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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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"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."

"Magneto's pretty smart! Then again, I don't really know where he sits on the supervillain spectrum these days..."

That shrill voice is drown out by the tumbling gravel and even when the dust settles either she's stopped or she's too deeply buried to be heard.

Whichever is true, Kyle's compliments make him smile like he's won something. He's not naive enough to think he'll avoid those thoughts forever. But at least he's got something to think back on the next time he finds himself backsliding into old habits. "Sure, I'm pretty great," he shrugs. "But I'm way better with you."

"Hey, I know it's a grave yard but make out with me a minute?" he says smiling a stupid guilty smile. He turns in Kyles arms and leans up on his toes to reach him. "I love sharing headspace with you," he confesses. "It feels right."

"So there you go."

Kyle yodels a laugh and hugs Quentin tighter.

"Do you? Good. I like it too. It DOES feel right. And I want you to know we can whenever you need to."

He leans down to kiss him, mouth and eager.

"Really?" his eyes practically twinkle. He hadn't expected to find that kind of familiarity with someone who doesn't have brain powers, but the prospect positively delights him. "I've been trying not to... know you. Just drag you there whenever I want. I know that's kind of one sided. And maybe not even all that comfortable for you. I dunno. But if you're like... Cool with that..."

He takes Kyle's face greedily between his hands and drags him closer. Tracing the swell of Kyle's bottom lip with his tongue until Kyle returns the favour. Even if no one's around it's a shameless kiss for a public place. And a weird public place for romance at that. So Quentin rectifies that, just as he said they would. They might still be standing near a freshly dug grave but in their minds they're tucked into a warm California King bed, they're veiled by the waterfall at The Pointe, they're dangling their feet over the rock cut at Sunset Cliffs. A litany of places Quentin would rather be kissing his boyfriend.

"Really."

Kyle kisses back like a horned up goth kid inspired by their surroundings. When that setting flickers out and is replaced instead by a carousel of other places he loops his arms around Quentin's waist and pulls him closer, still kissing him.

Little dizzying, he thinks. But it's good. It's always good with you.

Sorry. You just get me going, he confesses. Switch after switch the slide reel seems to slow down until landing on one comfortable place. At least, comfortable for him.

The sleek interior of his quarters at Omega House is as techy as it is terrestrial with plant life woven into the infrastructure of the building itself. Four coiled branches make up the structure of his four post bed and Quentin heaves a content sigh as he looks across his pillow at Kyle.

There are so many places I'd rather be with you than pre-indoor plumbing London.

Kyle looks around, fascinated. There's a comfortable quality to thd illusion that makes him think this might be Quentin's home.

"So we'll go to them." He reaches over to push Quentin's hair back.

"We're gonna be together on every island, and if the ride ever stops we'll find a way to stay together. I promise."

He sighs. "I wanna sleep with you but our bodies are in a fucking graveyard and that's too gross and dangerous."

The temptation to stay here is almost overwhelming. Maybe that's why he's been careful not to whisk them away with every quiet moment. But Kyle's blunt rationalism reminds him they can't.

I know, I know. I'm not going to try to get into your pants here I promise. You just gave me an invitation I couldn't fucking resist. When there's not a cart full bodies out there I'll take us some place nice like this.

But that cart full of bodies is for you. Which I realize is probably only romantic if you're a cannibal. But with the money I've been pulling in from this stuff, I swear I'm like a days work from getting a nice little place closer to Hyde Park where the bougie people live. There's indoor plumbing on that side of town you know? We're going to have a long hot bath and then fool around.

When the warm, bright facade falls away the damp London air and the smell of... whatever that smell always is comes rushing back in its place. "You want to hall the cart to the medical college with me, or should I catch up with you later?"

Kyle puts a hand to his heart, surprised and touched. Q. I... you didn't have to do that.

But is he glad he has? Yes. So glad he pulls Quentin in for a decidedly filthy kiss.

Nobody ever does stuff like that for me. Thank you.

He breathes in the smell of fog and dirt, pleased to find he's still kissing Quentin. He runs his hands over his back, smiling.

"I can help. Do you have enough? We can always dig up another. Now that I know WHY we're doing this, I'm happy to help."

