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: BUMP IN THE NIGHT It's dark out, and congratulations - you're inside! What's not inside, you might ask? Monsters. Shadowy monsters that have surrounded whatever house you've taken shelter in. They can't get in... or can they? From time to time, the doors and the walls creak as if under an unbearable pressure.
Who can sleep when it's like this? Maybe you should take to the network to find a distraction. Or maybe someone has advice for getting rid of those things.
TWO: BRING OUT YOUR DEAD We mourn the loss of those who have died in the time between the last announcement and this one:
...is that your name on that list? It might be. Maybe you should let the others know you're not actually dead. Or, you know, if you happen to spot the name of someone you know and love on there, it might be time to ask around and see if anyone knows what happened to your dearly departed...
Action Prompts
THREE: KYRIE ELEISON You've found yourself in a small chapel, complete with bolted-down pews, an altar devoid of symbols, and stained glass windows depicting various saints. It's quiet... one might even say dead quiet. Which is a really awful pun to be making, considering if you follow the stairs down to the basement you'll find a morgue.
Explore to your heart's content, but you'll be forced out at 7 PM. Hopefully you don't find any unfortunately familiar faces among the dead.
FOUR: LIGHTS OUT Against all odds, you've managed to make it to shelter for the night. You pull the door shut behind you and turn to look at your surroundings - and that's when you see it. A ... person. Is it a person? It's hard to tell, because a moment later, you're plunged into darkness.
...better hope that's another unfortunate visitor to Norfinbury you've been locked in with, and not something more threatening.
[Okay, so the sound of something outside has him uneasy. He's fourteen. He's no longer scared of monsters under the bed anymore. But the noises seem to be getting closer, more insistent as he hears them overhead on the roof, or hearing them seeming to attempt to get in through the walls. He's used to quiet. Or sleeping to the slight hum of a fan at the most. This thudding is hardly so constant and regular so it keeps causing him to jolt awake each time.
Eventually, he gives up on the idea of getting much if any rest and sits up, still huddled in the blankets and blearily rubbing at his eyes, hair possibly even more of a mess of a mop than usual as he turns on the tablet. May as well ask if anyone else is experiencing this, or try get some sort of distraction from it, turning the device to video. Running a hand through his mess of hair as he semi-pouts and glances when there's another thud on the roof.]
I don't suppose there's really anything we can do from inside to make these things go away. It's really not helping in the whole 'sleep' area, suffice to say. Anyone else dealing with this or just want to keep me company while I try ignore them? I can't be the only one awake, right?
[Or do something about them, if that might be possible from inside. Either way.]
Action: Prompt Four;
H-hey--?
[Hiro doesn't get the best look at the figure, before it goes dark, as he turns from shutting the door behind him now he's finally at least made it inside. He's not sure if he quite recognizes them, whether it is someone else stranded in this mess and trying to find shelter or....or someone less friendly? Either way, if there's anything resembling a makeshift weapon nearby, he's going for it. Even if this might mean potentially brandishing a broom in the uncertainty.]
[Curled up under his blankets, Dorian tried to ignore the sounds form outside. It was too cold to investigate and without his magic all he could do was wait. Every time he thought he might be calm enough to doze off the building groaned again and Dorian's imagination was filled with the image of the ceiling collapsing down on him or a shadowy something bursting through the wall.]
I seem to be haunted by the building's attempts to settle tonight. Does anyone know of any solutions? Spin in a circle three times perhaps?
[He remained a little suspicious of the tablets. How did he know the voice on the end was actually a person?]
Action Prompt #4:
Dorian saw it only for an instant before things went dark. Wishing he could still light fires with his mind, Dorian took a step forward in the dark. "I'm Dorian of House Pavus. Is someone there?" he asked confidently, knowing that if it wasn't another stranger or the other person decided to attack him, he didn't exactly have a good way to defend himself.
[ Well, this is certainly a surprise. Miranda has done every thing in her power to avoid using her real name - including picking a spectacularly idiotic alias off-the-cuff - but it seems that she has not been careful enough. There, at the end of a thankfully short list, is the name MIRANDA LAWSON for all the network to see. It would seem this administrator has more reach than Miranda had assumed, and wouldn't hesitate to spill her secrets. What to do?
Inspiration comes from the other half of the problem: Miranda isn't dead. She retrieves her datapad and clears her throat carefully before sending a message out in response to the obituary:]
I admit I'm skeptical of these lists. Has anyone confirmed that all these people are dying, or are we simply assuming that because some are, they're all dead? I've never even seen some of these names on the network.
