Destination: Carcosa

[polymods]

✖ Carcosa

Ⅰ. THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The island's harbour is full of other ships, although not a single one of them seems to actually have a human being aboard. (You could certainly try to steal one, but doing so is an exercise in futility - you will find that even if you set off into the ocean you will wind up right back in the harbour again after spending a few hours lost in the fog.) Beyond the harbour is a glittering city of glass and gold. Curving arches and sharp geometric lines are the hallmarks of the architecture - an art deco paradise that whispers of decadence and hope for the future.

The people who crowd the streets wear suits and hats, drop-waist dresses and furs. Their faces are all blank smiles. It's the roaring twenties, darling, why do you look so concerned?

If it is your first experience of the Endless Isles, you have access to the High Temple. Should you wish, you may also seek out the island's own temple as well, which is located inside the city, in a district mostly forgotten by the residents. Don’t worry - your feet will carry you there.

The building is not large, and it is old and neglected. It has a domed ceiling, with panels of glass crisscrossed with metal painted gold curving upward. Whatever fine pattern may have formed there is lost to time; the glass at the centerpoint of the dome is gone, letting in the smell of the sea.

There are rooms equipped with beds spreading out like a spiderweb from the middle of the building. The temple proper is of course in the exact center, below the broken dome. In the middle of this circular room you will find dead branches gathered together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. This crude figure has been haphazardly painted yellow. A slab of concrete sits in front of it. There is not much to explore here; it is very quiet.

Either temple is a good place to simply rest, or meet some of your fellow Travelers. The High Temple of course has the Temple Chef and its usual Guardians, Flock, and Lantern.

The Island Temple has its own Guardians, which are small, pale humanoids with perfectly blank faces and small antlers like young deer. They will leave you alone unless you try to meddle with the central room. Doing so will result in one of them approaching you, and you will find yourself falling unconscious on the floor.

---

Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Through happenstance, you find yourself in an enormous ballroom. Low couches are dotted everywhere, and a live band plays somewhere at the end of the massive space. A long bar takes up one side of the room, bottles sparkling under the light cast from the many cut-glass chandeliers hanging overhead. Champagne flows freely, and the scent of gin pervades the air.

All of the attendees are wearing masks.

You're dressed for the occasion, of course - you will find yourself wearing something reminiscent of 1920s America, with a small yellow sigil of some sort pinned to your breast. Ask any of the guests about it and they will tell you, "ah, it's a secret." You too, of course, are wearing a mask. You did not pick this mask, but if you look in the mirror hung over the bar you will find that it nonetheless hints at some aspect of your personality.

Which would be all well and good, except that you can't take the bloody thing off.

Moving around the ballroom, you will discover that a few other people also have the yellow sigil pinned to their clothing. It probably shouldn't surprise you that these people are all other Travelers, equally unable to take their mask off.

No, you can't unmask until you share something with your new-found friend: a secret. A REAL one, the sort you'd never speak aloud.

Of course, you can choose not to share. If you choose that route, however, you'll find that the mask is fusing with your skin. Leave it on past midnight when the cries of "UNMASK! UNMASK!" begin, and it will simply become your new face for the duration of the month.

---

Ⅲ. THE PLAY
Maybe parties aren't your style. No fear, there's plenty more to do and see in such a wondrous city. There's a theatre - the Meliora Grand as a matter of fact - and perhaps you're just the sort of person who would like to take in the arts.

The theatre has plush seats, and fabulous electric sconces lining the wall. Once you take your seat you'll find yourself looking at the stage, where a blood-red velvet curtain hangs. The theatre doesn't seem to fill up - indeed, it really seems that there's only you and one or two other people there. Curious.


The lights go down and the curtain is drawn open, revealing... well. Not much.

There are two chairs on the stage, a table between them. On the table lays a pallid face: a mask. Just a mask. Why not go on up and take a closer look?

Should you choose to touch the mask, you will feel a deep urge to speak to whoever else is in the theatre. You will, in fact, feel the desire to act out some sort of emotional trauma with them. Perhaps they suddenly look like your mother, your father, a lover who left you. Why don't you tell them how you really feel?

Naturally, you can both just sit in awkward silence instead. You'll be waiting until the morning to be let out, if that's the case.

---

Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
CW: the undead.
You find yourself walking along the beach at night. Along the shore the cloud-waves break, and black stars rise above you.

You can't quite pinpoint when you realise you are no longer alone. Maybe there is only one other person on the beach with you, or perhaps a few; you move as one down the expanse of sand until you realise there is something laying up ahead of you.

There is a heap of yellow cloth there, dry and tattered with age. It smells faintly of spices. Nestled among it is a jewel-encrusted human skull. Its empty sockets compel you to sit down in the cool, bone-white sand, to sit and speak to those around you about loss.

Everyone has lost something important to them. A person, a thing, a place, an aspect of the self. Something that's gone and you're never getting back. The skull grins endlessly, endlessly, encouraging you to speak about something you may not have laid to rest.

You can resist this compulsion. Maybe you were never good at sharing. Refuse the skull's silent request and you may continue down along the beach, or perhaps head back the way you came. As you walk, however, you will notice that there is a fog rolling in. It comes in off the sea/sky, obscuring the beach until you can barely see.

It's a terribly handy cover for the corpses that are shambling out of the surf. Wet, bloated, with eyes that glow a dim gold, they head for you silently. They wish to drag you back with them, into the depths. Better hope you can outrun or outfight them.

Bonus: What's that? You want a Carcosa playlist? You've got it, babes!

Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

Comments

Questions, comments, concerns?

[polymods]

Leave 'em here, Travelers!

[libertalia]

quick q! would sam be able to find cigarettes anywhere (and possibly a lighter/matches if i'm correct in assuming he wouldn't have arrived with his own lighter), either within the city or the high temple?

Bruce Wayne | DC Comics | OTA

[darkdetective]

🦇 THE TEMPLE

[ once he docks, bruce finds himself led by compulsion, and one that he's acutely aware of. he follows, for now, if only because it might lead him to more clues about what this place is and why he's really here; beyond that, he remains cautious. the temple itself seems peaceful, and he's grateful for the supplies, but he stays quiet and watchful, not only of the otherworldly creatures who roam this place of worship, but of the others who, like him, wander in for shelter and answers. as he leaves, his eye lingers on the yellow symbol in the center of the temple, making note of it before he exits, shrugging his new pack over his shoulder. ]

🦇 THE MASQUERADE

[ normally, bruce would feel more at home in the suit, if not for the bat-like mask on his face-- it's not normally a combo he mix and matches. but he didn't know anybody here, didn't know their faces, feeling more forthcoming with his identity than he normally might back in gotham. where he might find comfort in the strength of the cowl, it reminds him pointedly of it's falseness as he tries unsuccessfully to pry it from his face. when he stops to think, he can't even remember how he got here or how the mask got on his face in the first place, guided from place to place as if with little anchor to keep him grounded. he recognizes the familiar looking symbol on his chest as well, but mentions nothing of it. the longer he stares at it, his eyes lose focus and he finds the veil draw closer over his eyes until he awakens upon hearing whispers of secrets and their revelations. unconcerned, he'll turn to you, the person closest to him, and state simply: ]

I'm Batman.

[ ...and like a lid breaking it's seal, bruce finds that he's able to suddenly remove his mask. ]

🦇 LOST CARCOSA

[ and now it's night. where did the day go? how long has he been wandering from place to place, only to find himself on the beach, of all places? the sand crunches lightly under his feet as the waves lap softly back and forth by the moon's pull. in the darkness, bruce can see a faint glimmer from ahead, like eyes peering, and the soft, sometimes jerking movements of fabric, like the ghost of a person dancing in the moonlight. as he approaches, he sees it's only a cloth-- yellow, the same color he's been seeing all day-- and a grinning skull buried in the ground that smells faintly of cinnamon and cardamom on the wind.

he sits cross-legged in front of it, like sharing a fire with an old friend, and once again finds the veil falling over his eyes, compelled to reveal more and more about himself that he clandestinely keeps so carefully hidden. bruce pinches at his temple when he finds the haze build into a piercing headache that tears at him as the broad smiled skull finds his candor lacking... ]

🦇 WILDCARD

[ PROMPTS NOT YOUR JAM? hit me up with your own! or feel free to friend me at BATGUY if you'd like me to write you something specific! ]

THE MASQUERADE

[everlastingchains]

[ The one closest to him happens to be a young man that looks frankly uncomfortable being here. He stands rigidly and quite awkwardly, looking into the crowd with sharp eyes while saying little. His demi-mask only covers a third of his face, leaving him looking youthfully morose on the other side. He keeps reaching up to tug at it. He seems to want to be anywhere but here. If he could, he might have found some excuse to bleed even further away from the crowd of merrymakers.

He physically startles at the suddenness of the announcement. His entire too thin body jerks a little and he takes an involuntary step away before he settles and turns those sharp eyes towards the man. Bright blue, brutally intelligent, and it seems like he's slowly picking the man apart, bit by bit.

When he speaks, his tone is quiet and holds an slightly upper class English accent. There's a slightly testy edge to it, as Victor is rather perturbed at being at this ball. ]

Thank you for clearing that up. I couldn't tell what that cowl was supposed to be. Or any of this. It's all a bit much.

Vlad Tepes III | Dracula Untold | OTA (Will match prose/brackets)

[vladpire]

i: The Temple/City

He arrived in the temple and once he ascertained that he could claim sustenance for himself that wouldn't come straight from the source, so to speak, he loaded his satchel up with little packets of plasma- or what he could only assume was the equivalent, since a sampling from one tasted like what he was used to blood tasting like. He fed himself because not doing so just strained his control unnecessarily. He could go long periods without a feeding, but in a new situation with no idea of what he could expect to experience, it seemed wise to be at his best and without adding strain he didn't need.

He can be found either inside the High Temple loading up on things, or out in the city, trying to gauge what the heartbeat of this particular one held. Every city had a mood, a theme, a way that it flowed. There was always an area darker than others, a place where violence breathed. He found himself wandering the streets, wanting to find the layout of this particular body of people. This one, being near the sea, made it smell like salt and brine and wood and fish.

