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!

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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.

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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.

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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

1 - Speakeasy

[bonnylass]

[ She may have come in with him, but Anne doesn’t have half of the social instinct that Jack does. When he forces his way between patrons at a table she just hangs back, finds herself a shadowy corner close to the bar, and watches from under the brim of her pageboy cap.

She knows he needs this. She doesn’t resent it and she isn’t going to interrupt, but that hardly makes it any more natural for her. She might recognize the mood of this place but she’d never loved the brothel, either. Too much laughing, too much socializing. Too many occasions to be chatted up by strangers or acquaintances alike, and Anne’s just come out to drink. Rather a lot, which would be easier if they’d give her a damn bottle instead of cocktails she makes shorter work of than anyone else in the place.

Still, when he finally gets up from the table and his eyes find hers in her gloomy corner, he gets a gentle expression from her. A sort of ’well? how did it go? sort of look. She wants him to be happy here. At least one of them should be, and he’s always been far more adaptable. ]

The rum here tastes watered. They as boring as they look?

[shapeshistory]

[ He's keenly aware of Anne in the room, even if he doesn't cast a glance at her--Jack talks and Anne watches, it's always been like this, it's a comfortable rhythm. She's doing a fine job of lurking, skulking about in such a way that Jack has always found profoundly beautiful. On occasion he keeps one eye out for men stupid enough to approach her, the ones that seem like they won't take no for an answer, intercepting for their own sakes. None of that today, not when he's far to preoccupied recharging that part of him that craves attention and bustle. Regardless, he's always keenly aware of his other half, or at the very least her general direction. Two halves of a whole.

So he peacocks about, he tells an absolutely riveting tale about one of the last prizes the Ranger crew took before they were unfairly (or fairly, depending on who you talk to) disbanded, and after a few tries of a card game he doesn't fully understand he winds up grabbing another drink. It's a matter of time before he sidles up to his fellow pirate, their eye contact brief but a full conversation: oh, you know, fine, all things considering. ]

I strongly suspect it is. [ Short, curt. He takes a sip anyway. ] Either that or we're the heaviest drinkers on this Godforsaken island. At this point I almost wish Mr. Singleton were here. At least he'd make a show of it. [ He shrugs about the other people, and then casts the other a curious look, silent, one brow raised. Another conversation: How have you been? How have you really been? ]

[bonnylass]

[ In all fairness, all the alcohol here tastes watered compared to what they're used to. Everything is more refined here and Anne finds it endlessly fascinating and irritating. It isn't like home at all and Anne, despite the luxury, doesn't like the unfamiliar or unpredictable. It's unsettling and unsettled is a mildly dangerous state for Anne to find herself in at all times. ]

You want to make a show of it?

[ A little bit of a grin and a cocked eyebrow that suggests he's probably not being serious but she wouldn't make a bet on it. They've both been known to overstep their tolerances and she's watched more than once as Jack's peacocking turned to outright rooster ruckus, but even she's been careful here. Best to keep the eyes in the back of your head able to focus.

She returns his look by dropping her eyes and shrugging, draining another of the little glasses in one go and giving the room another long look. ]

People sure seem like they're enjoyin' this place. [ Her tone suggests how unwise she finds that notion. How impossible. ] Are you?

[shapeshistory]

I want someone else to make a show of it. Something to break up the perfect monotony of whatever Godforsaken island this truly is.

[ Maybe Singleton's a bad example, but the fact remains: he misses Nassau, he misses the ruckus, the lawlessness. This comes so very close to it, but there's something missing, and it's not the sandy shores or Max or even the constant dirtiness of The Inn.

He figures it out by the time Anne asks if he's enjoying it, face twisting into a half frown, shaking his head. he wants to enjoy it. He should be enjoying himself. He leans in unconsciously, shoulder bumping hers lightly. ]

It's not real. None of it is.