methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
singmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2023-09-09 11:30 pm
singmod) wrote in singillatim2023-09-09 11:30 pm
Entry tags:
- *event,
- barbie: zelly,
- bigby wolf: jelle,
- bucky barnes: gail,
- callisto: iddy,
- castiel: noodle,
- clayton epps: thalia,
- cornelius hickey: kates,
- din djarin: cosmo,
- eddie munson: hannah,
- edward kenway: effy,
- edward little: jhey,
- erichthonios: fey,
- grace marks: bobby,
- harry goodsir: karin,
- holland march: chase,
- joel miller: noodle,
- kate marsh: cheryl,
- ken: laus,
- kieren walker: cheryl,
- levi jordan: cirape,
- max briest: justine,
- mohinder suresh: anna,
- nie huaisang: marlowe,
- nikolai lantsov: eden,
- number five: kayla,
- remy "thirteen" hadley: kaye,
- rorschach: shade,
- roy kent: cathy,
- simon "ghost" riley: milk,
- steve harrington: katy,
- takashi shirogane: terra,
- thomas richardson: beth,
- vash the stampede: fen,
- zoey westen: bri
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
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.
1. Due to the Aurora's influence, these wolves are harder,
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.
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.
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.
no worries! thank you for getting back to the thread! <3
There's that tiny pause before he actually fully speaks up, because Bigby sure is contemplating what Zoey is saying here. He thinks the point about the ghosts is interesting enough in and of itself, and he'd be content just thinking about that for a while, trying to put the pieces of this place together enough to figure out why they're here and how they get back home--
But then she brings up something that only further peaks the man's interest. Bigby even looks a little surprised for once, rather than just gruff, his eyebrows rising up on his face.
"What are you supposed to feel then?"
<3
She’s usually better at keeping her mouth shut in regards to her abilities. Just goes to show how… rattled she is, she supposes. She turns over the possibilities in her head in a split second. She could backtrack, lie. She’s good at it, he might even believe her. Or she could just… speak it aloud.
Fuck it. Might as well be honest. It’s not like it’s going to change anything if he believes her or not. She’s not a seer anymore. Not here. And gods, doesn’t that admission just wreck her heart.
So she indicates where the phantoms, the ghosts had been with a tilt of her head. “Them. What they went through. I should feel it, in part, or all of it. I should be able to SEE it, more than just this… pale echo of moments brought out by the aurora. Whatever this place IS, it fucks with us, too.”
no subject
It's rare for anyone else to be so open about it though, if there are even many people in this place who have had such pieces taken away from them in the first place. It sure doesn't feel like it, considering not too many people have brought it up to him.
"You communicate with the dead?" He asks, not sounding too weirded out by the idea.
It's a perfectly normal thing where he comes from, after all. Not that it's something anyone can do, but people who can do it exists. Fables who can do it exist.
no subject
Well, in for a penny, she supposes. “Not. Exactly. I just. See them. See things. It’s not just ghosts. I see the past, yeah, but also the present, and the future. Usually comes in technicolor and surround sound, and feelings. Sensations. Whether or not they’re… pleasant.” She huffs a wry little laugh. “Also taste, sometimes, which… isn’t great. Nothing like tasting a mouthful of someone else’s blood.”
no subject
Hm. Probably shouldn't mention that tasting blood really isn't all the bad--
Yeah, Bigby definitely knows better than to not keep that to himself in a moment like this. Instead he focuses on the rest of what she's saying, nodding along a little bit, still clearly not very weirded out by this at all.
"So what exactly are you? A witch?" It's what she'd probably be called if she was from the same place as him. He's pretty sure there's witches on the 13th floor that can do the stuff Zoey can do. "Or are you the only one who can do what where you're from?"
no subject
It’s oddly reassuring, how very not weirded out he is. It reminds her of Darling, a little. Even if the two men couldn’t be more unlike. That acceptance, the sheer level of just how unfazed they are by what she can do.
