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: DRUG PUSHING What luck! You've found a bottle of medication...only, oh, it looks like it's a prescription for one of the other people trapped here with you. You have a lot of power in your hands now: you could do the right thing and give it back without a fight, demand a worthy trade to see how badly they want it, or auction it off to the highest bidder. They're not the only ones who could use a painkiller or an antidepressant, after all. If you don't need it for yourself, you're sure to be able to fetch a high price (or bank some high gratitude points) for it from someone.
TWO: CHECK YOUR RECEIPTS After a long day of traveling, you reach into your bag to scrounge up some dinner but you find that all of your food has gone bad. Everything, including the rations you stocked up on just yesterday, is covered in a thick layer of mold. Even the packaged nonperishables are somehow spoiled. Your whole backpack reeks of rot, and nothing edible has been spared. Maybe you can restock tomorrow, but what if you're not the only one whose food has been tainted? And what about the meal you had for lunch just hours ago? Your stomach turns. You'd better take to the network to get to the bottom of this
Action Prompts
THREE: WRITING ON THE WALL You've just settled into a building for the night with your traveling companion when you notice a message left somewhere on one of the walls. It's signed by a username you don't recall ever seeing before. It tells you discoveries and facts about the town you don't think are really real or should be followed. Tells you that they're heading in a direction they're convinced has the exit, and urge you to follow their lead. One of you thinks it's worth consideration. After all, why would anyone leave a message like this if they didn't mean it? But there are risks involved in chasing the assertions. Do you have the resources left to try?
FOUR: CORPSE PARTY Just before lockdown, you and your traveling companion are about to seek shelter in the nearest building when you spot a huddled figure nearly buried in the snow. When you get a little closer, you see that it's a person wrapped tightly in a blanket. Neither of you recognizes them, but you can't be sure; the blanket covers their face. They seem to have succumbed to the elements, but it looks like they're still breathing! You manage to drag them into the building with you with seconds to spare. Good job, you've saved somebody's life! But, as you pull apart the blankets to check on your new companion, you realize that they're not a "somebody" at all... And you're locked in with it until morning.
Zane was right about that. A little bit of patheticness and Mohinder immediately clammed up after he apologised and shoved his hands into his pockets. The gloves weren't exactly doing it tonight, and he was hoping for warmer weather once the sun came out but with nights being so long up here, he wasn't sure when the sun would arrive and it would certainly not have much time to warm the ground.
He followed Zane through the dark house, every floorboard seeming to creak beneath each footfall. Mohinder didn't like the silence and before the moved two rooms, he was speaking again.
"Captain Rogers didn't leave a map on a wall in this house. It might be the first time we've found a place he hasn't been..." But someone had to have been here.
No cushioning in that chair meant that they had started a fire.
Someone had clearly been through this house with a fine-toothed comb already. It was as bare-bones as it could be. Sylar just hoped they'd get lucky with the remaining couple of rooms.
If Sylar had his telekinesis, he'd be ripping up the floorboards to make a fire. He'd reduce that chair to kindling. He'd be doing so much better than he was now, reliant on the son of a man he hated and stuck in this useless persona. His jaw clenched as he stared at the cushion-less chair.
"Only one way to find out," he replied, turning immediately and heading towards what he hoped was a kitchen. And it was- but everything in it was broken. Sylar rubbed at his temples to ease the headache that was forming, even as he walked over to the stove. The door wouldn't even open. Great. Sylar let out a long-suffering sigh that was honestly more pitiful than anything he'd ever put together for his 'Zane' creation.
Maybe this was for the best. What could they do even if they found a working stove? He didn't have a lighter. He didn't have anything at all to start a fire. Not even two dry sticks. There was bound to be furniture polish on the wood anyway. Sealants. It would be difficult to get it to ignite without actual fire.
At the sound of Zane's sigh, Mohinder pressed his hand lightly against the back of a familiar jacket between Zane's shoulder blades.
"Let's just get to sleep. There should be blankets upstsirs in one of the bedrooms." At least Mohinder was a warm body if nothing further than that but an annoyance. He turned away to head out of the kitchen only to find the door that they had come through was shut and stuck. The handle jiggled fine so it couldn't be locked but even throwing his shoulder against the door didn't make it budge. "Zane?"
Oh, no no no. A room full of brokenness was exactly the room Sylar didn't want to be in- so of course they were locked in. When Mohinder called for Zane, he rushed toward the door to add his weight to it. "It doesn't even lock," he complained. But no, it was shut tight, and their efforts were for nothing.
Eventually Sylar turned around with his back to the door and slid down it into a miserable puddle on the floor. It felt like it was even colder down here.
Mohinder hadn’t officially started to panic until he watched Zane melt onto the floor and refreeze. He pulled at the door (the hinges shouldn’t allow for pulling but he was out of options) and gave it a kick to see if that would lodge it but…no. Nothing. Damn it. They couldn’t get stuck here. Mohinder had seen what happened to people that stayed in one place. And they only had food enough for two days. Maybe.
He thought about making a distress call, but who could come for them in the middle of the night? No one was the answer.
Since hot air rose and cold air was heavier, it was always going to be colder on the floor. It didn’t help that there wasn’t any insulation under the tile either. Mohinder huffed slightly and then crouched beside Zane so that he was touching him. The Indian weighed next to nothing, had not an ounce of fat on his body, and was freezing. He took whatever he could get what it came to warmth. And that included the American.
“It’s fine. It’s all right. In the morning, if we can’t get out, we’ll have someone come to get us.”
[The bark paralyzes Emily in place obediently. She's not much for listening to asshole adults, but Peter is a seemingly level-headed fellow child, and she trusts him for what it's worth. His word means a lot.
