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: IT WON'T BE LONG NOW... Well, you made a mistake. You spent too long searching around, or you ran outside near the end of the day for just one more thing, and now you've been locked out. You can search around all you want, but the best shelter you can hope for is pressing against the side of a sealed up building. You do still have your tablet, though. Maybe someone on the network can give you some advice, or at least some comfort while you wait for hypothermia to set in.
TWO: CABIN FEVER Maybe you didn't want that mistake of getting caught outside to happen again, but now you've ended up staying too long in one location, and cabin fever has set in. Maybe you're taking to the network to try and ignore the hallucinations. Maybe you want to tell everyone that you've figured out they're all in on your kidnapping. Maybe you ended up wandering off and now you'd really like to know if anyone can check back in the place you were at for your pants.
Action Prompts
THREE: AN UNEXPECTED MEETING You're going about your business searching what seems like it might be an especially promising house--it's fully intact and there's even a working fireplace with some wood! It looks like someone else has the same idea, though, and you've run into them in the middle of your search. Do you share the potential wealth or try to kick them out? On the other hand, maybe you know who this is, or maybe you're just glad to actually see another person for the first time in ages.
FOUR: GOOD MORGUE-NING You've just woken up in a morgue after dying in one unfortunate way or another. You have no idea where you are beyond that, but your tablet is insisting you can't stay here, so you should probably get out of here pretty quickly. Of course, bringing people back from the dead isn't a perfect science, so you're missing something important to you. Maybe you've lost your voice, maybe you can't remember where you're from, maybe you can't remember where you are right now. It looks like someone else is nearby, though. Maybe they can help you out?
( Dying? Well, strictly speaking, that isn't something that he would allow himself to do, but it seems like now, thanks to his own actions, it's something that he will have to do. And how stupid, stupid, stupid he had been. The decision to go farther than what he knew was safe had been made in a moment when he was too lucid. Looking back, now with with hindsight sharpened by the intensity of the cold, clear air, it's obvious to him that his emotions had been too strong and his imagination too vivid. As he recalls, when he made the decision he saw the backs of his loved ones and felt the promises he had made them blow through his body as warm as a gentle spring breeze. { something he'd never feel again, and he couldn't be sure whose fault that was: his or their abductor's? }
By dying he will fail his loved ones. There isn't much he can do about it other than cry, blame himself, and reflect on how, by trying to fulfil their promises, he had over extended himself and thus made it impossible to even keep them. He won't be carrying their hopes into the future, not any further than a few hours at best. He curls his fingers huddled in his pockets, wiggles his toes to check. Yes, a few hours.
But what is absolutely the worst, is that he will be directly responsible for the death of a dear friend, the little rodent he'd named Tsukiyo. Why had the rodent shown up with him in this snowbound hell? The only reason he could think was because he was left with him while Tsukiyo's true owner was gone to puruse his own fate. As such it was Shion's responsibility to look after the little guy, and in that he has failed by completely neglecting to keep the tiny being's well-being in mind.
So, at the very least, Shion feels that he owes it to Tsukiyo to take out his tablet and try to get some help for him. Taking his hands out of their heated sanctuary in his pockets will only speed along the hypothermia, he knows that, but any time he has left is not time he feels particularly entitled to. )
H-hello? ( He pauses for a moment. Breathes once, wills the muscles in his face to remember the way they would respond were they given the proper rush of vital blood. ) Hello. I was wondering, is there anyone near...Anyone who needs a companion. A companion who's definitely smarter than me and won't get caught out risking another's life. He's a smart little guy, and he'd be able to get into any building that's locked. And he's small, so he won't need much food.
( Another pause. What he's thinking is, what does he need to do to save his friend. ) Please! ( He bows—or makes a gesture like it, the best he can given the situation. ) Please, if you can, please help him.
o3. action
( He couldn't be anything other than glad, how could he be, when he's finally come across signs of another human being? He's learnt so well that humans can be cruel, yes, but those hellish images seared into his mind have become opaque beneath weeks of snowfall. When he crosses the threshold of a house that could be a proper home for a night or some nights he's tempted to just drop his pack and collapse and bask in the radiating heat of a fire, but he doesn't.
What he does is first move to find whoever found this house first. They may need his assistance. They may need some supplies. They may need to say something to another human being just as much as he does.
So, going without a moment to game it out, going without a moment to utilise the wonderful rational intellect he has always had, he calls out: )
Hello? Is there anyone here? I saw the light from outside.
[ There’s a hoarse, snuffling grunt, a strain, and a splintering crunch in the adjacent kitchen. Dust stirs through the open doorway, drifting soft out of the gloom. It’s followed by a crack like bone breaking, sharp and dry, and then a muffled clatter.
The sounds are a problem.
But even the for the faint of heart, the kindling from the fireplace might be worth the risk: it’s already been arranged into a tidy pile at the center of the room, where it stands idle, innocent. The smallest pieces on top are especially tempting. It’s getting dark out. The nights here are cold.
