singmod: (Default)
methuselah ([personal profile] singmod) wrote in [community profile] singillatim2023-09-09 11:30 pm

extinction is the rule

SEPTEMBER 2023 EVENT


PROMPT ONE — THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS: The Aurora comes, bringing chaos to the town of Milton. Electronics go haywire, and the Interlopers learn of the original citizens of Milton.

PROMPT TWO — THE HOUR OF THE WOLF: Tainted by the Aurora and attracted to the noise of people inhabiting the town, several packs of wolves descend upon Milton.

PROMPT THREE — IT SPEAKS: A voice comes to the Interlopers, one that knows them and their darkest fears and deepest insecurities, persuading them to fade into the Long Dark by any means necessary.

THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS


WHEN: Sporadic nights over the next month.
WHERE: Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural horror; ‘ghost’ horror; hauntings; death of npcs in various ways including suicide, murder or exposure to elements.

After the feast, and making sure the newcomers to Milton are seen to, Methuselah packs up. He will explain to others that while he will return to check in, he is no resident of Milton and will not stay. He is a nomad, something he has been all his life. He lives in nature. That is where he belongs. But he does assure that people are welcome to remain sheltered in the Hall if they wish to. And sure enough, the old man leaves, wishing the newcomers well. He can still be found out in the wilderness, and will shelter and feed those out exploring should they come across him.

And so the days and nights of this world roll on. The initial time of those who have come to be stranded in this world is unsettled. The weather is always changing, even if it remains bitterly cold. On some nights throughout the next month, however, the snow clouds clear and Interlopers are given a rare, clear night. At first, it’s beautiful: without the light pollution, all the stars can be seen, the moon casts an eerie glow upon the snow in the dead silence of the night. One might even say there is a kind of peace that comes with it all. And for some of these evenings, they pass by: uneventful and silent — the long darkness of an endless winter’s night.

But on others, it isn’t so uneventful. The noise starts: faint at first, but then growing louder. Something in the heavens above. An ethereal, high-pitched chorus of sounds difficult to place. There’s a kind of electrical buzzing with it all, a low, endless hum punctuated with cracks and pops that echo. The sky is alive with sound, louder than anyone could ever expect it to. With it comes the swirling streaking of colour against the inky black of night, growing brighter and brighter as the night goes on: The Aurora has come.

And it isn’t the sky that comes to life too: the whole town does too. Streetlights, illuminating the town’s roads; lights in stores and homes will come alive, buzzing and flickering often. Previously abandoned cars will turn on, their headlights blaring but faltering. Electronics that had previously seemed broken flick on — and whilst there are no broadcasts available on televisions, and the radio waves only drone on in static, both only occasionally blaring standard emergency broadcasts. Any computers and phones will turn on, but will have no internet or reception. Instead, Interlopers may find texts and emails — many of them unsent. The everyday lives of their users stored within, now readable.

But there’s something else too. The Aurora doesn’t just awaken the electronics of the town. Dotted around, in the streets, in homes, in stores, the lights of the Aurora begin to take shape: spectral-like forms of people, their faces hard to make out, details difficult to define. They move in glitching patterns, they speak with voices distorted by static. Eagle-eyed Interlopers may recognise the forms of some, a body or an action:

These are the residents of Milton, in their last moments on this earth.

The forms act out short scenes on repeat: a desperate fight between two men over a vehicle, a murder in a store during a riot, a suicide alone in one of the many houses. An argument over the communication lines going down. A sobbing teen curled up on his bed. A child stares up at the skies, their hands over their ears, crying in fright. A woman begs for her father to leave his home and head to the coast with her, to try to make it to the mainland, but he refuses to leave. A man succumbs to the cold walking alone in the outskirts of town without proper clothing for the elements. Several of these ‘ghosts’ are people fleeing before they stop and simply gasp, staring off into the distance for a few seconds before they drop dead on the spot.

There is nothing that can be done to stop these endless loops. Nothing to help these poor souls. Each of these moments are captured by the Aurora: final, desperate and tragic moments in some unknown, chaotic time. Some of these ‘ghosts’ maybe stop after so many loops — flickering out into nothing, others will last all night. But all will be gone by the morning and the Aurora comes to an end. There are answers, and there are none.

