Carcosa, pt. 2

[polymods]

✖ Carcosa

Ⅰ. CARCOSA
You Are Still Here.

Another month, and you’re still in the city of Carcosa! Isn’t that just wonderful?

You still have access to the city’s temple and the High Temple.

The side effects you may have suffered from throughout the month of May are now at an end - if you had a pesky mask glued to your face the whole time it will now fall off. You might need a little moisturizer, but otherwise you’ll be just fine.

You could sit around inside the relative safety of the temples, of course, but why not get out there and explore the city some more? Come on, grumpypants!

---

Ⅱ. SPEAK EASY
CW: Optional alcohol consumption.
What kind of pet shop is filled with rambunctious yahoos and hot jazz music at 1 AM? That's right - the best damn pet shop in town! Sidle up to the back door of Curly's Pet Shop and a panel will open enough to reveal a pair of eyes. "What's the password?" you'll be asked. Whatever word first comes to your mind, well, that apparently is correct because you're let in at once.

The front of the building definitely does indeed house fish and birds and kittens, but the back room is definitely not a good place to find a new animal companion; you find yourself in a crowded little room with low lighting and a small bar crammed into one corner. There's seats and some tables, and most importantly there's a band playing jazz music across from the bar.

Why not take a seat and have a drink? It's probably not paint thinner. Probably. Maybe you'll spot some of your fellow Travelers and you can sit and have a chat. Make a new friend who can hold your hair back if you party too hard.

And you better hope that the place doesn’t get raided!

Notes:
1. The drinks are all era-appropriate - you’re not getting Redbull with vodka here - and even if your character has non-human physiology they will work the same as they would on a baseline human. That’s right, your magic or your healing-factor or your vampire blood is no match for these Gin Rickeys!

2. If Curly’s does get raided while you’re there, you can run and hide or choose to engage with the police, who are armed and not too shy about opening fire if you go on the offensive. As with the rest of the regular residents of Carcosa, the officers are human and can be killed. Killing them may affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation. (Is it beneficial to personal growth to kill in order to save someone else, for example? You tell me!)

3. Did you want a pet from the front of the building? Well, just remember that baby turtles and alligators might SEEM like a good idea, but they grow up! Also any animal you take will not travel with you to the next island. So sorry.

---

Ⅲ. EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF
CW: Optional paranoia, hallucinations.
If you wander the streets at night, you may find yourself getting turned around. You'll find that the streets have lost their many lights, and the beautiful and delicate art deco architecture has given way to something much more stark and heavy. The buildings are block-like, but they curve in exaggerated ways that hurt the eye if looked at too long. All are in blacks and whites and greys. Nothing looks quite real, but you can walk along just fine. Probably better not to go off alone, though.


Periodically you will encounter that pesky sign of some sort painted on the walls. If you follow the sigils, you will eventually be led to a long staircase that winds down and down until it finally terminates in a large white room lit by a few electric lanterns. There's black paint there, with brushes. Maybe you're feeling creative?

Notes:
1. You’re pretty sick of this stupid sigil, aren’t you? In fact, you consider yourself QUITE the detective and have been searching after its meaning! Or maybe you played Call of Cthulhu a lot in college, you nerd!

Painting the sigil on the wall will cause you to feel disoriented and paranoid until you leave the white room. From that point on you can discover a copy of a play entitled The King In Yellow anywhere in the city you choose. Reading the first act of the play has no effect on you, however if you choose to read beyond the first line of the second act you will spend the rest of the month suffering from periodic hallucinations, often of a tall man in a pallid mask.

2. While there is no compulsion to paint, choosing to work out any of your character’s issues through art therapy can be reflected in your Scrywatch colour if it is significant enough.

---

Ⅳ. AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER, I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A GANGSTER
CW: Optional gun violence, injury.
Art? Theatre? Music? BAH! Boring!

