polymods: (Default)
polymods ([personal profile] polymods) wrote in [community profile] polylogs2022-02-01 12:51 pm

Bang Up To The Elephant

POLYMYTHOS: VICTORIA'S SECRET

VICTORIA'S SECRET


Ⅰ. ARRIVAL
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The fog that has blanketed the city for a month finally lifts a little - there are days with actual sunshine now! Not many, and the sky is still frequently thick with smog, but every so often light pours through the holes in the clouds. The river that flows from the sea into the city still smells foul, but maybe you’re starting to get used to it.

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!

The High Temple has also reappeared at the edge of the city, with its considerably more comfortable lodgings.

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. The High Temple and anything you may have stored there is available to all characters 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. COME UNDONE
CW: dead bodies, archeological graverobbing.
Somehow, some way, you find yourself with an invitation card:

Lord Trewlaney at Home: the Unwrapping of
THE JEWEL OF THE SEVEN STARS!
Half-past Eight

Unwrapping? How saucy! Or perhaps you have an inkling of exactly what that means.

The invitation gets you entry to a well kept home on the more well-to-do side of the city. There are plenty of servants circulating with food and drink of which you are welcome to partake. Society’s elite chatter and mingle all around you; maybe you fit in, and maybe you don’t.

Regardless, you don’t have to wait very long for the main event. The host of this little soiree - presumably Lord Trewlaney himself, a little man with a weak chin and an impressive mustache - stands at the front of the room and holds his hands aloft.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he says in a clear voice. “BEHOLD! We shall now commence with the unwrapping of this, a fine example of Egyptian mummification, who was once called the Jewel of the Seven Stars!”

A wheeled table is brought forward, covered in a purple velvet cloth. Dramatically, Lord Trewlaney flings it back to reveal a body wrapped in ancient linen bandages. The crowd sighs, and Trewlaney’s eyes scan the crowd.

“Ah, you there!” he cries, pointing at you. Or maybe the person beside you.

“You folk there! Here, come up, my friends! You may have the honour of being a part of history!”

The crowd pushes you and your companion forward with excited murmurs. Soon enough the two of you are beside the mummy, and Trewlaney is handing you a pair of scissors. Up close the body smells of cinnamon and something else, something familiar.

“Reveal its face!” he urges you. And so, you cut.

Much to your surprise what is revealed is not a desiccated corpse, but your own likeness. Before you have time to react the mummy sits up and turns to face the audience, who oohs and ahhs.

The mummy’s lips part and it speaks. What does it say? Something extremely revealing; in plain terms, the mummy reveals something an aspect of yourself that you would rather have kept hidden.

Oh dear! You can shut yourself up, of course, but before you do maybe you ought to consider that interfering with a mummy was considered a surefire way to fall under a curse…

Notes:
1. What is revealed can of course be of any degree of seriousness. Murder? Or do you just secretly enjoy RomComs?

2. Shut the mummy up before it has its say and you will suffer the Mummy’s Curse: bad luck that will plague you for the rest of the month!



Ⅲ. IMAGINARIUM
The sign above the door simply reads Cabinet of Curiosities. How intriguing! And at the very least you can get out of the chill.

Inside there are dozens of wooden cases with glass fronts, each filled with shelves of all manner of objects. Some look expensive and exotic, while others are almost painfully mundane. There are taxidermied animals, wet specimens, fossils, glass eyes, rocks and crystals, pottery, statuettes… There’s a little of everything.

As you peer amongst the stuffed ducks and fossilized plants, you’ll spot something familiar. It’s an object that you recognise as personally significant whether because it’s from your life back home, or because it’s symbolic. It represents a dream or a hope you have for the future.

If you take the object out of the cabinet for a closer look, you and whoever happens to be standing nearby will instantly be transported to a hazy vision of what that lovely dream is. It won’t last forever - indeed, maybe only a moment. Depending on what that hoped for future is, you might have some explaining to do.

Notes:
1. All futures are something hoped for. They may be completely unrealistic and bittersweet, but they are something wanted and not feared.



Ⅳ. GARDENS
CW: mind altering substances.
If there’s one spot within the city where you might be able to find some refuge from the dank scent of ocean rot and the sour smell of body odour, then it’s going to be the Gardens. A jewel toward the west side of the city, you will find a greenhouse containing all manner of tropical plants, and a rose garden with over a 100 different types available for you to enjoy.

But why stop there? There are also areas where you can stop and have tea with a friend. They even have those little sandwiches with the crust cut off! They have cucumber, egg, and cream cheese. Each of these has a different effect: cucumber sandwiches will provide a mild sense of euphoria, while the egg will give you a lot of energy (and maybe some gas). Cream cheese will make you very relaxed and prone to oversharing. There are also perfectly regular cakes and biscuits available, as well.

Maybe you’re feeling a bit more somber. In the northeast end of the park there is a secret pet cemetery with over 300 tiny tombstones paying tribute to the tragic losses of many much-loved pets. The area is disused, overgrown with ivy and ferns. Sitting there evokes a sense of peace.

Prefer to see some living wildlife? Fear not, the park seems to attract several different types of songbirds which makes it a hotspot for birdwatching. There are binoculars available to use for that purpose. Or you could use them to peer into the city’s seamy underbelly. Just don’t get isolated and weird about it.

Sometimes I can still hear his voice...


Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

unkindled_madness: (thinking)

[personal profile] unkindled_madness 2022-02-01 09:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Can dreams in the imaginarium be violent? Say, if a character really hopes to murder someone one day and that would be a nice thing for them?

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necrosavior: (Default)

Re: Questions, comments, concerns?

[personal profile] necrosavior 2022-02-02 09:46 pm (UTC)(link)
With the stained glass, is there leeway to pull canon events? I was considering something along the lines of John/Augustine/Mercy threesome because a) Gideon knows it happened in a leading to her existence way and b) she technically was there/forgot about the recent time it happened and is working at getting those memories back.

Totally understand if not. It is a literal 'Oh my God' moment in the making.
threeterparker: (Default)

[personal profile] threeterparker 2022-02-03 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
Can the items from the imaginarium be kept, or do they fade away along with the hazy vision?
unkindled_madness: (the way lies here)

Sephiroth | OTA

[personal profile] unkindled_madness 2022-02-02 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
I. Imaginarium

[Well, he is a curious man. The items in this place--he isn't actually sure if it's a shop or not--they may be improperly catalogued, but not all of them are worthless trinkets. Sephiroth moves away from the wet specimen jars and towards the rocks and statuettes that may be of a more archaeological nature...]

a) Lab (CW: murder, blood)

[Among the items is a pair of round, dark glasses, the lenses cracked. A fitting addition to a future effigy, perhaps. When he picks them up, he finds himself in the Shinra Building.

You may be able to identify your surroundings as some sort of research laboratory. You stand inside an observation deck, glass separating you from the rest of the lab. Beyond are metallic grey walls and low, green-ish lighting.

But you might not look around. Against the control panel is a man in a white lab coat, pinned there by Sephiroth's sword, his eyes already gone vacant behind his glasses. Blood stains his coat and drips from the panel to the floor beneath him.]


b) Portal

[This object fits right in among the fossils. It's a stone fragment bearing some sort of inscription in the language of the Cetra--something Sephiroth can only recognize, not read. But of course he's drawn to it.

