![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
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.
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.
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?
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.
Sometimes I can still hear his voice...
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.
no subject
It isn’t hard to miss the sharp disapproving gazes being cast at her. He is already a figure of interest because he walks with a direwolf at his side. But he knows what it’s like to have all those cold eyes on himself… he remembers how it felt when he was a child, and how it felt later, in the Watch, and sometimes with the Free Folk.
“Would you rather come to the Temple?” He asks it gently. “We can talk a little more privately there. Ghost has had his time in the wilds — what passes for them in this city.”
no subject
They pass a small bench under a tree and she draws away so that she could sit. Here at least, she could feel like she could breathe. The disappointment was such a weight that it was cumbersome to move. She needed a moment to let it ease off of her shoulders...if it could at all. This loss was as painful as Viserion.
"So this is Ghost?"
no subject
“Aye. I’ve spoken of him?”
He must have done, if they are on kissing terms. Betrothed… or already wedded, he thinks. But she hasn’t called him her husband. It must be a betrothal.
That will also mean something for the North.
no subject
"Returning from Eastwatch to King's Landing was long. There was time to speak." She won't tell him about their lovemaking. That would stay buried for now. When he remembered it, then it would be spoken of. "A pity you have know recollection of those conversations."
She's still bitter and grumpy. It's not as if he could control this, but it was deeply frustrating. She wanted him back, needed him back. Now there was a barrier between them.
no subject
He had showed her the Dead, she said, and a dragon was killed. How that could be, he doesn’t yet understand, but it would indeed be a long journey between Eastwatch and… did she say King’s Landing?
“I hope he doesn’t disappoint.”
Fool. You’re the one who disappoints.
no subject
She had pictured a majestic creature. Direwolves were unfamiliar to her until she met Jon. She had seen the Stark sigil in books and remembered what Jorah described. Seeing Ghost now was different. He was real. It made her feel as Jon must have when he saw Drogon up close.
Remembering what he had done, she offered out her hand to Ghost, letting him sniff her. If he let her, she would stroke his muzzle and ears, gentle and kind. It was no less awe inspiring to see him as it was to see a dragon. He was as majestic and magical as her own, simply a different magic. Northern magic.
no subject
He wants to know why.
Ghost is still except for his cautious sniff of her hand, after which he lowers his head. He will accept a pat. Jon’s expression becomes curious again.
“King’s Landing, you said. You’ve taken the throne?”
no subject
"The fight for the throne is paused for now. I agreed to help the North and that is where my forces will go." She wants to bite her lip, but that seems weak. She didn't want her vulnerability to show, not when he's closed off to her as well. You are the one turning the air cold.
Don't look back. "We managed a truce with Cersei and she is to send troops North as well."
no subject
“I am glad to hear it. I don’t know if it will be enough, but I’m glad to hear it. If we band together, we all have a chance.”
If not, they have nothing but death.
“— Your Grace, what am I to you?”
no subject
She was bemused at the question, but still didn't turn to look at him. "I should think that was obvious." No, stop punishing him for what he can't control. "There is no formal link between us, only an emotional one." Lovers, true love. What else could it be called.
"You pursued it first." Which seemed significant to tell him. From the sound of his history, he only pursued something that truly meant a great deal to him. Something that he wanted more than anything. He had wanted her, she needed to cradle that, to at least comfort her here.
no subject
“I’ve never… I have never pursued a woman.” When he was very green indeed, he had thought he never would, that he’d never want to. He’d been pleased with his firm resolution — smug. He had been stripped of it, and of his pride, and his certainty, and much other than his grief, in his time with the Free Folk. But he had gained other things there.
He shakes his head as if to clear it. He doesn’t want to say the word love to her. It belonged to someone else once, and it doesn’t belong to her yet — it barely belongs to him. If he pursued her, he has learned the shape of it again.
She’s very beautiful. It wouldn’t be hard. He tries to reach for her hand; he speaks urgently.
“If I did - I don’t doubt you — but if I did, I would never mean to leave you. You understand that, don’t you?”
no subject
She gave a soft huff of amusement. "You simply did as you wanted...as we wanted." She would have never have gone to his room, but she would not deny having waited up for him, hoping that he would knock at her door.
It was surreal to speak of this so lightly, as if it was being asked by a stranger...which he was. That was the sad reality. This was Jon, but not Jon. Not her Jon. Some of the events that shaped him during the time they knew each other, those memories and experiences were missing. She missed that part of him, the man who nearly died again and but looked to comfort her after Viserion was killed.
Touching his hand would break her walls, summoning tears and leaving her exposed. She couldn't risk it, not yet and not with this version of him. They truly had stumbled backwards and she would need to learn him all over again.
She drew her hand back, folding her hands on her lap. Dany cleared her throat, fending off her emotions. It was easier to be the queen than the woman. "You are Jon, but not the man I left. I know he will wait for me and never leave me. He keeps his word or tries to. He would not lie."
no subject
“I would not lie,” he agrees. “But to do as I wanted — “ He pauses, and his eyebrows flick down. “Not much of that, either.”
He hardly knows her. He doesn’t know why he’s telling her this.
“I am not that man. But unless you’re some trick of this place, it seems I will be him. How long since we met?”
no subject
"There are some things that can't be ignored." She's shielded herself in the calm demeanor of the queen, blocking out any hurt and pain that she knew would overwhelm her. She had hidden her tears for Viserion, she would do the same now. "You were different than you were when you arrived." Hence her belief that he was not her Jon.