“I’ve been called a witch before. Amongst other things. Wasn’t ever complimentary, though.” When she’d been younger, too young to know better, to know to HIDE it. “But I’m just a seer.” She shrugs. “And yeah, I’m the only one who can do what I do. It wasn’t until I started ending up elsewhere that I met people who weren’t… run-of-the-mill human. One of the best things about being the multiverse’s plaything. Was seeing that I wasn’t alone in having weird powers.”
no subject
Yup, the man still seems pretty unfazed by any of his information. Most of what she's saying is just confirming what he already thought, after all. The only difference is that she would have fit right in with Bigby's world, where it sounds like she was much more an outcast in her own home until she started travelling to other worlds..
.. a concept that's also really normal to Bigby, hence the calm. Honestly, this is way closer to what he's used to hearing and dealing with on a daily basis back home than any of the every day survival stuff other people here discuss.
"Have you been telling other people here about it?" Sure, she told him relatively easily, but maybe it's just the circumstances. (Bigby refuses to even entertain the notion that it might be something about him. Can't be, really.)
But considering the fact that he is still actively struggling with whether or not to tell people here about himself, maybe he could learn a thing or two from her experiences.
no subject
“You’re the second. Here, at least. Normally I’m better at keeping my mouth shut,” she tells him with a wry laugh. “You caught me at a particularly… frustrated moment.” The mockery of her gift, so like it and so damn different, so damn WRONG all the same. A painful reminder of what this world had stolen from her. Even with her trying to focus on taking notes, to write everything down. It hadn’t changed the fact that she felt the lack like a fucking hole in her chest.
“I’ve… told others, from time to time, in other worlds. Sometimes I didn’t have a choice. Visions and portents aren’t always subtle about things. Other times… they had powers similar to my own. Or I trusted them enough to tell them.”
no subject
Bigby nods a little bit as he takes it in. There's a moment of consideration about his own situation. He's not supposed to give away their secret, sure, but.. that's to mundies.
She's clearly not a mundy.
Maybe it'll make them even again, a secret for a secret. And it's not like Bigby has had a hard time here, keeping the truth only close to his own chest, not having people to share it with the way he did back home.
"Well, if it helps, I have powers too." If you'd call them that. Bigby doesn't really think of them that way, but he's well aware that other people would. That they wouldn't see them as being as natural as he himself does.
He pauses, then slowly exhales.
"You've ever heard about stories? Fairytales?" That's what the mundies call them, right? "Either back home, or in those other worlds?"
Helps if I actually hit post
Zoey nods. “I read them all the time growing up. And continued, especially when I ended up in other worlds. To see if they were different. And what they might mean.” She’d always jumped right in when it came to learning about whatever world she’d found herself in. In some cases it had been as much a part of survival.
but you're here now!! <3
There's no telling which one it'll be until he speaks up though, so the man sucks in a breath before saying: "Well, those aren't just stories. They do mean something. They're the real lives of real people in another world, subconsciously passed on to the minds of authors in mundy worlds."
It feels a little strange. He's heard about this explanation many times, of course, but he's never had to relay it to a mundy in the first place.
Then again, most mundies don't just casually travel to other worlds the way she seems to. Nor are they seers.
"Dunno if you've ever heard of the story of the Big Bad Wolf, but.. that's me."
You know, a very normal, casual thing to say. Clearly.
no subject
Oh, that’s fucking FASCINATING. Her eyes light up with curiosity. She can’t help it. There are a thousand questions running through her mind. And she bites back all of them, because this isn’t the time or the place and she’s not going to push things. But oh, she’s absolutely intrigued.
She’s almost lost count of the worlds she’s been to, and she’s never heard of any like that. The closest would have been her time in Arkham, at Miskatonic University, right out of Lovecraft’s stories.
And even then…
But no wonder her being a seer wasn’t anything strange and unusual at all, with the sorts of beings and powers that exist in fairy tales. What would it have been like, growing up in a place where her powers didn’t make people look at her like she was insane.