Maybe your tastes are a little more on the dangerous side? Whatever this island may be, it seems to offer plenty of opportunities to get into the seedy underbelly. Maybe you feel the need to steal a car, rob a bank, transport some illegal hooch for a smiling fellow in a yellow fedora. Grab your tommy guns, kids, it's time to outrun the Feds!

Naturally, you could wind up injured having all of this fun, but surely you could get some help from your fellow Travelers, either directly or by having them haul you to some sort of underground doctor. These doctors do exist, although it might take a while to get referred to one by a local.

You might also find yourself under arrest and stuck in an old-timey jail cell for a month. What fun!

Notes:
1. As was stated in the first prompt, the regular residents of Carcosa are normal humans. Killing them is possible and may affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation. Any weapons you find are era-appropriate.

2. You can break out of jail if you’re resourceful enough.

3. The underground doctors aren’t working in a real hospital for a reason. In fact, some of them might be less doctors and more, well. Vets.

You still jamming to that Carcosa playlist?

Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

Comments

loki odinson | mcu | ota

[dothelokimotion]

( i. speakeasy )

[ from one party to the next. but that's fine. parties are fun. enjoyable. more importantly, parties are where people talk. loki flits from corner to corner, eavesdropping from conversation to conversation. his glamour flickers, shifting the way he looks, making sure their attention on him does not hold as he makes a quick break for it.

until he makes eye-contact with you and he gives a little shrug, not sheepish whatsoever. ]

Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you said my name.

[ he takes a sip of his drink, all forged contriteness. ]

( ii. expressionism yourself ) cw: grief, trauma, possible violence

[ loki likes purpose. and unravelling this place and its mysteries is purpose enough. it lends itself to the beating of his heart, to break down all the rules, all the structures. he wants it to burn. or he wants himself to burn. it's the same thing in the end. loki flips through the play he discovered with a huff. at least one thing is abundantly clear. the inspiration for this island, this place is all drawn upon this play. how droll.

he gets as far as the first act, when he spots something from the corner of his eye. a mask? loki discards the play, chasing after the spectre. his senses seem to narrow, heavy and oppressive. like a vice around his neck. fingers around his neck. loki suddenly claws at his collar, pausing to catch his breath.

whose fingers? thanos? the masked man? who remained out of his sight? his hands glow, green-gold, ready to lash out. ]

Who is there?

[ his breath comes out in sharp, staccato bursts. he can hear them. he can hear him — there. loki sends out a blast of magic but it hits a wall, making the stone crumble. he freezes, the sound jarring with the reality around him. and then loki hears him, a voice next to his ear, look what you've done. you are the worst. the worst. you ruined everything.

a sob nearly tears itself from his throat, he did, he ruined it all, but loki keeps it together, wild-eyed and frenetic. ]

Show yourself or I'll tear this place to shreds.

[ it is not an idle threat. ]

( iii. gangsta's paradise )

[ loki didn't know what to make of this . . . criminal activity. robbing banks? murder? car theft? it was all so . . . gauche. still, there is power in the criminal underworld. loki understood that much. after all, he made good use of it the last time he was on earth.

so it's time for him to make some connections. he sidles up to whoever is near, sugar in his voice. ]

Do you want to start a gang? Why not take back some power for ourselves?

( iv. wildcard )

[ got a prompt in mind? hit me up @ timmtams / pm this account ]

( iii. gangsta's paradise )

[bookerlesigh]

[ the man knows how to talk, Booker'll give him that. Self-reassured and promising, but Booker's also been on that end of the dime enough not to take it at face value. ]

A gang that does what?

[dothelokimotion]

[ loki grins, seeing the lure has been snagged. his eyes glitter. ]

Find out information, make sure we're not caught unawares. We all deserve protection, do we not?

[bookerlesigh]

What's to say information is a powerful protection in these parts?

[ sure, he's probably right. but muscle might be more powerful than protection around here, at least when there seemed to be such a lack of information around here. ]

ii

[ungodlily]

[ Sharon has spent a lot of her time her exploring the city, dipping into tight alleyways and weaving between buildings in search of absolutely nothing but distraction. She rounds the corner quickly after hearing the sound of the magic blast, too curious for her own good, but what she finds isn't what she expects.