After a moment, the ruckus in the kitchen falls conspicuously silent.
After one more, Jorah Mormont fills the doorway with half a chair dismantled in his arms, war-torn and in medieval-looking leathers. He’s tall and broad, thick in the neck. Old blood has dried into the scruff of his beard. The look on his face is inscrutable.
[ Mamizou doesn't exactly hate the cold, but...that doesn't quite mean she's down with it, either. Getting locked out was an absolutely miserable experience that she did not at all wish to relive -- so what better way to stay warm than to laze around in a building for days?
Well -- that didn't actually turn out all that well for her. Boredom is a terrible, horrible burden for a free spirit such as herself, and, well -- she doesn't remember the past few hours, actually. All she knows is that she's woken up face down in the snow, missing her shirt and glasses...at least she had fun, maybe? At any rate, she picks up her tablet, makes her way to the closest shelter, and sets about to finding her lost things in what is clearly the most efficient way possible: asking everyone else where any of it is. ]
Excuse me, dears. I seem to have made a mistake. If anyone could help me to locate my glasses, I would be very thankful.
...Oh, and my shirt, also. The details are all very fuzzy, so if anyone could fill me in I would also be very thankful for that, too. Also, if you have ended up the victim of any practical jokes in the past few hours, I would just like to say that unless it was absolutely hilarious I had nothing to do with it. Thank you!
prompt 3 ❧
[ Oh, what a nice, wonderful house! She'd prefer something just as comfortable outdoors, really -- but given the situation, that didn't seem like something she'd likely to come across anything of the sort any time soon. But whatever, whatever, take what you can get, right?
So without any regard to who or what may be nearby, she sets to lighting the fire and herself a cigarette, and then crashes on the couch. Surely nothing will disturb her, at all. ]
[ Strange creatures lurking around in the corner of her eye weren't anything new to her -- nor were the ones right in front of her. Her whole time in Norfinbury, in fact, wasn't too much out of the ordinary. Really, for her, the most concerning thing was that there were other people around. And that they didn't turn into horrible monsters when you tried to talk to them! She could even go out and meet them...if, you know, that idea didn't sound terrifying and awful when she could just stay right here safe and sound like she has been ever since arriving.
Oh -- right. There were other people here. And she could talk to them, right? Of course, she had no way of knowing whether or not they were really real or not, but at least they could tell her whether or not the things she was seeing right now were 'normal' for...whatever place this was. ]
Hello? Is anyone there...? Um, I wanted to know...does anyone see these weird -- I guess they're jellyfish -- does anyone else see those everywhere? I'm just trying to make sure if I'm awake or not.
[There's an underlying tension in the voice belying the almost casual words.]
So, I ain't usually much for this thing. I like face-to-face, not that we get a lot of that. Then again, sometimes it's too much.
[It sounds like he has turned his head or is speaking to someone else with a sudden shift in volume.]
I ain't talking to you because you ain't here. [Pause.] I know that because I just know. What've I told you about rilin' me up? Goddamn it. We're not having this conversation.
[The voice gets louder again, more direct into the mic.]
I don't think it's too much to wanna talk to someone who's really here. Somebody throw me a bone? Not sure how much more of him I can take today.
Prompt Three: Action or Prose is fine. I'll match.
He always follows the same routine because it works. Kick in a door (or shimmy through a window), give a quick search, lay out the bedroll, and do whatever it takes to get and stay warm. Of course, warm is usually relative and just means "not freezing to death." He only thought northern California nights could be harsh. Never thought he'd see the day he felt nostalgia for the road.
This place is better than most. Somehow, it hasn't been ransacked for every last lick of furniture, not that he plans to sit. No, it makes good fuel, but first things first. He starts through the house room to room with nothing but a sturdy table leg in hand for defense. He's not big on violence, would rather talk or reason his way out of a scrape, truth told. Trouble is there are plenty who don't see it that way, and he's run into them a time or three, enough to keep him alert.
He has hit all but the last couple of doors. He pushes the second to last open slowly, only to draw up with a start. Of course it was too good to be true. Only time he's ever alone in this place is when it's inconvenient. He immediately steps back into the hallway with his hands raised. Maybe he doesn't look totally harmless with that table leg in hand. He's not brandishing it. Not yet at least. "This place is plenty big enough for two. Don't you think?"
Wild Card: BYOP (Bring your own prompt if you like.)
Rubbing at her arms as she trudged through the snow, Lyra glanced over at Pan, the daemon having taken on the form of a lynx in order to keep up with her--and to keep warm.
"I know that, Pan. I ain't stupid!" she shot back, angry because she was cold and hungry and had no idea where they were going. They had jumped through the window and arrived in this place, colder than the arctic they had left behind and completely unfamiliar to the both of them. Lyra had immediately been distrustful of the odd device she'd found herself with, tucking it away with her alethiometer for the time being until she could figure out what it was.