[ A lie: she'd seen all of them except her own. ]
Are we even sure that these are real people?
--
Action Prompt 3: Kyrie eleison
The chapel is the first beautiful thing Miranda has witnessed in Norfinbury. The windows bring her up short for a moment and she pauses to admire the way the harsh light from outside filters through them to create beautiful patterns. The saints mean nothing; her father had worshipped no one but himself, and she had never bothered to find a replacement. No one up above was looking out for them here.
Miranda is looking out for herself.
She searches the pews methodically, and then the alter. When they turn up not so much as a candle stick for bludgeoning, she ventures further from the sanctuary and finds herself wandering down the stairs. Her footsteps echo loudly in the silence no matter how softly she walks. She hopes no one is close enough to come investigating.
The collection of corpses at the bottom of the stairs are a surprise, but not a startling one. Miranda had spent every day for two years with a corpse and she isn't about to start fearing ghosts now.
is anyone else seeing a bunch of weird monsters outside the windows??? at least i think theyre monsters, all i really see are shadows moving around and sometimes theyve been banging on the doors and windows... i dont feel very safe and the atmosphere in the house is feeling really heavy!! is there something that i can do about this or do i just have to try and sleep through it? ):
Action
[Jade really shouldn't have sadly sat around eating as much cake as she did during her three year stay on the ship, because she was now finding that she was way out of shape compared to normal as a result, and running was a lot harder than it used to be -- an unfortunate discovery, now that it really mattered for the sake of her survival. It was proving way easier than usual for her to winded after a sprint, and in this brutal countdown to being locked out for the night, every second counted. Booking it as fast as she could possibly muster and pushing herself to the absolute limit, Jade practically dives into the nearest house, shutting the door behind her just in time to hear it lock up for the night. The witch flops down into a sitting position and breathes heavily, body relaxing as the relief of safety washed over her; no frozen Jadesicles for you tonight, Snowblind! Reaching into her backpack to pull out her bottle of water, a noise from further inside the room startles her into alertness, her ears laying flat against her head as a slight growl comes from her lips unconsciously.]
[ this is hardly the first time steve's been stuck in unfriendly territory with a pack of wolves circling him. back in the war the howlies camped behind german lines more than a few times, so this, the sensation of being surrounded by the enemy with little to do about it -- that's as familiar as it gets, for steve. hell, he could probably sleep like this, if push came to shove and he was desperate for some shut-eye.
he's not desperate, though. it's barely been fifteen hours since the last time he slept, and steve can go a hell of a lot longer than that without sleeping when he needs to. what he's most worried about is whoever might be stuck outside with those things. it hardly takes any time at all before he's grabbing his tablet and turning on the video function, in full captain rogers mode. ]
Are we all present and accounted for? There's some activity outside that seems to be hostile. If we've got people stuck outside, someone needs to go bring them back in.
[ "someone" as if he doesn't know full well that someone's going to be him. ]
Make your head counts quick, people, we can't afford to lose time on this.
ii. kyrie eleison
[ it's near midday, as far as steve can tell, when he comes upon the chapel. he hesitates before entering -- it's been a long time since he stepped foot in a church -- but eventually makes his way inside. any shelter is good, in a situation like this.
the church is non-denominational, it looks like, and aside from the saints on the walls steve would hardly be able to tell it was a christian church at all. he can't hear anything, from outside the chapel or within, and while he knows better than anyone that that doesn't necessarily mean there's no danger, he does slowly allow his guard to lower. it's a church, after all. what could happen here?
he paces the pews for a few minutes before abruptly sitting down near the front, brow furrowed as though he's confused by his own movements. steve... doesn't quite know if he believes anymore. for a while after he was pulled out of the ice he clung to the thought of god as a buoy, but the longer he's been out the harder it's been to find the faith he used to have. after everything with bucky... he can't imagine what kind of god would allow that to happen to someone as good as bucky. he was always a good man, the best steve ever knew, had faith of his own and did good in the world. what kind of god would allow a man like that to suffer so much? one that steve rogers couldn't believe in anymore.
and yet...
and yet here he is, sitting in a pew, staring at a stained glass window of saint leonard, with one prayer running through his head:
please let him be okay. whatever's happened to bring me here and leave him behind, please let him be okay.
[ Death isn’t a new thing for Ken but it doesn’t get old and it doesn’t change the sinking feeling that he gets whenever he reads through the names of the dead. He doesn’t know these people and that might be just as well—if he could have done more for the maybe… Well it doesn’t matter he needs to look forward and focus on what’s ahead of him except there’s a bit of a problem.