Perhaps you recognize him from before, or maybe you notice the scrywatch on his wrist, marking him as a Traveler. Or maybe you do something to draw his attention.

ii: The Masquerade

Happenstance has landed him in the middle of a masquerade party. It had been ages since he'd been to one, but in an odd moment of lapsed time, he found himself wearing a mask. After a few attempts to remove it, he found himself resigned to it until the way to take it off revealed itself. He kept a weather eye out for anyone wearing one removing it, trying to find the secret to doing so. He was also somewhat curious about the sigil he found on himself, and that others also seemed to be wearing. Vlad wasn't entirely satisfied with the answer of 'It's a secret'.

But while he was there, he supposed he should try to enjoy it a little. Just a little. The music wasn't horrible, and the laughter that moved through the party like an audible wave drew his attention. He could perhaps be talked into a dance, or maybe drawn into a conversation.

iii: Lost Carcosa

He finds the jeweled skull, the scent of spices and herbs around the body making him wonder if this place has the same burial rites as some cultures in his homeworld do. Most of those practices were outdated in his current time, but washing the body in spices wasn't a foreign practice.

As he sat himself down, drawn by the grinning skull into a sense of something other, he found himself thinking of those lost things. His youth. His safety. His wife. Son. People. His soul... It bubbled up in his chest, rising up until it was something he could taste in the back of this throat, thick on his tongue as the need to speak rose in him. "I miss her the most," comes quietly from him, his head bowed down.

iv: Wildcard

(Vlad can be found in most scenarios available, or via scrywatch for anyone who wants to call to him from cr started on the TDM. Please feel free to PM or PP if there's something specific you'd like to have set up, or just go nuts and start something.)

ii: the masquerade

[sketchbookings]

While Benedict's spent plenty of time trying to avoid parties, he finds himself feeling something like relief when the masquerade presents itself. The manner of dress might be a bit strange, but a well fitting suit is a well fitting suit, and the whole mood of the thing is steeped in familiarity.

Benedict's certainly not going to pass it up.

Besides, a party is a good place to meet people, and he very much wants friends - or at least acquaintances - as he moves forward in this odd place. He flashes a smile to a man that's moving nearby.

"That's quite the mask," he says, referring to the dragon design. "It rather puts mine to shame, I should think."

loki odinson | mcu | ota

[dothelokimotion]

( i. the temple )

[ it is no different from any other temple. though that annoys him too. it makes it harder for him to glean any real details and knowledge from the stone and wood. or perhaps it is knowledge out of loki's grasp, the kind he despises the most.

he finds himself drawn to the painted yellow figure in the middle, trying to discern the intent behind its creation. to himself, he murmurs: ]

What do you seek, old gods?

( ii. masquerade )

[ oh, loki does love a party. even if it is a party where everyone has been spirited here through unknown means, playing to the whims of unknown gods. parties are where secrets are whispered, where one's ears can pick up the juiciest of secrets. he adjusts his mask, brushing off some imaginary dirt off his shoulders. he's dressed simply in midgardian clothing in order to fit in. whispers flit back and forth across the ballroom and loki finds a smile spreading across his face as he heads towards you. ]

Shall we play along?

( iii. lost caracosa )

[ most people would ignore the skull. flinch away. they would be overcome by the macabre, the slow miasma of fear and pain. most people, however, are not loki and so he picks up the skull, turning it over in his hands curiously before tossing it up and down like a ball. ]

You have quite the enchantment laid upon you. But you're not a suitable companion to assuage my woes. But perhaps we can have some fun instead.

[ loki grins, making the skull's teeth clatter together, chattering noises as if it were alive. he watches the fog roll over the shores, the slow shambling of the dead. after hela's hordes, this feels deeply unimpressive and anti-climatic. he almost feels bored. he turns to the skull with a shrug. ]

Well. Shall we?

[ and loki promptly throws it at the first zombie, knocking it back into the sea. loki grins, giving a thumbs up before flicking his fingers and returning the skull to its rightful place. ]

( iv. wildcard )

[ got a different prompt you’d like to do? ping me on timmtams / pm this journal ]

iii

[aviate]

That's a neat trick, how long can you keep that up for?

[Hal's picking up bits of driftwood to see if any of them would hold up to use as a bat. He misses his ring, they could be done with this already if they brought him here with it. Instead they've got to do this the hard way.]

Victor Frankenstein | Penny Dreadful | OTA

[everlastingchains]

Ⅰ. THE TEMPLE
He stands simply staring at the city before him in the distance. Glass and gold and architecture that comes right from the minds of speculative fiction. He longs to draw it, to make his way to the city and go immediately to where science and engineering abounds and learn all he can. Instead, he takes to wondering, small bag of the important items he has been given held tightly to his side as if it was his medical bag. He longs for the comfort of that as well.

He makes to the temple, stands at the door, peeking inside to see the strange branches done up in human effigy. He finds himself quietly quoting Rossetti. "Unripe harvest there hath none to reap it from the misty gusty place, unripe vineyard there hath none to keep it in unprofitable space."

Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Victor has never had a very good time at these sort of social events. He prefers to not drink, not dance unless he absolutely must, not really talk with strangers. That reluctance is made all the worse by the fact that he's in a style of clothing that feels deeply uncomfortable to him. He feels absolutely overdressed. He's only worn clothing this nice once. The mask just adds another layer to it. It feels like the wires and switches that he would have in his laboratory grafted to part of his face. Not enough to hide how frustrated he's getting the more he tugs at it.

"It's a secret..." He grumbles. It's a puzzle of course and one that's pretty easy to figure out, but he's not certain he wants to tell a stranger his most valuable secrets.

Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
[Screeching. There is a loud inhuman wailing coming from the beach. The fog is rolling in at a truly disturbing rate. And right next to the screaming, flat on his rear end in the sand, is Victor.

The skull is at his feet and it screams and screams and doesn't seem to stop. Victor scrambles forward instead of away, trying to desperately stuff it back into the yellow cloth he had found with it and wrapped it in.

All he wanted was to take the skull back to town and examine it!! But now, now the thing is making this absolutely unholy noise that reminds him far too much of the rebirth of his First.

He's so focused on trying to stuff a skull into a makeshift satchel that he hasn't even noticed the fact that the dead have started their way from the sea.]

IV: Wildcard
Victor can also be found via scrywatch or any other scenario you might want. If there's something you'd like to plot out, I'm reachable at darkangel998 or PM.

I. The Temple

[sketchbookings]

"Did you just make that up?"

Benedict's found his way to the temple, too. To him, it had made the most sense, as temple is not unlike a church (more or less), and churches are places of help and charity. While he can't decide if he's ever been particularly religious - he goes to church the same as everyone else - he can appreciate the goodwill that comes from such places.

And he hadn't meant, really, to sneak up on the man, but Benedict seen him standing there looking at something and then had heard him speak.

"It's quite good, if you did."

Sephiroth | FF7 | OTA

[unkindled_madness]

I. The City / The Temple
[As always, Sephiroth stands out. At 6'7", he towers over most people, and that long silver hair hangs loose almost to his knees. He doesn't have his usual mode of dress, but the plain robe he's been given is still nothing like the fine clothes of the city dwellers. That part irks him; he doesn't like that someone else dressed him, or that this marks him as one of the so-called 'Travellers.' Later, once he's convinced of this reality, he might look into finding something else. For now, he'll live with it.

He walks the streets with a frown, not entirely convinced yet that any of this is real. It would make more sense for it to be a dream than what he's been told. Some unknown city in another realm? Chosen by the Ancients? Surely it's something his mind invented. He isn't prone to such vivid flights of fancy, but... He doesn't know of anything with the power to transport him between worlds. It's not something ascribed to the Ancients, and they're extinct anyway.

Eventually his wandering brings him to the domed temple in some quiet district. He stands staring for a moment at the crude effigy. It certainly has as much meaning as anything in a dream. Which is to say, none.]


II. The Play
[By now it's been several days. Sephiroth hasn't slept yet--that isn't unusual for him--but since this is no dream and there is no simple way back, then he's going to have to at some point. The temples... he doesn't care for them. He doesn't understand faith, and he doesn't trust the invitation of those empty beds. He has no intention of being so compliant.

Some other public space will have to suffice, though he's surprised admission to this theatre is free. He finds someplace to sit, near the back, out of the way, where he can go unnoticed once the lights dim and the play begins.

Only... the theatre remains largely empty. The lights dim, but there are no actors. He sits up, on alert, his Mako eyes glinting in the dark as he scans the theatre. This isn't normal.]


III. Lost Carcosa
[Everything about this island and its city is unfamiliar, all evidence pointing to the notion that it really isn't any place on his Planet at all, but his mind balks at accepting that. He walks the coastline in hopes of finding... something. The constellations overhead are equally unfamiliar. Even the scent of the sea isn't quite right to him, lacking the Mako pollution of Junon's waters, though it might be something like Wutai's. Either way, there's no sailing away from this place back to a world he knows.

He comes upon the skull, and stops. Is it his mood that makes it seem to tug at him? Taunt him as though it knows something of past things he's lost? It may bring them to mind, but Sephiroth is well aware of someone else on this beach within earshot, and so he scoffs, moving on without a word.

And, of course, that's when the fog starts to come in.]


IV. Wildcard
((Feel free to hit me up with something else or contact me at yinza if you wanna plot something specific!))

II. The Play

[everlastingchains]

[ The man on the stage is young. He can't be more than in his mid-twenties. He is frantic. The lights on stage seem to flash and crackle like lightning. He looks to the glowing eyes as he rushes around the stage from place to place. He's breathless, giddy almost as he goes to an empty part of the stage and mimes pushing something upwards with his hand. He turns to those glowing eyes. Eyes that to him are not blue but yellow. Eyes that belong to an equally if not much taller man. A much broader man as well.]

Connect those batteries. [He points to an empty spot in on stage. To Victor, this is not a stage. It is his laboratory and it is not the flashing of lights.]

That lever. [He hurries to another part of the stage and pressed down another "switch".] And now the next two.