The daemon hunkered down slightly before he pushed forward through the snow, getting out in front of her to lead the way and use his keener eyesight to their advantage.
"I see something up ahead! Lyra, I think it's a cabin!" Pan called out after several long minutes of trudging along and the little girl let out a relieved sound.
"I'll follow you, Pan darling," she said through chattering teeth and the pair made their way to the cabin, the daemon coming back to nudge Lyra along when she started to lag behind, getting her safety to the cabin and inside. Warmth rushed over them both and Pan shifted into a fluffy orange cat, eyes narrowed as he purred contently.
"Much better," he murmured, rubbing against Lyra's ankles. The girl immediately scooped him up and hugged him close, pressing a kiss to his nose.
[This was, perhaps, a mistake. She'd meant to keep moving, meant to find somewhere else to spend the night for one, two, three... how many days now? It's hard to tell. Really, it's hard to...
She can't quite really... tell what part of this is real and what part is not anymore, much less try to remember how long she's been in one location.
Josephine doesn't quite remember how her tablet got into her hands, but it rather seems like an opportunity she should take, to attempt to ignore the way the walls move. Something crawling along the rafters. The way she feels as if she is about to burst out of her own skin--
--Though she is certain she could manage to look composed enough, perhaps, she sticks to a voice transmission.]
I am not quite certain how long it's... I've... I am sorry, I... Is anyone else there?
[Well, she would certainly prefer not to stumble over her words so much.]
[If you happen to be someone stuck outside, you might see an odd-looking shape in the snow. It could be. . . a rock? Maybe a bush, or . . . ]
Hej!
[An odd greeting in a cheerful voice comes across the network.
No, scratch that. This oddly snow-covered dark shape in the snow is what looks like a tallish man in a long coat, but right now he's sitting in the snow, arms curled around his knees and one hand up in a greeting - but only if anybody chances by.
. . . and he must be an idiot, because he doesn't seem bothered by the snow at all. Not one bit. He isn't pressed up against a building or anything.
It was simple, really. Denmark has had much, much worse than this in his long life. He is starting to feel a bit nippy though, hitting his hands against his sides some. He'll switch to text, since he wasn't sure if he could be heard over the wind.]
Hej hej! You should probably save your energy if you're out in the cold!
[It's friendly, but there's definitely an undertone of bossy in it too. He knows best. He's the older brother, after all.]
[ He shouldn't have pushed himself to go that little bit further. That wasn't the wise thing to have done. Adversty wasn't something he was a stranger to, and time had normally been on his side. The irony of the situation is almost funny, but Link doesn't smile.
Instead, he leans up against the house that he hadn't been able to reach, and remembers a time when he had come to a stop in front of a rising drawbridge.
He'd been younger then.
His hands - already numb from cold - fumble with the tablet as he types in a message. ]
The last time this happened, I had to fight Stalchildren until the sun rose.
ᴏᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ
Cold was a terrible enemy. Link shoulders his way into the house as soon as he finds the door unlocked. Snow is caked on his boots and his coat's collar is almost iced from his breath. The wood he'd tied to his bag clatters as he drops it to the ground.
Grabbing a few sticks, he shuffles to the fireplace and sets about setting up a fire. It's only after he's done that that he hears a creak of wood. His ears prick ath the noise and he slowly gets to his feet.
Even after all this time, his left hand strays to his left shoulder, grasping for a sword hilt that wasn't there. He balls his hand into a fist and drops it to his side instead.
Whoever it was was coming into the room now. He'd be ready for them, fight or otherwise.
[ As a ninja, Sheena had been trained to be cautious, but that doesn't mean she always followed that training. Okay, she rarely followed it; usually running head first into situations without thinking. Or, if she had thought about it, she'd still run into it.
Since coming to Norfinbury, however, she's had to fall back on her training. Now, she has to be concerned about how long she spends outside and know when to look for shelter. Dying hadn't been a good experience, and neither had waking up from it.
Two things she wants to avoid again, thank you very much.
So, she's once more back in the house she's stayed in for the past few days, staring at the walls and the floor as they repeatedly switch places with each other. Windows where you are walking are a very disturbing image--especially with an inky black background that looks like it can swallow you up if you accidentally step on one. And a fireplace above? Yeah, no.
After watching the switching for some time, Sheena has huddled herself where it seems pretty safe as the windows and fireplace avoid one of the darker corners of the room. Taking out her tablet, she sends out a voice transmission, not wanting anyone to see her panic and fear. ]
Ummm, this is Sheena Fujibayashi. I was wondering... Is anyone else having trouble with the place they're staying in?
[ So subtle, Sheena. ]
Action: 4
Groaning, Sheena stretched and yawned. She didn't want to wake up. She had been having some nice dreams and didn't want them to end. But she knew she had to get up; had to be responsible. Finally opening her eyes, she realized she didn't recognize the room she was in, and what was that voice? And where was it coming from? Looking about her, she finally found the tablet and pulled it out.
