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Got the morbs.

✖ VICTORIA'S SECRET

Ⅰ. ARRIVAL & THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The ferry pulls into port in the evening, when shadows are long and gas lamps burn through a veil of mist. Dozens of other ships are docked as well, with men unloading crates and boxes from their holds. Beyond the wet wood and lapping sound of the ocean, a city looms like a charcoal smudge on a purple sky. The air is smoggy and thick, and the river that flows from the sea into the city smells foul. Walk the cobbled streets and you will find that the city is crowded and filthy, but full of merchants, pubs, and theatres. Vast wealth and extreme poverty exist side by side.

In the center of the sprawling city is a temple with towering gothic spires and huge stained glass windows depicting all manner of beings that might be gods or angels or monsters. You could look for hours and still be finding new figures plucked straight from books of myth and religion. Inside, the main chamber has a grand vaulted ceiling, and dozens of pews line the aisle up to the altar, which is oddly anticlimactic compared to the lavish surroundings: just a plain stone table with a lit oil lamp in the centre. Two hallways branch off on either side of the room: one leads to private baths and a communal kitchen, the other to monastic style chambers with thin beds. Not the most comfortable place to stay, but it’ll do in a pinch!

Alternatively you can venture into the city and find yourself some other lodging - every Traveler has been supplied with some pocket money. Just be careful that it isn’t stolen by some street urchin. Travelers can also find an era-appropriate outfit that will fit them perfectly laid in the first sleeping chamber they visit.

Notes:
1. Unless this is your character’s first island, the High Temple and anything you may have stored there is off-limits this month.

2. Please remember to mark threads appropriately with Content Warnings when necessary.

3. The city greatly resembles Victorian London, and the technology and general way of life is all of that era. Feel free to explore the city! These prompts are a jumping off point - how they affect your character and their development is up to you.

4. Most food is safe to eat, and is consumable by non-human entities. Most. Some of it’s going to be pretty gross or cooked improperly, so be careful.

5. The people in the city are normal humans unless otherwise indicated. Killing them is possible and will affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation.

6. Have fun!

Ⅱ. SEANCE
CW: grief, past trauma.
Perhaps you overhear talk of it at a pub, or maybe you’re handed a small card as you push your way through the crowded city streets. Maybe you just wander in by accident. However it happens, you find yourself being ushered into the parlour of one Miss Mary Price: Spiritualist.

You and several other people are instructed to sit at a round table in a very dark and musty room. The walls are covered in thick black curtains, and maybe you’re the type to suspect that there’s someone hiding behind them somewhere. Once everyone is seated, Mary Price herself enters the room. The lights are all extinguished save for a single candle.

Mary calls out to the spirits. They communicate through a series of knocks, or the movement of a Ouija board. Someone at the table is put in contact with a deceased aunt who reveals the location of a family heirloom. Someone else is able to say goodbye to a son.

Mary Price looks at you with eyes so dark they look black, and asks, “What haunts you?”

Maybe you answer honestly. Maybe you don’t answer at all, but that doesn’t matter because the spirit tapping around the room is more than happy to narc on you and tell the whole room what or who it is that you cannot forget.

You can deny it all you like, but the spirits don’t have a reason to lie. And if you try to mess up the seance, you will spend a month being hounded by an angry poltergeist.

Notes:
1. The spirit can communicate through knocks, the Ouija, actually vocalising through the medium, or via ectoplasm.

2. What haunts your character does not have to be the memory of a dead person. It can be an event - maybe they’ve never gotten over losing that science fair in grade three. It is the feeling of being haunted that is important.

3. If you choose to trash the seance, the spirit will follow you for the rest of the month. It can range from annoying to actually dangerous.

Ⅲ. THE RIPPER
CW: murder, gore, violence.
You’re lost at night. Maybe you were in the pub too late, or maybe you were searching for more illicit fun - weren’t there opium dens around this time? - or maybe you just weren’t keeping an eye on the time. However it happened, you’re on the streets in the dark.