His name is up there too. Normally he wouldn’t care but… What if these people weren’t actually dead either? What if this was disgusted as something else? That could happen, couldn’t it? ]
Um, hello. [ His voice is calm and polite as always. ] I was curious to know what anyone knew about how they get the names for these lists. And, well, if you see your name up there.
[ There’s a bit of hesitation. ]
My name is Amada Ken and, as you can see, my name is included in the list and I’m definitely not dead.
B ] KYRIE ELEISON
[ There’s something strangely familiar about wandering around creepy places in dubious situations, which might be a bit concerning given his age and how that shouldn’t be the case in the first place but it is and that’s all there is to it. However, just because he isn’t as unnerved as someone else, he’s still going to approach the ruins with caution. Who knew what there was in this place.
Or...just what.
The “what” was the main thing to be concerned about given how he hadn’t found anything to arm himself with just yet. That said, he’ll stop in the middle of the chapel and stare at the saints. It was a little strange to find such a place like this here. Getting completely distracted by the sight, he is lost to the world and those who might wander in after him. ]
[ There's a pause and scratch of static, the tink of metal against metal and then the oh so typical tones of obnoxious, sure of herself, teenager. ]
So uh whoever does this births and deaths shit? Reeeeeally needs to get with the program because uh. Not dead. Not for lack of trying, but sure as hell not dead yet. Like it's kind of insulting, really. What was even supposed to have kill me? Because sure as hell nothing else has succeeded yet --
[ rambling again and she catches herself, clearing her throat. ] ANNNYWAYYY. Damn, I'd take a hundred skags to the face if it meant getting some decent to build with.
ACTION ;
[ She doesn't waste any time slamming that door behind her and dragging something to barricade it. She's got the motions of someone whose done it before. Practised as she sets herself up for the night and kicks things about. In the dark half light, the metal of her robotic arm gleams dull. Worn metal that scratches and dented and evidently well loved, with the odd bullet hole or two on it. Home made, if someone was to pay close enough attention. It should be heavy but she wears it comfortably as she stretches out, arms above her head as stretches out her spine, standing on tip toe.
At least until she realises she's not alone, then she turns sharp on her heel at the noise, reaching with her robotic arm before she's thinking about it. Constructing it out of her arm, it seems like until there's a floating large robot there flooding light into the dark of the room. Whirring nervously as the assorted parts flashed and she squints at her new would be companion.
No sudden moves, the robot is prone to attacking at the slightest provocation. Whoops.
But she squints into the dark, bright as far as it was, peering at her company. ] Woah there, haha, don't sneak up on me like that buddy. [ but she looks like she's trying to put everyone at ease, and the robot whirrs and hovers just in case, what a glorified night light it looks like right now. ]
[ just minutes after the death announcements, the feed opens up to a shot of one of the chapel's stained glass windows - a woman in prayer, eyes closed in reflection. it lingers on it for a few moments, the feed just shaky enough that it's clear a person is behind the tablet - and then flips around to the worn-out face of brian thomas. ]
You, uh - you guys get this often? I mean, I guess it's quicker than finding a newspaper, but... [ he exhales, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lower lip for a moment. ] That's- that's kind of messed up. No offense, and I get that it makes sense, but that's still... That just makes it seem worse, you know? Like, none of this really... feels real, I guess.
[ he gives a shaky laugh, scratching at his hair with his free hand. ]
Whoa, this got way heavier than expected. My bad. Blame it on the church windows, hahaha. Just, uh... just checking in, I guess. Leave a message if you want to meet up.
[ he stares at the camera for a few moments after that, smile gradually leaving his face. he takes a deep breath, focuses - before shaking his head, laughing softly, and reaching out to end the feed. ]
three: kyrie eleison (action)
[ it's been a long, confusing morning for brian. arriving in a freezing house with only a tablet, a backpack and his hoodie to his name, and not having any idea how he got there - look, the whole thing is kind of freaky, you know? and it doesn't look like anyone else on the network is much better off.
but hey, he's been out in the cold before - dude, mountain climbing used to be his jam - so it's not like this is the worst thing that could happen. right? right. (not like it's safe or anything, either, but he's got to do something.) so he makes his way out of the house, careful to pack down everything he's woken up with, and when he finally finds shelter in a small chapel he approaches the first person he lays eyes on. ]
Hey, uh - are we supposed to take our shoes off before coming in?
