something tells him its a lot bigger than something that simple. So he’ll leave it alone for now.

Large Meeting Hall/Practicing Magic

In his wandering around the building, half expecting to find whoever it is that is watching him, he finds a spacious hall that is likely used for a large gathering or meeting area. He’s sadly without his staff, and there’s something more to this place than meets the eye. It’s not just the fog making him feel off. This whole town is so alien to him, the buildings contain things within he’s unfamiliar with and others he’s never seen before. A different world, a different time, perhaps, as incredibly overwhelming a thought as that may be. He can’t seem to find any other explanation. Let alone to how he got here at all.

He doesn’t know what is out there but he can’t shake the feeling of something ominous and dangerous heading their way. He also is concerned about how well his magics will preform, not only without his staff, but in a world that may be far removed from the Fade, if it’s present here at all. That odd feeling is something distant, a disconnect from his abilities. He was able to put up a simple shield earlier but hasn’t toyed with anything else. Even then, his shield wasn’t lasting near as long as it should and he still felt SICK even if it wasn’t getting worse.

He steps out into the middle of the room so he has the most space. He has the control, but without his staff to focus he doesn’t want to potentially burn down the house or cause excessive damage to the place. He’d do it outside, but the Fog would interfere even more with his concentration. This will require focus, it can be done, but it’s been ages since he’d free-handed any spells without a staff to help guide and aim or amplify.

He closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing, centers himself and lets the room fade away. It takes him back for a moment but after a few heart beats he begins casting, moving his hands and arms. It’s difficult, if he’s honest with himself, the fade is there, resonating but it’s soft, distant, he can call to it, he can pull it to him and focus it but it’s definitely strenuous. Like learning to do it for the first time all over again. It takes a little longer to cast but he manages to fire off a lightning bolt across the room, hitting a far wall with a flash and a crackle before it fizzles out. There’s a burn mark left in it’s wake.

“Hmm, I think we can do better than that.” He’ll keep practicing like this, trying to strengthen himself and get used to the flow of energies in this world. He’ll try a few different things. If someone were to stumble upon him they could see him casting not only lighting, but fire and ice as well.

After a time though there is sweat on his brow and he’s breathing heavy. It’s taking a toll on him, for as frustrating as that is. He wipes the sweat off of his face and flexes his fingers frowning.

“Well, that certainly is disappointing.” He’s exhausted and needs a drink. Preferably a stiff one, maybe some place to rest. He should probably reserve what he has for another shield to head back out into the fog….

Wild Card/Open Prompt

Got ideas for something you don't see here? Want to meet Dorian in another place other than the ones listed? I’m open to anything really! Feel free to drop a tag below with whatever! Or reach out to me via messaging this journal if you want to discuss. I can also be found on discord if you'd rather! AceOfSwords#5694

OOC Note: I am willing to match any format! So if you would rather do brackets or whatnot feel free to tag that way and I'll copy.
Edited 2021-05-07 21:29 (UTC)
abrightboy: (self deprecating smile)

Locations: Grey Gull.

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-05-08 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
Malcolm was in the corner by the record player, flipping through records when the stranger came in, reading the back of a sleeve as a cup of tea sat steaming on the table near his elbow.

He looked up at the sound, but his faint curiosity turned to concern.

“You’re new, right?”
nottevintersoldier: (7 - anabiotic)

[personal profile] nottevintersoldier 2021-05-08 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
Considering all the other figures he'd been following around, flitting in and out of the fog, he hadn't exactly expected to hear another voice upon entering the establishment. So, hopefully Malcolm will forgive him when he jumps a little. There's a slight, flickering glow in one palm but he'll clench his fist and it fades quickly. Following that is a soft breath of relief and a quick brush of his other hand through his hair as if to smooth out ruffled feathers.

"Maker's breath," He lays a hand over his sternum, "and here I thought I was alone here."

He blinks, looking him over a moment, "You are real, correct?"

Not some demon or spirit playing at being corporeal. "But yes, I suppose you could say, I'm new."

Was it that obvious? Though now that he's looking at the other he is dressed in a way he's not accustomed to.