[He throws another switch and rushes center stage, taking off his coat, leaving his frail body in simple shirt sleeves. He looks up towards the flashing light and then down, his expression going a little soft, as if he's looking down at something, someone. His voice goes from demanding and phrenic to quiet.] We must capture the storm.

[Then he's rushing off again, to breathlessly pull at "heavy chains" that roll down a window and again to grab...something that isn't there. A ladder, presumably.] Help me!

[He makes a climbing motion and starts moving about "wires"] When I say, raise the nine conductors....not yet...

anders | dragon age | ota

[mewnifestos]

i. the harbour

[ All those empty ships look like a rather unbelievable opportunity, to Anders, who has more than once in his life entertained fantasies of stowing away to somewhere new to escape his present circumstances. He's not used to good fortune, though, and he's doing his best to look like nothing but a curious bystander, walking the docks and admiring the boats where they're moored.

Until he comes across someone else - who may be looking a little too curious of the unattended ships, themselves, or just doing in earnest what he's pretending at. ]

Any talent for sailing? [ He asks outright as he stops and leans against a salt-crusted wooden pillar of the dock, cheerful and - possibly - joking. ] I've got an inkling I might want to take it up, myself. Soon, even.

ii. the masquerade

[ It's a secret. Well, that's helpful. Anders' mask doesn't quite hide the downturn of his expression as he gravitates away from another less than forthcoming stranger. Fancy soirees like this one might still be new to him, but it was almost embarrassingly easy how quickly he'd ingratiated himself to the Commander's guests at that last, tense Grey Warden to-do compared to this.

He should be enjoying himself, though, he supposes - let someone else figure out all this mysterious nonsense. But the city makes him uneasy (too strange, too reminiscent of the one he's always seen in his dreams - that every mage has), and the shallow, tepid charm of the people here nags at him. But it also wouldn't be much like him to let curiosity go.

Grabbing a couple of glasses of champagne off a passing server's tray, he turns and slips through the crowd again. ]

You look like you could use it. [ He offers one to the next person he sees, only belatedly noting the matching sigil pinned to them, too. ] Oh! Look at that. We're twins. So, any luck figuring out what all this is about?

iii. lost carcosa

[ The beach is more familiar, standing on the edge of a seemingly endless body of water, staring into the distant horizon and feeling the immensity of the flat, impassable border it represents. Of course, he'd only felt that way about Lake Calenhad when he was young, too young to think he could ever swim so far as to reach that foggy Fereldan shore from Kinloch's little craggy scrap of island.

Eventually, he did, still half-terrified he'd falter and drown at the midpoint. But there's no shore in that hazy distance, and he doesn't like his chances anymore, besides.

Instead of daring the waters, Anders stoops to drag his fingers through the sand, searching for any flat shell or stone in reach. Can't exactly skip a rock on the waves, but tossing one in might still be somewhat cathartic. The scrap of yellow cloth he finds half-obscured by the sand, instead, is a puzzling thing - the very obvious remnants of some corpse it's attached to less so. He jerks back with a start, toppling over into the sand and probably making a sound a little too loud for the peaceful, quiet shoreline as he pedals back through it.

It only takes him a moment to realize it's not the shambling sort of corpse, though, and he lets out a somewhat embarrassed rush of breath. ]

Knickerweasels— I thought long walks on the beach were supposed to be pleasant.

iv. wildcard

[ happy to keep tdm cr or handwave brief meetings on the boat for scrywatch threads, otherwise feel free to hit me with something different! plot w/me @gravejuice or by pm. and prose or brackets are both fine, i'll follow suit. ]

( ii )

[dothelokimotion]

[ ah the sigil. loki hadn't paid much attention to it. he takes the glass of champagne with a polite nod. ]

Most likely marking their property.

Simon Laurent | Infinity Train | OTA

[incelligent]

001 | The Island Temple:

[If anyone finds themselves walking through Carcosa's temple to find some peace, well, you certainly won't with this brat scowling and growling about. In fact, Simon is screaming at the top of his lungs, demanding attention from the temple's little horned caretakers, who seem to idly be going about their way.]

This isn't right!

[As he continues to yell, one will notice that his voice sounds hoarse and his eyes red, from both crying and a lack of sleep.]

They've made some kind of mistake. I don't belong here.

This... This, thing-

[Simon pants, his shoulders heaving as he does. He points to the color on his Scrywatch, which is as orange as it can be.]

Must be broken. I've never hurt anybody.

[Not people, anyway, nothing real, nulls are stupid, they don't count-]

And I demand that I be sent back to where I belong!

002 | The Party:

[When Simon comes to, all he can hear is the quiet chit-chat of guests and the light clinking of tall wine glasses. He isn't entirely sure how he got here, and as he looks down, realizes that his attire has changed completely. He is clad in attire far fancier and more nicely fitted than anything he's ever worn in his short teenage life, and immediately, he despises how uncomfortable the garb is. He's about to open his mouth in protest, though he catches a glimpse of his own reflection of himself in the silver serving tray at a nearby refreshment table, noting the mask that's been chosen for him, suddenly sporting a cocky grin.]

Cool.

[Though it fades rather quickly. His hair is undone, cascading about his shoulders, light blond bangs tracing over the top edge of the mask.]

Welp, guess I gotta find myself another hairtie.

[Parties trigger Simon's ever-present anxiety, and as he scans the crowd, he will be frustrated to find that he recognizes no one, especially because everyone else is masked too. Nervously, he takes a sip from a tall glass offered to him by a generous staff member who seems to notice that he's not feeling all that well, although he spits it right back into the glass immediately, ungracefully wiping his mouth.]

Eugh, yuck, what is this?

[The server answers politely.]

G-gin? Oh no, h-hey... Would you happen to have a club soda, or somethin'? I'm, uuuuh... Allergic.

003| The Beach:

[Finally, if anyone were to catch Simon on the shore, they would notice that he's curled up into a little ball, holding his knees close to his chest, sobbing miserably. He doesn't seem to notice the things slowly making their way out of the water, as his snotty, tearful little episode is a tad too loud for him to hear them coming.]

( 003 )

[dothelokimotion]

[ well. this is somewhat unexpected. loki pokes him with his foot. hm. ]

Are you dead?

Ryo Asuka | Devilman | ota

[suckonthis]

masquerade.

[ Any signs of youth that would make the flute of champagne in his hand a social faux pas are hidden by the mask covering the majority of his face. For whatever reason, perhaps curiosity, Ryo had found himself among the throng of beautifully adorned party goers. He'd cleaned up, and he certainly carries himself with enough confidence you'd think he felt at ease but this is not his thing. He is an uneager participant, slipping between the bodies along the outskirts of the dancefloor, making a mental tally of who also had the yellow crest on their lapels. How did he get here, again? Does he really remember?

There is no effort to truly have a conversation until he notices something concerning, completely by accident. His face was warm from the mask and the alcohol, but when he'd gone to remove the mask to wipe his brow, the damned thing wouldn't budge. He returns to the bar, looking at his reflection with a mounting sense of apprehension.

Maybe you overhear him from where he's at, standing at the bar, sounding firm over the sound of the band playing. Is he talking to the bartender? Probably. ]

It won't come o-- No, I didn't say I wanted a gin on the rocks. The mask won't come off!

[ Jesus take the wheel. Or not, considering. Either way, please. Help. ]

lost carcosa.

[ He'd gone to the beach to clear his mind from the masquerade and found himself toes dipped in the sand with some stranger, running his fingers over the cracks and jewels decorating the skull he'd come across moments earlier. How long had it been? Ten minutes at the most, of feeling the urge to spill his regrets, his losses... unlike earlier, Ryo's lips remained sealed. ]

Yeah... I think I'm going to head back to the Temple. I've had enough of this ridiculous place for the night.

[ The skull gets set on top of the bag it came out of, jewels glittering slightly in the moonlight. He stands, brushing the sand from his slacks (and silently seething when it gets in his shoes when they're put back on). At first, the rolling fog doesn't seem to bother him. It bothers him when he can barely see the person he was sharing the beach with... or the beach.

The only thing that cuts through is the low golden glow from the disgusting corpses shambling from the waters. Now, he doesn't really care one way or the other if his companion gets up fast enough, but Ryo does try and help with snapping out an order to 'hurry up, already!' ]

Come on! We need to get out of here.

[ Oh, he'd fight... if he weren't grossly outnumbered and unarmed. The odds are not in his favor. ]

misc.

You want something else? Hit me up @ inabunk or dm me! Ryo will spend time in the Temple to get supplies and rest but I figured I would leave that up to more of a wildcard thing. You'll find him roaming if you don't follow the provided prompts, yo.

( masquerade )

[dothelokimotion]

[ calmly. ]

Pull it harder. That'll work.

[ such helpful advice. ]

Akira Fudou | Devilman | OTA

[mrfuckwit]

1. PARTY. (human flavor)

_{[ It takes Akira a moment to recognize where he's at and what is going on and as a person who is currently bitter at possibly everything and everyone right now, his instant response is to curl his nose in disgust. Gross. Social interaction. ]}

What the fuck? Is this some kind of a shitty joke? Hey! I'm talking to you, idiot!

_{[ That's Akira beckoning a server passing by who seems to completely ignore him. Yeah, nobody wants to deal with this bratty teen who is dressed in this attire with this mask. Though, he catches sight of his reflection in a wall mirror and his shoulders slouch, a low groan bellowing out of him. ]}

A demon mask. How original. So original. Let me guess. It's cause I'm a Devilman.

_{[ .. says Akira no nobody ever. He's just talking to himself. Last time he was at a party, there was orgies, drugs, alcohol, violence, blood... and, well. That's where he met his demon host, so he supposes this isn't so bad.. but he's just going to wallflower over here and idly tug at his mask. ]}

Damn. Why won't this thing come off?

_{[ He's book smart. Not exactly common sense smart. ]}

2. BEACH. (demon flavor)

<sub>[ Unbeknownst to a fellow traveler on the beach, Akira has been stalking these undead things for awhile now. Look, he's not going to outright admit to anyone that he's helping someone else. He just wants to fight. Tear things apart. Definitely not with anyone else's safety in mind.