THE HOUR OF THE WOLF


WHEN: Sporadic nights over the next month.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: (wild) animal attacks, altered wildlife, possible character injury/death, possible (wild) animal injury/death.


The growing presence of people within the town of Milton has meant more light, more warmth, more noise. The Aurora has created great change, but people are not the only thing the ethereal lights in the sky has brought down upon this old mining town.

When the sun slips below the horizon, and the clear skies of burnt embers and inky blues alight with stars, they come.

A lone howl, long and haunting. It is the first signal, which carries on the air. You can’t seem to place from which direction it comes from, it feels like it encompasses you. Then another voice joins it, and another, and another. A chorus of them. As the sound echoes off, another fills its place: a strange feral chittering, snarling and snapping — the drumming of feet upon the snow, heading right for you.

Wolves.

Unnatural, glowing green eyes in the dark — tendrils of light seeping from them as they rush in and encircle those they come across outside. They come in packs of three or more, and they are clever. They’re quicker than any wolf you’ve ever known, bigger and hardier too. They will try to strike fast by zipping in when you’re distracted, snapping and nipping at legs or trying to take quick bites out of arms before drawing back. They work together to bring their prey down, a solid unit of noise and teeth. They will hunt down those who hide inside, try to claw their way inside of homes and buildings — dead set on finding you and tearing you apart. There is no hiding from them. They will find you.

But breaking the pack can send them back. If they’re broken, their morale is depleted. Fire is your biggest friend: torches, campfires and flames will keep them mostly at bay and only the bravest of these packs may attack. Striking them with flares or flames will actually send them into brief retreats. Bullets and arrows are effective with both noise and injuring the wolves, and although hitting one will be difficult due their speed, it’s possible. Killing one of these wolves will dissolve the pack’s morale entirely, and the rest will flee off into the night.

Until next time. Maybe it’s best you don’t stick around. They do hold a relentless determination.


IT SPEAKS


WHEN: Over the next month, possibly longer.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: psychological horror; mental manipulation; themes of suicide; themes of depression; potential self-harm; potential feelings of isolation; potential attempted suicide.

There are whispers. Small, at first. Distracting. Perhaps it is only the wind you hear. Milton is so quiet, even with the new hustle and bustle of the new people to this place. Wood creaks and the trees rustle, there are plenty of sounds you could mistake it for.

‘Interloper.’ It is an old voice. Something deep and dark and ancient. Something impossible, older than the earth itself. It floats into your ears and nestles there, sending an ice-cold shiver down your spine. Even to the most stoic and unshakeable souls, it is a unnerving voice. It feels wrong. It feels like an ending. To hear the voice is deeply unsettling... and yet... you recognise it.

It comes to you, in the dead of night when sleep is far. In the long stretches of day as you go about your business, as you travel across the frigid landscape or gather firewood or try to pass the time within whatever home you’ve made for yourself. For some the voice will be clear as day, for others it may be some distant whisper — something gently murmuring in your ear. But the voice will be heard, no matter the person.

‘Interloper. Do you know what it means?’ It asks. ‘It means one that involves itself in a place it does not belong. You do not belong.’

That it isn’t the only thing it tells you. For everyone, it’s different. It knows you. It picks up on any weakness, any insecurity. It makes you feel small, insignificant. It tells you all the quiet, terrible things you hide down within yourself. For days, weeks, the voice is there. Speaking to you. It will wear you down, insist you are not wanted, that you do not belong here.

... And wouldn’t it be better if you weren’t here at all?

The voice seeks to break you. It will push you to your limit. Sleep will become hard to find, your spirits low and hollow. In time you might seem to believe it. Maybe it’s better if you weren’t here. You don’t belong in this place, why should you stay?

‘Disappear, Interloper. Go into the Long Dark.’

Perhaps you next find yourself atop the steep cliffs, looking down into the Milton Basin below. Perhaps you find yourself with a gun in your hand, or a rope. Perhaps you find your feet carrying you out into the snow. You’re going to disappear. You’re going to go into the Dark.

Or maybe the voice isn’t so loud. You can push it down, ignore it. Perhaps Faith is what keeps you steady, perhaps knowing who you are despite your faults stops the voice from taking over. Maybe you can help those who can’t block out the voice. Words of encouragement, affirmation, kindness, determination, even spite. The voice wants you dead, but you will not let it. You will not fall. You will not let anyone else fall, either.
FAQs

THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS


1. While examples are given, players are encouraged to come up with their own ghostly loops of similar loops. The key thing to remember is that the people of Milton have descended into public disorder. Fights, arguments and murders have occurred, as have suicides or other unexplained deaths. People are frightened. They want to leave the town.