Is this what magitechnology looked like? Peering at it, it once again told her she had to leave the place, but if she didn't know where she was, how could she go? She sat there, swinging her legs as she tried to piece the puzzle together. She was on what looked like a table, so maybe she was sick and had been taken to a doctor? Finally, spotting someone who might be able to help, Sheena hopped off the table, and padded over to them, tugging on the back of their shirt.
When they turned, they would see nineteen-year-old adult Sheena, fully grown and filled out, but who they would meet would be five-year-old Sheena, who had totally forgotten she had grown up--and everything that had happened in those fourteen years.
[ He's not a stranger to this type of environment. In the midst of all of this, he can be grateful for that much. He'd arrived decently well-prepared, then, and is still clad in the layers of wool and fur that always protected him in the mountains, whether the winter presented was natural or not. The jury's still out on this place and this winter, but that's beside the point.
Still... It could be going better. It could be going a lot better. He'd arrived separate from Sven, so his movement here is far slower than he would like. The terrain here isn't familiar in the same way that his mountains are, either, and his limited knowledge is another inhibition in the face of a very disquieting puzzle.
He's a survivor, though. He's made it this far. He'll just keep going, right? What else is there to do?
The house is in good shape. The glass in the windows is still intact, even, and forcing the door open reveals an interior that's dust covered and sparse, but dry and free from gusts. There's a hearth with dry wood in place. It's almost suspiciously serendipitous, really. He's about to dig around in his pack for his flint and steel when the sound of movement behind him signaled that he's not alone.
He's not exactly equipped to fight, but it doesn't stop him from trying to get some semblance of the upper hand through intimidation. By most people's standards, Kristoff is a large man in both height and breadth. Knowing that, he stands and puts on his straightest, most grim posture before turning to face whoever it is that's decided to share this apparently good fortune.
He's not even sure if the tough-guy act is necessary, here, but better safe than sorry. His face is largely covered with a red scarf, and his voice is a little muffled when he speaks. ]
They'd all been told that. No one knew why. Questioning it wasn't worthwhile, was it? No one would be there to answer. Everyone was in the same situation - captured. No natives.
James ran his hands through his hair. It was growing out. He'd been here for so long now. When was the last time he'd breathed without seeing his breath mist in the air?
"James," came her voice, soft and just beside him. He didn't look at her. Her breath didn't mist; she wasn't real.
Outside, the scarping of a giant knife over stone could be heard.
"I'm here, James."
Fumbling for his tablet, he swiped the screen. JSunderland01 - useranames weren't his forte - flashed up, and then access to the network was granted.
He didn't know what to say, but he had to say something. Her breath was warm against his cheek, and the scraping of the knife was louder in his ears. Something, anything, to take his mind of off it...
His mind trailed to his first thoughts, and he found something to say. ]
How do we know we have to keep moving?
["James... I'm real." Soft. Warm. ]
Not everyone can experience the same thing, right?
[ OPTION 4 ]
[ He has to leave immediately. That's what the message on his tablet says.
The only problem is that he can't remember... well, anything. Where was 'here'? It looked like a chapel of some kind; small, cold, and abandoned. Eerie. That was all he could tell.
... Not entirely abandoned, actually. There was someone there. Pushing himself off of the pew, James approached. ]
Sorry, but... I don't know where I am. [ He faltered for a moment, unsure of how to continue. After a beat, he rallied, but his voice was stilted, mirroring his own embarrassment. ] Do you?
[Three moves slowly, but she was lucky enough to have claimed a house as her own. She thought it might serve as her base, though its function would not simply be a place of rest. It would function also as a place for her dolls; a safe place to create in peace.
Resting quietly in her shelter, devoid of all other life, she sets her tablet in her lap and turns it on. The screen lights up her face as she accesses what appear to be messages left by others. Humans, she assumes, though there might be elves.
Elves. What magnificent soldiers they might make.
She looks over the most recent messages left in the last hour by desperate people looking to escape the cold. She smiles at her screen, then proceeds to leave a message for everyone to see. Her scissors may be missing, but there are other ways of going about doll-making.
She chooses not to make a username. "Three" is good enough.]
[ once her communicator's on, there's the sound of a fire cracking, and a warning tone in her voice to who she thinks is in the house: ]
Listen well, darling. It's rude to enter someone's home without knocking or giving out your name, so it's completely appropriate to punish such a rude person. Say hello.
[ a short sigh, and now back to her rather casual tone, ] I don't suppose any of you happen to have something sweet in hand, do you?
( .o3 )
[ angels. demons. she's fought with many different monsters before, and intruders that decide to be rude will be dealt with the same way. that's why, when bayonetta hears a strangers footsteps grow louder and louder, she stays on the wooden chair with one leg crossed over the other. elbow on the knee, chin on an open palm — ]
I don't suppose you have a name to share, do you? Because I'm not quite fond of people who decide to come in without knocking.
