![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
- ! event log,
- a discovery of witches: kit marlowe,
- dc: harley quinn,
- detroit: become human: chloe,
- detroit: become human: connor,
- dragon age: anders,
- final fantasy: sephiroth,
- locked tomb: harrowhark nonagesimus,
- marvel: carter ghazikhanian,
- marvel: jennifer walters,
- marvel: loki odinson,
- marvel: wade wilson,
- my hero academia: takami keigo,
- oc: elenore evans,
- oc: saxsice king,
- penny dreadful: victor frankenstein,
- south park: kyle broflovski,
- uncharted: elena fisher,
- uncharted: nathan drake,
- uncharted: rafe adler,
- uncharted: samuel drake
Destination: Carcosa
✖ 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!
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.
𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 • disney
𝕿HE 𝕻LAY
𝕷OST 𝕮ARCOSA
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.![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
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. ♡
Feel free to it me up at
Masquerade!
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."
cw: eye injury, blood, oh my god I'm crying
Maleficent, almost immediately realising what's happened (thanks to the person caught in her wing shouting and flailing all over the place) tries to turn towards them, hands lifted, attempting to move her wing backwards, but his frantic motions are tangling him up further, like an insect trapped in a spider's web.
"Calm yourself!" she finally barks, just in time to catch sight of the man peering out at her.
It takes a moment for the dark fey to register what she's seeing. A.... mask, composed of a human-looking face (not the first of those she's spotted tonight, albeit no less unnerving, catching her off-guard in a way she doesn't quite like). She's all ready to snarl at him for panicking and ruffling her fathers (literally, and she's probably lost a few in the scuffle), but then she sees the blood and that's.... not part of the mask, not some decoration. Her sharp senses can smell it, and her eyes cut to the clawtip responsible, the glint of wet blood upon it.
"You're injured." Her voice, though calm, is slightly strained. She lifts her hands towards him, lithe body turned his way; her hands are steady but she works quickly, trying to help extract him from the feathers he's gotten all caught in. She can try to heal him once he's out, though she is not sure how well her healing magic might work here.
"How are you not screaming in pain?"
DP is truly a walking CW XD (omg consonants)
Thoughtfully, he plucks a feather and looks at it. This is most certainly not the way to make a great first impression with Maleficent. Plucking feathers is, in many avian circles, likely considered incredibly rude. But Deadpool really doesn't seem to know any boundaries, and if it's any consolation, he'll treasure this Malifeather forever.
"Oh yeah, you can really put an eye out with those wings there." He rubs at where his eye used to be through the mask. "I hate it when that happens. Really fucks over the depth perception. Makes it hard to truly appreciate all of those magnificent Maleficent sharp, amazing facial angles. I mean, those cheek bones. Ain't no Maybelline that can accomplish that."
(Okay. I think everyone is impressed with how many large M words you can toss at Maleficent now.)
"Yeah, but it's just not good enough! Her Malifont game is too tight! I've got the words, but she's got the style!"
(You should be responding to her, not the voices in your head.)
"Oh..yeah...the eye." He shrugs. "It hurts like a biiiiiitch, but don't worry. No malfeasance done here. I'm not malcontent."
(JFC...)
"It'll grow back. Small price to pay for some intimate time with Maleficent's wing OH MY GOD!! I'm just going to have a Malifanboy moment over here, don't mind me."
(no subject)
ngl - that's probably the best icon I've seen to react to Deadpool.
I didn't think I'd be using it so soon in-game, I'm so pleased to be proven wrong
Deadpool - Readjusting All Expectations Since...er...forever!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Lost Carcosa
[Alucard's reply is sharp as any sword, having just received a bloated hand on his shoulder. The fog is an absolute nightmare right now, and as he opens his mouth to speak again, a particular issue occurs to him.
His eyes are the same color as these corpses, and that is going to get confusing very fast. The dhampir is ready to warn whoever it is calling through the fog of that fact, but there's a corpse trying to give him a hug instead, dragging him into the briny sea. There's a few moments of silence, then a loud splash. A corpse smacking into the water.]