At least she has the multiverse, now.
“They’re real. That… raises a lot of questions and is definitely going to change my experience reading fairy tales going forward,” is her response. Would that apply to every world’s fairy tales? Or just that one. The ones like hers. Like theirs.
And then he continues. The Big Bad Wolf.
“I have, yeah.” What else can she say to that? Of course she has. That’s… Fuck, and to have this place steal that? All that must come with being a Wolf. “Well,” she says, and she can’t help the amused grin that flickers across her face. This definitely wasn’t where she’d expected their conversation to go. But she's glad it had. It's nice to know that she's not the only one feeling as though she's lost a limb with the loss of her powers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” And she means it.
no subject
Being a little surprised instead? It changing her worldview? Sure, that's understandable.
.. but Zoey doesn't leave it at that, does she. No, she continues, and it's at the next part that Bigby's facial expression slowly starts looking more and more quizzical with each passing word.
"A.. pleasure?"
There's disbelief in his tone.
"Maybe the story you've heard is a little different." Somehow. "'cause I can't imagine anyone reading mine and saying it's a pleasure to meet me."
Even more so when Bigby is used to people utterly despising him for what he's done. When he's constantly reminded of it back home.
no subject
She takes a step closer, and even if he were still the Big Bad Wolf of his story, even if this place hadn't stripped away a part of them, she would still be unafraid. “Oh, I doubt it was much different at all,” she says. “Yes, I’ve read your story, I know what happened in your past. Who you were, then. But I don’t know who you are as you are, now. That’s as important as all the rest.”
She’s not going to judge him for his past. Not going to hold it against him. Not when she’s still getting to know who he is, now. She’s gotten some inklings, this first meeting, enough to give her an idea. Even if he tried to hunt her through the fucking forest or some shit, she still wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time. And it probably wouldn’t be the last.
Even with Mr. Scratch, she’d dropped off hangover supplies on the porch for him. And he’d stabbed her, first. Not as well as he probably would have, had he not been dealing with baby’s first true drunkenness. But still.
no subject
At least Faith-- Or Nerissa, whichever-- had bothered to walk off after saying something similar. But Zoey is still very much right here.
...
"Most people assume I'm still the same," he opts to instead say, because this is at least something he knows for a fact. It's just about the only thing that pops up in his head to say.
Which means the man just honestly admits: "I'm not sure why you're assuming otherwise."
Even though she's definitely the one in the right here. (Or so Bigby hopes, anyway. He tries so damn hard.)
no subject
And then she gets her answer.
“Well, most people are assholes, then,” she responds easily. And a little bit furious on his behalf, honestly. How dare they. “Because people change. Grow beyond who they were. And I choose to judge for myself who someone is. Not some story that speaks of who they WERE. And not people who can’t seem to fucking grasp that people change.”
no subject
(So he may have a few problems with self worth, ssh, sue him.)
".. I see."
Not exactly the most helpful or graceful answer, but saying anything at all right now takes quite a bit out of the man. It's baffling, okay! He's trying to cope!
But as surprising as her answer is, he does find himself feeling grateful for it. And he'd kind of feel like an asshole if he didn't at least say something about that when she's saying something this big to him, no matter how bad he is at this whole social thing. So..
"And, uh.." He moves up a hand, rubs at his neck. "Thanks for saying that, I guess. You seem pretty alright too."
Bigby Wolf: truly a master of words.
(This is him trying, I promise.)
no subject
She does her damndest to keep people at arm's length, especially when first settling into a new world, but then shit like this happens. And she goes and gets protective. He’s one of HERS, now. One of her people.
It’s all right, Bigby. She understands. If you’ve dealt with everyone treating you like shit and holding your past against you… well, someone who doesn’t and is aggressively insistent about it is going to rip the rug right out from under you. She’s just going to grin up at him, ice blue eyes bright. “Aw, thanks. And you’re welcome.”