[ the tone of her voice is casual, and she dons the leather catsuit she favors in a fight. if it were warmer in the world, she would have kept her dress on instead. ]
You do have a name, don't you?
[ if the answer is no, prepare for a nickname, stranger. ]
[He was so sure he could be back on time. So sure. He'd calculated the time he had left, it should have been more than enough-- but after banging on the door of the house he'd been staying at, then banging on all the doors of all the houses he could find... Stiles was forced to admit there might have been something that went wrong with those calculations. It was always Lydia who was good at math. Maybe he would have needed her notes for this, too.
And hell, he hates the cold. After just a few hours outside, huddled against the wall of the last house he tried to get in to, it's already seeping in. It almost feels like the bathtub full of ice, except back then he was dying to save his dad, and the dying wasn't, you know, permanent. (Is it, here? Maybe not, but he'd rather not have taken the chance.)
Typing on the tablet is out of the question, but at least he can still talk.]
So... this would be a good time for someone to tell me this whole "don't stay outside the night" thing is a total lie. Someone? ... Anyone?
prompt four; action
[He wakes up with shuddering gasp that soon turns into a fit of coughing. There's a voice ringing in his ears-- the tablet, telling him to leave... and it doesn't have to tell him twice. Staying in the morgue? Yeah, no thanks, even he isn't that morbid.
Which is probably a bit ironic, given that he just came back to life. But Stiles isn't complaining, definitely not complaining, even though dying of hypothermia certainly leaves something to be desired, not an ideal way to go, 10/10 would not recommend-- instead, he stumbles outside, taking out his tablet to see what is going on... but all the words on it seem jumbled, some of the letters moving up, some down, until he can't make any sense of what he's seeing.]
No- [oh no, no, not this again, not again--] I... why can't I read this? Hey! [He stumbles as he tries to run to the person nearby.] Hey, can you read this?
[Network 1] [The video feed turns on several seconds before the young woman in front of it starts to speak. If one looks close enough, her lips are faintly quivering.]
Hey, I...
[She looks away, blinking back a wave of fear. The doors had sealed shut before she could get back, and Asami's never heard of anyone making it through the night. She's chewing nervously at her lower lip, stripping away the last traces of deep red.]
I'm stuck outside. And the snow's too heavy to keep moving.
[She curls in on herself, huddled against the foundation of one of the sealed building.]
So if anyone could just... talk to me...
[She cuts herself off before her shaking voice breaks.]
[Action 1] [It seems as if for once, luck is on Asami's side. She dares to smile when she opens the door to find a (comparatively) charming home. Dried wood was stacked by the fire. She pulled open the kitchen cabinets to find a reasonable storage of canned goods. Those would be perfect on the road.
It's almost too perfect for someone else to not have found it as well. Asami glances over her shoulder and hesitates for a moment before calling out,]
[Simmons is sitting in front of a warm fire, covered in a blanket, with a small notebook, and pencil in her lap. She's propped up her tablet in such a ways that she has to look a little up to talk into it, but the placement is the practical she could find, without having to hold it.
At a cursory glance, she should be feeling lucky but should be an is are different territories. Instead, she looks anxious. Before she begins talking she looks behind her, as though expecting to -- or actually seeing someone -- there.]
Yes. Hello. I need to confirm something rather important, if anyone could spare a minute?
[She looks behind her again.]
Let me correct myself, two very important things.
Prompt 3:
Keeping track of things, noting supplies, organizing this and that, come naturally to Simmons, and going through the contents of the little house is no different. She makes three quick ticks on the page labeled Survival Needs. One tick on a line means something for basic shelter and warmth. Two ticks on a line mean abilities and / or access to food and clean water. Three ticks on a line means extra supplies like fire-starting or a good stockpile of fuel. Four ticks on a line means there's extra ability for the place to provide comfort. She's not moved beyond the main part of the house, but has already managed to check off both shelter, and extra supplies.
Taking a few minutes, she lights a small fire to find out the state of the flue and chimney. When smoke doesn't fill the room, she moves onto a small kitchenette, hoping to find everything works there as well.
If Jemma's enthusiasm hadn't gotten the better of her, she would've thought to barricade the door, to prevent any intruders.
[For someone well on their way to freezing, Shaun manages to look little more than bored. He's holed up at the base of a building he'd gotten to just a bit too late, not that it's easy to make out in the low light. His kingdom for a nightvision lens.]
You know, with all the shit that's happened in the last year, death by snowdrift and my own stupidity did not break my top ten ways to kick it. Okay, to be fair, my own stupidity has actually factored in to every way I've ever thought I would die. Just... Fuck, at least those would have been fun.
[Shaun takes a moment to run a hand absently through his short hair, forcing a sigh just hard enough that it could almost, almost be heard over the wind in the background. If he was a year younger and not, well, trapped out in a goddamn snowstorm, he might be irritated at the lack of quality recording equipment in this place.]