Is the fog thinner where you are?
[A retreat is in order, but a signpost is needed. Voice should be enough for now.]
no subject
And here and there, flashes of those gold eyes as the things move around. Her own pair — gold too, outlined in green — could potentially make her a target as well for the way they glint inhumanly, only she isn't thinking of that at all. She's trying to reach the other person, to find them. There's a sudden splash and she whips her head that way, moving on foot for now. ]
No, it is the same, [ she calls back, loudly, the tension in her showing just slightly around the edges. Suddenly, one of the corpses lunges for her from the fog, and Maleficent immediately sends it flying backwards with a sweep of venomous green magic that burns bright, like fire. It isn't hard to keep them at bay like this, but Maleficent isn't sure how long her powers might last; this place seems to affect them. ]
Do you have any weapons? My magic may be temporary.
no subject
So he likes that part, almost as much as he likes that whoever this is, their eyes are just different enough to pick out from the eerie golds they're surrounded by. (Too bad he's not as lucky.)
Alucard's making a point of noise, aware that it'll attract more corpses but banking on the fact it'll get the other person involved here closer as well. The idea tracks, and the sudden burst of magic is more than enough for him to work with. The temporary illumination's enough for Alucard to count the number of corpses in the immediate vicinity (five) and the horizon (many.)]
Nothing that'll be useful for this many. [He took a hunting knife from the temple, as that is apparently a basic supply. What he really needs is a sword. Something ranged.]
If you're on borrowed time, then a retreat's going to give us a greater chance of survival. Can you cast that again as a means of illumination?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
swoops in with outrageously late backtag 😎
(no subject)
masquerade
It's frustrating, being toyed with this way, and uncomfortable being dropped in the middle of such a crowded social event. He manages to make his way off of the dance floor and finds himself near the bar. He intended to use this vantage to scan the crowd for any sign of a culprit, or some source of the magic, but there's someone here who stands out even more than he does.
Sephiroth himself may not be entirely human, but he (perhaps stubbornly) believes that he is, and the only visible indication otherwise are the slit pupils of his eyes. This woman is... very obviously inhuman. His frustration subsides somewhat, not into alarm, but interest. And no, he makes no effort to disguise his stare as he watches the movement of those wings. Such manners.]
no subject
Here, the stares are not.... afraid, not generally. They are mostly curious, and Maleficent is not so sure how to react to them. For the most part, she ignores them out of a lack of knowing how to otherwise respond: ironically, it is easier to be met with abhorrence. She knows how to react to that.
She catches sight of the man staring at her, eyes flicked upwards for a moment over her shoulder. He stands out in his own ways: very tall, with that long hair of his, an ethereal silver. She ignores him too, at first, taking her time until her shoes are properly off (and she just leaves them there in the middle of the floor, unconcerned with having much manners of her own). Maleficent gives her wings a bit of a stretch before they fold inwards again as she stands up straight. Finally, she turns towards the man, taking in the odd slit in his eyes. Interesting. ]
If you stare at them for a little longer, they do tricks. [ It's said with a curve of her red mouth: not playful, but sarcastic, cold, her eyes humourless. ]
no subject
Do you suppose my untimely demise might put an end to this party?
[Not that he expects she could actually kill him, but that's part of what he finds humorous about the idea. And, there would be something satisfying about it. A little violence to put an end to this unwanted revelry.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
the play
Contrary to his present company, he feels an immediate draw toward those heavy curtains, obscuring what surely must be an enormous stage—
Of course, with no one around to play upon it, the anticipation he feels is a silly, meaningless thing. But he's not had half enough of silly and meaningless in his life, by half. And when the curtain rises, his expression is one of rather more cheerful awe, as he catches her sharper glance with a shrug. There must be someone behind the scenes, that's all. Perhaps a little too desperate to sell their one-man show, unwilling to wait for a packed house.