So when one of these corpses gets a little too close to another traveler that is on the beach, either unaware of these creatures, running away from them or even trying to fight them, another monster appears in the air. Akira swoops down in flight with his feet extended, pouncing on the corpse beneath him. ]</sub>

Take this, bitch!

_{[ ooc: take a look at his opt out! also prompt 2 will probably contain gore.. for any other plotting, feel free to pm or pp at justaways! ]}

1

[unkindled_madness]

[Hello, fellow wallfower. Sephiroth has a similar opinion of social gatherings, though he's expressing it rather more quietly, with a level glare out in the general direction of the crowd. Scanning it for some sign of... he honestly isn't sure what. But this is some kind of game or puzzle, so it must have pieces to work out. He's already made a few attempts to remove his mask, and his arms are folded in part to keep himself from repeating the apparently futile gesture. He's wearing a fairly simple dark suit and mask, his long hair still unbound.

He glances at the young man nearby. He wouldn't have said anything of demons or devils; the mask looks Wutain to him. If by some chance it actually is, he's sure his hair will give him away as this man's enemy. What is the point of a mask that doesn't actually conceal your identity?]

I imagine it's part of the same magic that dressed us this way in the first place.

hal jordan | dc | open

[aviate]

i. temple
[Hal is considerably less interested in the surroundings in comparison to the contents of the packs they've been given. He's heard this all before, their supplies are infinitely more important than whatever makes this place differ from everywhere else he's been.


The contents of his pack are placed neatly around him as he starts to repack his bag with a precision that suggests a military background. If someone comes by he'll look up with a friendly grin.]

Seen anything else around worth taking with us?

ii. masquerade
[The domino mask (in green of course) hides absolutely nothing other than his cheekbones. He's not quite comfortable in his getup, fancy balls aren't really his thing, but he'll lean in to the nearest person to whisper.]

Know what this symbol is supposed to be? And don't say it's a secret, I've heard that enough times already.

iii. wildcard
[Or hit me up at greenlantern and we can figure something else out!]

i. temple!

[medeiun]

[ Being allotted supplies is... strange. It's one more thing that takes away her freedom, keeps her confined by the rules of what strange things govern their situation. Maleficent is bitter with all of this, and it makes her angry. She does not wish to be here. She does not wish to be granted supplies like some child being given allowances by its parent.

When the man looks up with his pleasurable grin, his cheerfulness, his pack's contents spread around with a neatness, it simply further irritates the dark fey. She is a tall, imposing creature: horned and winged and she does not hide the sharpness of her teeth as she lifts her upper lip at him, returning his friendliness with the opposite. ]

What more could one possibly need? [ It's said in a cool, sarcastic tone, mocking of her own words. She's clearly not pleased. ] Our hosts have already been so generous.

Saxsice King | Original Character

[queenking]

i. masquerade | a little party never killed nobody

[The last thing Saxsice remembered was trying to bully/threaten her way onto one of the boats, to little success. Then all of a sudden she's in a ballroom, lounging on a gilded couch and fanning herself with something sparkly and pink. She's also wearing something sparkly and pink, which is absolutely not her normal aesthetic.

She hops up, stumbling a little in the high heels and turning in a dopey little circle as she tries to look down at herself all at once. Once she confirms that things are, indeed, as shiny and pink as she first anticipated, she announces in a way-too-loud voice:] Well, for fuck's sake.

[That's when she notices the mask. It clashes a bit with the whole pink thing, but it's...definitely on the nose. Hilarious.

Saxsice can either be found trying to pry the mask off, sitting in a very unladylike way on the couch and sulking, or leaning over the bar and trying to talk the bartender into letting her take over making drinks, using the argument of:] No, seriously, you've been servin' straight champagne and gin all night -- which is great, don't get me wrong, but you could use some, uh. Variety? Get me?


ii. the play | got me lookin' so crazy right now

I actually came in here to sleep. [Saxsice is offering this to whoever else is stuck in there with her, as she scrambles up onto the stage, forgoing the stairs entirely. Her voice echoes against the cavernous walls, dampened not even remotely by the heavy velvet curtain.

Finally getting up onto the stage, Saxsice rolls to her hands and kneels, then heaves to her feet, brushing herself off -- she's still wearing the masquerade dress, albeit significantly smudged and stained after a night of wandering around. She brushes herself off, then continues:] Used to love sleepin' in movie theaters. All nice and dark and warm and stuff. Didn't realize this was like...a fancy theater til I got in.

[Having noticed the mask by now, she absently reaches out, picking it up and examining it from all sides. At least it isn't another wolf mask, right? Slumping down into the chair and propping her feet on the table, Saxsice turns it over a couple times, before announcing, apropos of nothing:] Y'know, I grew up in a cult.

[...well. She hadn't intended to say that, but now that it's out, she feels. Weirdly better?]


iii. lost carcosa | when i'm no longer young and beautiful

[Out on the lonely, foggy beach, Saxsice lingers longer than she meant to, staring at the skull and absently turning her Scrywatch around and around on her wrist. It glints periodically with a color -- yellow, flashing like a lighthouse in the gloom. She doesn't fully know what the colors mean yet, but the reason for this color fills up her chest, makes it harder and harder to breathe.

It feels like the skull knows. Like the empty eyes and grinning, ancient teeth contain the knowledge of what she did, the mistakes that followed her halfway across the country. A decade of mistakes, crowned with the biggest betrayal of all.]

It wasn't my fault. [Saxsice snaps this suddenly, sharply, either at the skull itself or at someone nearby.] I didn't have a choice. She didn't give me a choice.

ii. The Play

[kyley_b]

"You know there's beds you can sleep in," Kyle points out dryly. Granted, said beds are in the Temples, both of which are creepy in their own way.

He stays in his seat as the young woman clambers up on stage, half amused and half curious about what she's going to do. He sure wasn't expecting such a blunt admission.

"Oh yeah? What kind of cult?"

Jennifer Walters/Hulk | Marvel 616 | OTA

[grayshulk]

THE MAIN TEMPLE

There is something Jennifer will not admit to anyone: being in the main temple makes it easier not to have painful transformations. Something in the atmosphere, for all that she's been taken to a world that is not her own, feels so profoundly safe that things ease up. She can breathe.

So, it's probably no shock that she's going to take some time exploring the labyrinthine structure. There are so many strange hallways and rooms. There has to be a library or something somewhere, right? A place where she can find more information about this place or even who the people behind it are. And if she accidentally stumbles into someone's room, well, stuff happens.


THE MASQUERADE

There is something so pleasantly dreamy about coming to herself in a beautiful dress with a glass of champagne being pressed into her hand while music plays in the background. Jennifer has been drugged and abducted before, but this is weird and pleasant, like the weight of the sheer beaded sheath dress that slides and settles over a silk slip she would never have purchased. The work is too fine and lovely to shred the next time something triggers her. Even thinking about it has her going to take a sip of her champagne only to realize that her mask means that isn't an option.

Oh well. She sets the glass down regretfully, finally noticing the yellow sign on her dress. It's odd, and not very pretty. Kind of a shame given that she suspects the lovely dress won't last long, but then she notices someone else with the same symbol on their chest. "You have one, too." Her words are slightly muffled by her mask, but then so are her thoughts.


LOST CARCOSA

Getting away from the people, from the crowds, from the other Travelers drives Jennifer to the beach. It's difficult to maintain her shape and her skin with all the people and motion, and at least at the edge of this floating island, she can breathe. Until she sees it. A chill runs down her spine because she knows what dark magic looks like and that there are things even a hero avoids without some kind of backup. Her instinct to turn and run is useless. The skull has seen her, and there is so much loss in her. So much mourning.

Her footsteps are slow and staggering until she finds herself on her knees, sinking into the sand and staring at the bejeweled skull in front of her. A flare of anger turns her eyes black and green for a blink before the compulsion sweeps through her again, overwhelming everything but the loss.

"No." The word is so small she will be ashamed when she realizes there are other people on the beach who heard her speak it. She has to try to refuse to acknowledge the loss in her that is consuming everything else. She owes the skull nothing. She owes the dead so much more.


WILDCARD
[Come up with your own option!]

Chugging that Maskerade

[what_fourth_wall]

"Do the Zemo, uhhuh, do the Zemo, alright." Only click the link if seeing Zemo dance for a minute isn't a spoiler to you!

Deadpool, definitely not Baron Zemo, and kind of sort of Ryan Reynolds, dances his way past Jen when he hears her speak in his general direction. Hearing that familiar voice makes this feel even more like he woke up in the orgy again. Nobody's having sex here though, not that he's seen. If they are, then they're venturing into Eyes Wide Shut territory.

"Huh. I guess I do." He fiddles with it. "BUT THAT'S NOT A SECRET." As he shouts the last, his head jerks up as if to ward off anyone who might try to claim he was waiting for him to slip up. He won't be losing this face, oh no.

Kyna Medina | Original

[evocation]

temple

[Kyna is... not doing entirely well. This entire situation makes her skin crawl, for more reasons than just the usual. Sure, being teleported to an entirely new world is a trip, but she can put that down to magic, even if it's not magic she's dealt with before. The whole improve yourself thing... That's what she can't shake. It touches on something she's always thought, or maybe always feared, and so she tries to cover by seeming especially annoyed.

And it isn't even just that. She feels like something's watching her, in that vague, distant way spirits or some monsters do. She can't pinpoint it, though, and so she keeps glancing over her shoulder, jumpy.

Eventually, she gets some food and sits down cross-legged on the floor. Her brow is furrowed and her nose wrinkles as she stares down at it suspiciously. It seems for all the world like she's planning on having a staring contest, until her stomach growls and she sighs.]

Do you think they're gonna poison us or something?

the play

[She isn't really one for plays, or for sitting still for long periods in general. She's here because she's hoping it'll tell her something about her predicament or about the people here. Beyond the fact that they creep her out.