[ and he chuckles at his own stupid conversation starter, even if he's shivering a bit and still a little winded. goddammit, brian. ]
three; [ She's never been the religious sort, not like others in the Circle. But she can admit that there's some semblance of comfort in chapels and religious buildings. Or, at least, in the ones back home. The chapel she finds in this town is merely shelter from the wind and cold, the cloak she wears little more than thick burlap in the face of the ice and snow. Her ears are tinged red beneath the hood of her cloak, pulled up over her head, a dark cloth wrapped around her nose and mouth to keep her skin from blistering or cracking.
In the dark, the chapel is eerie. The sun is beginning to set, casting shadows and colors from the stained glass across the pews and the stone. For a time, she simply sits, resting from her trek, but she eventually goes to explore the basement and the darkness inside...as well as the morgue she finds.
Pushing back the head of her cloak, she stares down at the bodies. Some, she can tell, are fresh. Preserved. Others are not so lucky. And others, unfortunately, even seem vaguely familiar...
She doesn't want to think who has been here before her. ]
four; [ It is past nightfall when she finds a place to stay, pulling weary limbs out of the snow and cold as she steps across the threshold. The place seems dry and she can see a candle nearby, just enough for a light. As she pulls the door shut, she catches a glimpse of something - or someone - in the corner, and in that moment, the candle is snuffed out.
Neria grips her staff tightly in her hands, pulling it close. It's only a long staff of wood, used for walking and not for casting, and without her magic, she has no arcane magic to aid her. But she's learned to fight, how to use a sword. She won't go down without a fight.
Still, she wants to try-- ]
I don't mean any harm.
[ It's said gently, cautiously, even if her grip on her staff tightens. ]
Definitely. Probably some kind of karma or something for some of the stuff she's pulled on literally everyone she knows, but during that five minutes, Amethyst is a tormented mess who rolls around with her hands on her ears and even tries to out-scream the device at least once. Once it stops, though, she pokes at it, and eventually fusses out how to work with it, and flicks on the video function. She looks weary, like a college student running on coffee and broken dreams.]
Okay, if this is Pearl's idea of giving me an alarm clock, I'm gonna be super mad... Where the heck am I?
--
[3]
[Some people would just grab food and go, but Amethyst? She's making a mess and just going to town on whatever she can find that looks good. There's a trail of open containers going around the store that shows where she's been, leading up to some poor sap who just wants some animal crackers. Unfortunately, so does Amethyst, and when both their hands land on it, she clenches the bag tight and glares up at the other person.]
( now that's just rude- it's true that kyoko has eaten enough food in the past to feed a starving country but to claim that she's dead all of a sudden? that didn't sit well with her. especially when it sounded like someone was accusing her of eating too many bigm*cs and getting a heart attack after. though there weren't any of those here for her. )
So.....who do I talk to about that list or whatever? Because I'm not dead you know? Starving but not dead. Unless that's a warning for something horrible to come-
Then bring it on. I can drag any of you up and down the street in a heart beat.
( actually she can't. at least not here. not now. not with this body. )
action » three
( kyoko was born into the life of a worshiper, of a person who said their daily vespers without question and bowed before their god. churches in general were once a place of comfort to kyoko, a place where the girl felt real and truly alive. the times when her father brought in people on his own were the happiest for her. now they were a solemn reminder of the sins kyoko had committed and of what her actions had brought forth. the heavy burden she carried was often buried deep within her, but seeing this church here now brought it back out.
she hadn't planned on arriving here; it had just happened. she had been walking aimlessly looking for a clue as to why she was here, and the first thing to appear was the church. it was ironic really, considering she had been the end of one faithful church with her selfless wish. yet here it was, marking the beginning of her new life here. there wasn't much that a church held for her anymore, it couldn't save her at this point.
yet she had walked in, feeling a strange and familiar pull. inside she saw the stained glass windows and how they sparkled with the sun's light. the hot-headed girl was now filled with an overwhelming sensation. her chest was heavy, her eyes dared to fill with tears. slowly she turned from the glass and towards the altar. there she saw memories that haunted her daily; her father's strong stance, giving a speech on sharing and loving thy neighbor. the vivid memory was strong enough to maintain kyoko there for a while.
it wasn't until someone else walked in that she turned around. )
Oi....you need something?