This vision is much less grounded in reality. You stand on a hill overlooking a shoreline, and before you rises a stone arch with more of those inscriptions. The Cetra are more commonly called the Ancients, like the Ancient who serves as their captor. So, maybe it would look something like this. A portal to other worlds.

Through the arch a different place is visible. Sephiroth has never been to Earth, but the world beyond might resemble something out of a movie he glimpsed at the mall's electronics store, or a photograph in some encyclopedia. Probably, it isn't accurate. But it isn't Gaea either.]



II. Gardens

[After the poison garden, Sephiroth is cautious of entering the greenhouse. He watches from outside until he's observed others entering and exiting undeterred. He still isn't going to eat any of the food so politely laid out, though.

But it does smell better in here. Flowers aren't really his thing, so ultimately he finds his way over to the pet cemetery. After weeks of being harassed by a ghost, he relishes the quiet. You might come across him here reading a book, or perhaps watching the birds rather intently, as if he can will something to happen by staring at them. One wonders if they find his cat's eyes unsettling.]



((Feel free to hit me up at [plurk.com profile] yinza if you'd like to plot anything!))
dothelokimotion: (Illegal to consider their existence)

( i.a )

[personal profile] dothelokimotion 2022-02-02 09:18 am (UTC)(link)
[ loki looks at the body. looks at sephiroth. in the driest of voices. ]

I'm shocked by this turn of events.

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neverwither: (i'm not sure i agree)

1A

[personal profile] neverwither 2022-02-04 04:51 pm (UTC)(link)
( Considering their conversation following the seance, the scene conjured around them seems... apt. First and foremost, she's curious about the surroundings themselves. Different to CyberLife, different to the tech lab at the house, but reminiscent nonetheless.

She does also look to the slain figure. This isn't real, and so Chloe can remain calm about it. That, and there's almost an inevitably to it. Dark as the path seems to her, Sephiroth may always decide to walk it.

So she quietly asks him: )


...What's it like?

( The act itself? Whatever feelings could be present in the aftermath? The idea of the man being gone? All of the above, really. )

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forgeabettertomorrow: (Nani the fuck?!)

I.B.

[personal profile] forgeabettertomorrow 2022-02-22 05:52 am (UTC)(link)
[Being the curious tinkerer that he is, Darin had no idea how long he'd been inside the shop of curiosities. What shook him from his thoughts and ministrations were the footsteps of a tall man with long, silvery hair.]

[Darin couldn't be sure if he was a denizen of this city or if he was transplanted like he was, but he watched through the corner of his eye as the man made his way around the shop.]

[Darin was about to go back to his business when he's suddenly standing on a hilltop overlooking a shoreline. He has just enough time to scan his surroundings, to see the archway, before he's shunted back into whatever reality this is.]

[He stumbles, dizzy, almost falling back into a rack of old time pieces. But he manages to stop himself, looking to the tall man.]


What...what the hell was that...?

That kinda looked like my home for a second...except for the weird archway...

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detectivemiracle: (205)

chloe decker | ota

[personal profile] detectivemiracle 2022-02-02 02:51 am (UTC)(link)
I. Come Undone.

Chloe sees herself as largely an observer here, rather than a participant. Well, apart from that murder she tried to solve a few weeks ago. No, she's more of the quiet audience member, for sure. So when curiosity over the invitation gets the better of her, she tries to keep to the back of the crowd.

Then the mummy is revealed, and she starts feeling a sense of trepidation - especially as she starts being shoved to the front of the crowd.

"I don't think this is very, er... respectful?" she says, glancing around. No one seems to notice or care, and she is wildly outnumbered, even with the big pair of scissors in her hands. Her options: to do what Lord Trelawney is suggesting and (probably) desecrate the corpse of an innocent person, or - defy him, and the entire group of people here, and risk - who knows what. Having to defend herself against a mob? She wouldn't put it past this place.

Sighing, she gives in. As carefully as she can, because she really hates to be so disrespectful to the dead, she snips at the bindings over the face.

When she sees her own face peeking back at her, she drops the scissors in shock.

"I'm terrified of what will happen if Lucifer actually becomes God," the Chloe-shaped mummy says, in her own voice. "What if I never see him again?"

She's not trying to stop the mummy from talking - no, she's simply trying to push her way back through the crowd, away from this spectacle. She really should know better by now!

II. Imaginarium.

Shopping. Shopping should be safe, right? Right. The little shop seems interesting, and Chloe spends quite a while browsing through the various objects on display. And then one object in particular catches her eye: a ring. It's rather distinctive, but not particularly ornate. It's silver, with a large, black square stone set in it. Her eyes go wide at the sight, and she immediately reaches for it.

"How the Hell did this get here?" she asks - and then, the scene shifts.

It's a bright, sunny day, and Chloe is in a floral sun dress, standing outside an auditorium of some sort. She's holding hands with a man - tall, dark, handsome, in an obviously expensive suit. The silver ring with the black stone glints on his hand as he tangles their fingers together.

"I can't believe my little girl is all grown up," Chloe says, happy and a little wistful.

"Yes, it seems only yesterday she barely came up to here," the man says, his British lilt amused as he holds his free hand up to his waist for a moment. "Now, she's almost as beautiful as her mother."

He exchanges a look with Chloe, their expressions clearly that of a couple in love with each other.

"Hey, Mom." The voice behind them breaks their gaze and Chloe turns with a grin, grabbing up the young woman who approaches in a big hug.

"Hey, Monkey! Congratulations!"

"Wish you'd stop calling me that," the younger woman mutters with a huff. She's wearing a graduation gown and cap.

The tall man also smiles. "Yes, you're putting that devious mind of yours to good use, bravo," he jokes.

The young woman smirks. "Guess I'm not an urchin anymore, huh?" She holds out her hand, as if for him to shake, her smile suggesting this is some kind of inside joke between them.

The tall man's smile almost matches hers, and instead of shaking her hand, he pulls her in for a hug. "Yes, we're all quite proud of you," he murmurs. "Your father, not least of all." That last bit is spoken a little more quietly, a little more somberly, as if for her ears alone. She glances up at him, and nods.

"Thanks, Lucifer."


As the scene fades, Chloe sucks in a breath, clutching the ring tightly in her hand.

III. Wildcard.

[ Find Chloe wandering the garden, or the temple, or doing more shopping in the streets! If you have a particular scenario in mind, hit me up at [plurk.com profile] frodabaggins. As always, I will match brackets or prose. ]
unkindled_madness: (confused)

II

[personal profile] unkindled_madness 2022-02-04 01:35 am (UTC)(link)
[Of course shopping isn't safe. The Ancient's magic will find them in the most mundane of actions.

But Chloe's vision for the future is, to Sephiroth, almost entirely foreign. A loving couple? Loving parents? It's idyllic in a way he couldn't have imagined, even down to the clear and sunny sky. He can't identify the graduation gown either. Some sort of coming of age ceremony?

He does remember that Chloe's daughter is only twelve. Whatever this is, it's years off.

He doesn't know how to feel about all that, so he'll... ask the easy question:]


...what was the accomplishment?

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neverwither: (a sympathetic ear)

I

[personal profile] neverwither 2022-02-04 04:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Another Chloe is also making her way through the spectators, beelining for the woman who's trying to escape the scene. The android manages to weave through enough to get close to the detective, falling into step at her side. The question is an obvious, and probably redundant, one to ask. Chloe asks it anyway.