But then, of course, there's no performance at all, and Kyna finds herself drawn to the stage, curiosity compelling her to see what the hell this whole thing is about. She throws a glance back to the only other person in the theater, but doesn't wait for them to join her at the table.

It's just a mask, but she's not dumb enough to touch it.]

What is this, some escape room bullshit? Do we have to start solving riddles?

wildcard

[toss something else at me, or hit me up at cephalopods!]

temple

[incelligent]

[Simon's eyes widen at that. He's been here for a few hours know.]

Dunno.

[His gaze narrows soon enough.]

But I wouldn't put it past 'em.

I don't care what they say. I mean, redemption journey? Hah!

[That sound is loud, harsh. Like a bark.]

That's such a load of baloney. They practically kidnapped us.

Why should we trust any of their intel?

[bc there is literally no other information. you stupid little twat]

They're probably just trying to mess with us on purpose. Hmph.

Kyle Broflovski | South Park (adult au) | OTA

[kyley_b]

i. Masquerade | I'm sorry if I hurt you

Kyle was not prepared for a fancy party. Really, being essentially kidnapped, put on some sort of spooky boat, and told that the fate of humanity may or may not rest on his ability to better himself as a human being? That was all fine. Weird, but fine. He's used to weird. But a fancy party...

He didn't dress himself, which he supposes he ought to be grateful for. The suit he actually doesn't mind, but the mask is definitely far, far too creepy. It doesn't want to come off, either. That's disturbing.

It doesn't take too long for him to figure out that everyone who has a Scrywatch also has the weird pin on them somewhere. He approaches one of these, tall and awkward but his hair mercifully slicked down, and asks, "So this is definitely a trick of some kind, right?"


ii. Play | I'm sorry if it got that bad

The theatre is gorgeous, and Kyle can't help but wander inside. The entire city seems to be stuck in Great Gatsby mode, and he's pretty sure movies existed by then, although he's not entirely sure if they had sound yet. At any rate, he likes films and decides he may as well see if something is playing.

His disappointment when the curtain opens and reveals instead a stage with a table is great. He waits, though, expecting some sort of bullshit "art" with some guy in all black yelling nonsense words or something to start. He starts fidgeting in his seat, and eventually yells, "START THE FUCKING PLAY!" in his shrill voice.

When nothing happens he gets up, grumbling, and stalks to the stage and hoists himself up. "This is so stupid," he says, picking up the mask from the table. He stares at it a long moment, eyes glazing over with confusion. Finally he looks at the audience, at you as a matter of fact, and blinks.

"...Dad?"


iii. Beach | I'm sorry I can't help you

"This isn't right."

That's the sunning observation made by the too-tall ginger walking close by as you make your way down the lonely beach. Kyle makes a sweeping gesture at the sky. "The stars are wrong," he says. "I think they're stars. They're... I dunno, if I look too long at them they hurt my head. And that," he says as he points ahead of you both, "is a human skull."

Not that a human skull is the creepiest thing he's ever seen, but it's not comforting.

Kyle stands a few paces down from it, staring into its vacant sockets. Eventually he sits down in the sand. "...hey," he says. "You ever think about how much it sucks to grow up?"

iii. Wildcard me bb

[motiontostrike]

As much as he's been wearing it lately (that is, in all waking hours) it's a damn good thing the Daredevil mask is so comfortable. Matt might've even been inclined to describe it as something of a second skin. That is, at least until tonight. Whatever's adhered himself to the man seems intent on making that old adage into a reality, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to think of anything beyond the constriction around his face.

The whole outfit seems better suited for Mike than Matt, really. The peach and yellow striped shirt beneath a white waistcoat and matching set of trousers seem like they could have been ripped out of the back of his brother's closet for just such an occasion. But it's the mask -- absent any eye holes and with its gold filigree twisting up the sides of his head into the illusion of small horns -- that completes the strange picture.

Matt is armed with a snifter of amber liquid that he occasionally swirls but doesn't sip. "What kind of trick do you think it is?" he probes.

nathan drake | uncharted | open/closed

[pilferings]

❚❚❚❚❚ i. the temple.

[ Nate is no stranger to ancient temples. When he enters, aside from the general feeling of warmth and security, it's simply familiar based on life experience. You don't get to be a treasure-hunter without locating a few temples and finding long-lost artifacts along the way. And if a couple of pieces have wound up pocketed, no one's the wiser either. (Of course, these days Nate's been on the straight and narrow, but a life in salvage isn't exactly the same now, is it?)

Thing is, most ancient temples in his experience have a tendency of crumbling around him and certainly aren't outfitted with supplies and hot food, but Nate's not about to shoot a gift-horse in the mouth. He makes his rounds, considers a bath (and then decides against it), has a rest, and spends a fair amount of his time in the mess hall, deciding his next steps. If you just so happen to be around, he might greet you with a quick, 'Hi' or a casual, 'Hey, how's it going?'

Picking up a supply pack on his way out, he takes one last considering look in the direction of the strange yellow-painted shape made from sticks, jerking a thumb towards it. ]

What do you make of that thing, huh?


❚❚❚❚❚ ii. masquerade.

[ All things considered, Nate does clean up pretty nicely. In a black suit and matching bow-tie befitting a Scott F. Fitzgerald novel, the only thing that might seem at least a little bit out of place is the mask (coppery in colour, engraved with a subtle patterning but otherwise seems a subtle, subdued kind of face covering) that obscures the top half of his face. ]

Huh. [ Seeing his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, there's a fruitless attempt to shift the mask around but it has no intentions on budging — not an all together reason to panic, but there's a fair amount of discomfort in knowing that it's wrapped over his eyes without much flexibility. This is obviously a future!Nathan problem, however, and after ordering a strong glass of something, he makes his way around the room, easily accessible enough, noting all of the fellow masked guests with yellow sigils to match the one on his lapel.

Later, upon being asked to confess something in order to unmask, Nate will shake his head with a laugh, clearly someone with no experience whatsoever in the matter of secret-keeping, nope. If there's an air of skittishness it is assuredly just your imagination. ]

Secrets? Oh, no, no. I don't have any secrets. [ He offers an easy shrug and a show of empty hands to boot. ] Open book.

[ And later still, as the night crawls slowly towards midnight: ]

Crap — there's gotta be another way to get this thing off, right?


❚❚❚❚❚ iii. lost carcosa.

[ Nate's always liked the beach, and even at night there's a kind of calmness and tranquility in the way the ocean's waves can drown out the most conflicted of thoughts. Shoes in one hand and sleeves rolled up past his forearms (jacket and tie missing), he walks along the length of the shore until something catches his attention about halfway in. From his vantage point, it could be anything — washed up cargo, someone's makeshift shelter, the belongings of some ship that had yet to arrive — but either way, it's not like Nate could ignore such a thing, it wouldn't be in his nature to. (Of course, having a gun or something on him would be a wise idea, just in case whatever it is he's approaching is a trap. Not uncommon in his experience.)

What it is appears to be a handful of yellowing fabric, and an appropriately eery skull nestled within the scent of spice and the off-breeze of saltwater coming in from the ocean, sharp enough to prickle at his nostrils. Nate feels compelled to settle before it, dropping his shoes beside him, chest heavy and shoulders heavier. ]

I — [ His fingers find the metal band glinting on his left hand, fourth finger and he twists it idly, mouth open as though he could the speak volumes in his soul but at the very last second, catching himself. The heaviness in his body is his own to bear, and he can't say it aloud. He just — can't. Not yet.

He shakes his head, tears his gaze away from the skull with its dark and admonishing sunken sockets, and quickly scrambles back to his feet.

To no one in particular: ]

That was strange.

[ But why not make the situation all the more strange, right? As he makes his way back where he'd come from, it occurs to him that the weather has worsened considerably, a thick greying fog obscuring his vision. He can hear the water, but more than that, he starts to make out pinpricks of gold light ahead, a few at first and then more. Are they — are they coming from the ocean? ]

Ah, crap. [ Shapes of hunched over silhouettes shambling towards him have really got him wishing he had a couple weapons. ] Corpses. Why does it always have to be corpses?


❚❚❚❚❚ iv. get in loser, we're going shopping. (closed to sam drake)

[ Several days later, with a small mental checklist of supplies outside of their standard temple packs, Nate enlists his older brother to accompany him into the city. Not that he couldn't do it on his own, of course, but new world, new rules — and Sam insisted he needed cigarettes and a lighter anyway, to which Nate replied: ]

You could always use the opportunity to quit smoking, you know.

[ It's said idly and to deaf ears. Nate's well aware that Sam's addiction runs deep, goes well beyond quitting cold turkey, and that Sam without cigarettes is a grumpy presence he has no intention on adventuring with. It's just lucky that they've found themselves in a place with the modern comforts of their own world like art supplies and lung-blackening substances.

Nevertheless, he'd managed to get what he'd come for: three spare hardcover notebooks and some pencils (of varying lead softness), and the rest of the afternoon can be occupied looking for smokes. ]

Sam. [ There's a pause and a slightly Knowing look coming from the younger Drake as they pass by a wide expanse of storefront windows for what appears to be a department store. Knick-knacks and trinkets are strategically placed on velvet-covered pedestals and stands, the deep reds contrasting with the silvers and golds. Sam's already preoccupied with inspecting a row of lighters of varying size near the front. ] Do you really need one of those?

[ Do they even have enough money for one? ]


❚❚❚❚❚ v. wildcard.

[ feel free to drop a totally different prompt or hmu over on plurk (thwip)/pm to plot smth out! ]

iii. lost carcosa.

[medeiun]

[ She had evaded the skull's pull fairly easily — stepping away from the arrangement, turning her nose from its aroma of something ancient and its sparkling jewels. A stubbornness compels her, or perhaps a fear of what those empty sockets might see in her. Both, intermingled.

Regardless, Maleficent is well away from the thing, out on the sands (alone, she thinks, but not for long). When the fog starts rolling in, it brings Others with it. She can smell the stench of them, the rot. The dark fey tenses, wings unfolding outwards, preparing herself to take flight — though she hesitates, her vision as obscured as it is. She doesn't like this, having one of her senses stolen from her, and her own eyes flash an angry, acerbic green for a moment as she whips her head around, awaiting what fetid things are ambling ever closer.