( she asked, as if the church belonged to her and only her. but it was a facade- an act to cover how weak she had felt only moments before. )
alright first of all let me just start by saying this is not something i ever thought id have to sit down and make a fucking memo about ive pretty much spent the last however the fuck long its been assuming that these kinds of things speak for themselves but times change so here i am stating for the record that while ive been dead as hell plenty of times in a half billion incarnations this isnt one of those times not even close i wasnt even in any situation where "ah shit daves dead again" could even be a reasonable thing to assume considering that i was minding my own business trying to figure out how to get some pancakes up in here no progress on that front unfortunately its like all the fixings for something decent to have for breakfast not only cant be found anywhere but never existed and were all completely in my imagination all along pancakes were never even invented and everything i know is a lie anyway i turn my back for five seconds and now theres people writing eulogies about me on their garbage wordpress status blog i mean unless someone knows something i dont i could be bruce willis as hell right now in which case im gonna need a haley joel osment in here asafuckingp to clear the air before we get too far into this shitshow the last thing i wanna do at a time like this is actually physically live the plot of a movie thats already been done least of all a shyamalan movie even i have fucking standards man shit aint right
( action: prompt three )
[ honestly, Dave is a little unsettled to be wandering around an abandoned church. of all the sorts of buildings to be in, this just feels like the least comforting one he could possibly come across, and the fact that he thinks so is sort of an odd feeling in itself. he's never fucked with religion, necessarily, and knows close to nothing about any of it, but he sort of figures that most people would find some sort of respite in being in a, uh, holy building or whatever. even if it's distinctly lacking most of the grandiose symbolism that makes churches any different from your average pointy-roofed shack. but to him it's just creepy and weird, and he's seen enough shitty horror films to know where this is going.
he's on his guard as he rummages around for something he can use: a weapon first and foremost, with little options visible to him at present, and supplies secondly, which there also doesn't seem to be an abundance of. there aren't a lot of un-overturned stones to peer under, either (metaphorically of course), considering how even the benches are bolted down. but still. ]
You'd think there'd at least be a slightly unwieldy candelabra or something in here. Like if a whole rack of blood-sucking bats just conveniently come flying up in my face, what the hell am I supposed to swing at them? This is basically the most useless place to be, ever.
[ yes he is just talking to himself, what about it. he's always been a mumbler, but his voice is even softer now than it usually is, since speaking out loud seems to pierce the veil of silence that he gets the sensation would be better off not getting pierced, if you know what I mean. he makes his way toward the back and discovers the stairs, and after a moment's hesitation he readies himself to begin descent before he just. stops. and looks back over his shoulder.
mmmmaybe venturing alone into the basement of a creepy abandoned church isn't the best idea, Freddie. not that he's scared or anything. that would just be silly. he's Marty McFuckingFly and nobody calls him a chicken.
[ the id will read "@onyakomtrikru", not because she set it that way, but because she didn't understand what the fresh hell this thing was until about twenty minutes after she'd been tapping at the screen with increasing frustration (tapping more on the side of punching by the latter part of that twenty minutes). tablets weren't a thing anya's people had in the forests they made their home. shelter, clothing, weapons, hunger. death by exposure, survival of the fittest, moving to keep yourself alive - all these things anya understand perfectly well.
texting, however, is not on that list.
as such, when she manages to open the menu for broadcasting a transmission, and a keyboard pops up at the bottom of her screen, it's really more a moment of... experimental pecking. ] gedpok' TRKIJD''-0', [ yeah, no, that's not gonna happen. soon enough, she finds the video function, and what can be seen is a woman with severe eyes, and features near entirely caked with mud, looming over the screen, illuminated by the dim backlight, as her once blond hair hangs in dirty clumps around the camera. ]
You're neither Sky People or Mountain Men. Where are you from, and why are you here? [ getting straight to the point. what she means is 'we', why are we here, but that's not a word that anya likes to use. off to the side of the tablet, there's the token 'bump in the night' sounding beyond the walls of the abandoned house anya's camped in for the night. no part of her face shifts, no twitch of expression, but her eyes do coldly slide to the source. ] And who has weapons?
[B] ACTION; ANYA'S COLD.
[ perhaps you've made it into a building to rest and warm up for the moment, or perhaps you're adjusting your gear. maybe you happened upon some new loot and you're deciding if you want to keep what you have or trade out. whatever ends up off of your person for the moment, set aside, be it a shirt, a pair of shoes, a blanket, and especially if it's a coat, it'll soon be sneaking off on it's own.
or, rather, with the help of a woman largely covered in mud and shivering, with very little on aside some rough cloth pants, the coat issued to all new arrivals, with nothing but some scraps of fabric and another worn leather coat that feels too small on her underneath. either way, it's not enough, when anya's spent her entire life in a fairly temperate forest, typically wearing furs and animal skins on top of this. so, don't mind her trying to sneak off with your shit while you happen to be busy.
and if you aren't the kind to turn attention away from your things, well, maybe you're getting thwacked with a stray branch before she goes trying to help you out of your stuff, if you're looking extra well-equipped. and aren't a child. (she's not so horrible she'd leave a child with less than they need to survive, okay, she's a dick but not that big of a dick). ]
[C] ACTION; ANYA'S CREEPY.