Christ, I can't actually tell if this is better or worse than, say, evisceration. At least that'd be kind of exciting.
Action Prompt 3
Sweeping a building for the living dead was easy, for the most part, as long as you knew how to stay alert. It wasn't that much different when it came to the just plain living, either. In some ways, they made it even easier. People were predictable in where they chose to hide, even if a lot of the time that didn't work out in their favor. Closets, bathrooms, under furniture... Natural traps all. Still, he was more concerned with making sure no one shanked him out of nowhere.
So far, this place looked clear. There were a few more rooms in the back to check, but there was the promise of fire in the near future that seemed like a reasonable detour. If anyone was there, he had a 50/50 shot that they'd want to start trouble but a 100% shot that they'd also appreciate not freezing their asses off. He could work with those odds. If that meant dropping his guard while he started clearing debris out of the fireplace, well...
and here I was thinking I would never find a place with worse weather than Maine.
( not that he was there long... just long enough to know it was rather miserable. he can only imagine how cold it could get with actual winter, and well, he doesn't suspect it's half as bad as this. it's easier to complain about the chill than it is to complain about being trapped. again. )
usually I'm not one to take census, but it could be useful here how many of us are there? does anyone have any idea how we got here, or more importantly, how to get out? because I need a way out, and quickly.
( things were dire back in Storybrooke, and he may not be in the possession of the magic bean anymore, but he knew more about the island than most. he wanted to help save Henry. it was too late to make amends with Baelfire, but it seemed a fitting tribute to try and save his son. he's more than motivated to find a way out, so he's reaching out. it'll be easier if he's not fighting on his own. )
how far has anyone traveled? the weather is wretched, but I might be able to get a map together, know what houses are best for staying in. not all of them are built the same.
( and one last, rather bleak reminder: )
make sure you're inside when those bloody doors lock.
ＡＣＴＩＯＮ / ＮＥＴＷＯＲＫ;
( he's not sure how it happened. he's usually smarter than this. survival is supposed to be the only thing he's good at, and yet here he is. in a coat that is not thick enough for this weather, watching the snow fall, and knowing there's no way he'll live to see the morning.
he's spent so long getting so close to death and avoiding it all the same. usually it all happens so quickly he can't think and can't worry about it catching up to him. it's only after the fact that he realizes how close it was. not this time, no, as his body gets progressively colder he gets to think on everything he regrets. everything he's done, and all the things he wishes he hadn't. three hundred years leaves plenty of time for regrets.
he's built a lacklustre wall of snow to try and protect him from the wind, but nothing will protect him from the temperature. he's cold enough now that he's not shivering, anymore... which is more alarming than comforting. he's tried too many doors, walked far enough he's not sure he can get any farther. his fingers are stiff with cold and a little blue as he plucks at the keys to the tablet. )
what happens when you don't make it inside in time?
Fuck... [ The curse isn't so much said as it is breathed as Touka slumps against the door of the house she had been staying in for the last few days, her weight doing nothing to shift the entrance on its hinges. How stupid could she have been, thinking she would make it back in time? Try as she might-- and she still tried in spite of knowing damn well that it didn't mean anything-- she couldn't move as quickly as she had when her kagune was in working condition. So why had she thought it would be a good idea, venturing out so late in the day?
In any case, she was paying for it now. A pool of dread was beginning to form in her gut, roiling and bubbling as she hugged herself, trying to stay as comfortable as possible. She pulled out her tablet, staring at it in silence before switching it on.
On the upside, there was no one for her to fail by dying. Not here, anyway. The menial food stores that she and her partners had managed to accumulate were safe, and she hadn't had anything of particular value on her when she'd been caught outdoors. It's with this thought in mind that she turns on the video feed, lines of exhaustion creasing her face as she sags further against the door. ]
Hey. To anybody that knows me: I'm pretty much dead. [ It's an awkward opening to an even more awkward video, but bear with her. ] I don't know how this works, but anyone who finds me can have the shitty rations in my bag. [ A pause before she speaks again. ]
No, fuck that. They're mine. [ With that, she opens the bag and pulls out the flavorless rations, tearing open the package with a deafening riiiip. It wasn't as sustaining as actual meat, but it was something. She takes a bite, her face expressionless as she swallows. Even without all those years of training herself to fake enjoyment of human food, the rations themselves are too bland to be offensive. ]
Anything else in there goes to whoever finds me, I guess. Just... leave my phone alone. [ In all honesty, she wasn't sure how death in Norfinbury worked. Not entirely. Still, she found herself ruefully staring at the small rabbit charm attached to her long-dead phone, her free hand gripping it tightly.
If she were to be honest, she was scared shitless. But there was no point in any of that now. Curling her knees to her chest, she buries her face in them, letting the tablet drop somewhere by her feet with a dull thud. ]
Fuck this shitty place.
three
[ Was there a single inch of this place that wasn't cold as fuck?
