If you'd like to apply to Snowblind and would like to test the waters first or get a sample set up for your application, this meme is for you! We've even provided some prompts for you to use if you want (but feel free to make up your own). Here's how it works.
✭ Reply to this entry with a character you're considering apping into the game. You can include the name of your character and the fandom in your subject line. ✭ Comment around to others on the meme, whether you're in the game already or not. ✭ Now you have a sample ready for your application! ✭ So go reserve and apply when reservations and applications are open. ✭ Seriously, do it.
Network Prompts
ONE: WAKEY WAKEY You're drawn out of your slumber when your tablet emits an earsplitting SCREECH. No amount of shaking it or hitting it will get it to shut up for five whole minutes, but at the very end it cuts itself off what sounds like a piercing scream. Well, that was weird. Maybe you should check in on the network - someone might have an idea of what that was. Or maybe they'll be just as lost as you are. At least you can all be confused together...
TWO: DON'T LET THE BEDBUGS BITE... It's past curfew, and you've been locked in for the night. But for some reason, you just can't manage to get to sleep. Nightmares giving you grief? General insomnia problems? Well, at least you've got the network to keep you company. Maybe you can get someone to tell you a bedtime story.
Action Prompts
THREE: INCONVENIENCE STORE Congratulations, you've managed to stumble upon the Mallard River Market! But you're not alone. Among the shelves of junk food (just as well-stocked as you would expect from any normal store) you'll find one - or more! - other people there with you. Here's hoping you're not both after the same box of Frosted Toaster Pastries, because things could get ugly fast. Don't linger too long, either; at 7PM, you'll be compelled to leave whether you want to or not and will only have about an hour to find somewhere to take shelter...
FOUR: RUN RUN RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN It's late. It's cold. There's a bunch of snow around you and you can sort of make out vague shapes in the distance that might be buildings, but in these conditions it's hard to tell. Regardless of what they are, though, you're going to want to hustle - if it hits 8PM and you're still outside, you're not going to make it through the night. Perhaps that person up ahead can help you? Or - if you're already safe and sound - maybe you should head outside to get that poor soul struggling outside in to shelter before they freeze. Good luck!
[All network entries are done under the username Ishimura]
[01;]
So, did everyone else hear that?
Mostly I ask because - well, you get used to hearing screams in your head, but that one felt different. I assume it wasn't just me.
Could be wrong, though. It's happened before.
[02;]
[He can't sleep. That's not really uncommon, but the place is getting to him in ways even he didn't expect. It's a late, late night post to the network from his username.]
Hey, got a question for you all. Those of you who are still awake, anyway.
How many of you here... had to deal with something like this? Where you come from, I mean. Trapped, low on supplies, various horrible shit happening constantly...
Cause I know I did, and I guess I was just wondering if we're all here because we - have experience, with that. It's the insomnia talking, maybe, but I just can't shake the feeling.
[03;]
[It was a stroke of good luck, if anything. Which meant Isaac was very, very wary.
The Sprawl had taught him that you don't just go wandering the places civilization used to lurk and not have something trained to defend yourself. In Isaac's case, it was a steel pipe - cruder than he was used to, but it'd do.
There was something off about this place, though. It was well-stocked. He didn't have to go scavenging for everything. It was neatly laid out in front of him.
Still, supplies were supplies, and Isaac wasn't so cautious that he wasn't looking over his shoulder whenever he reached out to grab a box of non-perishables. He was ravished.]
[04;]
Shit...!
[When had he lost track of time? He was trudging through the snow, the cold biting at him more than it might have had he not been hurrying his way through the half-frozen wastes. He knew he would get locked out soon - and he knew what would happen with people who are locked out. At least in theory. He'd not yet experienced it himself. Been too cautious, been too lucky.
But now he could feel sweat forming on the inside of his helmet as he tried to close the gap between what -could- be buildings and himself. Was he seeing a person up ahead, too?
Well, he never had any problems with being desperate.]
[Duck screams when the tablet wakes her up. She jolts and flails and hits her head on the floor--this house consisted only of a hallway, covered completely in drawings of really creepy eyes, so she didn't have the option of sleeping in a bed when she got locked in here.
She scrambles for her tablet and spends a few minutes shaking, tapping, and begging the thing to stop doing whatever it's doing, but nothing seems to have an effect on it. Only once it subsides and she's sure that it won't start up again does she log in with her network ID -- simply "Duck" -- and put out a video message.]
What was that?! Is everyone okay? Um, actually, could everyone else even hear that? Maybe it was just mine that did it...
prompt two ღ
[Boy, she's having a hard time getting to sleep. Not that it doesn't make sense; even though she's been here for over a week now, this place is still pretty creepy and sometimes dangerous. But normally she can sleep anywhere, even if she does tend to wake up very suddenly.
She scrolls through the posts on the network. Maybe she needs to do something to tire herself out. There's no room to dance in this house, though, and even if there were, she's not very good at it anyway.
From the look of the network, other people are having difficulties with slumber, too. Suddenly, she's struck with an idea, and turns on her video feed so she can record a message for the network.]
Hi! Er-- good evening! It's Duck. I saw that some of us were having trouble getting to sleep, so, um, I thought maybe if I tell some stories, it'll help everybody! [And she does have a lot of stories, having lived in a storybook town.
She grins, even though it's a tad nervous from drawing so much attention to herself.] I know a lot of them, so, if you want a story, just-- [And then, out of seemingly nowhere, she lets out a started quack! and the video becomes a chaotic blur of colors as it falls from her hands. There's a loud sound as it hits the floor, and for a moment, only the ceiling of the house can be seen, with a faint, miserable little groan in the background.
The video shifts again as Duck picks the tablet back up, easily twenty times more frazzled in appearance as she laughs a manic laugh.] Sorry sorry sorry, ahahaha, um, I'm okay, nothing happened, everything's fine, so, so--!!