[ lights out. it's that one - the one where you've just barely found shelter, and turn to the room to see another figure already occupying the space before it all gets plunged into darkness. however, anya's not the one rushing in at this point. she'll have already been camped out, crouched into a corner of the room, so when her unfortunate companion for the night wanders in, the glimpse they'll be getting of the stranger hovering in the corner is this - all covered in rags, mud and blood, looking like something out of a horror film and likely glaring death at the intruder, before the shadows swallow everything.
a moment of silence settles, and maybe the creepy woman had just been some kind of messed up hallucination, for all the quiet there is. however, it breaks a second later, and her voice is gravely, rough and demanding. ]
Get out.
[D] CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE
[ what it says on the tin - here there be wildcard option. ]
if anyone's having blair witch flashbacks when they see jenna's feed crop up, they can hardly be blamed. the video is shaky as she rushes out of the room she'd cooped up in, and most of what can be heard is the sounds of footsteps and her heavy breathing.
jenna...really isn't cut out for what goes bump in the night. ]
There's something trying to get in. I couldn't see- I don't know what it is. Is there anyone out there?
( kyrie eleison )
[ she's careful as she walks down the aisle. granted jenna has always been in the dark about the more unsavoury things that exist in her hometown, but you don't live in a place with as many "animal attacks" as mystic falls over the last year without becoming a little more careful with your steps.
she doesn't know well enough not to go down to the basement it seems. wary as she is jenna still makes her way to the stairs, makes her way down the stairs, and even though she feels like her whole body is shaking (never mind just her hands) she still pushes the door open. when she sees that it's a morgue?
well, she can hardly be blamed if she screams, just a little bit. ]
[ The house groans as shadowed horrors press in. They've been at it for hours. Each moment he thinks he can close his eyes, the windows whine and he's wide awake, gloved hands flexing for a weapon. For him, it's not quite nightmarish, but it does manage to eat away at the thin shreds of sanity and patience he does (occasionally) possess. ]
Does it ever stop? [ He asks with a hiss. Faintly, amongst the background noise, an echoing creak can be heard as if the buildings foundation was settling. ] If they want in, they shouldjust come in!
[ Kadaj grinds his teeth with the words, ending them in a shout of annoyed rage. A physical attack would be much easier to deal with than this. ]
II.ACTION PROMPT FOUR
[ The darkness is as advantageous as it is detrimental in this situation. Kadaj knows where the shadowed figure had stood, as brief it was as he'd seen it, and he makes his way down the hall as quietly as possible, leaving behind him a trail of damp boot prints. The floor groans quietly to ahead of him, and the remnant stops in his tracks. ]
I know you're there. [ Kadaj whispers dangerously into the dark. He would not be afraid. ]
OK, I think I might need some help over here. Something's--rustling? Shifting? Look, there's something IN here with me and I can't SEE it and this is so not okay. Do any of you have weapons? Do you any of you have weapons that you could maybe give me? Immediately?
LIGHTS OUT;
[There is just nothing good about this situation. One minute, she was asleep on the caravan, idly dreaming about wealth and fanciful laser prototypes, and the next she was shivering--alone--in the snow of some foreign town. How did she get here? Where the hell was everyone else? Where was her sister? These thoughts run like a panicked marquee through her head as she gets her bearings, hugging herself, searching desperately for some respite from the frozen wind that whips around her face and arms. She's not dressed for this.
Finally, she finds what looks like a house, or what was once a house, anyway--it's intact, but the windows are webbed with cracks and the door looks like someone tried to kick it to death. Sasha knocks; hears no response. She tries the handle, and, finding it unlocked, lets herself in.
It's creepy, but it's something. And there's light--for about two seconds.]
Damn it. Damn it.
[She hears footsteps then, and turns angrily on her heel.]
ANY1 AWAKE RN TELL ME A FUCKIN STORY AAAAAAABOUT TITS SOMETHIN WITH TITTIES HELP A GUY OUT U GOTTA TELL ME SUMTHIN GOOD
TITS
TALK 2 ME ABOUT TITS
action: 03
[ marcos isn't a big fan of praying: there are benevolent gods and there are vengeful gods and there might be everything in between, but what he really believes in are the people close to him and the people near and dear to his heart, the weapons he has in his hands, how many punches he can pull until his knuckles split and he feels his pulse rushing in his ears.
so the chapel isn't much of a comfort— if anything, it's mildly disturbing, with the suffering saints and the morgue that he stumbled into a few minutes ago and promptly avoided because, yeah, what the fuck. he could've lived without seeing all of that, jesus christ. no sacrilege intended.
so. a while alone in this place can make any guy feel unsettled, and he calls out, long and plaintive, into the void: ]
Yooooo?! Anyone else around?! It's getting creepy as hell around here, help a guy out?!