"Is it always so cheery here?" He wanders over to the bar, eying whatever might be around for drinking.
abrightboy: (engaged)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-05-08 01:55 am (UTC)(link)
"Five," he says with obvious enthusiasm. Then it fades slightly as he adds "Sort of. I mean. Most of them split there time between here and... other houses now. As they've made more friends," he explains with a clear attempt to Be Okay With It.
abrightboy: (secret smile)

[personal profile] abrightboy 2021-05-08 03:14 am (UTC)(link)
"As someone who's asked myself that question, I understand the impulse to ask it," he remarks, turning a record over to glance at the sleeve. "It's always this cheery, anyone who talks to you is... probably real and there's moonshine behind the bar in unmarked bottles," he relates as he set the record aside and chooses another.
confractus: (175)

Ghosts

[personal profile] confractus 2021-05-08 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Dorian isn't the only one wandering in the fog. Well, he's not the only actual person wandering in the fog, because Billy's there, too. He thinks this might be death. Not hell, he's never went in on the idea of Heaven or Hell, but he also never expected he'd go to Heaven even if it was real.

So this? Seems pretty fitting for all the shit he's done in his life. Stuck somewhere, where the fog is as debilitating as the smoke left over from a bombing, where all the people he ever screwed over and put into an early grave are there, too, just out of reach. Soldiers. Civilians. Women, children, Billy sees them and he calls out to them (screams out to them, really, he's not going to pretend to be dignified right now). And he sees him, too. A ghost in the fog with a skull plastered on his chest like some sort of warning.

Of course that son of a bitch would haunt his after life just as much as he'd started to haunt his real life.

Billy opens his mouth, ready to call out to the bastard, but it feels like the fog is choking him. When he coughs, blood comes out, and his chest hurts. His body hurts. His face hurts. Then he hears it, another voice on the wind. Not someone he recognizes but a voice is a voice and if he's stuck between moving on and haunting purgatory then he's gonna find the only other goddamn person he can to.

"Hey -" He barely recognizes his voice, hoarse and raw. (If he's dead, why does everything hurt so much?) "Over here -"
confractus: (026)

to see;

[personal profile] confractus 2021-05-09 12:15 am (UTC)(link)
[ Billy doesn't come here seeking out the bulletin board. He comes here because he's been in enough small, damaged towns to know that when a building's still standing in the middle of it all, that's probably where whoever lives here still meets.

But he doesn't go to the town hall right away. By the time he pulls himself out of the woods and into town, he stumbles into the first home he found. It's seemingly unoccupied, and even it isn't, Billy wouldn't care. He passes out almost as soon as he got in, making it to the couch, and he's been out for God knows how long. He forces himself through the pain of getting up, he'd washes his face - well. Sort of. The blood had dried and the wounds were still too fresh to scrub everything away. At least it's enough to see himself now.

He decides he doesn't want to see himself very much.

So that's when he goes out to find out what the hell is going on. His clothes are still filthy, his shirt and bullet proof vest stained with his own blood and Frank Castle's blood as he shambles through the town. Some part of him is pretty pleased that his instincts were right. There's someone at the town hall, and there's a bulletin board behind him. Billy's gonna open his mouth to say something when the man turns, and Billy's mouth clamps up tight.
]

The hell kinda shit is this?
darkestlights: (easystreet-s&b1)

Alina Starkov ☀️ Shadow and Bone (Netflix)

[personal profile] darkestlights 2021-05-09 04:26 am (UTC)(link)
Poor Decisions in the Fog.
[ Breathe in. Breathe out.

That's all she can do, clutching the strap of the sack slung over her shoulder while she pulls the brown cloak tighter around herself. Alina wasn't sure how long she'd been out in the fog, but she had no choice. She needed to find Mal. Logic told her if she'd somehow ended up here, he should be with her. Every shadow she sees has her turning, calling out for him and chasing everything she sees that matches his build. Or at least that had been the plan. She'd already been exhausted, attributing the sudden symptoms washing over her to that, stumbling to her knees at one point.