Dressed in layers of rags and salvaged clothes that Touka had found about Norfinbury, Touka wandered the streets almost aimlessly, looking for a new place to settle down. Her old digs weren't cutting it for her anymore, as it had been raided while she was out. She wasn't too worried about being inside by nightfall; she had, at the very least, three to four hours before she needed to settle in.
Thankfully, she didn't need to search long, as she stepped across the threshold of a house she'd never seen before. It looked decent enough, but what really caught her eye was the fact that there was a sizeable pile of wood near the fireplace. Someone had obviously been stockpiling, though there was a thin layer of dust covering the wood. Whoever had lived there previously hadn't been around in a while.
For the first time in what felt like ages, Touka found herself smiling.
... At least until there was a shuffling noise behind her, prompting her to lunge at one of the logs, gripping it tightly in her hands as she spun on her heel to face the intruder. ]
two - network [Namine has quickly learned that she's not a fan of the cold. Snow, maybe, had Kairi and the others actually lived somewhere that had it and experienced it. But combining the two of them together, it leaves her wanting to stay inside the tiny room she woke up in.
But that was days ago. Days without seeing the sun or much light and only surviving on the rationed food in her backpack. She's used to being alone, stuck in places she wasn't allowed to leave for whatever reason. But this is too long, and after waking up from a restless sleep today, it feels like staying in this place is starting to affect her.
The walls of the room feel closer to her than before, and now there's tall dark shadows that she notices just slightly out of sight, brandishing what look like weapons and gesturing to her.
She needs something to take her mind off them, and turns to the tablet in her pack. Someone please give her a distraction.]
Is anyone ther
Does anyone have
I need something to draw. Please. Someone give me an idea. Something to draw.
three - action [One look at this girl could tell you that she's not used to this kind of climate or weather or even exploring. Small and frail looking, but she understood the basics of survival, and couldn't stay in the place she had woken up in. There had to be better shelter out there.
Namine had begun to think it was a mistake to leave the small shelter she found herself in, having just about never explored a world on her own. So that house on the hill looks like a blessing to her, and she makes a beeline in the snow for it. Opening up the door and stepping inside, it feels cold and vacant and dark but still better than outside. And a fireplace makes this place even more promising. A source of warmth and light in this place.
There's just one little problem...
She doesn't know how to light a fire. As she kneels by the fireplace and collects some pieces of the wood that's around, she runs through what she does know in her head: wood, a match and something to catch the fire easily. But she had no matches and no tinder. No way to actually make a fire other than just stacking the wood up.
[apollo seems to be relieved the second the video function starts recording him, but it doesn't last long since the illness and hypothermia is clear on his face. don't forget the regret, slight panic, and desperation when he finally speaks up.]
Okay, so I messed up. [understatement.]
Is there... I didn't search the whole area but maybe someone else got to it before me. Did anyone find a tent? A shack? Anything?
[he's cut off by a sudden gust of wind that he tried to block with his arm but it doesn't exactly do much. this was a terrible idea.]
Oh my God. Just somebody respond with anything. Seriously!
PROMPT THREE
[apollo stumbles into the house at first, somehow tripping over the snow, hitting his forehead on the door of the new house before he straightens up with a large sigh. at least no one was around to see that.
this is interesting, though— no one seems to be around when this is one of the larger buildings in the area. either way, he can see a fireplace constructed and that's enough for him to want to search, write whatever he found down, grab some supplies, then get out of here.
he opens the door cautiously, head peeking in first, then takes one careful step after another. it's clear he's going for the fireplace as he takes off his backpack, before his eyes settle on you and it's enough for him to jump back by just a bit.]
[The feed comes on - a rather hushed audio feed, but there's a soft... laugh. Whoever's behind it, they sound pretty deadened to the whole experience.]
If anyone's ever had the hallucinations this place gives you - let me tell you from experience. They're pretty tame. I don't think they could kill me if they tried!
[Another laugh.]
Ah - no one gets that joke, but I hallucinated that my - fiancee, she kept trying to murder me. That she blamed me. I knew it wasn't real - I'm not stupid, but she was very convincing when she nearly made me jab a needle in my eye.
It's a lot funnier than it sounds, I promise.
Sometimes it's easy to tune out the noise - to turn it all into backdrop, ignore it. The less you pay attention to what's around you, the less power they have over you. It's only when you stop and realize just how much may or may not be real that it gets really worrisome.
But when your dead fiancee has you in a chokehold, you might wanna start thinking about whether it matters if what you hallucinate is real or not.
---
03;
[Find shelter, find supplies, don't fucking die. That's what Isaac Clarke had learned very quickly - and it wasn't much different from his usual modus operandi. Keep moving, and don't let anything slow you down.
So it takes a lot to catch him off-guard. Though it's easier these days since the only part of his RIG he has left is the helmet and the spine-fused readout that tells him how badly off he is - he's certain the readings were in the yellow, now.