2. Ghostly loops cannot be interacted with, only witnessed.

3. There is no way of putting these 'ghosts' to rest. These loops are more like residual memories, as if the energy of the townsfolk remained, and have been reconstructed by the Aurora.

4. The wolf attacks and Auroras occur on sporadic nights over the course of the next month, with the Aurora being the first thing, then the wolves. It's unlikely you'll get both on the same night. While the wolves are attracted to the Interlopers' activity, the Aurora's light and noise will keep them away from the town during Aurora Nights.

5. Sharp-eyed Interlopers may notice that the 'ghosts' of those who are staring off into the distance before gasping and dropping dead are looking skyward, towards the east.

THE HOUR OF THE WOLF


1. Due to the Aurora's influence, these wolves are harder, better, faster, stronger, than typical wild wolves. They do not die as easily, and are much more difficult to wound and kill. But not impossible. Scaring the wolves will be far easier to accomplish.

2. Wolves will return, sometimes more than once on the same night, or on other nights during the month. The only sure-fire way to have them stop coming back is to kill the pack.

3. Wolf meat is technically edible. But not advised due to parasites. Characters are still welcome to harvest the wolves they kill, however. Who would say no to a cool ass wolf cape.

4. The wolf attacks and Auroras occur on sporadic nights over the course of the next month, with the Aurora being the first thing, then the wolves. It's unlikely you'll get both on the same night. While the wolves are attracted to the Interlopers' activity, the Aurora's light and noise will keep them away from the town during Aurora Nights.

IT SPEAKS


1. Characters can be talked down and broken from the voice's influence by others. Genuine connection and empathy will work massively, but even encouragement and affirmations to keep surviving will be powerful enough to break the voice's hold.

2. Players are welcome to play with the length of time the voice can be heard with characters. Some may want to have it over a short space of time, others can have this progress over a longer time period.

3. The voice can come at any time over the next month.

kidproof: (pic#16337162)

ii. wolves

[personal profile] kidproof 2023-09-13 07:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[Angry wildlife ain't new and Joel was doing what he could to fend off the dogs with the blunt side of his rifle and a hunting knife when they all crumble into the snow. The first shot makes Joel hit the deck out of reflex, and he scrambles off to the side to find the source as the stranger makes haste with the other two.

Once he stops firing, using that last bullet to put the pup down Joel finally meets his gaze.]


I'm fine.

[Joel won't waste time saying thank you when he could have handled it himself. What he does do is start the process of hog-tying the remains.]

Meat can be used for trapping, pelts for warmth, bones for weapons and we can get your bullets out in the process if you're willing to lend a hand.
bigbaddy: (013)

[personal profile] bigbaddy 2023-09-13 07:34 pm (UTC)(link)
I see. [ There's still a touch of awkwardness in his tone, but the man doesn't sound disinterested either. Especially since he bothers to explain, a beat later: ] I've never known so much thought goes into these sorts of things.

[ Granted, Bigby doesn't really look like a quilt guy, does he. It's one thing he sure lives up to. ]

I'm not really good with these.. delicate things myself. But it's pretty admirable when others are. [ It's not like he can't appreciate it. Were he a bit more of a social person, he'd even smile while saying this - but instead the faint awkwardness seems to cling to him. Most of the talks he's had in this place so far were more about survival. He's a little worse at small talk, but.. maybe he'd like to get better.

Even if practicing is basically murder. ]


And I guess everyone has to have something to do here to keep them from going crazy.

[ In between everything they have to do to survive, of course. But you can't fill an entire day with just that, and it's not exactly like there's many forms of entertainment around either. ]
aetherialshackles: (012)

[personal profile] aetherialshackles 2023-09-13 08:10 pm (UTC)(link)
It activated the carriage-thing, so it must be some kind of electric energy, right?

[Apologies about the growing excitement, Erich never really got to see the night sky until a few days before and this? This is magnificent and fills him with joy. What is it? How does it work? Does it affect the wildlife somehow like some creatures in his world mutated or adapted with the right conditions? Tonight Erich may not be the only thing with glowy eyes around town!