Ifyouwantastoryjustletmeknowhereokaybye!! [What a message.]
[ Young girl with red hair? Link immediately thinks Kokiri even though more than a glance would let him know that she wasn't one. He knew all the girls and the boys in the forest - they had raised him after all. Still, he's immediately warmed to her.
He startles as she quacks and drops the tablet, but when she says she's fine and that nothing happened he believes her. Some people just had weird quirks. Quacking was probably not the weirdest he'd come across. Okay, it definitely wasn't.
So all he does is give her a little nod as he answers the feed, raising his hand and crooking his fingers in a small wave. It dips out of the feed, then comes back up holding his ocarina. ]
[Alex can't sleep. It's dark and late when he turns on the tablet, the backlight of the screen doing nothing to hide the dark circles under his eyes. He doesn't often talk on the network, but it's a long way til dawn and he doesn't have anything better to do.]
Back home, I remember watching a video on the internet. It was supposed to be a case of broadcast hijacking -- some hacker had interrupted a channel in Wyoming and was showing their own videos. They would show disembodied heads in different poses, and they would often be interrupted by announcements of "special presentations."
[caaaaasual sip of water]
This wasn't really noteworthy, just some guy playing a tasteless prank, but people who watched the videos for a while complained of headaches, nausea, and hallucinations. It was thought these symptoms were caused by the high pitched noise that played throughout the videos. Last I heard, they never caught the hacker.
[Alex Kralie: grade A bullshit spooky story teller.]
---
[03.]
[Stumbling across the Mallard River Market couldn't have come at a better time. Alex's supplies were starting to fall dangerously low. He's just about done sweeping boxes of food into his bag when he hears someone else enter the store. Healthy caution and not-so-healthy paranoia get the better of him; he ducks into an aisle and grips his makeshift chair leg club tightly before calling out:]
[ Two can play the dark circles under their eyes game, bub. The look Tim gives Alex is juuuust disdainful enough to register if he's looking for it, but at a casual glance it just looks like one of his mildly-disinterested sleepyfaces.
He's getting really good at this passive-aggressive sarcasm thing. He could give lessons. ]
You got any more? Spooky stories about - you know, about weird internet videos? They're my favourite. Can't get enough of 'em.
[ The flattest, deadest stare in the history of ever goes here. INCREDIBLE. ]
[Commence feed and enter Morningstar Sinclair: bearded, scowling, and supremely unamused. He looks squarely into the camera. Ready to learn about space? You'd better be ready to learn about space.
Where the fuck is his goddamn teleprompter.]
There are certain radio frequencies, right? And sometimes, they jack themselves into allllllllllllll those electronics and radios down below. 'Course, the government doesn't tell you that.
[He is one hundred percent serious on this one, guys. Serious faces on, let's go.]
But, you know.
[He raises his eyebrows. You know. He knows you do.]
network prompt 2
[Tap tap, is this thing on? Maybe not. The tablet is pointing at the ceiling. Muffled ruffles of air over the mic indicate someone shifting something around off screen.
A muttered undertone, vicious and clearly not meant to be overheard, starts to trickle onto the feed.]
- if there is no goddamn blood pressure medication I swear to god. I don't even wanna know what this is gonna do to my digestion. Right when I was fuckin' normal. Y'know, this is just a walk in the fucking park compared to -
[Whatever he says next is drowned out in a fuzz of snow as something else rustles. Then:]
Oh, sh-
[And with a triumphant sliding drag of static, the tablet falls from wherever it was and crashes to the ground with an audible thump.]
( she's seen technology similar to this once before, in her leaps between worlds. not exactly as the tablet at hand now, but a shadow mimicking familiarity though it brings more unease than comfort.
this entire place reeked of something terrible; it hovered in the atmosphere of everywhere, and she draws her knees closer to her chin, shuffles herself closer to the makeshift fire she'd made within the abandoned building. it was dark out and the wind howled and she wouldn't leave the unsteady walls even if she wanted to.
instead, she turns on the tablet. ) So - anyone else having trouble falling asleep in this place?
( maybe some conversation will help. )
( 0 4 . )
( it's cold and dark, the wind biting easily through thin fabric and she folds her arms closer around her, shivers. focuses on moving forward, breath clouding in front of her, every breath a rush of cold.
she hadn't noticed the time, hadn't taken enough attention towards it and it brings frustration. she has none of her power here (she would have been relieved, perhaps, elsewhere); hell, they even took her sword, and that was something she could not forgive. she's defenseless, bare and entirely ill-equipped for the cold. for this sort of cold. for this damned place, too, the sort where unease hung in the air as potently as frost.
there's a figure swaying in front of her, a little obscured by the white all around and she squints, frowns before calling out. some of her voice is drowned out by distance, or by the chill, or by the dark. ) - Hello?! Anyone out there?
[ there are times when Clarke wants nothing more than to drift off into a peaceful sleep. if she manages, half the time it's nightmares about screaming shadows. (of course it is.) sometimes, when the paranoia rises and the hallucinations start, she can't tell if she's awake or sleeping.
the more terrible it is, the more likely it is that she's awake. (again, of course it is.) ]
Well, we're both awake right now. That probably answers your question.
[ she doubts they're the only two, either. there's always people on the comms at odd hours of the night. probably in an attempt to feel less alone. ]
It gets easier. [ you get more used to it, anyway. ] Until then, you just have to find something to occupy your time. What do you like to talk about?
[ OOC: canonpoint is just before his fatal encounter with Axel in re:COM. His heart's already regrowing, so he's definitely feeling some emotions and exhibiting them, but he's not actually consciously aware of it. ]
O N E
While I cannot deny that was an impressively effective alarm, I do not recall asking for a wake-up call, especially not at this time of night!
