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.

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.

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.

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.
Harley Quinn | DCEU
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 (
masquerade
[ 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. ]
no subject
But since she has and since she’s, well, Harley, she excuses herself from the person she’s chatting up before making a beeline across the room, obviously having no qualms about invading his personal space from the way she walks right up to him, circles him, and gets in front of him. ]
Hi! Do I know you, hot stuff?
no subject
[ he hides his face behind a flute of champagne that he sips promptly, eyes watching her from the side to see if there were any chance she was buying his bluff. ]
♦️ Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE ♦️
"Oh! Uh thank you." He says and goes to take the flute but then realizes it might be hard to drink it through the mask that he's wearing. The mask itself is one used in hospitals, covering his nose and mouth, but the shade of pink matches his suit. Not wanting to be impolite he takes the offered drink.
"Should we toast to something?"
no subject
That’s dedication to being polite!
“To new friends. And new experiences.” If this isn’t a helluva new experience, she doesn’t know what is. Gotham’s weird as hell but it’s not whatever this place is.
Harley raises her flute to him. “What’s the mask mean? You a doctor or some sort?”
no subject
"Uh sort of," he says in regards to his mask. "Nothing as glamourous as a doctor but I am...well I guess was, studying to become a nurse before I came here."
He tilts his head, looking at how extravagant hers is in comparison.
"Yours is cool, it's kind of like a harlequin."
The Play's the Thing (CW: Donald Trump's Ass)
It was also rather inevitable that they would meet in a way that defied any and all logic of how normal people meet. Deadpool had found himself wandering after the Masquerade, and somewhere between the party and the beach (Footnote: See his post if you want some idea of the tortured chronology we're trying to follow here) he found himself in a theater. There was just one other person there, and if he was allowed to break the fourth wall, he was such a fan.
Except.
One, since he'd rather intentionally botched the Masquerade, thus breaking the game from the word "go", he appeared to be Ryan Reynolds. The mask had become the face. Joke's on you, guardians!!! With a face like Donald Trump's ass after too much tennis and too much sitting and sweating into wrinkly tennis shorts material, why wouldn't he prefer to look like Ryan Reynolds for a while?
"Hold up. Stop. Let's give her a chance to ruminate on that imagery for a while. Really just sit there and picture it. MMMM MMMM, that's some juicy fine imagery, ain't it? That's the kinda thing that'll stick with you while you try to eat. That's some mighty good dinner time conversation right there."
(We finally find a Harley Quinn to play with and now she will never, ever play with us. Way to go.)
"Pfff. If she can take the Joker's crinkly nipples, she can take Donald Trump's ass."
ANYWAYS, two, he didn't see Harley Quinn, for he'd found himself bad touching the mask too. No seriously, he got all up in there with his fingers. That shouldn't be a bad thing to picture, but it sure sounds bad, doesn't it? So who did he see?
"Vanessa..." He frowned with his big fat Ryan Reynolds face. "I...I..."
And most importantly, three, she clearly didn't see Deadpool. Whoever she saw, she was utterly furious at, which interestingly played right into his own delusion. And since he was paralyzed with shock, he was a prime target for losing his head.