But there's someone else — a person, whole and human. A man. Maleficent hears him, and moves his way, sweeping closer on foot for now: she's perhaps as frightening of a sight as what's stumbling up from the sea. Tall and imposing, she is a creature with large wings attached to her back and long horns curling upwards from her head; a dark red mouth reveals fangs as her lip curls upwards in disgust of the rotting things. Devil, she has been called for her appearance. Yet when she speaks, she sounds of a woman, and despite the harrowing circumstance she and her sudden companion are in, there is a sort of sardonic amusement to her words. ]

Do you so commonly find yourself in the company of corpses?

selina kyle, dc comics

[catlady]

I. AROUND THE CITY

[ if this ancient is all-knowing and all-powerful as the stories have led her to believe, she knows exactly what she's getting with someone like selina -- once a thief, always a thief, and this city and its opulence make it ripe for the picking. she doesn't imagine that any of it has real value off of carcosa but stealing, for selina, is an artform; she can make her way through a room and leave it with a fistful of jewelry and at least a couple wallets without these locals even batting an eye. it's something to do to kill some time or maybe just because she resents having to take part in this little game.

a half-dozen strands of pearls and glass beads hanging from her neck, she picks through her spoils idly, not so much disappointed with her haul as she is a woman of discerning taste. selina slips on a ring with an oversized, brilliant-cut emerald onto one of her fingers and hums contemplatively as she holds her hand out to get a better look at it. ]

What do you think, is it too much or does it make my eyes sparkle?

II. THE MASQUERADE

[ selina's mask, at first glance, is simple -- a deep, rich black that covers everything but her eyes and the dark-tinted curve of her mouth twisted into smirk as she takes another sip of champagne. the mask is feline in shape, its oversized ears reminiscent of a kitten, and upon closer inspection is actually quite detailed: the entire mask a deeply-dyed calfskin carefully and elaborately molded and hand stitched into place with black thread. it's comforting in a way that should be concerning, her relationship with her own mask -- the one she chooses to wear nightly, the one that gave her the strength to become who she is now and caused so many of her life's problems -- much more complicated than it should be. why fight it? why try to take it off at all?

she is an observer and the mask helps with that, helps create that barrier that allows her to keep to herself and observe her fellow travelers and/or captives. if they're going to be traveling together, she might as well know who she's dealing with, right? (and some of these idiots are just giving up their secrets.)

perhaps you bump into her as she locates another glass of champagne, or maybe it's later in the evening and you're both starting to notice the way your skin begins to tighten. maybe you just wanna ask her about the stupid pin everyone keeps asking about, go nuts. she'll be here late into the night. ]

III. LOST CARCOSA

[ it is late at night or early in the morning, depending on your definition, when selina finds herself walking along the beach. a pair of heels dangling from her fingers, she walks barefoot in the sand -- pleasantly intoxicated and relatively carefree all things considered. the ocean breeze feels cool and crisp against her skin and the stars are so bright tonight, it's hard to even care whether or not she's alone on the beach. she can keep to her own business if they can keep to theirs, or at least that's the plan.

the creepy skull seems to have other plans... ]

IV. WILDCARD

[ not feeling these prompts? toss something completely different my way! selina can mostly be found around the city while on carcosa, but returns to either temple often for food and supplies and, frankly, just to people watch. hit me up at felinefatale for plotting and/or friendship!! ]

I.

[incelligent]

[At that question, Simon simply quirks an eyebrow. He looks over his shoulder, assuming that she's speaking to someone else, only to realize that he's the only one present at the moment.

He is currently donning 1920s newsboy garb. Mostly, he's chosen it because the hat is cool as HECK, and this is one of the few outfits where the ponytail isn't totally out of place with the look. It's probably not best to ask him where he got it- It was absolutely stolen from some poor shmuck who was around the same age and size. Gullible too, shoot. That kid is definitely going to wake up in a dumpster with at least one black eye.

It should occur to Simon that it's been actual years since he's been in contact with an adult human woman, and while the scummy little rat of a teen may be cagey about the place he actually hails from, there was certainly no one like this around. She sparkles in the way that Grace does, only nobody could hold a candle to Grace, not in Simon's heart. It doesn't even register in the blond's screwed up head that he thinks this woman is pretty, which he does, because um... What are normal, nonviolent human emotions?

And so, when he finally opens his mouth to respond, he says something incredibly-]

How should I know?

[Dim-witted and uncalled for.]

It's just some big dumb rock.

Elenore Evans - OC

[hostile_encounter]

ISLAND TEMPLE

[Elenore stands at the edge of an invisible circle around what is clearly a sacrificial altar and the weird yellow figure. After a bit of very deliberate testing, she's figured out that if she gets too close the weird antlered people start to get antsy. As long as she stays where she's at, they'll let her stare at the setup and try to make some kind of sense of it. Eventually, she starts cursing under her breath, still not wanting to upset the guardians.]


THE MASQUERADE

[The mask is awkward. It fogs as she breathes and makes it hard to see at times, and the flowers in her face are a little much. At least she likes the dress? Still, she manages to keep bumping into other people as she tries to find a safe perch.]

Sorry? [That probably doesn't help with the glass of champagne she just splashed someone with.]


THE PLAY

[She lets the lights shine on the stage for a good long time before she even thinks about moving to check out the mask on the stage. It's too obvious, too bad of an idea for her to be quick to jump to get closer to the spotlight. Not that she's ever quick to go for the spotlight.]

This is definitely a trap. [That doesn't mean she's doing anything but creeping towards the stage and the mask to see if there's anything that will help her get out of this probably haunted theater just a little bit quicker.]


WILD CARD
[Throw something at her!]

Masquerade

[kyley_b]

"Oh, come on, I just got these pants!" Kyle laments before looking up. He squints behind his mask - two faces on either side, comedy and tragedy - before recognizing the woman who saved him from hogs.

"Elenore? Dude, thanks a bunch, now it looks like I hauled off and pissed all over myself."

Deadpool | Marvel Whatever U Like | OTAlllll the cool peeps

[what_fourth_wall]

I. Be veeewwy veewwwy quiet, I'm hunting Temple Gawdi-

II. The Maskorade has ALL THE ELECTROLYTES YOU NEED, BABY!!

WELP. Prompt numero uno didn't last very long at all. Deadpool didn't even get through his terribly clever title for it before he fell unconscious when one of the little buggers turned towards him and looked at him with its creepy blank face. He swore to himself and grabbed a drink from a passing fancy waiter type person. Was he back in the orgy?

"I bet I'm the first person to ever not make it through a prompt title. Starting this game off RIGHT."

With a smirk, he lifts the glass to his lips and it dribbles all around...rubber lips that are in front of his lips? He sporfles and sputters and swears as it runs between rubber and skin. Heedless of where it goes or who it hits, he throws the glass away and gropes at his face, feeling only rubber.

"What the red white and blue Anthony Mackie fuck?!? I need something reflective now! Gimme gimme." And he yanks the serving platter away from a very startled waiter, sending drinks flying. At least one of the drinks spilled in this thread likely ruin your fancy party attire, dear responder. As he looks at his reflection, he just starts to laugh.

For you see, what he sees is a very lifelike rubber Ryan Reynolds mask.

Tell a secret to get rid of it, you say? This is a man that won't be telling anyone anything remotely true all night.

IV. Well, at least not until after midnight, when he finds himself in the...Lost and Found Carcosa

"Fancy meeting you here, babe," he says, running a gloved hand fondling over the skull as they both stare out to sea. "But I guess it doesn't matter where I find myself, you'll always be there."

He sighs, and runs a hand back through the hair that has become "real" for the month. Was it just a bit rubbery? Meh. He'd still scored something far better than anyone else who had to tell a secret to ditch the mask. How many of them even realized what they were giving up? Maybe they all thought they were prettier on the flip side of the mask. He knew he wasn't. Wade would keep his Ryan Reynolds face, thankyouverymuch.

"Just not for me," he adds quietly. "Not even here. I tried to get them to kill me earlier, but they stuck me in a party where I scored this sweet gin soaked face. It's like they want me to stick around, for some reason. Dunno why. Nobody actually wants me. Not even you."

He frowns, as if that train of thought went a little bit too far for what he'd expected to say out loud. "You got me feeling a little emo tonight, babe. Our relationship isn't supposed to be about the angsty poetry all he wangsty teens write about you. Let's talk more about why you so bedazzled tonight. Does the pelvis match the skull, hot stuff?"

Deadpool watches the incoming tide of zombos, and honestly he probably doesn't mind if they drag him back with them when the ebb. After all, it's just his lady love reaching out to finally draw him into her lasting embrace.

Lost & Found

[kyley_b]

Deadpool might not mind the zombies, but somebody else sure does.

Kyle had felt strangely lonely wandering along the beach, but he'd chalked that up to the fog and the sound of the surf, reminders both that he was very far from home. He came to notice that the steady rhythmic sound of the waves was being interrupted by an off-beat sloshing. He'd paused on the beach, staring hard into the white wall of fog and wondering if there was perhaps an animal out there. Shapes gradually materialized, and with them so did sudden terror.

Which is how it came to be that Deadpool's tenderly melancholy moment is interrupted by a tall, gangly redhead running down the beach shrieking like a firebell. "ZOMBIES! FUCK! SHIT! THERE'S ZOMBIES!"

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 • disney

[medeiun]

𝕿HE 𝕸ASQUERADE

[ Maleficent, Mistress of Evil, doesn't have the most favourable history when it comes to attending parties. Fortunately (for those around her, at least), her inhibited powers won't allow for any dark curses to be placed upon anyone's heads.

She can still make a rather foreboding impression, however.

Though the dress is suiting of this strange environment, the woman stands like a shadow spreading outwards, with a large pair of black wings attached to her back, razor sharp clawtips a contrast to the soft feathers beneath them. Her hair is concealed under a leather headpiece, the material wrapped upwards over her great horns. And there is the mask, an elaborate lacy design that covers the majority of her face, black raven-like feathers blossoming from the side of her head.