Even the other lights turning on don't seem to faze him too much, nor the flickering sparks, his interest as a researcher is just too strong. It takes him a moment to realize that Bigby's reaction seems to be stronger than him, even if he still doesn't suspect any sound sensibility or not, but when he does? Erich does lower his own voice. That will certainly help over the sound of so many things going off at once like the horn of a car honking nonstop in the distance or random electronics turning on with static inside houses.
]

So... do you know what's going on? I never encountered such a peculiar natural phenomenon. [A pause] Well, assuming it's natural. Should we seek shelter, perhaps? Oh, by the by-

[Please, also ignore the fact he's rudely cleaning his gloves on his jacket, fingers are covered in both dirt and snow, before offering his hand.]

I'm Erichthonios!
blondfragility: (010)

[personal profile] blondfragility 2023-09-13 08:39 pm (UTC)(link)
( The suddenness of being run into by something makes Ken shriek again, but then he's (vaguely) relieved to see it's just March. )

Hi Holland!

( It's said a bit frantically as Ken reaches to help the other man up, glancing over to see the glowing eyes of the wolves not too far off. )

I don't think those dogs are nice so we should go.
blondfragility: (028)

[personal profile] blondfragility 2023-09-13 08:42 pm (UTC)(link)
( The voice does startle Ken, but only because it's definitely not the voice inside his head. That one he's a little used to by now, and he didn't expect anyone else to be out around this time.

Oh well. What does it matter, anyway?
)

I'm going away!

( It's yelled back, just before Ken nearly slips on the ice. )
fanoperator: (fan peek)

[personal profile] fanoperator 2023-09-13 08:47 pm (UTC)(link)
That does all seem very reassuring. The strange woman on the lake had been more dizzyingly alluring, and she hadn't really spoken at all, only cast the impression of a summons.

"I am Huaisang," he says, taking a timid step closer to them both. "You're another person who's been kidnapped? What's ... Are you taking notes?"

Information gathering has become a priority for him, and he's ended up putting himself close to the center of it, doing his best to nag others into posting their discoveries and updates on the message board he and Five started in the community hall. The discovery that he's a competent bureaucrat is fairly new for him, something he'd only just started exploring back home.

Huaisang himself looks utterly out of time, dressed all in long layers of silk. The winter cloak he's wearing is obviously more ornamental than intended for the kind of northern chill they're dealing with in Milton, and under the hood it's easy to see that he's got long, long dark hair, only half up and decorated with intricate braidwork.
blondfragility: (004)

[personal profile] blondfragility 2023-09-13 09:56 pm (UTC)(link)
( Ken looks at Edward, then back towards the house he just came from. It looks so ... Normal from the street. Ken gives a little shudder anyway, mostly from the creeps than from the cold. )

Are there ghosts here?
solitarysoul: (ow)

2b

[personal profile] solitarysoul 2023-09-13 10:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Uh.

[Levi leans on the door frame, somewhat surprised by Clayton's sudden attention.]

I, um, hurt my leg.

[Or, rather, a wolf had. His right leg is torn up pretty badly and he trails blood as he limps over to Clayton.
Seems pretty calm about it, though.]
solitarysoul: (ow)

[personal profile] solitarysoul 2023-09-13 10:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Uh...none?

[He doesn't know of any allergies or conditions, at least. He clearly wasn't expecting such a question, though.]

Well, um, its dead so...

[He doesn't know, he just trails off there. He holds out his hand, which is absolutely covered in blood. Thankfully most of it isn't his, but he has got a couple nasty bites on it.]
blondfragility: (004)

[personal profile] blondfragility 2023-09-13 10:35 pm (UTC)(link)
( It takes Ken a moment to see who it is who's yelling at him. He doesn't need to be told twice. With the wolves hot on his heels, he hustles it towards the house, into the open door and behind the guy with the rifle. )

What are those things!?
solitarysoul: (sitting)

I

[personal profile] solitarysoul 2023-09-13 10:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Levi originally followed the smoke just in case the fire meant some sort of trouble. That it wasn't was good, but that it was someone cooking raised questions. Sure, the ovens and stoves in the houses didn't work but there was still a lot of food that didn't need to be cooked. Or didn't need to be cooked as much as a fresh kill would. He knew that was a problem they'd have to deal with in the future, but he was sort of hoping some other solution would be found.