Really? he finds himself speaking and thinking the word at once as they return to their present reality with Kyle's tongue in his mouth.

"Mmmh... Heh. I kind of thought you'd be pissed about how self serving it is or something. I mean it is. Sort of. I dunno I'm kind of on the fence about the inherent selfishness of wanting to do everything for your boyfriend."

He corrects the hat on Kyle's head that his grabbiness knocked slightly out of place. "If you're up for it, let's get a couple more. Just in case one of my diggers keeled over or something."

Edited 2022-01-16 04:59 (UTC)

"Mmhmm, really." He pecks Quentin's lips one last time.

"I mean... it IS also going to benefit medical science," Kyle rationalises. "It's not pretty, maybe, but it does have to happen. And like... this side of the graveyard a lot of graves don't even have markers, they're probably criminals and stuff." He can be very good at convincing himself of things.

"I am."

The next corpse is, well. A corpse. Not pleasant to look at, of course, but not particularly unusual.

The next grave is unmarked, and mostly unearthed already by Quentin's digger. Kyle hops in to finish the job, shovel hitting the lid of a coffin before long. He lets Quentin lift it out of the hole - telekinesis is much easier for that - and then busts the latch and opens it.

Kyle takes one look, goes white, and slams the coffin closed again.

"On second thought, let's just go," he says.

But it's too late. The coffin lid is thrown open with a bang, and a bloated but childlike figure sits up, grinning.

"Kahl," the corpse of Eric Cartman says.

Kyle groans helplessly.

"Did you tell your boyfriend, Kahl? About how you ruined my life? Or did you just spin your sneaky little lies about how it was all my fault?"

"Yeah! See! That's what I'm saying! If anything we're saving them from the Cholera epidemic a few thousand lives early!" Once Kyle likes an idea, he talks himself into. Quentin, being exactly the same way, loves that about his boyfriend.

Hoisting another body on the wagon puts a spring in his step. Almost like this has turned into some kind of goal-oriented couples activity now. Until that next coffin snaps shut and it's Kyle who's skin looks pallid.

"And fall short of an even dozen?" event as he's asking the question it stops mattering. Instead that whiny voice that sounds like it's produced directly in someone's gullet permeates the still damp air of the grave yard.

Quentin's fascination has him staring at the owner of the voice. "Is that.. is that even a corpse? It's gotta be freshly killed to be so bloated... What's it talking about, Kyle?"

"Exactly!" They're really both too good at this.

Kyle, all good humour departed, almost retreats a step. Almost. But he can't stand to back down from Cartman, even in child zombie form.

"I'm not bloated, I'm big boned," the corpse declares.

"I don't know," Kyle replies. "I didn't ruin his life. He deserved every single thing he ever got."

"Not true," the little zombie boy snaps back. "What about the time you laughed at me for being HIV positive?"

"That didn't ruin your life, you used it to nearly ruin MINE!" Kyle holds his shovel so tightly his knuckles are white.

"Okay, okay, get the sand out of your vagina Kahl, jeez. You know how this works already, it's YOU manifesting why I'm here." He looks at Quentin. "Like I want to hang around his goddamn daywalker ass."

Kyle passes a hand down his face, trying to calm himself down.

"...is this about your XBox?"

"Very astute of you, Kahl. I believe there's hope for you yet."

Kyle sighs and looks at Quentin. "I. Destroyed most of his electronics. But it's because we thought he was trolling all the girls at school!"

"Still justifying it. Oh, Kahl."

"Unless you're the Hulk, there's no such thing as big boned," Quentin says rolling his eyes. Blissfully unaware of the futility in such an argument.

It's not often Quentin Quire is rendered speechless, but for a moment he's left to watch this conversation volley between one and the other as he scrambles to catch up. Piecing together all he knows about either party to paint a clearer picture of the nefarious character he knows this boy to be in Kyle's life when Quentin has a hard time seeing the dreaded Eric Cartman as anything but an annoying kid with a trans fats problem.

"Don't try to appeal to me, Pork Rind. I like his daywalker ass," Quentin grumbles. Offended at the very idea that this corpse thinks he could sell him on some lesser idea of who Kyle really is.