( network. bump in the night. id: hale ) what lives out there and how can we kill them?
( three: kyrie eleison ) [derek didn't like this from the second he arrived to the moment he found the chapel. things seemed normal until he realized his sense of smell is mediocre compared to what he's always used to and his hearing is abysmal. everything feels wrong about this place, and it's no beacon hills, that's for sure. he has nothing to defend himself with and he doesn't like the feel of the place. his powers may be gone, but that doesn't stop the hairs from standing up on the back of his neck. his footsteps echo on the floors of the church, and he already finds himself using what hearing he has left to try and sense if someone else is inside with him. he knows better than to panic; all he can do is move forward and see where it takes him.
everything seems fine until he finds the stairs going into the basement. it smells musty, and with one last glance to the pews, he follows the stairs down into what he soon finds to be the morgue. which is exactly what he wants to find in an unknown town that is eerily quiet. he looks around anyway, hoping that he doesn't find anyone that he recognizes. he leaves the morgue after a satisfactory sweep of it, following the stairs back up. he'd rather not linger here, anyway; despite what most people think, churches aren't always safe.]
@humancombustion When exactly did this happen? You can stand to give more information than just a name. Time, location, tally? A girl has better things to do with her time than keep track of dying.
action
[ there appears to be a smudge of something red stuck in a small snowdrift a few paces from a building offering shelter for the evening.
on closer examination, it's... red fabric. and it seems to be attached to a person. a person with long white hair and red suspenders who's steadily going blue from cold and seems to be just a few hours from totally freezing to death, and night's falling fast. ]
[no lies here, this is a pretty absurd situation. in another light, it would even be kind of comical. that's why Luke can't really bring himself to sound very worked up about the whole affair; rather, the voice broadcasted across the network sounds uncomfortable, awkward.
if you're going to tackle the bantha in the room, you might as well go full-throttle.]
Do we know who's keeping these records? I mean, I get why we need them. Between the weather and the... wildlife [if that's what you call shadow monsters,] it makes a lot of sense to keep track of who's with us and who isn't. We did something similar back where I was stationed for the same reasons.
[and here's where his frown becomes a little tighter, the indignant tones seeping out whether he likes it or now.] Thing is, they're not gonna help anyone if they keep being so inaccurate.
[but... what if that's the point? maybe it's some sort of intimidation game? a means of spreading distrust through false information? it seems like a dirty enough low to stoop to for whoever's keeping them here.]
...Maybe we should start our own. If anyone else with their name on the list is still alive, er— [the tightness loosens. the side of Luke's mouth curls up into a crooked little smile.] Raise your hand?
ACTION #3
[well, there are worse places to be stuck in. at least this time he can be grateful that he's in an actual building with basic insulation as opposed to some frozen, hollowed-out shack. considering what happened the last time he got himself lost in the middle of a blizzard, he's been practically privileged so far — and hey, he's still right-side up with both feet firmly on the ground. no ice caves, no wampas. so far so good, right?
there's not much to look at in here, and what little there is only serves to poke and needle at Luke's curiosity in ways he's not so certain are good. it's barren, practically spartan in design, which brings all sorts of imagery and words to mind, most of them negative. prison, punishment. the stained glass etchings only pull these impressions into a more concrete realm. figures of people are arranged in colorful patterns, most if not all of them wearing the same grave masks of quiet misery. even with the minimalist designs, Luke still feels something reproachful from their eyes so he tries to stop his own from lingering for too long. he doesn't need another reason to shiver.
he moves to take a seat on one of the empty benches, shifting a little as he settles in. a temple, then? it would certainly seem so, but it's not like any he's ever seen before. even the most modest shrines have something going for them, be it from religious symbols or whatever meager tributes they amass from their congregation. regardless, you can feel something when you enter one of those. it's an atmosphere, an emotion. it's not quite palpable in the sense that you can reach out and touch it, but it's still there.
it's funny. he's never been very religious. now, though...