"...is it safe?" He asks, nearing the asset and his fire. He didn't trust the animals here to not be somehow plagued or mutated.
solitarysoul: commisioned art (Default)

[personal profile] solitarysoul 2023-09-13 10:41 pm (UTC)(link)
[As soon as Ken's inside Levi moves, darting back inside and slamming the door. He leans against it, just in case the wolves try to break in.]

Wolves. Wild dogs.
thephix: max (make you leave)

[personal profile] thephix 2023-09-13 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)
It might not make a huge difference, but as Huaisang comes closer, Max moves a little to put herself between him and Maurice, an extra level of protection. It isn't only for his benefit, she also wants to avoid anyone freaking out about Maurice, lest it starts something of a witch hunt.

"Hello, Huaisang." The name certainly isn't one she's familiar with, so the repetition is to make sure that she has it right, before she nods in answer to the question. "I am, yes. The aurora seems to have an effect on some of the items in the town that I wasn't able to investigate before."

She doesn't say computers; based on the... everything that's going on with Huaisang, she doubts that would be useful information.
earthshine: (shit just got real)

c - ghosts

[personal profile] earthshine 2023-09-14 12:22 am (UTC)(link)
[ shiro is… dealing. the sporadic light show around town, as well as the array of new, yet old faces stuck in a continuous loop, is a bit trying on his nerves, to say the least. death is, as with most people, a touchy subject, and shiro is as unnerved as anyone else. he’s yet to suffer a mental breakdown, so that’s something. unfortunate, really, because it gives him confidence to stick his nose where is, arguably, shouldn’t go.

which brings him to various places around town, morbidly curious to get to the bottom of what is happening and why it’s happening. perhaps there is a clue embedded in one – or many – of these specters. maybe something in their death will finally answer the question of why they’ve all been brought here. or better yet, what awaits them by being here.

turns out, shiro isn’t the only one to have this suspicion. ]


Oh. Sorry.

[ excuse him as he sidesteps out of the designated pathway of… spectral entity #48, was it? giving the pile of paper an accessing look over, shiro then asks: ]

How long have you been at this?
missionem: (⛮ 010)

[personal profile] missionem 2023-09-14 02:41 am (UTC)(link)
[ The tenacity required to remain upright in the state Hickey's in quietly affirms Thomas' initial assessment of the man. He can keep a grip on that even in his own slightly delirious state. He can even manage a wry, bone-thin quirk of the mouth at Hickey's description of his new lavish estate, which does indeed sound like the lap of comparative luxury. ]

Then I might suggest you'd be more comfortable inside.

[ Water and bread are just the thing to tide the man over. Thomas isn't usually solicitous of other's health, but these are special circumstances. Hickey is too valuable to lose.

He's also not completely without a heart, however shrivelled the thing is. ]


I'll fetch a bucket, or some such damned thing.
birkenstock: (Default)

[personal profile] birkenstock 2023-09-14 03:42 am (UTC)(link)
I ... I guess.

[ Barbie's voice is quiet before she catches sight of the offered handkerchief. With a quiet but grateful 'thank you', she studies the embroidered name thoughtfully before patting at her eyes, feeling the contrast of the warmth against the brisk cold of the winter air around them.

It could just be the name of the flower, but somehow Barbie doubts that. There can be time for those questions later.

She sniffles her nose and swallows, regaining her composure and her wits about her. She's done a whole lot of crying lately, but this is still the first time she's shed a tear since arriving in this scary little town. ]


Is that what all of this is? The truth of what happened? A warning, maybe?
pythianwoman: (Default)

Zoey Westen | Original Character

[personal profile] pythianwoman 2023-09-14 03:46 am (UTC)(link)
Starters in the comments below
plotting! | [plurk.com profile] ThriceWiddershins
Edited 2023-09-14 04:03 (UTC)
buriedpast: (imageedit_266_4867765152)

cw: vague suicide ideation + ptsd

[personal profile] buriedpast 2023-09-14 03:51 am (UTC)(link)
Din's voice reaches him, but only mildly at first. Some buried part of him knew he needed to snap out of it and felt embarrassed to even be told to in the first place. But the voices are louder now and he doesn't move right away.