She thought that it might be gang related given all that she's seen here so far but a single man? With not another person in sight? It's immediately evident that something is wrong with him, coming off frantic and even pained, and the glow that comes off his hands puts her on edge, as does his tone.

She has both hands up slightly in front of her, elbows bent with palms open. Her tone is stiff, uncertain what she's meant to do or say to someone who appears more than a little off-kilter. ] What the fuck?

[dothelokimotion]

[ his gaze whips around to center upon sharon. the eerie glow surrounding his hands has yet to fade, but it flickers, uncertain. ]

Who are you?

[ungodlily]

[ She's smart enough to keep her hands raised, palms still showing. If Loki's observant enough in his current state, he may notice she's not carrying any visible weapons on her person (or any at all, truth be told). ]

I'm Sharon, Sharon da Silva. [ Her tone is a tight calm, not entirely certain the kind of danger this man might pose in his current state. She doesn't make a move to lower her hands but does gesture with one of them in his direction. ] And you?

[ Introductions first then she'll see if she can dig and see what's bothering him. ]

ii

[unkindled_madness]

[Sephiroth approaches, having heard the blast from a neighboring street, followed by Loki's voice. He's calm by contrast, but his eyes flick over to take in the damaged wall. Calm, but wary.]

It's only me, here.

["Only" seems an ironic thing to say, as if he's harmless, but he has no ill intent towards Loki, and he doesn't need to make himself a threat now. In their previous interactions, Sephiroth hasn't seen the man even a little agitated, so he doesn't know how he'll react now, in this state. It's not impossible that there's another presence here, threatening Loki in some way, but Sephiroth remembers the illusions of the theatre. This place likes to play with their heads.]

I've seen no one else this way.

[dothelokimotion]

[ loki's eyes seem to flicker in recognition, but it darts back and forth. he wished he had his knives. magic is all well and good, but not always the most reliable compared to steel. and he feels him. thanos. thor. the oppressive feeling of fear laced with pain. ]

No — No. He's here. He must be. He said — no more resurrections.

[unkindled_madness]

[Resurrections? Sephiroth wonders what need a god would have for resurrection; but Loki's godhood may just be a claim in the end.

He scans their surroundings, though he never lets Loki out of his sight. Still no sign of anyone else.]

Who is here?

iii

[mewnifestos]

[ Well, that's a funny offer. Though what's funnier is the distinct hit of recognition that accompanies it - without a mask, it takes him a moment, but really, how could he forget?

Clear surprise cuts through his amusement, this time, brows raised as he turns away from the intriguing scene at the other end of the street - lights flashing as those so-called police round up their quarry. All the excitement's over, anyway. ]

I'm not sure I'm all that interested in power. Though I suspect you have something more interesting in mind than thieving and pillaging and ransoming homely farmers' daughters?

[dothelokimotion]

[ for a moment, that remark gives him whiplash, reminding him of the norsemen who have long past. ]

Yes . . . Absolutely. I was thinking more about the power that lies in information.

[mewnifestos]

[ Information, Anders feels like he's been chasing his tail for an age already just trying to find some single, useful scrap of it. Maybe trying something absurd isn't such a bad idea. ]

I'm listening.

i. speakeasy

[medeiun]

[ Maleficent is doing her own observing, though it's much harder for her to remain inconspicuous: a tall, horned, winged woman adorned in black leather, hair concealed under a headpiece that wraps up over her horns.

Well. She always had a penchant for making a statement.

The dark fairy glides through the little party as smoothly as she can, though doesn't engage in much conversation. Her observing is silent as well: she's looking for glimpses of the colours attached to the other Travelers' wrists. Trying to find another Orange.

Her eyes are traveling slowly around when suddenly they catch another's, and Maleficent goes still, holding the stranger's gaze. ]

I said nothing at all. [ She responds in her even, cool tone. ]

[dothelokimotion]

[ wings and horns. loki's eyes flicker towards them briefly. he finds himself missing his own helmet resting upon his brow. this place had taken his usual clothes from him and it was too much magic to spend on appearance.

he gives a polite bow. always best to be polite to the fae, which she clearly was. ]

My mistake then. And who might you be?