[ He wasn't asleep at all, of course. He's usually awake at this time of night. There is no such thing as "too late" or "too early" for him. If he could, he wouldn't sleep at all. He has tried it in the past, with, shall we say, varying results.. ]
If this is someone's idea of a joke, I suggest they get a better sense of humour immediately or I shall have to surgically remove their current one.
[ Do you want to bet he's joking? ]
T H R E E
Vexen is not looking for food. He is perfectly satisfied with his stash of crackers, bottled water and vitamins (and other pharmaceuticals he pocketed the last time he passed by a pharmacy). He's quite sure he can avoid avitaminosis, though he'll have to be particularly mindful not to end up with scurvy -- for some reason, vitamin C tablets were scarce and he's hardly swimming in citrus here. No, he's not here for food.
He's in the household cleaners alley, looking for bleach. He's already appropriated a plastic bag that currently holds soap, shampoo and several wide-toothed combs, but it's bleach he really wants. Some of the hiding places he's found were less than hygienic and he can't abide the thought of spending another night sleeping among filth.
As he scans the shelves, he grows more and more agitated, muttering to himself ("bleach ... bleach ... is that vinegar-based ... bleach, where is the bleach ..."). Eventually, his frustration peaks and he has to yell.
"Where is the godforsaken bleach? Did the people of this town never clean anything?" He tosses his head, swinging his hair. It looks rather impressive, actually, though completely incongruous in the current situation. In any case, it's an awfully melodramatic gesture for such a petty annoyance.
Actually, that was mostly thanks to a certain scientist and caretaker of his, who enjoyed keeping the labs at ridiculously low temperatures almost all the time. (He also enjoyed keeping the labs completely sterile all of the time, but at least that had sound reasoning behind it.) In fact, Ienzo had been briefly reminded of the man when he first got here -- but that was hours ago. At this point, Ienzo was rather more concerned with more pressing matters, such as finding something that could be MacGyvered into an extra layer of protection. Or food. Food never hurt.
Fortunately, not many people seemed to have found this store yet, so he was getting a decent pick. Someone else was clearly inside already, since a few of the items off the shelves had disappeared, and he knew for a fact that he had heard footsteps around the--
--oh, hearts above.
Ienzo grits his teeth as the shrieking rings out across the building, echoing off the walls and ceiling. He would know that tone of voice (and incredibly unusual complaint) anywhere. A second later, it hits him exactly what that means, and he hustles down to the source of the noise.
What was that? Who was screaming?! Everyone else heard that too, right?
[This child is freaking out, maybe, kind of, a lot, and almost shouting at the screen. No big.]
I even rocket punched my tablet and it still didn't stop!! Luckily it didn't break either...
(02; video, id @IAMANATION)
This place is so boring... A TV or video games or something would be so cool right now!
[Yes, he's whining. But Sealand has been trying to sleep for over an hour now. He briefly fell asleep earlier, but a bad dream that somehow involved both a freezing enclosed space and a fall from a great height woke him up.
He's allowed to whine!]
I guess the next best thing would be chatting to people online...! So, hi! Tell me about the place you're from so I'm less bored.
(04; action)
[Sealand may be too curious for his own good. He's spent way too much time searching the school, rubble and parks, and pretty soon the sun is setting. Now, the further he walks with no sign of any house the more worried he's getting. He's just beginning to wonder if he should head back and try to stop in the school, when he spots something rather house shaped in the distance.
Which is why he's currently sprinting toward the building that someone just got to, screaming at the top of his voice. Good job no mountains or snow walls are about here; it could have caused an avalanche.]
[Freya was fortunate enough to find shelter in a mostly-intact house before sundown, so she’s had plenty of time to start settling in for the night. As the sun sets and curfew approaches, she checks the door again to make sure it’s sealed tight—and, through the one intact windowpane, she catches sight of something moving out in the snow.
She squints out into the storm, her nosetip nearly touching the grimy glass, and her heart sinks: there’s not something, but someone outside, and they’re not doing too hot.
She snatches her tablet up, and taps hastily at the glowing screen:]
No, no… “user-name”? I don’t have their user-name! Oh, please—I want to talk to that idiot outside!
[it’s hopeless, and she knows it. She sets the tablet down at once, and instead grabs her crude spear from where she’d propped it against the wall. She jams her hat back on her head and turns up her collar, bracing herself for the cold.]
Useless machine…
[she yanks open the door, ducks outside, and shouts into the howling wind:]
Hey! You! Over here!
Four- flipping the script:
[Well, damn. While investigating the enormous wall of snow to the West of the town, she'd barely noticed how low the sun was getting behind the heavy clouds. Now the snow is starting to fall again in deceptively gentle flurries, and she’s running out of daylight—and with it, time to find shelter.]
[As luck would have it, it’s not long before she finds a secure-looking house, but when she tries the door, she’s dismayed to find it already shut tight. Not one to resign herself to a slow freezing death if something can be done about it, she knocks boldly on the door and shouts:]
Hallo, in there!
[She presses an ear to the door and listens, but there’s no answer. She pounds on it again with a fist:]
Open this door, or—or so help me, I’ll kick it down and we’ll both have to find somewhere else to sleep!
[Nope. At the sound of someone very pissed off banging at the door, Gaius is going to do what any man would do when confronted by a giant anthropomorphic rat banging at the door and demanding to be let in: not open the door to find out what's actually at the door in the first place. Yet. It's 7:42.]
{ network } [ It's late and Ellana can't sleep. It seems unlikely, with how she spends her days foraging for supplies, trudging through snow and debris. She should be exhausted, shouldn't she? But no matter how she tries tonight, sleep won't come. Finally her eyes snap open and she rolls over to grab her tablet with a sigh. ]
Is anyone still awake?
[ Her voice is soft, like she doesn't want her voice to blast in anyone's ear if they want to talk to her. ]
And if so, would anyone like to talk? It can be about anything, really. I'd like to know more about the rest of you. And you can ask me things in return.