But he wanted to know how long. Very well, if it would comfort him or ease his mind, she would tell him. "Half a year." It seemed too short a time, but far longer than that.
no subject
“How was I when I arrived?”
He had come to speak for the North, he knows that much. Sansa had feared that Daenerys would demand his fealty — that he would be expected to give up all they had bled for. That he would be hostage to it. That doesn’t seem now like it will happen, but he is not sure how he was different other than that he didn’t know her.
He is beginning to find that he would like to know her.
no subject
It certainly moved it enough that her resolve was crumbling. Her hands trembled; she did her best to clutch them tighter, but composure seemed to be slipping out of her grip. She tried clearing her throat again, but it did little.
She had learned quickly that Jon was her weakness and her vulnerability. Being so near to him, falling into the sort of conversation that had weathered away her harder edges, it was difficult. It wouldn't be long before she was completely broken and crying for the memories he didn't remember.
Better to retreat before he saw every bit of her, bared and naked. She was quick to get to her feet, not knowing for a moment what to do with her hands. Still, despite her hurry to get away, she still couldn't stop herself from adding, "It tickles you when I kiss your scars, especially your hip."
And that was all, she quickly darted towards the path, eager to find her way back to the temple.
no subject
He has some awareness of her state of mind, that she finds it hard that he doesn’t remember her or the love that she says has grown between them. Nothing she has said sounds wrong, however surprising. He can see himself in her words, even if he is not entirely sure of the course of events that —
Seven hells, she’s running away. He can’t leave Ghost alone in the park — the way people fear him means that there is a danger to him. There is a menagerie here, Jon has seen, and people may think that Ghost has escaped from it. So he scoops up Ghost’s lead and follows her.
There is a scar on his hip — a smooth divot left by an arrow. Another from a knife, but that one is small and thin. That she knows there is any scar at all… gods, he has laid with her. More than once or twice. They are lovers in truth, and not betrothed.
“Daenerys!” He calls loudly enough that she might hear. Ghost keeps pace beside him, then darts out ahead, tugging at the lead.
no subject
She can't look back, but her speed slows to a halt, allowing him to close the distance. Ghost is ahead of him, perhaps that helps slightly. It's not simply them alone, but with another, as though that could guard her.
She had said too much. Where had her resolve gone to keep such things to herself? What did he think of her now, knowing that they were lovers? She didn't take just anyone to her bed, but he might be left with the thought that she was lascivious. Her face was burning and she simply wanted to bury it in her hands. Rigid was the only way she could be, helped by the laces of her dress.
There was nothing to say in response to his calls. If she said anything more, it could be a further break of her walls.
no subject
“Daenerys,” he says again, more quietly now. “I am sorry. I don’t mean to bring you grief.” Then, “You’re right. There’s a scar, from an arrow.”
From a woman I loved. From a woman I left. From a woman I hurt without meaning to, because I had to choose: betray her, or betray everyone else.
“If you know it… if I wanted you, if I reached for you… I must love you.” He pauses, working through this. “But a man doesn’t meet his future every day. I’m sorry it isn’t as you would wish it. Please don’t run.”
no subject
"This isn't your fault," she said after some time, needing that long pause to collect herself. There were tears threatening her, but she swallowed him before they could spill. "This is some game being played by the one who brought us here. Perhaps it's my punishment." How willing would she be to face her "crimes" if Jon was at her side?
"You-" You are my weakness, my everything. "I only recently arrived, last evening. I didn't expect to see someone I knew."
no subject
“I spent my first night on straw in a barn. It was a big old castle. Like what I know, and not like it.”
A step closer, still hesitant.
“No one I know is here… not from home. My father’s wife was in that castle, but she was a ghost, and I have not seen her since.”
On hearing his name, Ghost’s ears flick back in Jon’s direction, and he opens his mouth to pant.
“Hated me as much as she ever did in life.” He shrugs. Should he have expected anything else?
no subject
There's an opening there for him. She didn't draw back at his approach, her hands tightening together in response. When she felt afraid, she looked to Ghost. It was strange to use him for her source of courage, but without Drogon, he seemed the best choice. That connection to the magic of their world, that was what she needed.
"That's a cruel first trial, to force you to endure her presence. An unfamiliar place is difficult enough, but to be confronted to such a painful specter." She hurt for him.
no subject
“I’m here. Haven’t seen her since then. It was more than half a year ago.” Half a year on these islands, and in less time at home, he had met and come to love Daenerys. The last thing… it must have been her agreement to come North with him. She had done it instead of trying to take the throne. It must have been the seal on his love. If he was not here, he would be with her now.
“I told you of her.” That’s curious. But a woman who had seen and kissed his scars… it fits, that he might have spoken of it.
no subject
If she had to be patient, fine. She wouldn't be complacent and accept this supposed task. She would wait, but she would watch and learn. It would at least grant her some way forward. Better than what she was expected to do.
His question pulled her from her thoughts. "You told me of many things when we were alone."
no subject
He keeps his comment to the latter part.
“I have no doubt. What else? My little sister, or Maester Aemon.” He looks for confirmation.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
this is called a “meet cute”
Matchmaker Ghost
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)