Her heart is in her throat as he checks the body. She's sure it's going to rise up and take a chunk out of his face. Cough on him. Bleed on him.] We--we might can find a blanket in a house. We don't have to get a frozen one. [But she takes a cautious step toward Peter.]
Coming. [It isn't a yell, but his voice is heavy enough to carry. Picking the thing up isn't quite so different than picking up a criminal. From behind, large gloved hand around the back of the neck just under the occipital bone.
Sweeping one arm under both of the thing's own, Bruce knees it in the back and pops both arms out of the sockets, making them limp. The worst thing by far is that it doesn't howl in pain, but gurgles and growls low.
Bruce's feet are long strides; he's pushing the thing down the hall first toward Dick.] Move! [At the door, Bruce stops suddenly and releases, letting the thing fly into the closet. He grabs the door quickly and slams it closed, holding it with two palms and his weight.] Grab a chair.
No! [Despite not being fast enough, Bruce is still fast. He doesn't take it quite so easy with Alfie this time. Grabbing the knife-holding wrist, he slams his other palm into the back of Alfie's shoulder to pop the arm out of the socket.
He's not worried about the knife; it'll fall. His foot hits Alfie in the back of a knee, and he spins and drops Alfie over out of the way further into the room, then turns for the creature.
It's too late, he's aware. Even with pressure, there's no supplies, no hospital, nothing. He wouldn't be able to save someone stabbed in the throat, and he's not willing to get that close to something that may be undead.] Damn it. [He wheels back on Alfie.] Why?
Sylar readily leaned up against Mohinder, hopeful that it would generate even a little more warmth. He wasn't having to act the part anymore of a useless, scared man, he realized. That really rubbed him the wrong way. It was all right for Mohinder to see a mask he'd put up for the pure purpose of manipulating the scientist. But he sure didn't want Mohinder to see him really being so pitiful.
So Sylar replied to the man with a low chuckle. He couldn't keep it up anymore- besides, if he was going to be so miserable, everyone else might as well be too. "You have no idea how not all right it is, Mohinder. I can't fix-" He gestured around the whole room. "-any of this."
It didn't need to be killed. It was subdued! It could have been a person. [His fists quiver at his sides. There's a rage deep in the pit of Bruce, and sometimes it's hard to hold back the blood-thirst of justice.
He wants to make Alfie hurt. He wants to punish Alfie. That's the only way they'll learn--criminals. Murderers. Torturers.
No. His hands unclench, and his regulating exhale is silent. Getting mad isn't the answer. Violence is never the answer.] Don't do it again.
The lower half of his face hidden in his collar, chin against his chest, Mohinder watched Zane out of the corner of his eye. He was sympathic, of course he was, and his smile, though hidden, coated his eyes. He had the most expressive face sometimes, maddening as it might be.
"It's not your job to fix this. We're here under unfortunate circumstances. It's no one's fault." You don't just fall asleep in a motel on the way to Montana and wake up in Alaska in a town surrounded by snow walls. Mohinder wasn't sure what brought them here but he was certain that Zane had absolutely nothing to do with it. "Please don't blame yourself. We haven't run into an anomaly yet. We're safe. We have food. And we have each other. That's more than many can say."
"You don't understand," Sylar replied. Of course, there was no way Mohinder could have understood what he'd meant. "I've always been good at fixing things. Anything I could get my hands on. Appliances. Watches. ...People."
The corner of his mouth twitched up and he looked expectantly at Mohinder. Was that enough, or did Mohinder need more hints?
I'm aware of how to survive, and it doesn't include murder.
Men like you are willing to kill others, but fear dying yourself, and that fear makes you do terrible things which are completely unnecessary.
In Gotham, and here, I will do what I can to stop men like you from making collateral damage out of other people. [Parroting:] It's the business I'm in.
It should have been all warning lights for Mohinder, but the Indian wasn’t known for letting his genius bleed into common sense areas. In fact, he was fairly useless when it came to spotting dangerous situations as they were and just plowed right through them until his fight or flight mechanism decided to flip and coin and decide whether he ought to run as fast as his long legs could go or try to bludgeon people with statuary despite their obvious possession of a gun.
He had truly terribly instincts, but he knew that something was wrong. He leaned away from Zane to really look at him. “Watches?” What a strange thing to say. Mohinder didn’t have a few items in his knowledge to put the rest together. For instance, he’d never actually looked into who lived in the flat he and Eden had broken into after finding the address for Sylar in his father’s notebook. Why should he when he assumed that ‘Sylar’ was the actual name of the person? He’d not spent time listening to all of the research tapes either and so had no idea that Sylar was Gabriel Gray and Gabriel Gray happened to be a watch repairman.
It still gave him a bad feeling in his stomach.
“Zane, I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at. Were you some sort of therapist before your abilities manifested?” For a researcher, Mohinder was terrible at actually researching.
I made a reasoned and pragmatic decision. What were you gonna do with it? Tote it around the town with you? Leave it here for someone else to stumble across?
Sylar's smirk only grew at Mohinder's confusion. He really should've done this ages ago. It was letting him almost forget how cold he was. "Not quite. I was a watchmaker." He leaned his head back against the door, looking more relaxed than was even remotely possible right now. "I'm not sure when the ability started up, honestly. It was always so useful for telling me just what I needed to do to get everything working perfectly."
He held his hand out in front of him, half-pointing at the stove. It seemed like the gesture should mean something, but he put his hand back down before he said anything else. "Now I just can tell it's all wrong, but I can't do anything about it. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?"
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snowblindmemes2016-08-14 08:47 pm
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