It’s very foggy; you can barely see a foot in front of you. The streetlamps look like dimly burning ghosts and when the odd person passes you they are felt more than seen, just a darker shadow in a world of shifting shades.

Very suddenly you hear a scream - short, and swallowed up quickly by the fog. Still, it’s enough to get you to turn and hurry down a narrow alleyway.

Sprawled on the ground amid a lake of blood is a body. It’s immediately apparent that this person is probably beyond help - their throat has been slashed ear to ear. Your appearance was not expected, however, and you can see that you’ve startled the killer: they’re running down the alley in the opposite direction.

You have a few choices: you can chase the killer and attempt to catch them, you can try to help the victim, you can get the authorities, or you can just walk away.

What will you do?

Notes:
1. The inspiration for this prompt is Jack the Ripper but you do not have to use that case as a basis for your killer.

2. You can get as involved with this as you would like. You can have your character catch the killer in a chase, or form your very own detective squad and hunt them down that way.

3. Naturally, walking away from a potential serial killer might not be great for your Scrywatch grading!

Ⅳ. RESURRECTION MEN
CW: dead bodies, grave robbing.
You’re not entirely clear on how you agreed to this. Maybe it was a barroom bet gone wrong. Maybe you’re broke enough that you need money fast. Or maybe you want to help some wannabe medical students. However it happened, you’re in the cemetery.

And you’ve got a shovel.

Time to rob some graves! You’ve convinced yourself somehow that this isn’t morally reprehensible, and so you and your partner are just going to get down to business! What corpse should you unearth? You feel like a kid in a candy store!

The problem comes once you’ve unearthed the body because it seems terribly familiar. Which is… creepy. Creepier still when it starts talking.

Maybe it’s a family member, or an old friend. Maybe an ex partner. Whoever it is, they immediately start telling your fellow grave robber about some incident from your past that you just. Can’t. Let. Go. Of. And even if you whack it with a shovel it won’t stop. Bad corpse! BAD Corpse!

Which of course is exactly what you have to try and do if you want this chatty Cathy of a corpse to shut the hell up.

Notes:
1. If you do NOT let go of this past event, the corpse will follow you the rest of the night singing Henry the Eighth I am, I am.

Sometimes I can still hear his voice...

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Kyle reaches out and gently cups his hands on either side of Quentin's head. "You're somebody," he says urgently. "And I know how it is to be sad and lonely too."

Sophie's accusations are cutting deep, that much is clear. But then, so did Carter's, at least until he tried to really pull away from his own morbid hold on the ideas.

"Quentin, you can share what's in your head with me," Kyle says softly. "Anytime."

He leans in and kisses his forehead. "I think you do still care, because why else would she be here? You gotta let it go, dude. The real her is somewhere far away, moving on from what happened."

"I'm not sad! I'm not lonely!" It's like a reflex he can't contain but when Kyle touches him the temptation to retreat into his partner's mind where the voices won't follow is palpable. So for the moment he does.

A veil of pink passes from Quentin, across Kyle and the graveyard, dissolving the scene around them until they're sitting in some quiet, white void instead of out there with their nattering friend.

He sighs and just appreciates the silence a moment. "I don't know how to do that. Kill off the brain cells that hold onto that information? Eternal Sunshine myself?"

Kyle looks around, surprised but also not to see their new surroundings.

"No," he says. "I think part of it is just acknowledging what you're doing, and why."

He hugs his knees to his chest.

"You really think you're a creep?"

He scrubs at his eyes as if clearing his vision could clear his head too. It doesn't but he sets his chin on his knees where he can look at the man he's locked away in this mindscape with him. It's a small blessing that he doesn't seem bothered by it but there's also a reason it's all blank.

"I am," he nods. "Or I was. Or I still but I got better at hiding it in plain sight maybe."

"How? The, uhm, mental notes she mentioned, whatever those are?" He offers Quentin a warm little smile.