But a fully intact shelter with a fireplace is a welcome respite, and Isaac is frantically digging through supplies to see if he has any tinder with which to get the shelter a-going - he doesn't have much in the way of supplies, but passing up a place like this is an especially hard thing to do, given the circumstances.
It's only when he swears he hears someone in the doorway he stepped through not too long ago that he realizes his guard was a bit too lax.]
[A mistake was made and there was no rectifying it by this point in time. Max could not make it back to the warmth of a shelter. The cold had already sapped all of his energy away and he lay unceremoniously in the snow, waiting, eyes closed and death close at hand.
A faint spark of something deep within the road warrior caused him to twitch, peel open his eyes, and reach for his communicator. He clicked it onto the audio option to send out a quick message.]
Don't. Don't come out this way. [A set of numbers are said. Coordinates.] False hope. There's nothing out here.
[And, implied, soon he would be swallowed by the snow, too, and would be nothing more.]
II. Action prompt four
[He woke with a start. Blinding lights flashed before his eyes; a face appeared much to close to his own and he recoiled automatically. He fell from the table upon which he had woken and clattered against the floor as he scrambled to his feet. Wildly, he looked around.
Nothing.
The girl was gone. No, she had never been there in the first place. Only in his mind. Only his memories...
Max looked around again, this time to gain his bearings. Vaguely, an old memory begrudgingly came up with a name for this sort of place: a morgue. It had a disturbingly familiarity to it. He ignored that and set to gathering what he could from the building.
He left the unsettling morgue and stumbled out into the snow-filled city. He squinted at the sun-glare coming off the white snow and tried to figure out if anything looked familiar. It did not.
And there was someone coming up the street towards him. His hand clenched into a fist unconsciously, instinctively really, as he readied for a confrontation. He remained otherwise notably calm, stoic actually. He opened his mouth to grunt out a warning--and found that no sound would come out.
Well. He never liked to talk much anyway.
He held his hand out towards the approaching person in a stopping gesture and then sharply swung his arm down in a chopping motion. It was sharp, attention grabbing, and a warning that he brokered no funny business while he tried to find a way to ask his questions without speaking.]
[You would think, given how paranoid that Dio already normally is, that he came on here to rant at everybody about how they've all conspired to bring him here and magically strip him of his powers. But no, that's not why he's on the network. Everyone here is obviously still against him, of course, but he doesn't want to let them know he's onto them. He doesn't want to play his hand just yet.
And under normal circumstances, he'd at least try to ignore any kinds of hallucinations, at least the ones that are obviously not real. But, having to adjust to having human needs again is hard. The only reason he started eating again instead of ignoring his hunger like he did during childhood is because...he has Jonathan's body, not his, and Jonathan never got used to going without food, and his hunger was painful and couldn't be ignored easily. One thing that Dio has been consistently ignoring, though, is sleep, and aside from dozing off randomly for a few minutes, he's been stubbornly awake for a week now and it's been impairing his judgement greatly.
Which is why he's here, grinning into the video screen with such delight. For anyone who's already met him, this is already off-putting, maybe even creepy; Dio's always come off as cool and casual, if a bit authoritative or at least much older than he looks like as a young man in his early 20s. Seeing Dio grinning like a delighted school boy is just...weird.
He licks his lips and leans in really close so he can whisper into where he's assuming the tiny microphone is.]
Guess what.
[What is it, Dio? He leans back so his face can be seen normally again and chuckles.]
Hm hm hm! How unfortunate for all of you, stuck by yourselves. It's such a tragedy. But once again, luck smiles upon me, Dio! I-
[He turns away from a bit and it's hard to hear what he's saying, but it looks like he's talking to someone else in the room. Back to the screen.]
Sorry. I have a guest! It's amazing we were able to find each other, in such dire circumstances, but! That is the nature of 「Gravity」, after all. Some people are just drawn to one another. [He turns his head again and "JoJo, don't be shy!" can distinctly be heard. Either he's genuinely hallucinating or he's making the whole thing up just to rub people's faces in his victory and make himself feel better. Who can say, really? And who wants to break the news that "JoJo" probably isn't there?]
[FOUR]
Dio wakes up and the first thing that comes to mind when he realizes where he is is, Christ, not again. He's so used to his immortality that the deaths keep stacking up and it's becoming shameful. At least he comes back, but if someone keeps reviving him for their own sick amusement, he'd rather stay dead. And yes, the irony of him thinking that hasn't escaped him, thanks.
Oh well. Time to get up! It feels like everything's in working order, so Dio up, collects his bearings and then tries to stand.
For anyone nearby, if Dio hasn't seen you yet, that's fine! You'll hear him just fine because he crashes to the ground, knocking a cart full of medical tools down on accident while yelling, "FUCKING HELL!" What on earth could have happened?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
snowblindmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snowblindmemes2015-05-12 07:10 am
Page 4 of 4