"Do you... still feel guilty about that?" he asks, fitting his hand in Kyle's when it drops from the other man's face. "Because based on even like one of the things you've told me about this kid, you really probably shouldn't waste the energy."

Kyle sighs. "Yes. Yes, I stil feel guilty about it, because he WASN'T responsible.

"My dad was."

In the coffin, Cartman chuckles. "This is hilarious, for seriously."

Kyle squeezes Quentin's hand. "It's so stupid. I shouldn't still be hanging onto that."

"You hang on to a lot of shit involving me," the corpse points out as it buffs its nails on its mouldering shirt. "You should probably examine that."

"Shut the fuck up, we're talking about your XBox!"

"One of these days I'm gonna need a total mental catalogue of your parents," he says with a narrow eyed look of unadulterated fascination.

From where they stand Quentin knocks the coffin lid shut when Cartman talks. Even if it doesn't stay down it's just nice to hit him with it and blame it on the wind or something.

He closes both his hands around Kyle's and drags him a little closer. "It could be a stupid thing, but you're not stupid for hanging onto it. Intellect has no bearing on trauma. You can't like, outthink grief."

"You good? Do you need a minute? Like away from here? And him?"

Kyle nods. "It's a lot," he mutters.

Cartman shouts in protest when the coffin lid slams him back down. "AY!"

Kyle focuses on Quentin, smiling a little. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. I think that it bugs me so much because it was unfair. When I broke his shit for giving me HIV? That's fine. It was fair. But this? We were wrong."

"And it was MY dad. Which is horrible on its own. But it makes me feel more responsible even though it wasn't my fault. So. Yeah, it bothers me."

He sighs, leaning in to kiss Quentin's lips softly. "Yeah. I think we're pushing our luck, heh."

He looks back at the coffin. "Cartman? I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

For a wonder, there's no answer.

"I get that impression," he smiles fondly and tucks himself up against Kyle's side.

"Hey, it happens," he says softly in a rare show of earnest sympathy. "Even to smart people."

He wouldn't think twice about whisking them away again if that's what Kyle wanted. It seems the least he can do for his boyfriend's own patience and understanding. But neither does it shock him that Kyle seems stronger than him. At least when it comes to admitting his mistakes without ambiguity.

He scowls when there's no response from the casket. "Hey! Butter Bean! He's talking to you!"

"I'm just thankful I didn't catch them fucking as often as Ike did."

Kyle squeezes Quentin's hands. He looks over at the coffin, brow furrowed.

"Cartman? ...Eric?"

Kyle lets go of his boyfriend and walks over to the coffin. He hesitates for a second, then grabs the lid and pulls it open to look inside.

The corpse inside looks nothing like Cartman. It's an adult, bearded and tall.

"...huh. Guess we got your even number," he calls over to Quentin. "Let's put it on the cart."

Quentin winces like this is a pain he knows all too well. "One day when I'm feeling brave I'll tell you another horror of growing up reading minds."

The quiet of that casket is unnerving and for a moment Quentin's reluctant to let go of Kyle's hand.

The sound of some inconsequential surprise relaxes him enough to creep forward for a look of his own. With a slow nod, he agrees and together they load up another body.

"Did that seem too easy? I kind of don't trust it. He's not like a shapeshifter or something right?"

"I would be interested in hearing it, actually. It sounds traumatic. Oh my god, do you think it made you kinkier?"

Kyle actually laughs. "No, no. Not in the mutant sense. In the sense of a normal human being miraculously able to convince people that he's something he's not in spite of YEARS of evidence to the contrary? Then yes." He shakes his head.

"I guess I just let go of it enough to satisfy whatever powers are behind all of this garbage. OR he'll pop out from under my bed while I'm sleeping and eat my brains. Did I ever tell you I'd seen zombies before I got here?"

Quentin pulls a face. "Ugh, I don't want to do the psychological calculus on that thanks."

"Hm," Quentin bites his tongue about that for fear of drawing attention to the ways a statement like that could be used to describe himself.

"You're... kind of good at letting stuff go, huh?" he asks. Maybe that shouldn't be a question. It does feel like Kyle's already forgiven him a number of trespasses. "No. You didn't. Tell me about zombies while we move these bodies and I'll tell you about how I brought that girl back from the dead once."

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