You with me?

Ghost snatches onto that small thread.

Barely, he wants to say, but the words die in his throat. The hand around his knife tightens hold, the leather glove crackling with the force. But then he's moving his hand out slowly, a slight, uncharacteristic tremble to it. Blade facing out, away from both men, and pointing instead at a wall. He lowers it even slower until finally, his hand and the blade are hovering just above Din's lap.

He lets go with some difficulty. There is no real grace in the gesture, and not for the first time, he thinks it's a good thing Din wears all that armor. He snaps his arm back as if the gesture alone had burnt him, and beneath his mask, he scowls.

"Trying to be," he finally manages to get out. His voice was already deep, but in this state, it came out in a growl. "Can't trust myself with that right now, don't think." It isn't spoken in a way that suggested any concern of him hurting Din or anyone else and perhaps it is clear enough who he is truly concerned with hurting. He may have thought about ending it all before, but even he knew something was gripping him beyond his own will, and the idea of turning a blade on himself because of that felt like losing a battle.

"...Can't..." He begins, shaking his head slowly. He rests his hand next to his own knee on the floor. He exhales slowly. He could feel how hungry he is, how nice that drink smelled. He could feel that his knees were bruised and stiff from how long he had been sitting there with his full dead weight on them. It was going to hurt like a bitch to stand.

But first. His mind.

"Like a goddamn flashback except..." It wasn't. Not really. Flashbacks at least had the mercy of robbing you of your sanity temporarily. This was...Simon had just enough of his sense about him to grit his teeth. "Damn loud."
birkenstock: (Default)

[personal profile] birkenstock 2023-09-14 03:55 am (UTC)(link)
[ She offers Edward a smile, watching him for a moment before he approaches, and then she turns her blue-eyed gaze back towards the night sky. ]

No, this is my first time. [ She still sounds a little breathless, almost distracted as the colours and the waves of movement seem to fill her vision.

She's already much more relieved now that the town has come back to life, the lights and electronics all working once again. ]
I didn't think the sky could be even more beautiful than this. Sunsets, and the sunrise ... but this is something else all together, isn't it?
birkenstock: (pic#)

[personal profile] birkenstock 2023-09-14 04:03 am (UTC)(link)
[ The light spilling out into the evening air of the man's house gets her attention immediately, very closely followed by his shout for her attention.

In here! he calls, and Barbie doesn't even hesitate to change her course, making a run for the warmth and the illumination, and most of all: the safety from the sharp gnashing teeth that clip at her heels (not literal heels, mind you, which is a necessary distinction to be made). She's breathless, and her heart is hammering in her chest by the time she makes it past the threshold before he's throwing the door closed behind them as the wolves grunt and howl from the other side.

Suddenly the walls and the door seem too thin.

Barbie has never felt so frightened in her entire life, certainly not since she'd become human for real.

She swallows, her voice a little shaky when she manages to speak. ]


Thank you.
pythianwoman: (Default)

PRE-EVENT

[personal profile] pythianwoman 2023-09-14 04:04 am (UTC)(link)
Zoey’s settled in. This isn’t her first rodeo, and she’s figuring it won’t be her last. But she’s here for however long that ends up being, so she might as well make herself comfortable. As best she can, anyway. She’s found a house and claimed it as her own, not neighbouring the town hall but not on the outskirts of town, either. With neighbouring buildings far enough away to give at least the illusion of privacy.

She’s been spending her time scouting and gathering supplies. Both for herself personally, and for the group of ‘interlopers’ she’s found herself a part of, as a whole. Clothes, food, and other things that are key for survival.

For herself, she’s been looking for art supplies, too. Pens and paper and pencils and journals and paint and sketchbooks. She likes to keep prolific notes, and if she’s going to map this place out she’s going to need something to put it down with. There’s a wall in the house she’s claimed that she’s already cleaned off with the intention of using it for a more permanent map.

Scouting, she tends to keep to the rooftops as best she can, watching and observing. Keeping an eye out for danger. And for new arrivals. There’s no telling when there might be others joining their number. She can be found, perched silently along the edges of rooftops, skirting the boundaries of perilously as she gazes out.
pythianwoman: (🍭 challenging)

THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS

[personal profile] pythianwoman 2023-09-14 04:05 am (UTC)(link)
Zoey finds herself drawing out the night sky, making note of the stars. Another world, another unfamiliar sky. When the skies are clear enough for that, anyway. Another thing to study, to make note of. If nothing else, it'll help to know how the stars change, what constellations may be found. How best to navigate by them.