"You've never done anything creepy to me."

"Yeah. That. All of it," he sighs. "I would listen in on their conversations. They have a sort of hive mind thing going on. I'd never met other telepaths before school. I just wanted to know if they thought about the kinds of stuff I did. Maybe sometimes I fantasized about fitting in with them. And then I heard them talking about people. About me. Some of them liked me. Some of them hated me. I tried to figure out who by showing off. Leaving thoughts in places they shouldn't be. Being the only telepath they never invited into their little group was a bit like being the only kid in school without a twitter."

"I hope not. I tried not to," he admits.

"Right, they were quintuplets or cloned or whatever." He's paid attention when Quentin explains things, even if it sounds weird.

"I don't think many people could have resisted a little eavesdropping at that age, Q," Kyle says. "I think even I might not be able to help myself. Was the note thing kinda creepy? Maybe a little."

He laughs. "I've been that kid," he says. "Not with twitter, but other things. On the outside."

He reaches over and touches Quentin's arm. "I think you'd know if you did. Hey. It's okay, Q. People do dumb shit. I think maybe it still bugs you because you did really like her. And the whole... killing her thing, that complicates feelings a little."

"Yeah. Both," he nods. It always impresses him when Kyle remembers those unimportant details.

"What other things?" he asks because it's nice to not feel alone in that. He let's himself teeter over against Kyle when the other man touches him.

"I know. I probably thought it was romantic or something. I was like sixteen. All sixteen year olds are like kind of creepy," he says in his own defence. "But I know I take things too far. I know I have intrusive thoughts.

"I did like her. But not just like a crush either. I kinda wanted to be her. You know? They're just so lucky. It's no psychological secret why they come to confidence so easily when most mutant kids don't. Sure, they're mutants, but they come as a set. They've never not belonged somewhere. I wanted that too."

Kyle immediately wraps an arm around him. "Heh. This is so dumb. Chinpokomon. It was this like... video game and cartoon and a toy line. If you didn't have them you were uncool. And I was late to the trend, as I often am."

He nods. "Dude, as a teenager people in my school would basically stalk each other to find out dumb shit like class schedules and who liked who and shot, so, yeah. Teenagers are stupid monsters." He squishes Quentin closer. "You are an extremist, my love. And you know, you can talk about those thoughts if it helps."

That certainly hits home, and Kyle sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, I get that. And I don't think it's wrong that you felt that way."

With his chin on his knees Quentin just listens and watches Kyle talk. There aren't a lot of people other than himself he likes listening to but Kyle tops that list. Even if it's about something frivolous like No-Name Pokemon.

"I like that about you," he admits. "You legit don't care what's trending if it doesn't fall into your personal purview of cool shit. Not a lot of people can say that you know? Less all the time even."

He presses a kiss to Kyle's cheek just to get his attention. And another to lips when he turns where Quentin can reach him.

"It's just like— knowing those things and letting them go are different. And I don't know how to do the second one. The way we're built effects who we are and vice versa, right? That's true on a micro and a macro level. The right genes could give you better legs for sprinting just like how someone who doesn't naturally produce much serotonin probably isn't going to be super happy or optimistic. At some point your personality is tied to your hardware. I know people want me to change. I know I'd have more friends if I did. But I feel like I'm bumping up against something physical. Like I'd have to rewire my own brain to be likeable. To have made different choices. And I could, I guess. But then I'd probably just not like myself for a different reason. So how do I let things go when my head is built to hold onto everything? When I'm still thinking about all the answers I've ever got wrong because it's like a rock tumbler for mistakes in there."

"Am I talking too much? It feels like I'm talking too much."

Edited 2022-01-13 18:59 (UTC)

"I'm glad my inherent uncoolness and stubbornness appeals to you," he says, smirking a little.

The kiss is returned readily before he falls quiet, listening.

"You're not talking too much at all," Kyle assures him. "I love it when you talk, Quentin. Some of us aren't mind readers."