Luke flexes his fingers. now he's not quite sure what he is. enlightened, he supposes? or maybe a better way to put it would be "awakened". it's getting to be strange how the most dreamlike qualities of his life are starting to feel more real than the parts that are grounded. it really is like stepping into a larger world; like living life inside a windowless house and discovering for the very first time that things exist outside. that's what he likens his training to: like having to learn what a cloud is and trying to pull it down into something more tangible, raw.
he stares down at his hands, thinking hard. it's quiet enough in here to meditate. maybe... maybe if he concentrates hard enough—
taking a big, deep breath, Luke closes his eyes and tentatively raises his left hand, palm open, fingers stretched. his breathing slows, controlled with the perfect deliberation Yoda has stressed time and again in their exercises. in his mind's eye, he imagines the legs of the pew he's sitting on and wills them to budge.
an inch. just one inch and then he'll know that he's not completely cut off from home, from everyone he's left behind, from the heartbeat of the galaxy itself.]
[ It’s a boring house, a non-descript little box of panels and tile, too unassuming to even merit “spooky”. A real estate agent might describe it as a fixer-upper, but there’s not much that calls out for repair. Only a chronic lack of charm, and —
— The lights. That could be dangerous. What if you tripped and broke your neck, and no one ever knew to look? Good thing you aren’t alone.
There’s another figure waiting just around the corner for you to move, breath snatched tight against any slip. A heavy vase clutches high between his hands, ready to smash down over your skull. A second too soon, he blinks, eyes cracking open on a sickly green glow. In the dark of the hall, it might as well be a lighthouse beacon.
[ He didn’t linger in the church long. The chapel itself served as nothing but temporary shelter from the bitter cold. Roose was no stranger to the cold and had in fact experienced the bitter loathing of many winters in his lifetime. The only difference being that the North was familiar territory. He knew its layout and terrain like the back of his own hand. Here? Well—this place, Norfinbury, had become something of a irritatingly tiresome mystery.
And this chapel? Yet another redundant riddle that he didn’t have the time or desire to solve. The various saints appeared to be nothing more than nameless lords and ladies of a past he’d never known. Insignificant and far from divine. No, the only use for this chapel was its potential for carrying any sort of useful supplies. As a Bolton, Roose felt practically naked without his blade. It was practically an extension of himself. A tool that created the symbol of their house: the flayed man.
However, he quickly realized that the chances of finding a blade in some sort of, he presumed, holy house, was highly unlikely. Roose, looking as unimpressed as ever, let out a short, almost tired scoff. Then, with a swish of his cloak, he pivoted, marching down the aisle toward the doors of the chapel and thrusting them open with both gloved hands.
The bitter cold that hit him was almost welcome. He glanced down at the various bodies scattered along the streets, his expression hardly changing at the sight. One in particular lay face down, strewn over the chapel steps and made his way over to it. Roose gave it an unceremonious kick, flipping the corpse over. He was silent for a moment, tilting his head slightly, still unflinching at the sight of the lifeless stranger. ]
Whilst I came seeking resources, you likely came seeking sanctuary. At the very least, I suppose we share the bitter feeling of disappointment.
[ A pause. Then, still maintaining the very same deadpan. ]
Shared.
NETWORK; PROMPT 1
[ Okay, so it probably took Lord Bolton here a good couple of days or more to figure this fucking thing out, but somehow he’s managed. Throughout this process, he’s been forced to endure the Stark-level whinging and moaning of the other “citizens” of Norfinbury. That in addition to juvenilely tragic solutions to the problems all of them seem to be facing.
Anyway, he finally opts to make his voice heard. Giving one very helpful, very dry suggestion. It's hard to tell whether he's serious or not. He sounds serious. But. ]
Perhaps one of you should indulge us all with some form of report on what happens when one actually opens the door.
[ Preferably someone armed that can feasibly report back. But hey. Also wouldn't hurt to weed out the ignorantly stupid thorns from the gene pool while we're at it too. ]
[ he waves awkwardly. this is going great. addressing a whole network of people is great. addressing a whole network of people and telling them that he's not actually dead is even better. ]
I just wanted to say that I'm, uh, really not dead.
[ well, technically, he could be a ghost — are those real? everything else seems to be — but he doesn't feel dead. he feels sort of hungry, but not dead. ]
It's kind of weird, like you don't know if they're telling the truth or not. Like, if they're lying about stuff like this, then— I don't know, it feels like you can't figure out what's real, you know?
[ he grimaces. ]
But I mean, we can't let that get to us. We have to keep morale up, and remember why we're doing this. So, uh, tell me — what are you fighting for? What's waiting for you back at home?
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snowblindmemes2015-07-24 04:23 pm
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