[medeiun]

[ The bow is met with the slightest tilt of her chin forwards, an acknowledgement of the gesture — and she finds herself relieved that he isn't outwardly shaking in fear of her. Maleficent has become used to the concept that many here who do not fear her appearance the way people do back home, and as much as she does usually enjoy men shuddering in sight of her, she's in no mood for it today. She would like to actually get some things done. ]

A Traveler, [ she answers, cryptically rather than helpfully give her name. Not just yet. But she does hold up her arm and peel back her sleeve with her other hand, exposing the orange that shines from the metal band wrapped around her slender wrist. ]

What colour is yours? [ ....Maleficent, you can't just go around bluntly asking people to show you their colours. But she supposes she might as well, now that she's speaking with someone. ]

iii.

[libertalia]

( it's not every day you go out for a smoke and someone asks you to join a gang. it should probably take him more by surprise, but given where they are ... and the particular time period ... it's pretty run of the mill, isn't it?

he takes stock of the man in question — sharp suit, slicked back hair — an eyebrow slowly raising as he takes a drag of his cigarette, gesturing with it openly when he finally speaks. )

Not that I'm saying no — because obviously I'd love to start a gang with a total stranger — but you might wanna be a little more specific there. What kind of power are you talking?

( he's maybe half joking, but there's also nothing better to do at the moment, so why not start a gang. )

[dothelokimotion]

[ loki smirks. ]

The power of having the information we need. Or not being led by scrywatches and whatever scraps they feed us.

[libertalia]

( sam takes a moment to consider this, humming thoughtfully on his next drag. )

Interesting approach. How exactly are you planning on getting this information? I mean, sure, there's intimidation, blackmail ... but I think it's gonna be a little difficult to leverage either of those against whoever the fuck runs this show.

ii.

[howlett]

Call him nosy, but the frantic sort of state of the Asguardian when he passed was enough to get Logan's attention. The dust and clattering of bricks and stone is just settling when he turns the corner to find Loki talking to— something? Himself?

Logan scans the alley quickly, but he picks up the scent of no one— present company excluded. "You bein' followed or doin' the following?" he asks skeptically. "or maybe you're not so sure yourself."

[dothelokimotion]

[ loki scowls, his shoulders hunched tight. the nervous energy is palpable, the fight or flight instinct rising within him like a tidal wave. he spots the strange masked man from the corner of his eye and he stiffens, trying to center himself with logan's attention. ]

I — I know I saw him. Saw someone.

[howlett]

Saw who?

[He's instantly suspicious. Not necessarily because Loki has some reputation for being trusted but because he can sniff out honest to God agitation when he needs to and nothing about the man seems to be putting that on. The claws come out with a subtle snikt and walks a steady lap around this little alley they've turned down. Just to be prepared.]

iii. gangsta's paradise

[quire]

As much as Quentin loves trouble, low level racketeering and bootlegging is not his idea of a crime syndicate. Despite the fact it's the only place in town to get a drink that really hits like it should, he's not sure he's going to find much of interest here. Until the God of mischief arrives.

"Oh my God, THANK you," he sounds positively exasperated to the point it's hard to tell if he's frustrated or relieved. At least until he goes on. "That's the most interesting offer I've been made all day. Yes. Yes I do."

[dothelokimotion]

[ loki blinks, taken off guard by that rapturous response. it's not the kind he usually receives after all and it tends to throw him for a loop. ]

Oh. Well. Glad to hear it.

[quire]

If he's concerned about being perplexing he doesn't show it. It's far more likely he just doesn't realize. He slams his drink in a way that implies maybe he's done that a couple of times tonight.

"So what's the goal? You think there's something to getting all these bootleggers and bank robbers under our thumb? I don't get the impression they're exactly running the place..."