{ action } [ Ellana is standing outside the house she's chosen for the night, a hand pressed back against the door and her eyes squinting against the swirling snow, searching for stragglers. ]
Can anybody hear me? There's shelter here!
[ There's not much food, but it's at least something, and she's willing to share. She doesn't want to see more people on that obituary report. ]
[Caesar, too, is someone who probably shouldn't have any trouble falling asleep with how he spends his days. And yet, here he is, equally unable to fall asleep. It's almost a relief when he accesses the network and finds that he isn't the only one having trouble tonight—it was good to know he wasn't alone, and even better to have found a way to possibly pass the time.]
I'm awake. I'll keep you company, signorina. What would you like to know?
Inuyasha does not wake gracefully, as he usually does. Usually he can sense trouble and wakes long before it arrives. Not so here. The sound has him on his feet, claws bared, ready for a fight. He doesn't realize it's coming from the 'tablet' by where he was sitting for quite some time, at which point shaking it is exactly what he tries to do. He shakes it so violently it's a wonder it doesn't break.
[Network, later] @Inuyasha
Humans in the future really use these things? [ He scoffs, not disbelieving but scornful. ] It's way more trouble than it's worth, if you ask me. I'm leaving it here, you can keep it.
THREE
[ The dog-eared boy crouches on the floor in front of a shelf of junk food, a sour expression on his face. He crouches like a cat does, knuckles on the floor and ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. It's a strange position for a boy of what looks to be fifteen or so. His pointed white ears twitch, proving them real and very much functional. He seems to be mystified by the selection. He's had some Japanese convenience foods before, when Kagome brought them from home. These are different, with strange names and flavors.
How the hell is he supposed to know which ones are spicy? ]
One Nero was laid on his back as the horrible noise slowly woke him. his headphones were still around his neck, but he had paused the music before his last fight. As the memories surged back he sat up fast. "What the fuck." he cursed aloud looking around him. Red Queen and Blue Rose were missing. And... his arm was normal. He was staring at his five fingers again. It took a little while before he finally started poking at the tablet.
ID@DevilBringer Okay, what the fuck is going on here?
I want some fucking answers! Were's my weapons and what the hell have you done to me!
Three [ Nero was walking along the shelves, looking over the snacks. He was practically drooling looking at all the snacks that were terrible for him. Kyrie would disapprove, but Kyrie isn't here. He reached out for a random box of a frosted treat. Maybe just one.]
[Having found this store was like a god-send. Helena had run out of rations and she was hungry. As much as she disliked the fact all of the food here seemed to be junk food, she knew beggars couldn't be choosers. And, well, she'd rather eat the utterly sugary crap than nothing at all. So she was going through the shelves putting things in her pack. She was trying to get enough things that could hold her for another week. She'd been so focused on getting food for herself that she hadn't really noticed the man in the same aisle as her until she reached for a box and her hand brushed his.
Startled, Helena's hand jerked back and she looked at him, at first wondering if he was actually real or not. Her contact with people had, by and large, been over the network.]
It seems I'm not the only one to have found this place...
[ Normally, Gale doesn't do this whole "video" thing. But that noise set all his nerves on edge, and the sound that might have been a scream at the end? Yeah, that has him way too unsettled to try tapping out a text post. He's got his tablet in one hand, his current makeshift weapon in the other, and he keeps glancing away from the tablet like he's watching something. (That something would be the door, which he's glaring at as though the sheer force of his frustration will make some answers appear.) ]
Who else heard that? Not that screeching metal sound, the scream. That wasn't any of you, was it?
[ two ]
I've got some extra supplies, if anyone needs them. Or if you have rope or twine, something like that, I'd trade for it.
[ Because 2 a.m. is the perfect time to conduct business, right? ]
[ three ]
[ The market on its own was enough to astonish him, the first time he saw it. Sure, they'd had merchants and the Hob at home for all their needs, but this -- everything under one roof, and so much of it? He'd lost track of him on his first trip here and nearly been locked out in the cold, too busy walking up and down the aisles studying everything crammed on the shelves.
But by now it's considerably less exciting, because Gale Hawthorne is a hunter. He hunts wild game, he scavenges greens and berries and other edibles, it's how he's kept his family fed for years. This is not the kind of diet he's used to. ]
"Canned spaghetti," what is that even supposed to be? [ He's too busy frowning at the can in his hand to notice another person turning down the same aisle, and yes, he did horribly mangle the pronunciation of the word "spaghetti." ]
[ Bellamy's nerves are already wired tight, it doesn't help that it's bitterly cold and he's quickly running out of rations. he'd not known what kind of building he was wandering into at first. after all, things were organized differently on the Ark and in the camps. he's not used to how things were run on the ground.
he wanders the half emptied shelves, a piece of 2x4 clenched tightly in his hand, a find he made earlier. it's a bit soggy and rotten, but it could do damage enough if he needed it to. ]
Spaghetti. In a can. It's self explanatory. [ he keeps at the end of the aisle, not necessarily wanting a fight, but if it came down to it, then he would. ]
( one ) [Sleep didn't come easily in this place, but the one time it does, it figures that he'd be torn from that sleep with... a scream? It doesn't take long for Caesar to figure out where the sound is coming from, but how to deal with it is a mystery. It's a relief when it finally stops, but...]
What's with this thing? It was fine a minute ago, but then it started making all this noise.
[Is this what future technology is like... Is this what the world has to look forward to... If it is, that's just kind of sad.]
Is anyone else having this problem? It's not normal, right?
( three ) [Convenience store, nice. Sure, the food sucks, but hey, he's dealt with pretty shitty food situations before. His entire youth was a shitty food situation. Either way, he's already grabbed a thing or two for himself (and to share, too, probably — he wouldn't leave someone else hanging), but now, he's waiting on you, fellow freezing companion, because again, Caesar Zeppeli is an honorable man. He's not going to leave you hanging.]