It isn't long before the creatures in the fog start presenting themselves, the horrific reality sinking in. Exhausted and disoriented, her mind jumps to the Fold -- that it's somehow expanded. There's a sudden beacon of light as Alina forms a dome around herself, though it's nowhere near as strong or bright as she expected. Lifting herself back up to her feet, she makes it a few steps before the light flickers -- the exertion sending her back to her knees with a cry.

The dome fades as the ground spins beneath her, collapsing the rest of the way as she focuses on the quickly blurring shapes in the fog around her. Her left hand extends out, reaching for the nearest one. ]


Mal--
Bored in the Boarding House and in the Boarding House Bored.
[ Alina needed a plan and needed to get herself oriented. The library had been a horrible idea, finding someone she hadn't expected to see ever again. It was strange to feel so alone when she wasn't. After claiming a room for herself, she begins looking through the extra clothing on the first floor -- quickly making a mess as she makes two piles: one of anything with black and one without. Looking for something that wasn't the burgundy dress that she could move and run in.

Scrutinizing an oversized sweatshirt, she's so focused on trying to figure out if it's blue or black that she doesn't realize she's not alone right away, jumping slightly as she reflexively shifts into a more defensive position on the floor before exhaling and shifting the piles so it's a little less of an explosive mess. ]


I-I'll put it all back when I'm done.

[ She can also be found exploring the kitchen and opening and closing the fridge way too many times and later settling at the large table with some paper and a pen, starting on a letter she'll likely never be able to send. Just in case. Absentmindedly, she traces over the now nonexistent scar on the palm of her left hand as she thinks. If he ever joined her here, she wanted to make sure she hadn't left anything out. She keeps up this routine almost every day, alternating between writing and sketching -- line art of the buildings she's found or mini-maps of the streets. Anything to keep her mind occupied. ]
Wildcard.
[ There's a lot of things and places in town that will be firsts for her, so please feel free to find her staring at something modern with a look of confusion or sketching a stag with extremely large antlers and lineworks of some of the buildings in town, or zoned out while clutching a bloody piece of fabric. Otherwise, feel free to PM this journal if there's anything you'd like specifically. ]
confractus: (169)

bored in the boarding house

[personal profile] confractus 2021-05-09 04:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ Billy doesn't know where the hell he's going. He stumbles through the forest, using the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his eyes. It's slow going. He's had some shitty moments in his days in the marines but nothing like what Frank Castle had just done to him, and while every part of his body is screaming, he pushes on. That's what he's always done.

The boarding house appears like a mirage in the middle of a desert. He grunts as he pulls open the door, stumbling his way in.
]

Help - [ He grimaces, leaning against the wall and trying to find a little more power in his voice. ] - God, damn it, someone help me.

[ Sorry if you were having a good time in the kitchen, Alina. ]
darkestlights: (pic#14874282)

[personal profile] darkestlights 2021-05-09 05:06 am (UTC)(link)
[ For as horrific of a distraction the arrival is, it's something. A call to action to draw her out of her thoughts. There's a clattering of a dish connecting with the counter as her attempt to figure out the stove is abandoned.

A flash of brown waves rounds the corner, immediately running and reaching out to steady him. She'd cleaned up Mal enough to at least be able to help. Hopefully. She wasn't a healer, but she also couldn't stand by and watch someone else suffer. Gingerly, she tries to help keep him upright, letting the wall help as she tries to shuffle him to the dining room. ]


There are chairs and a table just ahead, come on.

[ And if he'll let her, she'll deposit him in a chair and then quickly start gathering whatever supplies she can find and fill a bowl with water to help wipe away the blood to figure out exactly where he's hurt. ]
confractus: (128)

[personal profile] confractus 2021-05-09 05:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ God, he hates asking for help, but even he can admit when he needs it. He's not sure if he's dead or alive or if this something his brain is making up while he loses oxygen, but even if this is a fantasy, to hell if he's going to suffer in it.