Or maybe it’s all just a distraction from how fucking WRONG she feels. Like an integral part of herself has just been… torn away. And she can feel it, the jagged, raw edges where her gift used to lay.

It’s the sound that draws her attention, first, keen ears catches the faintest hint of something beginning to fill the air. Faint, to start, and slowly growing louder. Impossible to miss.

And then the streets of Milton come alive in a way that they haven’t been since arriving; the flickering of lights on the street and in abandoned houses, the headlights on cars. TVs and computers and phones suddenly springing to life despite the lack of internet connection. A strange form of electronic resurrection. Temporary though it probably is.

She takes advantage of that, combing through different computers to see if there was any clue as to what had happened. Some reason for the place being practically abandoned.

It’s more than just the electronics, though. The spectral figures don’t surprise her; she’s used to seeing things like this, used to seeing the last moments of strangers. Which is why it takes her a moment to realise that it isn’t her, her gift is still gone, still stolen away, that it’s the Aurora, awakening the spectral forms of Milton’s residents just as it has the electronics.

Final moments, on macabre display.

The moment she sees them she ignores the electronics, ignores trying to scour information from computers and messages. Instead, she writes down what she sees, cataloguing the residents of Milton, in their last moments. It’s a puzzle, and maybe there’s something there that will provide a crucial piece of it.
birkenstock: (Default)

[personal profile] birkenstock 2023-09-14 04:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's dark-ish, or about as dark as it can be when the prism of green-blue-violet lights dance across the sky just through the windows, and Barbie is just dozing off into an admittedly troubled, but much needed rest.

She's tired, but she can't stop seeing all of those terrifying visions whenever she shuts her eyes. It's like they've been tattooed into the back of her eyelids and it's causing her just a little too much undue stress!

So it isn't a surprise when she jumps a little from under her thick blanket, peeking up and past the hem to see Ken standing at her door. ]


No — [ is her immediate answer, though not for the reason he might think.

She shifts her gaze to the hard, cold, barren floor, and even with a blanket she couldn't do that to him. ]
It's too cold for that.

[ She sits up in her bed and lifts one side of her blanket. ] I don't want to be alone either. [ She feels a little silly for admitting as much, especially when she's Barbie, and she can do and be anything she wants to be.

But even she can admit when she's feeling less-than-fabulous. ]
But no funny business.
blondfragility: (004)

[personal profile] blondfragility 2023-09-14 04:32 am (UTC)(link)
( She could have said no. He pretty much expected her to say no and to send him back to his own room (or March's), and he would have been just fine with the floor if she'd said as much. But she's offering up one half of her bed, which is definitely more comfortable and is absolutely going to protect him from ghosts a little better.

It's not really like he's ever had a bed to sleep in before he got here, anyway (Mojo Dojo Casa House excluded).
)

I'm not in the mood to joke around.

( He can't imagine what else funny business might mean, and, really, who can find it in them to be funny when all this is happening around them?

He shuffles his way over, adding his own thick blanket to hers before climbing into the bed with her.
)
birkenstock: (Default)

[personal profile] birkenstock 2023-09-14 04:50 am (UTC)(link)
[ The last of her protests dies quietly on her tongue, and instead she feels herself move closer and closer towards that darkness, as though she was still nothing more than a Barbie doll, and someone was playing with her.

This isn't how she wants to go. This is, in fact, the opposite of everything she had finally decided on.

She wants to cry (again), and she wants to tell the voices to stop, to shut up, but she can't find it in her to fight.

It isn't until something — no, someone — interrupts her that she seems to snap out of the trance she'd been under. She even finds her voice again, and her wits. ]


Of course not, don't be silly. [ Except, of course, that her gaze somehow still manages to idly drift towards the darkness on the edge of the cliffside. She's still some paces away from it but the pull of those voices start to whisper their temptations once more.

She does her best to breathe, to clamp down on her will, and to focus on the presence of March being here. The man who looks so much like Ken, her Ken, and yet nothing at all like him at the same time. ]


Why ... are you here?