[Freya swivels an ear in his direction, but doesn't look up from the item in her hands: a plastic jar of peanut butter. Her spear, carved from a broom handle, and her open pack sit at her feet, propped against the shelf.]
Give me a minute.
[she turns the jar over in her hands, peering at the label, then twists off the top.]
Scary! That was scary! Please tell me I wasn't the only one who heard that...
... no, I changed my mind, I don't want to know! If that scream was really real, that's even worse! [Oh no, this is the worst, she hates this place.]
02; @navigator
[She thinks it's the rattling of the windows. If this was at sea, it would be different-- she would be able to tell if the storm above was going to pass, and sleep peacefully through the night. Not here, though, not with the wind howling and the cold seeping in through the window making her sneeze.
Ah, what she wouldn't give to have her Clima-tact here, to generate a nice heat bubble and melt all the snow around the house. But it's not here, and a girl's gotta make do with what she has-- and right now, that's the tablet and the network.]
Those who are awake right now... I can't sleep, and there must be a better way to spend the time than listening to the wind!
So, does anyone of you have a dream? A dream you want to fulfill. If not your own, it could be wanting to help someone else achieve theirs. [When she thinks about it, she has both-- her own, and wanting her Captain's dream to come true.]
03;
[It was like a miracle! A store full of food and other things, all for hers to take! ... well, not all of them, her backpack could only fit so much, and she was already carrying some items (a book, some fabric, a few nails-- here it made sense to hoard as many things as you came across, and Nami was nothing if not a hoarder by nature), but still.
All for hers to take, except there is a noise from behind the shelf, and. Oh, oh no, maybe it's... a tiny animal that lives in the snow? A raccoon, maybe? Or maybe it's another person, in which case-- no, the door to the store is too far, running is not an option.
(Lies, running is always an option.) Nami tightens her hold on the broom she found, certainly better than nothing, and calls out in the most self-confident-and-not-scared-at-all voice she can muster:]
You there! Behind the shelf! Come out here and stop hiding! [And then just as quickly, she doubles back to hide behind the end of the shelf, grabbing a can of... tomato paste? on the floor so she has something to throw at the mystery person, should there be need for that.]
[He's been rummaging in the store for a good twenty minutes, and still hasn't managed to find much that he can use. Dried pasta, a couple packets of freeze-dried spices and mixes... Fresh produce, let alone fresh spices, would be too much to ask for, that much he's sure of. But even a shaker of dried anything, or some canned vegetables, even that would be a start, right?
He jumps at the sound of a voice. A very forceful voice. A sigh; somehow he always manages to find trouble.
A minute later, you'll see him emerge from behind a shelf of cereal, arms up, trying to look as completely nonthreatening as he can. He opens his mouth to speak, at a loss for how to explain himself other than that he was just looking for food...but then his eyes fix on the can of tomato paste, and he points a finger at it.]
[Maybe, try combination of nightmares and general insomnia problems – that's what keeps Riku awake at least. Maybe it would be easier, if he still had one of his Dream Eaters, but as it is... Well, he isn't really about to complain about it. Instead Riku has curled up in blankets, coat and furs and sat down, before the window of his residence for the night, watching the snow fall.
He can't quite a help some faint fascination – this is only the third world he's ever been to that even has snow, and in the first two times he never stayed around long enough to see this, to watch as earth is blanketed in white white white. (It's inconvenient and dangerous – especially since he can't make use of most of his abilities – but right now there is also something beautiful about it, and maybe if Sora were here, he'd finally challenge him to a snowball fight during the day, like he'd meant to in the Land of Dragons.)
Still, the constant snowfall in the week since his arrival also means that he has yet to catch a glimpse of clear sky and more importantly...
Tired and maybe faintly longing, he types the question before he really thinks about it.]
Has anyone seen the starry night sky yet? Since arriving, I mean.
[This place is weird and different to what he's used to from the worlds, so he wouldn't mind being able to search for home up in the sky at least.]
[ 04 – Action ]
[It is cold – so much colder than Riku is used to; for all that he's gotten more layers since arrival, his cloths lack the protective magic he is used to having and well. Being born and raised on a tropical island didn't do much to prepare him in dealing with minus degrees.
His initial fascination with snow and cold has very much worn off at this point.
Still, even with little time to spare, he holds onto the hope that that shape ahead means shelter and reaches up to rub at his arms to keep warm for just a little longer. Before he continues his march, he throws a quick glance back at his companion, calling:]
Come on! It's not that far anymore.
[He is not about to let either of them freeze to death tonight.]
[The sound that splits the night sends Jean launching out of his bed, his bare feet hitting the floor running as he whirls around, trying to find the source of the caterwaul. His heart is in his throat, pounding wildly, and he can feel panic bubbling through his veins, threatening to overwhelm him. But no, he's a soldier, a veteran of the Survey Corps and survivor of the revolution, and although it takes him a few minutes, he finds the source of the noise.]
[It's a flat, brightly lit screen, like nothing he's ever seen before, and Jean is mystified by it. It doesn't stop shrieking even when he shakes it, and hitting it only hurts his knuckles. Hitting it, though, does something to call up an image of letters, and although they're in completely the wrong order, through hunting and pecking, Jean manages to make it write a command.]
[username @JK]
s t o p n o i s e
Prompt Three
[After eventually making the flat screen shut up and then talk to him--it's called a tablet, which is the dumbest name Jean has ever heard--Jean bundles up and heads out into the blustering, winter weather. It had been late summer back home, and he wonders how it changed so suddenly into the depths of winter. He must be somewhere far north, and he huddles in his coat, his arms wrapped tight around him.]
[By following a path outside his cabin, Jean had found a well-lit building, and pushed inside. At first, he'd just enjoyed the heat, but then his eyes had gone wide at everything around him. There is... so much food. So much. And in colors and shapes and types he's never even dreamed of before.]