He lets the girl lead him to a chair. Along the way, Billy struggles a bit with the straps of his bullet proof vest and lets it drop to the floor. The sudden lack of it's weight feels like it helps him breathe better as he slumps into the chair. His head leans back and he gasps, taking in air even as each breath makes his ribs hurt.
]

The fuck is this place?
confractus: (130)

Billy Russo ♔ The Punisher (MCU)

[personal profile] confractus 2021-05-09 06:46 am (UTC)(link)
♔ i. ghosts of the living
[ Billy doesn't have much time to assess anything before the fog creeps up on him. Though if he's being honest with himself, he's not really at his best right now, mentally or physically. He's pulled himself through some shit in Iraq and Afghanistan - no matter how bad it got, he knew how to keep his head clear and his eyes alert - but not like this. Not when he's not sure how he's even still whole, or alive, and he feels the screaming pain in his face and his body.

All he wants is to find a place to take shelter, to take stock of his injuries (of which there are more than he cares to count), and maybe even take a damn shower. He feels like he just stepped off the set of a Tarantino movie. But then the fog rolls in, and Billy doesn't even try to censor himself as he lets out a string of curses

Even squinting through the fog hurts. Billy thinks he saw a house or something directly in front of him. He walks, expecting to run into it, but it never happens. He should've run into something by now, right? And if he keeps walking, will he ever find something to make him stop? He wishes he had something on him. A gun or a knife would make him feel a hell of a lot better. This is the perfect set up for an ambush. He knows that because he'd do it, too, and the moment Billy sees a figure walking through the fog then he's sure he's right.

But the figure keeps walking. Billy cautiously follows, until he sees another, and another, and he's sure he's being set up.
]

Come on, you son of a bitch. [ He holds out his arms to the phantom figure lurking in the fog. ] Don't be a fuckin' coward.

♔ ii. a bit of exploration
[ Billy's broken into a house. It's empty, of course, which is for the best because it might not have ended well for the residents of it if they were there. With the door locked behind him and the house cased, he lets himself rest, passing out on the couch for how long he doesn't know. It's a nightmare that finally makes him jolt awake.

He hisses as the pain from his wounds comes screaming back to him. He thinks he needs a doctor. He thinks he needs a shower and to change out of these clothes, which are crusty with dried blood. The shower is brutal. Billy isn't kind to himself, blasting it as hot as the water will go. He holds himself up against the wall and watches until the water stops running red. On his way out of the bathroom, he spares himself a quick glance in the mirror and he grimaces. Somehow it's not as bad as he thought. Where there should be open, gaping wounds, and a face shredded by glass, his face is peppered with healing scars. He almost wishes it was as bad as it should be. He'd prefer to look like ground beef than have a constant reminder of what he's supposed to look like.

There's some clothes he finds that aren't a bad fit for him. A pair of worn out jeans and a t-shirt and a flannel. He laces up the boots he arrived with and grabs a letter opener off a table near the door, slips it into his boot, and heads out.

Maybe you run into him as he's leaving the house. Otherwise, he finds himself gravitating to the library and the bookstore. When shit seems like it's hitting the fan, sometimes all you need is a good book to read to try and calm you down. And Billy really feels like he needs some calm.
]

♔ iii. to see and be seen
[ Can't go wrong with town halls. By now, Billy's learned that wherever the hell he is, it isn't New York. That's not a bad thing, when he stops to think about it, but that doesn't mean he feels safe, either. The sort of people he's pissed off have resources to hunt him down. He knows how they'd do it because he'd do the same. But a town hall might at least have some answers, or be the place where Billy can connect with the other residents.

He's seen them around. His own paranoia makes him avoid them when he can, eyes constantly moving to make sure he's aware of his surroundings at all times. He wants to limit conversations until he gets a better feel for what's going on.

At the bulletin board, Billy's relieved to see he doesn't recognize any of the names. The more he glances at it, the more he comes to think that someone like him might be able to make a good impression on the town. He's a useful guy. He's a survivalist, and, reading these notes, it looks like that's what everyone's trying to do. Survive and get by. Billy can help with that, provided people are willing to look past his looks now.

That's when he sees it between the notices. Maybe it says too much about Billy, the way his brain automatically assumes that anything in red must be blood. He leans into look better, to see if his suspicions are right, but as soon as he actually gets a glimpse of the eye, he steps back. Billy doesn't like feeling perceived. His paranoia spikes as he looks around. Just because he can't see someone doesn't mean they're not there.
]

♔ iv. wildcard
Choose your own adventure. Any locations across town are up for run-ins, or if any of these prompts don't float your boat and you wanna do your own thing, that's cool, too.
oispaceman: ([crowd chants 'super temp' in bg])

[personal profile] oispaceman 2021-05-09 06:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Donna does jump. Comes down to the timing and the being-watched feeling intersecting just so.