Of course Maleficent, even if not by her own design in this particular instance, would make a grandiose statement.

Though she keeps her wings folded inwards, she is not exactly well-suited to being indoors like this, around so many moving bodies. Someone could poke an eye out on more than one part of her person (a fact she is not particularly concerned with, as she moves quietly about). It would be fairly easy to be bumped into by her, perhaps to find one's self caught against a wing. Don't expect an apology; you should have been more careful.

At some point in the evening, she ends up near the bar, dark red lip tugged upwards to reveal a fanged mouth, her nose wrinkling at the scent of human alcohol. The decision to remove her heels comes after she's finally lost patience with being in them — one wing stretched slightly outwards for balance as the dark fey leans over, slender fingers fiddling with the shoe. ]

𝕿HE 𝕻LAY

[ Human establishments can be so grand, but Maleficent has never been in such a place as this. Even she finds herself quietly in awe of it, the slight monolith that is the theatre, the red and gold of it. Like the most elaborate of castle interiors, though she has only caught glimpses of those over time. She is not certain what this space is meant to be utilised for and she does not sit, but instead moves quietly around the large room, taking it in.

And then the curtain draws, and the stage is revealed. Uneasiness ripples through the fairy, and her sharp eyes cut to whomever is there with her. By now she, like most of them here, have learned that this place holds a strange magic — something ancient and difficult to understand.

She is not sure that the stage, and what is upon it, should be approached. Without a word, Maleficent moves back to the doors that led here, only to find them locked. Tension purses her wide mouth, and she turns back towards her companion in this room, voice layered in a certain coolness that reads as calm and even, despite the strain she feels. She does not care to be contained. ]

It would appear that we are trapped here.

𝕷OST 𝕮ARCOSA

[ It is easy for her to look away from the skull's lulling grin. What losses haunt her belong to her own spirit; Maleficent keeps them locked securely away. And so she continues to walk past the arrangement of cloth and empty sockets, chin held upwards, eyes turned towards the water, breathing in the scents that the wind carries, the brine of the ocean. Her long hair hangs freely, whipping about her head in the sea-breeze, strands caught against her horns like a wild thing. Her bare feet move across the sand, and for the first time since being brought to this place, Maleficent feels a sort of ease in her spirit.

Then the fog begins to roll her way, a slow-creeping thing that progressively steals her visibility. The dark fey scowls, her moment of ease short-lived, as always. There in the near distance are a pair of glowing eyes, golden like her own, only— filled with something that could not be considered life.

She balks from the sight of the corpses as the fog slowly reveals them for what they are, a grisly party ambling out from the sea. But then she notices they're heading towards someone; she is not the only Traveler out here. Have you seen them? Or are they moving too silently; perhaps you're to be caught unaware. ]

Watch out!

[ She warns, voice sharp enough to cut, though she is not the thing to be feared, not just now. It's the creatures — dead things that haven't stayed dead, stumbling your way. ]

---

𝖂ILDCARD / 𝕰TC.

ooc — I'm super flexible with prompts; such as for the play prompt, I'm down for exploring Mal's or your character's traumas, having them sit through the evening without exploring any traumas, etc.
Feel free to it me up at skeletals, large bat#2354, or PM if you'd like to plot something else! Also, I'm 100% prose-friendly; if that's your preference, just respond as such and I'll swap right over. ♡

Masquerade!

[what_fourth_wall]

"Uh huh, oh yeah, Do the Zemo..."

Is Deadpool just doing the Zemo dance through whatever Masquerade post he replies to? You bet your ass he is. Unfortunately, it means he isn't really paying much attention to where he's going. As such, he Zemos right into a massive wing and gets completely tangled up in it as he flails about. It is entirely more awkward than it has any right to be.

"Gah!!! I GET IT YOU'RE BATMAN!!! Let me out of your Batcape now!!! You KNOW we can't be having these crossovers, the Mouse decrees that we will be forever estranged, the Romeo and Juliet of...hey you're not Batman."

He peeps out from behind her wing, a sharp bit having most certainly put one of his eyes out. What Maleficent sees is a Ryan Reynolds mask with blood running out of one of the eye holes and the good eye peering at her. It is rather macabre and absurd all at once. Also he is still tangled in her wing.

"But YOU, you I can cross over with."

Hawks | BNHA | OTA

[nanban]

I. THE TEMPLE

Hawks remembers the temple from the last island. So it's not that he really means to find this one, but find it he does. It's quiet and strange, stranger to him than the island itself. All right, yeah, the island is apparently stuck in the Jazz Age or something like that, but at least there are things going on. It's not like the last island. What to make of that? He hasn't decided just yet.

The company in the temple is a bit weird, though, those strange little faces. Hawks is a meddler by nature, but even he gets the idea maybe he should think twice about it. Convinced that he's not going to learn anything here, he goes to leave just as another traveller enters.

"Gotta wonder if the locals are the ones that put that creepy yellow thing in the middle down there, or if that's got something to do with why they seem to have deserted this place," he says, completely conversational in tone.

II. MASQUERADE

Parties are sometimes Hawks's scene, and this one beats the castle dungeon thing the last island had going. These people might be wearing masks, but at least they're all clothed. Hawks finds himself wearing some pinstripes, gold on red, and a matching mask that definitely seems too on the nose for his taste. He can't seem to take it off, so he just goes with it for now. It's a bit unnerving, but...well, weirder shit has definitely happened.

He picks up a glass of champagne he probably isn't going to actually drink, tucks his wings in tight enough so they won't trip anyone up, and looks back at the crowd. He doesn't know that many other travellers yet, but even if he did, he can't tell who is who behind their masks. He stands out because of his wings and all, but not everyone is so recognisable.

What he does see is that yellow symbol, the one on his own suit, emblazoned on others' clothing. So he goes up to one of the people sporting that weird symbol.

"You know, I almost thought someone spilled mustard on this jacket when I first noticed it, but the odds of two messy eaters making the exact same mess seems pretty low, huh? Guess we gotta make do. Dunno about you, but I didn't come here to Gatsby Island already dressed for the occasion."

III. LOST CARCOSA

The beach seems pretty innocuous at first. Hawks walks along, feathers ruffling a little bit in the soft ocean breeze. He walks for awhile, idly considering trying the whole flying away over the ocean thing. It seems ill-informed, though, so he holds off on that.

One possibility is that Hawks comes along someone sitting in the sand. He notices the skull right away, though his reaction is mostly wide-eyed, put on surprise, and no fear of the thing.

"You practicing Shakespeare out here?" he asks the person sitting with the skull. "I'm a terrible actor, but you look like you and skull dude here could use some company."

Another possibility is that Hawks refuses to sit with the skull at all. He's the chatty type by nature, but usually not about things that matter, and something gives him the feeling he's not going to like whatever that skull wants to hear. So he goes walking and the fog sets in.

The zombies come not long after that. Hawks is known for being fast, and he can outfly them, but he has one of his feathers brandished as a sword pretty much immediately, just in case. If he finds someone else in the fog, he calls out to them, not wanting to get mistaken for a zombie.

"Hey! If you don't want to become literal brainfood, follow me!"

IV. WILDCARD

[ if you have something else in mind, hit me with it and we'll do it! you can find me at boywonder for plotting purposes. For the record, Hawks's ScryWatch colour is yellow, though he'll hide that from others as long as he can. I'm assuming all TDM CR stands, but if you would prefer it didn't, let me know! also I prefer prose but can match style. ]

II. MASQUERADE

[medeiun]

This is a much better environment than whatever was going on in the castle dungeons from before — though of course, Maleficent is hardly enjoying herself, all the same. There are too many people, too much... merriment (she doesn't know how to react to it; ironically, she's much more at ease when being unwelcome to little social events).

Though she does earn more than a few stares for her appearance, there are no cries of fear or disgust; she is able to move throughout the crowds as she likes. The gloves and dress she finds on her person are.... silly, she doesn't think much of them, but at least they got her colour right. Her long hair is wrapped up in a headpiece, and the mask she has been assigned is also quite appropriate for her, with its flurry of black raven feathers. She certainly makes a statement, her own wings ever taking up space. It's awkward, even as she keeps them tucked behind herself; they drag the ground as she walks (barefoot, having discarded her heels long ago).

When she sees the young man approaching, Maleficent almost smiles, a familiarity sparking in her eyes, and she turns to him. Among all of her fellow Travelers here, this one stands out, and she nods her head to him now. Hawks, he'd introduced himself as, before she had also given her name in exchange.

"Indeed, it would seem that our hosts enjoy dressing us up like dolls." Once more, she's not too thrilled about their situation here, or about being directed the way they have been. What power is around them clearly knows what's in their spirits, choosing attire that is painfully accurate.

Maleficent takes in his own mask, birdlike, and then glances down to the yellow symbol he refers to. She lifts her hand, slender fingers shifting slowly, and a sparkling gold shimmers to the sigil on his suit front. But it simply dances off of it, as though repelled by some force. With another wave of her hand, her magic disappears into the air, and her sharp eyes cut to the drink in his hand now.

"Are you certain that drinking what they offer is wise? Clearly their magics are manipulative and strong here. Even my own cannot counter it."

Alucard | Castlevania

[cryptsleeper]

IV. Lost Carcosa

[Alucard has no love of the church and it's holy mysteries, but he understands the enshrinement of the remains of saints. Their bones, their most incorruptible parts, they're encased in precious metals and studded with jewels. In the low candle lighting of churches, the bones and flesh shine, a beacon of the divine for those who believe. For those who see the world as they think it is, not for it's true nature.

So it must go with this skull as it stares up from an ancient nest upon the beach. The lighting is terrible, but isn't that always the point? It draws the eye towards it. The scent that hangs in the air dances a line between a holy incense or smells used for entombment, and Alucard can't determine which.

He glares at the thing, offended by the rising to sit.]

It seems unfair that a memento mori such as yourself will not be as articulate as you demand of others.

[There's no response. Why would there be? A saint's bones do not need to speak, they only need to inspire.

The dhampir scowls.]