[Jean wanders the aisles, boggling like an idiot, and when something catches his eye, he clears his throat and gets the attention of someone standing near him.]
Excuse me... why is it this color?
[Whoever heard of blue food? Does that mean it's bad? And what's a Pop Tart, anyway?]
[Armin's first thoughts are those of confusion, a mess of questions that threaten to overwhelm his brain. Where was here, what had happened, how had he gotten here, where were Mikasa and Eren?
It's not until a cold wind cuts through him, chills him right down to the bone, that he is able to push that confusion aside for a more important, immediate realisation: if he doesn't get out of this cold soon, he'll be dead and the how, what and whys won't matter anymore.
Stuffing his hands underneath his arms, in the warm hollow formed by his arm pits, Armin starts to trudge through the snow. The direction doesn't matter much. He stands no chance if he stays where he is - anywhere is better than there. The memories of their winter time training come back to him, and Armin feels a sharp stab of longing for the thick long coat and gloves that make up their winter uniform. His current coat might have been thick enough to help out Historia at her new orphanage, but it is too thin to deal with this cold.
When he spots the building out in the distance, the relief he feels nearly threatens to overwhelm him. He redoubles his efforts, and not for the first time in his life, he wishes he had longer legs like Jean or Reiner-- ah. No. He doesn't want to think about him.
It takes him three attempts to open the door, his stiff cold fingers glancing off the handle the first few times. Inside, the heat of the building is like a blessed oasis, and for a moment he just leans against the door, his knees weak with the realisation that he made it. He's not going to die. (well, not immediately, at least.) Now that he is inside, he'll be able to warm up, and once he's warm, hopefully he'll be able to figure out what had happened.
Pushing away from the door, he starts to wander around the building --it almost seems like a store house of some sort, though Armin has never seen this much food in one place-- without a clear goal in mind. It doesn't matter where he goes, as long as he keeps moving. If he keeps moving, he'll warm up more quickly. He quickly realises that he isn't alone here, that there are others here with him.
Someone is trying to catch his attention, asking him something about the food, but Armin has no answers. And in any case, he has more important concerns than why some food might be blue. He tries to make an apologetic gesture to the stranger, though he quickly aborts the attempt and stuffs his hand back underneath his arm. Sorry. His fingers are still a bit too cold for gesturing.]
I-I'm so-sorry. I don't--
[His teeth are still chattering and if this were any other situation, he'd be embarrassed by how long it takes his cold and sluggish brain to cotton onto the fact that he knows that voice. And that face and tall, slender (skinny) frame.]
[ bad enough that it's blisteringly cold where he is (the wind punches right under the door, the house missing a few walls save for this one room), but when he hears the loud screeching sound, he startles awake. he's never been a heavy sleeper, and this place only seems to make it worse. the video opens a bit haphazardly. ]
I'm going to go ahead and assume we all heard that.
[ unless he'd imagined it. dreamed it. but Bellamy is still a mask of relative calm.] Any ideas on where that was, and who it was?
( three - action; )
[ Bellamy hadn't expected to find a store -- he's never seen one on the ground before, only seen the supply stores on the Ark, and they look nothing like this. some of the shelves are half emptied, some filled with things he's not seen before -- brightly colored packages and bags, things that look like sweets, the works. he's found a can of fruit, keeping it gripped tightly in his hand -- won't be a threatening weapon, but it would hurt if hit with it. he can't trust anything here. it's too quiet, too untouched. there would be someone else around.
which may well be why, when he hears rustling one aisle over, he turns the corner slowly, peering into the dim light. it may be his paranoia, too caught up watching the other person for any signs of hostility, that make him brush one shelf, sending a few containers of just-add-water macaroni dropping to the floor in a clatter. ]
[ what Bellamy probably sees is the back of a blond head of scraggly hair, a jacket, and bits of snow all the way up to her calves. it could be anyone, but it isn't. her shoulders are hunched from the excessive weight of her belongings. there's a tent bag around one shoulder, and a backpack that's full to the brim on the other. she's still attempting to stuff food items in it and debating whether to discard some of her other findings.
she's been here longer. her paranoia is in overdrive, but she's learned how to harness it into something somewhat useful. her senses are heightened, and the moment she hears boxes clatter to the floor, she's gripping the handle of her golf club and whipping around. the moment she turns to face him, the club clatters to the floor. the worst part is that she can't tell if she's hallucinating or if this is real. she's been here all alone this whole time, almost feeling deserving of her captivity. feeling like it was purgatorial. but now this— everything she's been running from comes flooding back.
listen to me very carefully. I will not stop until my people are free. if you don't let them go... I will irradiate level five.
[The entire scenario fills Meh with more dread than she lets on. She's an intellectual (if a mouthy one) and not a fighter. Whatever, whoever was out there, wouldn't be able to help. She would want to, but having to hear that and do nothing left one feeling a little helpless.]
[She wishes someone had the equipment (and resistance to chill) to go out after them. Then at least she could give them medical help.]
I wouldn't suppose that was anybody we know? [She rarely, rarely lets nervousness enter her voice. It lets people exploit her emotions, and even if she's actually feeling it she's doing a remarkably good job of burying it under irritated snark. She's only using voice, because if she uses video people are going to be able to what she's thinking on her scaled face.]
Four | Action
[It's gotten cold, and Meh is lost. She's trudging through the snow in thick boots, looking a little ludicrous in her furry cap, but when one lacks hair there's got to be a way to keep a head warm. She's holding a coat tightly around herself, the grump she's carrying so heavy that it's a wonder her slight stature can support it.]
[She sees lights, she knows she has to rush to make it.]
Christ. And here I was thinking Old St. Louis was cold. [She grumbles as she plods on. A figure becomes evident in the thick snow ahead, possibly heading for civilization too. She hopes, or this could get ugly quick.] Hey!