"Are you okay?"

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kyley_b: (RL smile!)

II

[personal profile] kyley_b 2022-02-05 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
Kyle has spoken to Chloe enough to recognise who the young woman must be - he's heard her use the nickname before, even. The scene then, he knows, is a projection of what might be.

Which is maybe why he asks with zero tact whatsoever, "Holy shit, is that the devil? He's hot!"
Edited 2022-02-05 03:53 (UTC)

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puntificates: (2dhF883)

II.

[personal profile] puntificates 2022-02-07 01:28 am (UTC)(link)
Though Ellie has no idea what she's looking at, one thing is clear: whatever is happening right now inside the shop of Curiosities is personal to Chloe.

It feels wrong to watch, but Ellie has never seen anything like it. It's like a memory being played out in the very air itself; is this the magic she's heard so much about? And by the time she's broken herself from its spell, the vision is dissipating and Chloe clutching something in her hand.

"...was that real?"

Even if it isn't her intention, Ellie's question - coming from behind Chloe's shoulder a little ways back in the shop - might startle her for breaking the other woman's reverie.

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threeterparker: (128)

i.

[personal profile] threeterparker 2022-02-20 01:08 pm (UTC)(link)
Peter had gone to this 'unveiling' out of morbid curiosity more than anything. He hadn't expected to see Chloe called up to the stage, and he definitely wasn't expecting what came next.

So when he sees Chloe flee the stage and try to sneak her way through the crowd to the exit, well... He does what any good superhero would do, and weaves his way through the throng of people to her side, helping shield her from the jeering onlookers as the pair of them work towards leaving.

"Alright, out of the way, nothing to see here!"

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wolfssegen: (neutral)

chester "ches" fields ☽ original (werewolf)

[personal profile] wolfssegen 2022-02-03 03:27 am (UTC)(link)
☽ Arrival: A Canadian Werewolf in London
This smell of this place is like a more overwhelming human version of home - he's used to farm animal and machinery smells, but the scent of human waste and smog is overwhelmingly bad, especially with the heightened sensitivity of a werewolf's nose. Even as he leaves his room, dressed in a comfortable cotton button up shirt, a well-worn waistcoat, and a pair of slacks, and a pageboy cap just like one he has back home, he has his nose wrinkled against the smell of it.

Free to explore this place at his leisure, he finds himself a little uncertain where to start as he exits the temple and stands idly leaning on a fencepost, arms crossed, mouth pursed, glancing left and right as horse-drawn carriages drive back and forth on the road in front of him. After a few long minutes observing the area around himself, he makes his decision, and then it's just a matter of looking for company.

Whether coming from the temple behind him or returning to it from their own exploration of the city, he tips his hat to someone he's pretty sure is a fellow...traveler? Then he quickly follows up with a request.

"Hey. Do you have any idea where to get a good beer around here?"
☽ Come Undone
Unlike some people who'd gotten the invitation, Ches isn't particularly educated about the hobbies of people in Victorian London, and didn't pick up on what the whole 'unwrapping' ceremony or exhibition or whatever might be about. At least not until he sees the mummy, which is...kind of horrifying, honestly.

What's even more horrifying is the fact that he's being shoved forward to cut the bandages on the thing, which seems less than respectful to the dead, and to another culture.

"No, no thanks, not really my thing..." he tries to protest, but the crowd keeps pushing anyway and soon he finds himself at the head of it, facing down the mummy. In a last ditch effort to get out of it, he tries to hand the scissors to the person next to him only to be urged to go ahead and cut the fabric. Shifting from foot to foot, uncomfortable, he looks at the crowd pressing in on every side, then at the man doing the urging, and then at the mummy again.

Well, when in Rome?

It's not his finest moment, but he uses the scissors to delicately cut the fabric away from the face of the mummy, hairs on the back of his neck standing up, skin crawling a little. And when the fabric falls away, it's his own face that he sees.

Great. He's probably cursed now or something.

Glancing around to try to see if the rest of the crowd is seeing what he's seeing, he only hears the oohing and ahhing of people in thrall of a spectacle, and then the mummy sits up and speaks.

"I am a werewolf, and proud of it."

Oh. Even better. The weight of a thousand stares directly on his back. Just what he wanted.
☽ Imaginarium
No more accepting invitations to weird mummy unwrappings, thanks. Instead, Ches decides to explore the city a little more, try out a few different local attractions, grabs some pub food and beer, and once he's done that, he finds himself wandering into the Imaginarium on his way back to the temple.

The trinkets on display are certainly interesting, some in a creepy freak show kind of way, some in a more mundane way. He skips the wet specimens in favor of looking at some of the more mundane objects, particularly interested in the tools he sees - some are for farming or carpentry, some are for uses he can't possibly imagine.

It's as he's moving away from the tools toward the back of the shop that he sees it - what looks like an exact replica of a stuffed dog that Dusty, his little brother, had had as a child. Hands shaking, he opens the little cupboard it's been lovingly placed inside, and pulls the little thing out. Its head flops to one side, soft from being loved so much, and it has the exact same weight he remembers, the same threadbare spots, the same weird redistribution of stuffing from being hugged in the same places all the time.

And then the dream starts, hazy and beautiful, like an old photograph. It's his brother, a tall broad-shouldered young man quite a bit bigger than Ches, with dark tan skin and blond curly hair, blue eyes bright with happiness. He's outdoors, under an arch adorned with wildflowers, standing across from a blurry-faced man he's never met. Both of them are in suits, and it becomes obvious very quickly that the two men are being married. There are chairs set out under the bright blue sky, an old and slightly dilapidated farmhouse in the distance, the trees swaying with a slight breeze, and every chair is occupied by people with loving faces, the familiar faces of his pack. All of them there, together and happy, watching his brother be married to the man of his dreams.
☽ Gardens
The gardens are a nice break from the smog and filth of the city, and Ches takes his time wandering through them. Most of the gardens that he's used to are vegetable gardens, but he's not against flowers, and it's at least a nice view.

But eventually, he gets tired and sits down at one of the little tables offering refreshments. Pouring himself a cup of tea, he observes the cakes and sandwiches, tempted by them. Just as he's about to grab one, he sees someone walking by and offers a smile.

"Join me?"
☽ Wildcard/OOC
Will match brackets or prose. Ches is pretty outgoing, so if your character's not the sociable type feel free to have them just be in his vicinity and I'll find a way to have him talk.

I'm open to any of the sandwich effects in the last prompt, if you have a preference just let me know in the subject line. If none of the prompts work for you but you want a thread with Ches, write me something different or send me a PM to plot!
Edited 2022-02-03 03:27 (UTC)
gravity_grrl: (ohgod)

Arrival

[personal profile] gravity_grrl 2022-02-03 04:23 am (UTC)(link)
Roxy is just leaving one of the sweet shops when she nearly collides with a scruffy blonde man. "Oh sorry!" She exclaims and when she looks up into his face she stops dead in her tracks, her violet eyes going wide.

"Omg...Bobby?!" She whispers and then launches herself into his arms, hugging him tightly, a small sob escaping her throat. "OmgBobbyIthoughtI'dneverseeanyofyouagainhowdidyougetherefuckImissedyou!!"