...Perhaps entirely too desperate, if they're willing to go so far as locking the doors. The first of his own narrow flashes of unease crosses his face, as he glances back toward her. ]
Trapped? What, like a captive audience? Surely there's another way out.
[ Almost hopefully: ] ...Perhaps they only close those doors until intermission?
no subject
And she has been caged by humans more than enough for one lifetime. ....Though she isn't certain that the residents of this place are, in fact, human or just something that looks that way. Their behaviours are strange. ]
They may have been sealed with magic. [ She runs a hand against one of the doors, slowly. Part of her wants to try to blow a hole through them with her own magic, create a fast exit where there is none. But it's become painfully clear that this place leads them to certain paths, and it couldn't be more obvious to her that they're meant to approach what's on that stage.
She doesn't like that, either. ]
They mean for us to examine it. [ Her sharp eyes cut to the stage in gesture, and she stares there for a long moment before she looks back to him, a cynical counter to his dose of hopefulness. ]
I do not believe we should.
no subject
But those are just doors, this whole place is just wood and stone and fancy draperies. Things he wouldn't think impervious to a strong force spell, or - if necessary - a fireball or two. He's not exactly a fan of being held prisoner, either, after all.
A frown that's part grimace crosses his face as he follows her pointed look back toward the revealed stage, though what's sat there upon it looks like hardly anything at all. He's not happy to admit (even just to himself) that his first instinct is to go and look a little closer - would have been, were he by himself, here. ]
...I suppose not. It's too obvious, isn't it? I'll just have to save my dreams of fame and fortune for a less haunted stage.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
apologies for the slow!! If you prefer to let this go, no worries at all!
i'm fine with slow! but if you'd rather move on, no worries (✿´‿`)
I'm absolutely down to continue!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
the play;
That's an idea, he thinks. He ought to try and sketch a bit of everywhere he goes. It might help him grow to understand this place better.
The thought is pushed aside, filed away for later, because Benedict is ready to greet the woman. The opening of the curtains interrupts him. He still isn't sure if there's going to be a show or not, as there's no fanfare, nor any sound of actors or singers bustling just off stage. Benedict is in the midst of frowning when it's the woman who finally breaks the silence between them. ]
- I beg your pardon?
no subject
So she's keeping silent as she examines the room, and then finds it to be a cage instead of a room; they are trapped here. Perhaps by magic; she isn't certain yet. ]
We cannot leave. [ She clarifies for him, turning to face the man once more, her large wings making a swooshing sound as she lets them unfold a bit, too tense to concentrate on keeping them carefully folded close to her body. ]
Whatever little show they have prepared for us, we are to be forced to witness it. [ Forced. She doesn't do well with being forced to do anything, and she scowls at the stage, revealing sharp fangs. ]
no subject
He stands as she confirms that they're stuck, brow furrowing. ]
Surely they can't do that.
[ Can they? Whoever they are.
Benedict's gaze goes back to the stage, where there's still no activity or fanfare to announce a show. If they're meant to watch something then why won't they just get on with it? He decides to go to the stage, to see for certain if there are any performers standing by. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
The Play
There's only the two of them here, and Booker's more than happy to take a seat far across the row from his. The grandeur of the theatre is undeniable, luscious and splendid in a way that immediately takes his mind to the French Revolution. Decadence such as this was in stark contrast to the horrors he has a feeling exist just under the surface here. Though they may not be they horrors of the common plights he's used to - everything here has an air of strangeness to it, and that's only exemplified by the horns he can see his companion sporting.
His assumption is that they are decorative, a headpiece of some sort but... he's resigned enough to the oddness of this place to not entirely dismiss the idea that they may be real outright.
At her words though, he has no choice but to abandon his efforts to stay as still and nondescript as possible. He straightens up in the seat, glances around to confirm ( needlessly ), that she must be speaking to him. "Trapped?"