[She scrambles to catch up with them. She doesn't want to be out here alone in the cold even if it weren't the creepiest town imaginable.]
OOC: Reposting because I screwed it up.
Holy butts, someone who knows (and plays from) Defiance!
[Armin halts as he hears the voice (just barely) over the sharp howl of the wind. Turning his head, shielding his face with one arm, he squints into the semi-dark until he spots the figure moving towards him. It seems like he is not the only one caught out late and heading for shelter. For a split second, he considers his options: he doesn't know this person and there might be a chance they are dangerous - he could keep going and at least make sure to get himself to safety. On the other hand, in a rough environment like this, having an ally can only come at an advantage. He was never the best at winter survival --too skinny to really keep warm, too weak to easily chop wood-- and having someone to share the burden with might be just the thing that will help him survive.
It helps that Armin, while pragmatic, is not cold-hearted.
(though, in the current environment, he is certainly cold-everything-elsed)
So he waits, giving the stranger a change to catch up. In the low light, their face is little more than a pale blob underneath their furry hat, and he can't even make a confident guess as to whether they are male or female through the thick coat. There is something a little bit odd about their face, something off, but Armin ignores that for now. It'd be unwise to get caught up in detail and forget the much bigger danger of freezing to death here.]
ONE - VIDEO (@Engineering) [ Somewhere she's found a splash of liquor, and for once she seems to be in a passably calm mood. All those who have ever encountered her (woe be upon them) know Marie Delacroix to be... an intense women... Paranoid, highly. Dedicated to survival, severely. No nonsense.
But at this disgustingly early hour after the screaming table has awoken everyone, here she is smiling drowsily. ]
Ghosts in the machine, eh?
[ And now you know that Marie Delacroix has a morbid sense of humor. She laughs bitterly at her own joke. ]
THREE - ACTION [ Yeah, uh, those cigarettes behind the counter? Best unhand them. ]
[ He looks down at the package in his hands, still thinking about the possibility of using them for something, before shrugging and throwing them at her. ]
[ Jim hadn't expected this when he chose the small building for temporary shelter. To Jim, 'market' means a ramshackle collection of stalls filled with all kinds of fascinating spacer junk and exotic food, not orderly rows of shelves lined with ... things. In packages.
On closer examination, the packages are like the rations he'd received when he first woke up in this hellhole: preserved so they didn't need cold, but probably unlike anything Jim would call food. He starts to load his knapsack up anyway, mostly with pastries and what looks like jerky, but he can't shake the feeling like someone else is here with him even if he can't see them.
He's careful not to move faster, or turn his head, but his eyes roam the place even as his hands keep loading up on food.]
[It's quiet enough, in the store, but after a minute or so, Jim will hear a crinkling sound not unlike that of someone opening a bag of chips, followed closely by a wail of distress. Should he investigate it, he'll find a short-haired girl sitting in the aisle with an opened bag marked "MYSTERY FLAVOR" at her feet.]
The long and cold nights in the desert climate of Syria could not match the harsh bite of this night. The only light was the pale reflection of white from the sliver of moon far above, making the snow almost seem to glow with a blue-silver hue which reminded him of iron. The harsh air nearly felt like knives in his throat, and in his eyes. Altaïr blinked a few times, ridding his eyelashes of frost as he made another push forward through the thick snow.
It would be too late for him soon. That feeling of a push towards survival against uncomfortable odds was not new to him and Altaïr struggled against the snow drifts and howling wind with ever growing determination. Even as his body was affected by the deadly elements, he pushed himself harder, his will to survive only grew as his fingers went numb.
Altaïr knew of the phenomenon of mirages, although he had never experienced one he was starting to doubt himself as he thought he saw a new light source up ahead. Anything at this point was worth investigating and the assassin shifted his cold feet to head towards the light instead of the path he had been on.
Altaïr. Vlad recognized him for the off-white robes and red sash he wore, crimson and significant. A beautiful blush to this chilly storm of white frozen winter. Without shelter the man would freeze and suffer greatly before death would take him. Why was he out here on such a hour to risk the irreversible consequences.
He would find out, if he could drag him back successfully into his home.
Vlad was not particular to the extreme elements, though he had grown to enjoy rain –– London had more than it could handle and the streets washed from its imperfections and impurities for it. Gutters overflowed, loitered garbage swiftly riding the tide like proper row boats being sucked into the mouth of a turning wave. Rain could be gorgeously destructive.
But snow, Vlad did not hold the same appreciation for snow as he did rain. Respect, absolutely, but he did not love the pristine killer. As he stepped from the comfort of his home he immediately felt a chill sink into his bones and his lifeless body breathed in the winter's kiss and he felt his very insides begin to frost.
He was quick, however, to get to the man and place his hands upon his shoulders with, "Come! Or death will take us both!" It felt most appropriate to say, regardless how much he believed that to be true. "This way! We do not have far!"
[ The howling was worse then anything natural he’s ever heard in all of his years. He was a predator and the noises he’s squeezed out of the living made delightful and mesmerizing noises that would lull him to sleep. But this electronic ruckus was nothing natural or comforting to him. Instead it made his gut tighten with an unsettling tension that had him pacing inside his room until the noise from the communicator ended with a final horrifying scream. Which still did not appeal to him as it was delivered across the cold mechanics of the transmitter.
It only enticed him to find warm lips to sing to him.
Vlad lifted the tablet and traced his cold fingertips across the screen and brought up the video transmitter and had this message to broadcast; ]
Is there a particular reason why such a noise would be administered? Or was it only my own device with an error of obnoxious and pointless noise..?
🐉
ａｃｔｉｏｎ ✘ ｔｈｒｅｅ
Domestic duties always seemed to bring him to feelings of an almost ironic comfort. Of course it wasn’t his desire to hunt for the traditional package of bologna, but one tended to blend in for reasons of social coveting. To be like the people, speak, walk, and behave like the people. Only that he did not really have a taste to be a part of the people but to have a taste of these people. He could feel that craving just as clearly as he did the first time he sampled on human life. His beloved wife’s blood. Since then he had become more lost to the dark abyss then he ever expected to be.