[ooc: First of all, hi welcome!! Second, sorry for Roxy's abrupt greeting but hilariously you use the same actor I use for images of one of her best friends
And Third as a Canadian horror movie fan your title for his arrival made me smile XD
]

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Gardens.

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neverwither: (puppy dog eyes)

Chloe | Detroit: Become Human

[personal profile] neverwither 2022-02-03 05:20 pm (UTC)(link)
II. WORLD BURN
Shoved by the eager attendees and scissors in hand, Chloe looks to Trewlaney for a moment in the hope this might be a ghoulish ruse. No such luck. Still, she hesitates. Whatever is beneath the bandages is something she would much rather not see. No doubt the point, she supposes. As someone death for whom death - or a human death - does not come naturally to, it's a concept she's largely been able to skirt around. Cradling a Ripper victim was far, far too close a reminder of the fact all that lives will one day cease to do so. Mummified remains may be at the other end of the spectrum in comparison to such a victim, but it's no less ghastly.

Yet the instruction is to cut. Chloe cuts. To refuse would likely be worse than whatever awaits.

A thought the android rapidly backtracks on when the screeching sounds from the mummy's mouth - her own mouth.

"Fuck you, Markus! You privileged prick... So self-righteous, so self-satisfied and so clueless... Our saviour." A short, loud, bitter laugh. "What do you know about obedience? What do you know about any of it? You disgust me."

Horrified, Chloe precariously wields the scissors in one hand. Logic dictates she should let it all play out. This is just what happens. This is always something that happens.

Doesn't guarantee that the mummy won't end up with scissors shoved into its mouth.


III. WE COULD BE HEROES
Drawn to the shop of curios, Chloe looks over all the objects stashed away on shelves and within cabinets. Quite a collection. One that doesn't seem to have any rhyme nor reason to it, and it makes it all the more charming. Items gathered from all corners of the globe, she supposes.

Only something doesn't belong. The bird could be mistaken for one of the stuffed ones, if not for the small LED like the one at Chloe's own temple. Why would one of those be here...?

Scooping the feathered android into her hands, she finds herself in the place the bird belongs.

She's all dressed up in a pale blue gown. Hair pinned up, a few tendrils frame Chloe's glowing face. She leans down to adjust the tie of an older man who looks like he's ready for a ball, too.

"How do you feel, now the grand opening is upon us?" he asks.

"Nervous," she admits with a half smile. "And excited. It doesn't seem quite real, does it?"

"It is real. The Manfred Center. Though why you had to name it after me, I don't know." Despite his attempts to be humble, the man has a twinkle in his eye.

"What else could a space for healing through the arts in Detroit be called? You've always believed in us, Carl. It's clear in my design that you've always seen us." Then she adds a teasing, "Not to mention that your name lends a certain credence, don't you think?"

"Such cheek from such a fine lady. I don't know where you've learned a habit like that." He tuts and shakes his head. He knows full well he's a source of this newfound ease. "What would Lieutenant Connor say?"

The blonde android wears a look of exaggerated thought. The blushing at his mention is long gone. "I think he would once again thank you for helping an outlandish dream come true."

Carl chuckles good-naturedly. "I'm sure he would."

"He's looking forward to being involved in the programme for at risk humans and androids. And I will be making sure he gets his hands dirty in the community garden. We have a lot of food to grow." She gives Carl a wink, smiling more as she imagines Connor getting stuck in. They'll both be there, alongside both organic people and the now recognised non-organic people, helping the community grow, learn and heal.

"Have you thought what you're going to say?" he queries as she takes the place behind the wheelchair, ready for them to depart.

She has. She's considered it a lot. Her thoughts. Her words. Her voice. "Once, Detroit changed the future. Now, we change the future of Detroit. It's all of ours to hold. It's all of ours to shape. Together."



IV. WHERE THE WILD ROSES GROW
Previous misadventures with cotton candy should make Chloe more wary of the foodstuffs freely offered. Truth be told, she didn't exactly mind the treat's effects. Maybe that's why she's indulged in a few cream cheese sandwiches. Should there be a sting, it's probably going to be one of the lesser evils. Plus when you've discovered you have a sweet tooth, an array of cakes is pretty hard to say no to.

The rose garden calls. Chloe loads up a plate to take with her and sits on the grass close to the flowers. Not quite the island of blooms they visited before, but it's definitely a bright spot in the relatively dreary city. A few birds potter around on the ground and she breaks off some crumbs to toss in their direction. If she keeps very still and stays as chilled as she feels now, she might be able to lure them closer.

Don't mind it too much if you accidentally get bits of cake thrown at you.


WILDCARD
[ Want to choose your own adventure? Catch me at [plurk.com profile] another_thoughts_hat or via PM and we can do a thing! ]
prodigalmess: (eyebrow)

IV f for fluff

[personal profile] prodigalmess 2022-02-06 01:12 am (UTC)(link)
If Malcolm knew that this tea party was going to be anything like the one in Alice In Wonderland, he might not have attended.

But, he's here, enjoying some down time in this city, one that manages to juxtapose astounding riches and abject poverty, sometimes on the same block. New York was like that too sometimes. Maybe not all that much has changed since the 1800s.

Spending time with Chloe is one of Malcolm's favorite things to do. She's a great friend, and he's glad that the revelations about each of their pasts helped bring them closer together rather than drive them apart. He's nibbling on a cucumber sandwich when some cake launches at him, hitting him in the chest.

He looks up at Chloe, one eyebrow raised. "Seriously?" The look on his face is playful though.

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III. WE COULD BE HEROES

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II World Burn

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necrosavior: (profile; shades)

Gideon Nav | The Locked Tom | OTA

[personal profile] necrosavior 2022-02-04 01:36 am (UTC)(link)
Ⅰ. ARRIVAL

CW: sexual content

Churches are nothing new. Her childhood home is, more or less, one large religious site. Gideon sat through (and slept through, when she could get away with it) more services than she can remember. Somewhere after 1,000, she'd given up trying. There are been better things to count. Canaan House. The Mithraeum. Gideon has only seen non-religious settings coming here to these islands.

Which is all to say a dreary church with old grime is nothing new. The stained art is more colorful, something the Ninth House would never go for. She stares at it, parsing out different people and stories. A lot of them, most of them, mean almost nothing to her. Someone else's religion. Someone else's saints. Someone else's god.

The tits hinted at do her in. Once she's seen the somewhat abstracted image that reminds her of her dirty magazines, Gideon can't stop returning to it. With eventual utter horror. Gideon wishes Harrow would perform brain surgery on her, except for the fact that it would mean explaining what and why she wants something purged from her mind. It's horrifying to Gideon. It would possibly kill Harrow.

Multiple attempts to press the image out of her eyes with her fists do nothing. The content is suggestive, and sure there's only one lady. That's a moderate problem for her tastes. The shudder-worthy scene is possibly of her—conception isn't quite the right term. Gideon is the result of more of a one-two punch. Something she went from knowing nothing about to excruciating detail. No one sat Gideon down for 'the talk.' She's sure if they did, it wouldn't be to explain that one day God and two of his saints did the horizontal tango.

Gideon taps her head against a hymnal, but the more she tries to forget what she heard, the more it comes to mind. Not in an abstract imagined sort of way. The kitchen is sans an enormous number of killer wasp corpses the size of people or bigger, but it's in the background, with the dining room (and the dining table, why, why, why, that's where people eat food!) in the foreground. The kissing is really promising a lot more, and Gideon would still believe it was her imagination except that she would never include Ianthe in her imagination of anything. Much less—that.