It would be her luck to pin a paper down and immediately get attacked by a space ghost or something.

Seeing a probably-human girl is a pleasant surprise in that extremely specific context. Donna doesn't feel especially grateful on the principle that this girl is a) young and b) stuck here, too. She immediately softens. ]


Thanks. Sort of-- just seems like there's already enough going on 'round here to handle, doesn't it?
darkestlights: DNT (as 002)

[personal profile] darkestlights 2021-05-09 09:26 pm (UTC)(link)
They call it Mathias, I think. [ Echoes from the kitchen, her tone clipped as she tries to gather up anything she thinks might help. Alina has a lot of questions of her own, the bowl of water sloshing slightly as she hurries back with a few kitchen towels and a knife to cut them down -- finally getting a good look at him and the clattered vest on the floor. ]

Oh, Saints.

[ Quickly, she jams the knife into one of the towels, ripping it in two and submerging one of the now smaller strips into the bowl before starting on his face-- trying to keep blood out of his eyes. ]

What happened? [ Was he injured here? Was there an unseen danger besides the fog they needed to worry about? ]
confractus: (033)

[personal profile] confractus 2021-05-09 10:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, you know, pissed off the wrong guy.

[ He startles a bit when the towel is pressed against his face, and his hand shoots up to grab her wrist. It hurts, yeah, but he's less pleased to have someone touching his face after the shit Frank's just pulled on him. After a moment, when he realizes she's just helping, it's just a towel and not a shard of glass, his grip on her eases up. His hand drops and he just grunts a bit. ]

What's Mathias? How'd I get here?
nottevintersoldier: (twenty)

[personal profile] nottevintersoldier 2021-05-09 10:43 pm (UTC)(link)
"I don't know if you've been out in the fog recently but any figures I've seen thus far seem to be spirits of some kind. They weren't much help." A joke of course, he's just glad they didn't decide to see him as hostile an attack.

"Moonshine? Color me curious." He states, moving around behind the bar to find said unmarked bottles. He's glancing at the clear liquid then uncorks it for a whiff. He wrinkles his nose a little but decides it suits the occasion. He'll find a glass or two, glancing to his companion.

"Shall I pour you one as well? I don't want to be rude." He considers treating it like whiskey, just a little at time.
nottevintersoldier: https://anangrym.dreamwidth.org/14539.html (dorian 6 anangrym)

[personal profile] nottevintersoldier 2021-05-09 10:51 pm (UTC)(link)
Dorian stops in his tracks at the sound of an echoing voice, pausing to squint through the thick fog for a shape.

"Hello?" He hears the broken and pained sounding reply and moves towards the over here to the best of his ability. He already feels a little nauseous and uncomfortable but if someone is in need of assistance perhaps he can help.

"Keep calling." He lifts a hand to swivel his wrist and move his fingers, making a small, green flame appear to dance over his palm.

"Can you see the light? Head towards me if you can." He's not sure how long he can hold it, it works better when he can make a torch or light up his staff, but this will have to do considering he has neither. At least a spiritual flame won't burn him.
Edited 2021-05-09 22:52 (UTC)
darkestlights: DNT (as 006)

[personal profile] darkestlights 2021-05-10 12:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ She winces slightly, gasping at the sudden grab. She should have expected it, a stranger touching him after everything, but he'd also asked for help. She hadn't thought to ask or voice her intentions, not a healer. Not even remotely skilled enough socially to think to communicate clearly. Not when she was intent on just keeping her voice even.

Alina lets him process what's happening, everything in her stilling -- ready to either run or defend herself. ]


Sorry. [ She pulls back when he lets her wrist go, rinsing out the cloth -- turning the water to a pinkish hue before she moves back in. Though, this time a bit more cautious. ]

Not sure. Just arrived myself.

[ She moves the cloth a bit lower on his face to clean off a bit more blood, already wincing in anticipation. ] This might hurt, sorry.

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