He falls quiet again, thinking. The white space around them remains empty. "You're not wrong. There's genetic components to our brains. Certain conditions do have a harder time forgetting the past. So it's just like, different approaches are needed sometimes."

He turns so he can hug Quentin fully. "I don't think you need to change your personality, Q. In fact I think that would be terrible. What I think you might wanna focus on is letting go of this perception of yourself as this unlikable dork. I know you're a telepath and so you've literally heard how people percieve you but have you not noticed that people DO like you? Not just me, either."

"Uncool is the new cool," he smiles back.

Kyle's smart remark makes him snort. It is easy to forget that link only goes one way when he's never felt like he's struggled to connect with Kyle. "Maybe you're not, but somehow you know me better than people who are."

He raises a sharp, skeptical eyebrow at Kyle. "Like who?"

"Then I'm the coolest."

He smiles warmly. "That's only because you talk, and I listen."

He punches Quentin's shoulder gently. "Carter does. Roxy does. Even David likes you."

"Dork Diggler."

"Yeah. You do," he says with a quiet fondness that his features almost never relax enough to achieve.

"Pftf, they don't know me," he mutters, but it's not as acerbic as it usually is. Just a little tired maybe. And clingy. It's hard not to be when his boyfriend smells so wildly better than everything else in this industrial aged nightmare.

"I just don't get what people want from me. It felt great when I stopped trying to please people. Sometimes it still does. But talk about letting things go— when I do they act like I shouldn't be allowed to. Quentin how dare you! Quentin be thankful they kept you! Quentin no ones going to trust you like that ever again! Like, do they want me to move on or not, you know?"

Kyle leans in, kissing Quentin's lips gently.

"They'd like to know you better," he says. "That's why they hang out with you, doofus. Roxy thinks you're a bit of a spazz, but she says you're one of the few people she doesn't have to worry about offending."

He frowns, hand coming up to stroke Quentin's cheek. "Who says that? All the X assholes?"

He looks at Kyle a long moment. His expression a little suspicious, but not wholly unconvinced of the possibility that he's right. "What makes you think they're not just tolerating me for you?"

"Course. The Cuckoos. Scott. Miss Frost. Like the whole The Avengers. All of them basically. Nathaniel. Benji... Not Trevor, though I don't think he's ever said a bad thing about anyone actually."

Kyle's brows furrow in genuine confusion. "Because they hang out with you when I'm not there," he points out gently. "Quentin, I never hung out with my best friend's girlfriend without him unless we had an assignment together. That's not something that's expected."

Kyle strokes Quentin's hair back. "Okay, well. They're dicks, obviously. But more importantly... you're right, you know. It's hard to move on if people bring up your past over and over and over. And I guess all you can do it say that, you know? The few times it's worth it.

"But most of the time it's not. YOU are improving for YOU."

"Hm," he says. Pursing his lips like he's giving that an honest think. It's a compelling point and for once he's not in the mood to prove himself right.

"Ok. Point. I guess I'm getting used to that. Mutants are like... well, it's a small community, you know? You remember how it is when you're a kid and you're friends with the kids in your class, or the kid across the street. Not because you like them necessarily, but because they're there and you're kind of stuck with them. Well, in Westchester or the Mass Academy— even on Krakoa a bit— it's like that. They're sort of... together out of necessity more than choice. So. I guess I'm not super used to people who choose to be around me when they don't have to."

When he sighs next it sounds content. "Thanks," he whispers. "I just know if we leave here that thing's still gonna be screaming. I can hear it."

Kyle laughs softly. "Yeah. I know that VERY well, why do you think I hung out with a guy I fucking hated until I was like eighteen?"

He hugs Quentin tight. "Yeah. And people don't forget, when you're stuck together a long time. It's why I went to university as far away as I could manage. I didn't want people to know my entire goddamn history. You were basically in the superpowered version of that predicament. And it sucks. But you're here now. You can start learning to like... just accept the present."