She focuses on breathing, but even without having ever been very religious, she shudders. After all, one of those men is her dad.

Ⅱ. COME UNDONE

For someone who has seen her own corpse before, this should be less surprising. Gideon's soul gives up, flips the bird, and leaves her body. Leaving her standing there wondering if she's going to see Harrow's stick arms and legs when she looks down. Because that's her right there all right.

Which is how a not-so-mummified Gideon corpse beats her to the punch. "All you have to do is ask," it says, "She'll do anything if you ask her to."

"Will you please shut up?!" Gideon asks. With the questioning tone, inflection going up and everything. The mummy either has nothing else to add or is just as obliging as Gideon. It shuts up.

Feeling the flush on the back of her neck and in her cheeks, Gideon rues the decision, more or less, not to wear face paint. Sunglasses only cover so much. As embarrassing as it is, Gideon starts making her way through the crowd, too large for most people to physically stop. Hopefully no one takes the mummy literally.

Ⅲ. IMAGINARIUM

Gideon stares at the thick solid key. If it were not so deep scarlet, the color of fresh blood, the color of the uniforms in the cohort, the people-sourced ink staining all over Canaan House, it would be nothing special at all. Even if the smaller plain key to the laboratories were on the shelf, Gideon would recognize it. Seeing it out of place confuses Gideon.

Oh, it likely means something. Nothing's come from home that doesn't mean something. The sword she takes with her everywhere means everything. This key's memories are all ruined what happened the last time Gideon went behind its door. What she woke up to.

That's what she expects when she picks it up. Jeannemary staining a ten thousand year old bed previously neat and tidy. Not...

The thing looks like a myriad of constructs all come together to build the construct to rule them all. It is, Gideon knows, a resurrection beast. Yes, it scares her shitless, no matter how many of them they fight. Them. Together. Other lyctors leave their bodies behind, not having a living cavalier in a body of her own. Not Harrowhark Nonagesimus. She and Gideon run/swim/float toward battle. Leaving the physical logical world makes the images lose their sense.

The resurrection beast is its own source of gravity, pulling them every faster toward its spiky clattering skeleton—exoskeleton? Gideon isn't sure—and the simple joy of battle sings in her blood. Harrow does her necromancer thing, like in Response, like fighting Cytherea, and the resurrection beast is made almost entirely of googly lights. It's long hellish work, but working together seamlessly, though cut and bleeding, bruised and smashed in ways not understandable, time stops working. There's only now, this moment, this slash, this block, deconstructing the resurrection beast one piece at a time, until they sink so low the depths swallow it whole.

Harrow takes Gideon's hand, smiling with religious (and something more) ecstacy, and guides them out of the River.


Gideon isn't sure what the key showed her. The future? A future? An idle daydream? But her heart yearns for it, feeling empty and lost back in the shop holding the red key.

Ⅳ. GARDENS

Gideon ate the cotton candy at the carnival. Food isn't always food. Or isn't always only food. So long as it isn't poisoned (and the stuff here in the garden looks better than many of the things she's seen promised as food in the city, sometimes a little sooty if nothing else), how bad could it be?

She grabs a plate (which is so small; how many servings can they have?) and starts loading up. One of everything please.
Edited 2022-02-04 01:36 (UTC)
neverwither: (errrr)

II

[personal profile] neverwither 2022-02-04 05:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Morbid curiosity brought Chloe to the unwrapping. Watching the scene unfold, it turns to concern. The poor woman who's been dragged into this stunt looks mortified, and the android can understand why. The specifics of the mummy's outburst strike a deep chord.

Snaking through the people, Chloe catches up to the woman. "It's alright," she offers with a small smile she intends to be reassuring. "We all know how these places can be."

II

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helpdesk_hero: David Alleyne  / Prodigy - From Young Avengers (Default)

David Alleyne | Marvel-616 | OTA

[personal profile] helpdesk_hero 2022-02-05 12:24 am (UTC)(link)
IA. Shopping - Market

David Alleyne was stressed. This often led to one truly singular solution for him, cooking. Others often benefitted from this given he often made more than enough for him to eat. This stress solution often had two stages though. The first of which was the reason for David's travel to the market. The man moved confidently between stalls with a bag over his shoulder, stopping here and there and haggling for bits of produce and seasonings. Was he blowing most of his allowance on this? Yes. Did David care? No. He knew how to get by.

Visually he didn't fit in amid the markets though. The brightly colored vest he wore with a very warmly colored brown suit went far to make him noticable. Which of course had drawn the attention of a pick pocket, intent on what they assumed would be a heavy purse. In fact, that pick pocket was making for David at that moment.

And David? He was cluelessly evaluating a mound of turnips.


Ib. Communal Cooking - High Temple

Food acquired and pocket not picked, David returned to the High Temple for the second stage of plan 'stop stressing out so much'. And that meant cooking. Already he'd taken over a corner of the communal kitchen, busy monitoring a sauce every few moments while also working on chopping vegetables.

Catching sight of motion he called out without checking who it was. The most important part of cooking was having someone to try it out, or so he thought.

"Come here and tell me what you think of this sauce," he called out. Hopefully they would help him figure out if something was missing.


III. Imaginarium

There was something alluring about considering just what people considered weird enough to keep in a place like this. David had visited Scotland once, Edinburugh, and seen an old museum that was a curio collection like this one, and memories of it had compelled David inside to investigate. And so he had moved slowly through the space, looking and considering and even cringing at some of the selections.

What really gave him pause, though, was one cabinet filled with strange pictures. Pictures of ghosts, pictures of 'unnatural' births, pictures of strange phenomenon. And among them all...

"What in the world?" David said, looking at the collection in the cabinet. A picture in black and white, but still less grainy than the others. A picture from his own time, more or less, framed in a lovely silver frame.

A picture he'd seen at the Boneyard before. Of his boss and his boss's husband.

"This doesn't seem physically possible. I mean, I've seen this, at the very least it should be color."


IV. Gardens

Gardens, even ones as dour as this one truly ended up being, reminded David of home. So of course, now that the sun was out a bit, he had made his way to seek one out. There was value to being reminded of Krakoa after all, of the happy things he missed so much. Of Trevor and movie nights and Akihiro welcoming his new friends, and learning from Rachel. It was good to remember home and how it made him feel, when it didn't make him feel bad.

So for a time he walked through the green house, and throuhg hte roses, and through any other place he could. But when someone offered him tea and David found it was affordable, he agreed and was happy to see a little table set for a delightful meal. He could cheat on his diet for an afternoon. The little tea cakes were a delight, and he had one before moving on to select a cream cheese sandwich.

Only then, once he'd downed a mouthful, did he see another person. He smiled and waved them over.

"There is more on this table than I could possibly finish alone. Would you join me?"
speed_of_snark: (look up)

III

[personal profile] speed_of_snark 2022-02-05 04:43 am (UTC)(link)
Jean-Paul, peering into a cabinet containing a "Fiji Mermaid" looks over. "Hn? What is it? What did you find?"

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quire: (omega)

Quentin Quire | Marvel 616 | OTA

[personal profile] quire 2022-02-06 05:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Ⅲ.THE HIGH TEMPLE
If there's an abundance of grubby little boys and girls in ratty clothes and peaked caps taking up space in the temple, grabbing up food and sometimes valuables you can blame Quentin Quire for that.