In the centuries past he’s learned some gratitude to the darkness for the curse he was granted. After all, if could have taken his life at any time but he loved the deathfull-life he lived.
So, Vlad set the package of processed meat into his hand basket with no intentions to open it, and moved along to find some bread he would replace the mold-spotted bread that waited in his pantry.
[Altaïr had not meant to turn on this device. Its use was foreign to the point of being unsettling and with such a feeling comes distrust. This distrust is not at all helped by the thing creating such a horrific and obnoxious noise.
He halts his movements turning the device over, around and upside down as he inspects it as a voice comes over the thing. Altaïr has seen this before and so that at least is not too shocking to him -- although compared to the experienes of his life it still has some shock value to it.]
Mine did as well.
[He responds in a quiet voice, without the intention at first to respond at all but somewhat relieved that he is not alone in this strange experience. Altaïr shakes his head.]
[ he's not been in Norfinbury very long, but it hasn't taken long for him to notice the obituaries, the strange sounds at night. Ed's seen all number of things before, good and bad, but nothing quite like this place. ]
Anyone found any signs, any leads on how to get out of this damn place? We can't keep walking around in circles. There has to be a way out.
( four; action )
[ he'd been trying to stock up as much as he could at the little shop when he noticed how dark it was getting outside. he'd thought he'd had more time. he's not used to this kind of cold, not used to being shut out of everything if he's two seconds late.
which is why he's running, short legs trudging through the snow, pants and coat getting soaked every time he hits a drift of snow more than a few inches tall. there's a building ahead -- still far enough away to have his blood pumping a little harder than it should, to send anxiety creeping up into his throat. its when he hears doors slamming in the distance that he tries to run even faster, his pack impossibly heavy. ]
W-Wait! [ he's slowing down, exhaustion burning his legs, the cold stinging his lungs. he's so close, and he's certain he sees someone in the doorway of that building, sure he sees the door starting to shut. ] Hey! Hey, wait a second! [ though even screaming at the top of his lungs seems to take more energy than he has left. ]
[The most frustrating thing about both of them being here, is that they haven't yet managed to find each other. But they have at least been able to keep in contact via the tablet each day, not that it alleviates Al's worries by much.]
Don't you think it might have something to do with Truth? If there's a gate to this place, it must pass through there.
Two (network ID is something like @redbird or something?)
[She doesn't sleep much, or very well, anyway so a night spent awake isn't anything new to her. Having people to speak with however is still something new, even if she's mostly just listened in lately.]
Where is everyone from, if it is not too rude a question? I have traveled far, but nowhere where there are so many from so many different places.
Three
[The one problem with being from the past is that Jun has no real idea what to do with this prepackaged food at first, but a bit of observation has her figuring it out well enough.
She's already gotten the few things that look mostly familiar, there's packets of jerky and a couple bags of rice and trail mix tucked in to her bag and robes.
There's a bit of time to try some of the new stuff though and hood down she's managed to open a twinkie and take a bite. There's a grimace as she swallows before a he just turns to the closest person and holds out the rest.]
You can have the rest. It is... too sweet for me.
Edited (Copy-paste is crazy) 2015-07-02 08:31 (UTC)
[ Vlad takes the package, perhaps more out of response than a conscious decision to take it. He stares at it for a moment as the concept of this being edible really comes to mind, for him anyway.
A Twinkie... No, this wasn't even suitable for human consumption. Though this might have been already decided by the young girl as she is passing it off after the first bite. ]
I believe this would be too sweet for myself, as well. [ He looks then to the beautiful youth and sets the treat aside on a shelf beside them both. ]
[ Sleep did not come easily to Enjolras on the best of nights. He was possessed of a restless mind, turning over and over again thoughts of his dearest friends, in their final moments. Had they regret their decisions to follow him? Had they blamed him for their fate? Enjolras did not know. They had made their decisions to stay, of course- but in those last, fleeting moments... had they felt regret?
He turns to his device, not for comfort, or solace, but... for perhaps, a measure of companionship. ]
Good evening, fellow citizens. I had an inquiry, and perhaps, on this cold and dreary winter's night, and I had hoped you might indulge me. Companionship is so important to our lives- a beacon in the darkness. A bright point, when all else seems lost.
For some hours, I have been lingering on thoughts of home. On what I may have done, of what I had wished to do. What I may have changed, if only I could... Of the people whom I miss most, of the memories of kindness. Of strength of character, and heart.
If you could go back, what is the first thing you might do? Who is it that you miss most? And if you could, would you remind them how they matter...
IV.
[ Enjolras had known the bitter cold. In Paris, the nights were long, the wind biting and sharp. Cutting to the quick, numbing to the marrow and relentless in it's pursuit for the endless sleep. To blanket ones actions, ones mind, just as heavily as the snow. It digs into his bones, spreads through him with every shuddering, icy breath.
The hour grows late. The sun already near gone. Enjolras swore beneath his breath, huddling tighter beneath the poor lining of his jacket, hands tucked beneath his arm pits to conserve his fingers. ]
Just a little further. [ He whispered to himself. ] Just a little further...
[ How had it become so late? How had he allowed this to happen- he knew better! The only answer now, is to carry on. Lest he cast off the second chance he had been given. ]
[As luck would have it, Cosima's up too. There's something about this place that renders sleep elusive -- probably the deadly cold and omnipresent sense of impending doom.]
The first thing I'd do? I'd go straight to the beach. Sunshine, waves, sand, and the only snow comes in a cone and tastes like raspberry.
[She artfully blatantly ignores his questions about people. She doesn't really want to think about who she misses right now.]
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