He pulls back, eye bright. "Dude. Something like this happened to Carter, I was trying to tell you! And you know what he did? He pissed on the corpse."

"So you did hate him. To be honest, I always went back and forth on whether or not that was hyperbole," he chuckles. "But yeah. You get it."

To Quentin's memory, there aren't a lot of people who can talk him down from abject fury to pleasantly humbled but this Kyle's a good talker. And listener. And boyfriend in general. "You look stupid cute in that hat, you know?"

"Really?" he laughs like he's both surprised and little proud. "Jesus. That doesn't even sound like Carter. I'm sorry I missed that. Who was the corpse?"

"I did. But. Ugh. It's complicated. My point is that I get it. The impossibility of changing perception."

Kyle flushes pink. "So do you. But I think you look cute in all of the weird shit you wear."

"Really! It was that X guy his mom dated, Alex. God, Carter hates him. Like, really really hates him."

"You're right, you're right, you're right. I wasn't trying to distract from your point. Small towns are exactly like that," he babbles to get himself back on track. One thing at a time Quentin. Focus.

"Ohhh. Yeah. Well, that makes sense. Summerses can be pretty fucking insufferable at their best," he says with a sympathetic nod. "He's so mad about that I'm actually shocked it hasn't spilled over into a hatred of other mutants. Yet."

"Ok," he takes a deep breath like he's out to steel his nerves. "I'm taking us back. Brace yourself for the belligerent squawking of a WASPy blonde with an excess of privilege."

He squeezes Kyle's hand and steals another kiss. "Thanks. For being the best."

As if on cue, when the world fills in around them again that body in the moldy box is still nattering.

"— and I don't even like Hisako, she's kind of a bitch, but the stuff you dug out of her head to create your little RPG simulation was creepy too. And if you ever tried that to my sisters we would disassemble your psyche again because the only boundaries you seem to understand are the kind that get forced on you and Esme says that's too is because you're a gross little masochist who gets off on it!"

"It's okay." A million brilliant thoughts a second, Kyle thinks with a smile.

Kyle nods. "Honestly? Yeah. At least people who do superhero shit. Like it's shocking he gets along with you and David. I'm glad, though. He could probably go all supervillain if he wasn't so nice."

He grins and kisses back. "I've dealt with worse."

The white nothingness dissipates and Kyle almost laughs. She's been talking the whole time. Amazing.

He moves to stand behind Quentin, wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin gently on his head.

"Gosh, Q," he says. "A masochist? Think of all the exciting avenues that opens up for us." He kisses his head.

"Shut up, blondie. He's learned lots since then. He hasn't even looked in my brain like, at all, and I'm human."

If Quentin knew Kyle thought that from time to time he'd be both embarrassed and thrilled.

"Maybe that's why we get along," he smiles. "Just kidding. I won't start any supervillaining."

He's glowering at the casket already. At least until Kyle wraps himself around him. That inspires a bashful chuckle as he leans back into the weight of his boyfriend. "Well, ok, I wouldn't complain if you wanted to be a little a mean to me," he smirks.

"If I had to take a whiz I'd know how to end this, but..." he puts his foot on the coffin she lies and shoves it until it teeters back into the hole in the ground it came from. "Since I'm kind of working here and you being like... I don't even know, somewhere between a mutant and a spectre conjured out of my psyche? Suffice to say you're probably not as valuable to my paying customers as regular old human bodies are. So. Bye Soph."

Conjuring a giant pink shovel he leaves that chatty casket under a mound of damp earth.

Kyle laughs. "You're too smart to be a supervillain."

He hugs Quentin a little tighter, happy to feel him fall back a little. "Mm. I'll remember that."

He watches with morbid fascination as the coffin rocks and then crashes back into the hole. His eyes stay glued to the psionic shovel, and he finds himself grinning as it covers up incessant bitching with ease.

Kyle kisses Quentin's cheek. "You? Are amazing. I need you to know that."

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