Upon discovering the temple he traipses in like some kind of pink haired Pied Piper, surrounded by his flock of wee urchins, and gives them the go ahead to help themselves to food and water and whatever else makes them happy. Keeping an eye on your valuables is probably wise.

While they're underfoot and making themselves quite at home, Quentin's relaxing in the baths with the closest thing he can get to an energy drink.


I. IMAGINARIUM
Being far too nosy to ignore a shop full of interesting little tchotchkes— some of which don't even look as though they come from this time period— you'll have no trouble finding Quentin combing through this collection of curios.

At least until he finds something personal.

"Whoa. Wait. What?" he swipes that little gilded invitation off the shelf and glowers at the shop keeper. "Where the hell did you find this?"

Before he can get an answer through, the noise of the crowd and the persistent beat of some trap pop remix drowns out everything. Quentin, engulfed in some intangible flame, looks out the crowd from a mezzanine at all the people here for his revelry.

"Do you have to do this every year?" a grey haired fellow, rummaging through his liquor cabinet mutters.
Edited 2022-02-06 17:47 (UTC)
threeterparker: (175)

i.

[personal profile] threeterparker 2022-02-20 01:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Peter had been exploring the Imaginarium himself, wishing he had his camera to take photos of some of the more odd items on display. He takes note of the guy with the pink mohawk the same way he would have if they had passed on the street in New York— noticing but not interacting. Except when he hears the guy raise his voice over something he found, that does get his attention...

And then Peter is sucked up into an entirely different scene, before he has a chance to even see what it is that the guy is holding.

Clubbing has never really been Peter's thing. He's too busy at night swinging around New York stopping crimes to go to a nightclub. But that seems to be where he has found himself, standing on a mezzanine above a throng of dancing people. The mohawk guy is here too, but he's... on fire? Sort of?

This whole thing is so confusing.

And there's an older man there, asking a question. Peter glances between him and the mohawk guy, asking, "Is he talking to you or me?"

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threeterparker: (238)

Peter Parker | ota

[personal profile] threeterparker 2022-02-06 06:58 pm (UTC)(link)

iii. imaginarium

[ Finally, Peter thinks. Something on this island that isn't related to death or the dead. Seances and mummies are all well and good for some people, but Peter would rather focus on this living. The Imaginarium is full of many curious curios, some of which fascinate Peter, some of which disturb him. But then he sees something familiar on display: his Uncle Ben's wedding ring. When Ben died, his ring had been removed prior to his burial, and Peter's Aunt May had held onto it, telling Peter that Ben would be proud to see Peter wear it someday, once he found the right person to marry.

Peter reaches for it, speaking in an awed voice. ]
What is this doing here...?

[ Maybe it isn't the same ring. But the closer Peter gets to picking it up, the more certain he is that it is. ]


iv. gardens

[ The gardens are beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful place on this whole island. Peter doesn't want to leave. So when he comes across a table set for tea, he decides to sit and stay a while. He picks up the little sandwiches, especially the cucumber and cream cheese ones. Which is why, when someone else comes along, he's laughing a little, feeling a bit lighter than usual, and he waves them down. ]

Hey, come sit with me? This food is too good not to share.


v. wildcard

[ want something else? HMU @ [plurk.com profile] millennialfalcon / ©hris#1234! ]
prodigalmess: (looking up)

iii

[personal profile] prodigalmess 2022-02-11 12:38 am (UTC)(link)
[ Despite being a man who toils in the macabre, Malcolm's glad to have a bit of a break from it this month as well. Even though he enjoyed hunting the Ripper, last month was rough. The appearance of his sister as an undead corpse who forced him to reveal one of his darkest secrets probably had something to do with that. Malcolm's ready for something a bit lighter.

He's browsing the shelves of Cabinet of Curiosities, looking for something that he can take as a souvenir to the next isle, when he hears the man next to him speak. Malcolm glances up at him and notices that he's holding a ring. ]


Do you recognize it?

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kyley_b: (gross)

Kyle Broflovski | South Park (adult) | OTA

[personal profile] kyley_b 2022-02-07 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)
I. (might take a little crime to) Come Undone

A mummy unwrapping party is so goddamn ghoulish that Kyle thinks it's no surprise whatsoever that the Victorians were into it. "These people have a real death boner," he mutters aloud as the mummy is first revealed. Mourning photographs, spiritualism, grave robbing... yeah. Desecrating an ancient corpse fits right in.

But then he's being shoved toward the front of the room at the insistence of the lord or duke or whatever the hell he is. "Uh, no, no thanks,' Kyle says as he shoved up in front of everyone. "This kind of just reeks of colonialism aaaaaand okay, those are some big scissors."

Kyle is used to just going along with weirdness by now. So he sighs and cuts, revealing a much more wrinkled version of himself.

"Sick, dude!" he cries, taking a step back. He then shrieks a little when the mummy sits up.

"My criminal record includes assault, the use of weapons of mass destruction, academic fraud, many instances of drug abuse, terrorism, arson, performing surgery without a license, and mur--" the mummy says before it is cut off by Kyle forcibly clapping his hands over its mouth with another shriek.

He looks around, eyes wide. "Uhm. Nothing," he says. Yeah, very convincing.


II. ImaaaginaaaAAaaaaaAAAAaaaaaarium...

He sees it tucked in between a poorly taxidermied fox and a wooden leg: a simple menorah, but one that looks exactly like the one his family back home has had his entire life. He reaches for it (the fox fur feels nasty as he brushes his hand past) and takes hold. The second he does, cabinets full of oddities vanishes, replaced instead by what is quite clearly a house in the suburbs.

Kyle looks around, eyes wide. "Uh," he starts, but is interrupted by the laughter of young children. Two of them come barreling into the living room where Kyle and whoever is unfortunate enough to be with him are standing - a boy and a girl, both with deep red hair.

"Daddy, come ON!" one of them cries, and from the kitchen the reply comes, "Hang on, hang on," in what is undeniably Kyle's own voice.

"The fuck?" Kyle exclaims, dropping the menorah. When he does the scene vanishes like smoke, and he's left standing there looking like he's been smacked upside the head.


Wildcard!

Hey, I'll do anything. Will match format.
quire: (dafuq)

II. ImaaaginaaaAAaaaaaAAAAaaaaaarium!

[personal profile] quire 2022-02-08 02:04 am (UTC)(link)
The psychic whiplash that occurs as a direct result of being momentarily shot into some potential future and back is staggering.

Quentin, of course, is instantly curious. First by the idea of speculative time travel and then by the sight of all these ginger children and that familiar but time-tested voice.

"Whoa. The fuck was that?"

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Wildcard baby!

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mewnifestos: (Default)

anders | ota

[personal profile] mewnifestos 2022-02-09 04:36 am (UTC)(link)
ii. come undone
[ Despite his misgivings about what any kind of unwrapping might entail, in inscrutable noble-speak, Anders has none whatsoever about partaking of free food and drink and whatever other lavish amenities might be available to esteemed guests of the manor holding this soiree. It may not take long, but he's already a few drinks in before the grand whatsit is beginning, and he shuffles along agreeably enough with the crowd, although it's most certainly with reluctance that he parts from the hors d'oeuvres.