There were more ways out of a building than just through the door, if it was locked.
no subject
....Though she's tempted.
The dark fey turns back to her sole companion in what has now become a prison, taking him in with a suspicious eye, large wings slowly shifting behind herself. Why is he the only one in here with her? Why did the curtain draw back as soon as they were both here? She doesn't like it, and she's not sure of him, lifting her chin as she stares down the row to where he's seated.
"Are you a native of this place, or a Traveler?" She's just going to outright ask, eyes fixed on his mouth to watch for signs of lying.
no subject
"Traveler," he answers easily, his attention distracted by peering up into the rafters. "You?"
He figures she's the same, but after the temple he'd been in... well, maybe she want's. Maybe she's hear to test him, somehow, and he stands to face her, leaning back against the row of seats behind him.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
The Play
It whispers up from the stage of the theatre in the same way it whispers from the walls of the temples. She senses it, too, in the woman who speaks. And though Zelda has no reason to doubt her, she still stands to check the door herself. ]
I'm growing rather weary of these games.
[ She eyes the stage with a certain amount of hostility. It's no coincidence the mask has made its appearance now, as they've been sealed inside the room. What tricks does it have to play? Is it worth the price?
Finally, she glances back at her companion. ]
Shall one of us volunteer or do we settle in for the night?
no subject
And who knows what that mask may compel out of someone? ]
My favour is for staying far away from it. [ Her sharp eyes cut back to the simple stage arrangement, casting a gaze that is not only suspicious, but also glittering with disdain. ] Whatever thrill our hosts are gaining from all of this, I do not wish to indulge them any longer.
[ It's all ridiculous, some fool's expedition that she never wanted to be a part of. Maleficent gives a long sigh as she turns back to the other woman, tilting her head up slightly to look at the doors. She can feel magic in her companion as well, something ancient. If she must be stuck in this cage, at least it is with someone of ability. Though Maleficent has learned that her own powers have limits in this place. ]
I suppose attempting to use magic to force our way out would be pointless here.
no subject
[ Her past, her secrets, are not for anyone's personal entertainment. Zelda's is a long life, not always as easy as she'd allow others to think, full of dark days that are hers alone to remember.
No more of her truths need revealed today. ]
I suppose so. I haven't found it to be particularly useful so far.
[ Which in itself was an annoyance. She's always been able to rely on her magic, her one ever-loyal companion. ]
They must be countering it in some way.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
masquerade —
She's taking off her shoes. For some reason it makes him think of Victoria at their wedding, the way she'd put her hand on his chest while she lifted a leg to unfasten the strap of her shoe. It's a weird flash of memory, sudden and then gone, tactile with little context. ]
Need a hand?
[ He's not sure where the question came from. He's not really the type to offer assistance, but he's said it now. Maybe he can sidestep his way into asking about the horns. ]
no subject
She stares for a moment just too long to be socially polite — with an intensity as though taking him in, thinking upon him (what could she possibly know about this stranger who'd appeared mere seconds ago, spoke three simple words to her?)
But there are things to know. There are always things to know about Man. And this one was granted the face of a devil. Perhaps part of her would shy away, should she allow it to. The thing is, Maleficent will not allow it to. So she reaches out one of her arms, offers it to him. Yet the way her lips ease into an almost hungry smile, the way her eyes sharpen, are anything but submissive; she opens her long, gloved fingers to him like a beckoning. As though she is the one making the offer. ]
Yes.
[ Spoken cooly, her eyes not leaving his own, what she can see of them from beneath the gilded exoskeleton upon his face. ]
this is SO old i'm so sorry!!
He reaches out for her hand all the same – if anything, he feels better about doing it now. His grip is firm, his free hand reaching up to steady her with a flat touch against the blade of her shoulder. ]
I've never really understood heels. My ex, she always used to take hers off and I'd have to carry them the rest of the night. I used to think, why'd you put them on if they aren't comfortable?
No worries at all!! I fizzled out of May so hard tbh