Whatever you think you can force out of me can wait a while longer.

[Into the fog. Into the darkness, whose embrace feels far more welcome, the low cover growing thicker and thicker. There's a point where the ocean and the horizon line become one and--

--gold eyes glare out from what Alucard thinks to be the ocean now, the fog so thick that it is impossible to tell. What sends him reeling is the stench of wet, especially as a bloated hand rests on his shoulders.

The sound that follows is feral, and the sudden splash of water can be heard from a distance. That's one bloated corpse pushed back into the water.]

I. The Temple
[In retrospect, talking to the compulsion skull was probably the better choice than fighting a whole bunch of wet animated corpses. Alucard can admit that much now, as he stands just outside of the temple, taking in the air. It is still night, and it seems like that may run on forever. His hair is still wet from corpse wrangling, and his clothing is only just freshly changed.

This is not a good vantage point to see the rest of the city. That's fine by him, for the art deco style runs a little too close to some of the patterns found within the castle Alucard grew up in.

He lets out a soft sigh, eyes fixed on the horizon. This place seemed to swell with celebrations late into the night, music seeming to echo from every part of the city.]

Mm. This seems the only quiet place here save the shoreline.

Wildcard
Alucard's going to be sticking on the outskirts for the first few days before getting his exploration on. Feel free to PM me if you want something specific!

( iv )

[dothelokimotion]

[ well now. that's quite the strong reaction to a few shambling bodies. perhaps zombies are more dangerous than they seem? but this person's strength doesn't look to be underestimated. and that ethereal glow in his eyes. loki hasn't seen it in centuries, so he can only hazard a few guesses. he spares no thought to the skull, clicking his tongue. ]

Isn't that a little extreme?

Chloe | Detroit: Become Human | OTA

[neverwither]

⭕ THE MASQUERADE

Chloe is no stranger to social events. Well, the circumstances of her being there at all and being there alone aside. Without a familiar arm to hold, she drifts throughout the crowd and takes it all in. Amidst the general party hubbub, there’s the echo of ‘it’s a secret’. High society parties are always full of games and while this event might not be one of those, exactly, it seems to be no less true.

On a passing glance it might not seem like the blonde is wearing a mask at all. All the polite smiles she offers to passing guests are lost underneath the unmoving features of hard, rigid plastic. Several subtle attempts are made to pry the thing off but it shows no signs of budging.

The other detail of note seems to be several of the attendees sporting a yellow pin. Without a record of the symbol within her system, the android is as lost as anyone else may be. With that thought in mind, she turns to another who’s been adorned with the symbol. Her tone is light, suggesting that all of this is perfectly fine and nothing at all to be concerned about, and the smile that can’t be seen is at least present in her eyes.

“I was once told that having the same accessory as your fellow guests is a dreadful faux pas.”



⭕ LOST CARCOSA

Apparently even a simple walk along the beach isn’t quite so simple. The sound of the waves and the sensation of the sand underneath her bare feet should all be soothing. It’s not entirely surprising that they’re not. Still, Chloe tries to make it as relaxing as any other beach she’s strolled along.

It could have worked, if not for that pesky skull.

The sight alone is enough to make Chloe stop in her tracks. Kneel down in the sand to take a closer look. She’s never seen human remains before, and certainly not just sitting there out in the open.

Managing to take her gaze away from it, she glances around for some figure of authority. Surely the remnants of what used to be a person shouldn’t just be… sitting there like that? Surely someone should take care of such important matters?

But there’s Chloe and a smiling skull, strangely beautiful with its jewels. Pondering who it may have been, she finds herself drawn in further and further.

“I…”

Why is she trying to speak? Why the feeling of wanting, needing, to say…

No. One doesn’t talk about unseemly things. Unnecessary things. That which is gone isn’t anyone else’s burden.



⭕ WILDCARD

[ If you’d like to do a thing, let’s do a thing! You can get me at Another_thoughts_hat or PM ]

lost carcosa

[mewnifestos]

Well. It was a nice enough night when he set out on this stroll - now, with the first wisps of a foreboding fog rolling in, Anders is second-guessing the wisdom in wandering an empty, dark stretch of sand by the water. But he wanted an escape from the city, sharp-edged and too-bright as it all is, and the sound of the surf had a kind of soothing, lulling appeal.

Now it feels stifling, as he makes his way back, trying to trace his own shifting footsteps in the sand. As he gives light to a tiny wisp of mana, green and glowing and only a touch brighter than that eerie fog, and tries to raise his voice over it, when he sees what he thinks - hopes - is someone crouched in the sand, up ahead.

"I'm not sure it's such a good idea to linger. We won't be able to see the ends of our own noses, in this, before long."

Harley Quinn | DCEU

[sequinns]

♦️ Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE ♦️

Harley isn’t surprised at all about her mask, a black and red, over-the-top harlequin-esque thing that’s heavy and bold. The dress she finds herself in is similar, something that screams Look At Me as loudly as possible. Difficult to move around in even though Harley makes it look effortless.

Fashion is pain.

She’s spent a good deal of time inspecting the mask in a mirror before going to join the party, wanting to have some idea of what to expect when she does. So far, other than the yellow pin, she hasn’t figured it out.

She might be impulsive and, frankly, unreasonable, but Harley’s smart enough to know that when you’re in a weird as fuck situation you assess it. While still looking like you’re having the time of your life.

She’s drinking champagne, mingling and laughing and leaving people without any real sense of who she is behind her mask, gathering what little information seems to be up for grabs. And what she’s gathered is this: the masks don’t come off unless you reveal a secret, a really good one.

Harley’s not one to shy away from talking about herself. Except that talk is typically all surface bullshit, the sort of thing people would expect from a ditzy blonde. She doesn’t usually talk about her feelings — the real ones, bubbling just underneath the surface, the ones that could actually hurt her. She’s always left that to her patients.

Still, she’s not sure yet whether someone confiding in her might make serve the same purpose and, while she’s in no rush to take off her (if she does say so herself) beautiful mask, she also doesn’t want it burned into her face. She has enough scars and tattoos. She doesn’t need another reminder of her life before getting kicked out in the rain by the Joker.

Harley’s holding a champagne flute in each hand as she turns to someone passing by, offering one up. “Drink?”


♦️ Ⅲ. THE PLAY ♦️

Parties are her style. But so is exploring.

When Harley finds herself in the theater, she’s surprised there aren’t more people there. But she’s always loved holing up in the corner of a theater with a gigantic box of popcorn and watching movies alone or with one other person to canoodle with. This isn’t so bad.

The mask though, that she feels drawn to when the curtains part and it’s how she ends up on the stage, running a glittery pink fingernail over the smooth surface. It’s blank, clean, pristine even. Open to all sorts of possibilities. That’s her first thought, odd as it is.

And when she notices movement out of the corner of her eye, her head snaps up, eyes narrowing. Because as her vision blurs and refocuses that approaching person goes from being an unfamiliar fellow spectator to a green-haired, leather-jacket wearing, tattooed and scarred monster. Her hands clench and she straightens, immediately forgetting that, whoever this is, they hadn’t been her ex just a moment earlier. That this might just be her eyes playing tricks on her. Making a perfect stranger look like someone they’re not.

“You!”

Not that she wants to rip his head off or anything.


♦️ WILDCARD ♦️

If you'd like to write something else entirely, feel free to tag in with a wildcard prompt or to send me a message that you'd like something else (harlequeen). Totally here for zombie fights and temple stuff too if that’s more your speed. And always up for plotting if you’d like to do that before jumping into something.

masquerade

[darkdetective]

Oh, no.

[ not harley. he can hear her voice and spot her mask from across the room before she has a chance to see him, giving him the very choice opportunity to turn around and shield his face. nope. ]

Carter Ghazikhanian| Marvel 616 (adult au) | OTA

[extrasensory_problems]

Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE:

He can honestly say that he's never been in this kind of situation before.
And not just the whole 'hey an ancient being is throwing you onto a random weird island' deal, but also he's never been to such an extravagant party in his life. The closest he's ever come to seeing this kind of ball was watching things like 'Boardwalk Empire' or the 'Great Gatsby' movie. And so with that in mind, it's not really all that shocking that the outfit he has found himself in is a replica of the pink suit Leo wears in said film. His mask however is different from a lot of the masquerade ones he sees floating around the room, his is a sleek matching pink mask that is commonly used in hospitals.
He finds himself wandering through the ball, looking at all the décor and costumes with an almost bright eyed wonder. He's so enthralled he might not see where he's going and bump into someone, if so he turns and immediately starts to apologize.
"Oh! I'm sorry!"

Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA:

Time
Loss
Pain
Death

He stares at the jewel encrusted skull and feels it stare right back, the empty sockets a void of cruel laughter.

He doesn't know how long he's been standing on the beach, but it feels like forever. The last thing he can remember is leaving the party, his head feeling light from the gin and the swirling upbeat energy of all the people around him. He had left because after a few drinks he started to hear people's thoughts and some of them were odd.
Disturbing even.

Strange is the night where the black stars rise

So he had left and somehow found his way onto the beach, hoping for peace and quiet and a moment to re-center himself. But there had been something else...

And strange moons circle through the skies

Some kind of pull that he could feel directly in his head, something that was calling to him without words. So he had started walking and eventually found his way to this bizarre funeral mound, that feeling getting stronger and louder.
And then...

Things are dark and he finds he can't pull his eyes away from the skull, he can only stare and whisper two words.

"She's gone."

iv

[motiontostrike]

Matt, too, has found his way out of the party and onto the beach. After the echoes of brassy music and dozens of frantic, chaotic conversations, the inky blanket of nightfall seems eerily calm. The rush of the tide clatters around in his head as he wanders the shore, sand clinging to the damp cuffs of his trousers. It's not long before he realizes that he can't quite remember how he got here or what he's doing. Just as soon as the thought occurs to him, though, he hears a heartbeat up ahead and approaches.

The sorrow seems palpable. So is the sense of something gripping towards his thoughts, however unintentional. Matt focuses himself on turning that out as he's been taught to do. He closes it off and crouches in the sand. "Who is? Who's gone?"