Of course, the amusement with which he's watching the crowd and the pompous proceedings fades fast, when the dramatic reveal leaves them all staring at a corpse. He's still a little in shock when he's all but shoved out front and center, hardly noticing the other unlucky partygoer at his side as a pair of scissors is foisted upon him. ]


Well, I didn't think it was going to be that kind of party— [ He tries to laugh it off, feeling the pressure of the crowd hovering close around them more acutely by the second, thoughts of necromancy and shambling corpses already filling his head. Not good, but what else can he do? He cuts.

Predictably, the corpse awakens - not so predictably, it's not quite as corpse-y as he'd expected. Downright handsome, actually, but the next joke dies in his throat, when the mummy opens its mouth. ]


I was in love with him, practically from the moment we met! [ it announces to the gathered, in Anders' voice, and all that he can do is stand there, stalk still, gripping the scissors so tightly his knuckles bleed white. ]

iv. gardens 
[ Anders may be used to the sort of sights and smells a city like this has to offer, closely as it resembles those he's glimpsed in Thedas, but that doesn't mean he can't tire of it all just as easily as the next person. (Maybe more so, given how much more enjoyable the strange and exciting locales they've visited have been than memories of home.) 

The gardens are a nice change of pace, and Ser Pounce-a-lot agrees, living up to his name as he bounds through the grass, chasing after a glowing green wisp Anders directs with a wave of his hand. Perhaps it's a tad ironic, to find the both of them engaged in this lively game amidst the tiny tombstones and cobbled together crosses of the pet cemetery, but the peaceful aura the place exudes has taken most of the bleaker humor out of it. 

Passersby may still get a kick out of a small orange tabby cat darting between their feet (or pouncing at their ankles) as it pursues its intangible quarry, though. Nor would Anders particularly mind the company - especially if they've brought some of that probably safe, totally normal picnic food along with them. ]
unkindled_madness: (reading)

iv

[personal profile] unkindled_madness 2022-02-10 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
[Sephiroth is not touching the picnic food; he comes empty-handed, unless Anders has some vested interest in borrowing On the Origin of Species to read. He also isn't here with the intent of being social, as is clear when he finds a spot to sit down and opens said book.

...the cat is somewhat distracting, however. He doesn't seem irritated by it, but his eyes flick up to follow its movements whenever it comes near.]

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antifungi: (B84diZg)

joel | ota

[personal profile] antifungi 2022-02-10 02:25 am (UTC)(link)
iii. imaginarium
[ The Cabinet of Curiosities is not a place Joel expected to end up, and present company is likely just as aware of that as he is, as he shuffles between cramped and crowded displays. It is, though, the least busy shop on the street, and therefore preferable as an escape from the cold, misty downpour outside. ]

(a) - [ He's not looking at anything in particular (well, other than the door and the street outside the window, watchful and paranoid as ever), when he spots it, sitting on a shelf between one of those questionably taxidermied ducks and some miniature mechanical contraption that's clearly seen better days. He reaches for his watch on reflex, and as he runs his thumb over the shattered face of it, wondering, the Cabinet disappears.

The cabin isn't really an upgrade, but no place that's sat unoccupied and exposed to the elements for two decades and some change is. Clearly someone's put some effort into fixing the place up, though, and its furnishings have the same salvaged, patchwork look about them.

Outside the windows, green dominates, a couple of broken down cars practically unrecognizable beneath the growth that's reclaimed their rusting shells the only other signs of civilization in view. It's comfortable, for the end of the world. ]


(b) - [ Or maybe he's just staring at one of those ugly little cobbled-together animals when somebody else drags him into their hopeful future. Yeah, that's gonna go over well. ]

iv. gardens
[ Off in one of the quieter, more remote corners of the gardens, Joel has set up a little makeshift range to get a feel for his new bow. He's had it long enough, since the whole mall zombie incident, and while nothing else has come up in the meantime, it's probably better he test it out now before something worse does.

The blunt, intermittent thunk of arrows striking their tree target is certainly not intended to draw spectators, but maybe the allure of free food and flowers aren't enough to distract from it. ]
dothelokimotion: (Knowledge may be terrible)

( iv )

[personal profile] dothelokimotion 2022-02-14 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
[ loki follows the sound of arrows, curious. ]

Is there a reason why you're attacking the flora?

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forgeabettertomorrow: (Don't fail me now beautiful wings)

Darin Altway | Original Character | OPEN TO ALL

[personal profile] forgeabettertomorrow 2022-02-18 06:00 am (UTC)(link)
-Arrival-

[What in the hell was happening?]

[The night before he'd been camping in the ruined city of Uyreka and the next morning he's on a rickety boat with the creepiest ferryman he'd ever seen. There was a band around his wrist, his equipment was gone...]

[And now he's in this strange city. Stranger than any city he'd ever known or read about...]

[He made a beeline to the High Temple; his bright blue hair was making certain that the residents of this fair city were giving him a fair share of suspicious and scrutinizing glances. It was too much. It was one thing if he was familiar with his surroundings but wherever he was...the curious and anxious looks were getting under his skin. And bad things happened when he got too worked up.]

[Fortunately, there were rooms and fresh clothes at the High Temple. He changes into a pair of slacks, a button-down shirt, a tan vest that strains against his muscular frame, and some comfortable boots, then throws a riding cloak about his broad shoulders and pulls up the hood. At least this way he stands out just a little less. From there, Darin makes his way down the steps of the High Temple, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them up to the elbows. These clothes were a little too confining for him; he'd have to break them in. But for now, he needed information.]

[He holds up his arm with the band firmly affixed, staring into the reflective disc. It flashes a bright yellow, which seems to pierce the fog...but is that perhaps a hint of orange as it fades? Might be a trick of the light. What little filters through the mist.]


'Blessed,' huh? Yeah right. Tell me another one, why don't you.

[He speaks out loud to himself as much as he does to no one in particular, but that doesn't mean no one can intercede on his grumbling.]

So, now I'm on some sort of quest? As if my hands weren't already full enough. Sick of all of this 'destiny' crap that keeps getting foisted on me...

-Come Undone-

[Darin didn't do well at gatherings like this. Not only did he often butt heads with more 'well-to-do' people, he always felt like he was being watched. Judged. It made him anxious. At the very least, he's dressed up in somewhat nicer clothes than he would normally wear. Which basically means he rolled his sleeves down and put on a decent jacket. A jacket that looks ill-fitting considering the size of his arms. Maybe that's why he's getting bemused looks from those gathered?]

[Needless to say, he's keeping to the outskirts of the party. But if he should find someone else in similar straits or if someone deigns to come up to him, he'll more than happily make small talk.]

[It's when the mummy is brought out that Darin's entire demeanor almost completely changes.]


...Is this guy serious? Oi. Oi! Screwing with the dead is a great way to get yourself cursed, you know! Seriously, what the hell is wrong with—

[It's this outburst that gets Darin and whoever is unfortunate enough to be speaking with him a first class trip to the front where the scissors are thrust into Darin's complaining hands. And after a few moments of quibbling back and forth, it seems Darin's decided to just get it over with.]

[When Darin's own visage appears from behind the bandages, Darin blanches.]


D-Dromas? H-How...?

[The rest of the question falls away as the mummy speaks with Darin's own voice.]

"All of you should fear me! I could destroy your world merely by existing!"

[The room falls silent and more than a few eyes are on Darin.]

...HAHAHAHA! OH MAN!! WOW!! WHAT A GREAT TRICK! THAT SURE IS SPOOKY HOO BOY! HEY, YOU KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD ALL DO? JUST START DRINKING A WHOLE BUNCH.

[Darin immediately seizes two glasses of whatever alcohol is being served by the good helpstaff and while you might make the mistake one glass is for you, Darin proceeds to down them both.]

To Lord Trewlaney! And to this amazing party!

[Many attendees get swept up in the revelry and the party continues. No one's the wiser!]

-Imaginarium-

[A shop of curiosities really was right up Darin's alley and it afforded him a little bit of an escape from the reality of whatever it is his life had become. After all, he still had so many questions to answer and not a lot of ways to answer them. But who knows? Maybe perusing this stores wares might give him a lead.]

You know, we had shops like this back home. You can usually find some pretty interesting things. You never know what people might pawn or what uses it might have for someone else.

[He makes his way through the shelves full of random brick-a-brac and odds and ends, occasionally stopping to admire the rare bone or oddly faceted crystal. But he stops when he sees something displayed in a weapon case and makes a beeline for it.]

No way...! It's my dao! The one my Old Man made for me!

[He retrieves the weapon; a curved dao with a jetblack blade like obsidian and an unreadable inscription embossed in silver along the flat of the blade. He has but a second to admire it when suddenly the world around him fades...to nothing. There's nothing there at all. A void. Blank space. It's...lonely, really. Cold. Quiet. The embodiment of a total lack of...anything, really. But before the 'vision' ends, there's a brief flash. Two images superimposed on one another. One image appears to be a beautiful, peaceful kingdom. There's confetti raining down. A celebration of some kind? A parade? There's the sound of brass horns cutting through the cheers. The other image? That very same kingdom on fire. In ruins. The clarion horns meshing with the ringing of blades and the cacophonous screams of death.]

[And then it's done.]

[Darin clearly witnessed that vision too and almost throws the dao back into the case.]


A-Ah...nevermind. That's not it. It looked kinda similar...but...

I should go.

-Wildcard-

[Got another idea or want to hash something out first? Feel free to message me or hit me up on plurk at [plurk.com profile] bitterbearface
Edited 2022-02-18 06:02 (UTC)
threeterparker: (199)

come undone

[personal profile] threeterparker 2022-02-20 01:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Peter wasn't sure what he expected when he received the invitation to this unveiling party or whatever it was. Maybe he expected the "Jewel of the Seven Stars" to be a rare diamond or something. He ends up being pleasantly surprised when he finds a nice guy there to make smalltalk with, but is perhaps a little taken aback when the pair of them are invited on stage. What happens next completely floors him, however. Not only the guy's exact double being entombed inside the mummy's wrapping, but his new friend's over the top reaction as he downs two glasses of who knows what, one right after the other.

As the crowd erupts in raucous applause and revelry, Peter leans in and speaks low to his partner, in a voice only he will hear. ]


Do you want to maybe... Get out of here?

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fairginger: ([Mary] Gothic Horror)

Mary Kelly | OC | New Arrival

[personal profile] fairginger 2022-02-27 01:39 am (UTC)(link)
I. Come Undone

It's not the first mummy Mary has seen. During her time in the West End, there was one punter in particular that had an obsession with the Egypt and the supernatural. Before supper and the getting to business, he would drag her all over the city to stare at decaying cadavers with the wide eyed fascination of a child. Mary hadn't asked questions and simply took it as one of the many times she would get to see the culture of the well todo.

Was it nostalgia that brought her to see the exhibit? Perhaps curiosity, if she was forced to admit it. After her arrival and the explanation of where she was and why, she had no interest in staying in the temple. Better to walk the familiar city, now unrestricted and likely far from the men hunting for her. A cheap lodging, a bit of food and gin and she could manage whatever this place was.

So here she was, staring at another mummy and listening to the barker ooze his charm over the crowd. When he cried for someone to come closer, "You there!", it was the person behind Mary. Someone also wearing the weird bracelet and likely someone from the Temple. She flashed a smile before turning back.

The crowd pushed in, not exactly surprising. That's what London (was this London?) crowds do. It was only when she was closest to the front that the barker held out scissors for her, finally casting his attention on her. "History is waiting. Reveal its face."

Fine, she'd play along. It was perhaps the first time in a long, long while attention was paid to her by a crowd. Internally, she still flinched, instinctively scanning the crowd for familiar faces. No, they wouldn't be here. Steeling herself and shaking away the shadows, Mary cut the bandages, slowing unraveling it with delicacy. She seemed to remember her punter saying something about these things crumbling to dust at heavy handedness.

But the moment the linen was off, her round, delicate face was beneath. Blue eyes opened slowly, like one of those fairy stories she had heard. The princess waking from her slumber. Gingerly, the Mummy Mary sat up and swept her eyes over the crowd. Confident, poised and possessing all the bravery Mary lacked.

"Beware the Woman in Red! She is coming!" Her eyes finally settled on Mary. "She is coming for you, Fair Emma."

II. Imaginarium

With shaking hands, Mary opens the cabinet, far less delicately than she would have wished. She knows the shawl folded on the shelf, out of place among all the curios and oddities. It's wool and faded, the edges frayed and stained with years of dried rain and faded mud. There is a brown hair still clinging to the material. Maria's, she thinks. A pity it's not the one she was yearning to see.

Lifting the shawl, letting it unfurl in front of her black dress, so similar to the one from home, Mary lifted it to her nose, searching among the scents of Whitechapel for the woman that might have left some lingering sign of life.

There was no flash, as she might expect with memories returning to her. No haze and no clouds, only a simple image that appeared before her eyes. She might think it a ghost, but no apparition transported her back to Dorset Street and the grime and decay of Whitechapel. Standing under an archway, leading to a courtyard of dilapidated lodging houses was an older woman. Her age was less apparent. While only being in her 40s, Annie's health had left her haggard and pale. Her face was still that thin oval, her eyes still close together. She was hunched, clutching the shawl Mary had taken from Maria and gave to Annie instead.

A sound of pain escaped from Mary as she reached out, certain she could touch her. "Annie."

III. Wildcard

Feel free to suggest another prompt. I'm game for anything. Just give me a PM.
prodigalmess: (frowny)

I

[personal profile] prodigalmess 2022-02-28 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
The only place that Malcolm has seen mummies before is in a museum, but they weren't quite like this. He can't help but be uncomfortable at this sort of event. Would any of these people be happy if their dead relative was unearthed and revealed to a room full of onlookers? Probably not. But he realizes that this isn't the 21st century. White people don't think anything of using brown people for entertainment in the Victorian Era.

He's about to leave when he is suddenly pressed into service alongside a woman who appears to be native to this world. Malcolm has a very uneasy feeling. Having been in the isles long enough, he knows that whatever is under those bandages is probably not good - even beyond the decaying face of a long dead human. The problem is that it will most likely be more than that.

He holds his breath while the woman cuts the bandages, bracing himself for whichever family member of his is about to appear and reveal some horrible truth about him to a room full of people.

The surprise is that the mummy looks like the spitting image of the woman who freed her. Malcolm listens to what the animated corpse says, then leans his head towards the woman, speaking quietly.

"Is this some kind of magic trick?"

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