John Doe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dies_irate) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2025-03-02 01:08 pm
dies_irate) wrote in singillatim2025-03-02 01:08 pm
open | chapter 1 | march catch-all
« Who: John Doe and you!
« What: John makes his way to Milton
« When: March! Starting early March! Prompts to be added as needed!
« Where: Woods, Milton, and in between
« Content Warnings: none so far!
John hadn't liked the castle, even after their host had stopped being a secretive fucking asshole, but he certainly liked it better than whatever fucking cave he wakes up in. The first reason is because it's cold as hell. Or. Maybe not hell, but it is extremely goddamn cold. The second is that somehow, somehow, he is not where he is supposed to be in a much more disorienting fashion than any other: he is not within Arthur Lester. He is in a body, a body that feels like his body, that has a collection of limbs and pieces that feel like they belong to him and, from his limited ability to look at it, looks the way he feels like he ought to look. The gold of the robes, the matte black of his skin and hair and claws, the way his right arm seems whole until the individual tentacles that form it separate and stretch like spread fingers-
Legs are new. He can't say he's a fan, especially these that don't even have toes like he'd gotten used to. It takes grabbing a freezing cold stone to push himself up, hooves skittering across the uneven floor at first before finally finding a catch, and then he's hauling himself into an upright position to start really looking around.
"Hel-"
A pause before he puts his claw to his throat. What a sentence that is: his claw, his throat. But more importantly, is that what he sounds like out loud? Fuck, that's weird. Okay.
"Hello! Arthur!?" A pause before- "...Yorick?"
That's what makes him look around, or rather pat down his robes to find the items that had apparently come here with him. The coin is surprising, given where he'd last seen it. The beastiary is a boon, one he's glad not to have lost. But the skull on it's chain, dead and lifeless, no yapping to be heard...
"Shit."
It's not the most auspicious start to a day, but it's also not the worst that he's had. After all, there are trees and snow and rocks, pieces of the real and physical world. It doesn't look like Addison to him, from what he remembers of that place, but it is at least Somewhere. Not the Dark World. Not the Dreamlands, or so he hopes.
It means he needs to get walking, try and find people, or at least a warmer place to stay. As such, he'll set off into the forest, looking for signs of life, movement, and always, always Arthur.
Feel free to find him on the way. ...he'd appreciate if you didn't try to kill him, but he won't be surprised if it happens.
It's been a long, cold, unfortunate slog, the only benefit of which is the fact that he can wear with pride the 100% success rate at not falling into holes during his first sojourn on legs. It's the sort of thing that he holds to himself as tight as his robes against the frigid temperatures and the rising dark, something to tell Arthur about when he gets back to him.
Because he is getting back to him. That is not up for debate. It's just a matter of how long it'll take him to get there.
He sees the houses, avoids those that are dark and heads towards the greatest source of light. He'd considered trying to sneak around, gather information, learn what this place is and who lives here and what they might do to him if they saw him. But he also knows how clumsy he is in this new body of his, and large, and cold, and that someone caught sneaking would no doubt be thought of as a sneak. Instead, he decides to go (tentatively) for the larger gamble: he heads for the main area of town, the brightest light, the most people. He'll walk slow, gauge reactions, see if he can get someone to trust him at least far enough to let him get near a fire or perhaps provide some food (hunger? sucks) before he gives up, runs, and seeks some other place to go.
He remembers 'hands up' from those police on the island and readies his arms to put them up if asked.
Once more with feeling and in he goes.
It takes a bit of coaxing, and more than a bit of looking out, but John does eventually come in from the cold. They head for the community hall, since the fire is always going there and John's been out in the wilds for quite a few hours. He'll finally get a chance to rest and soak in some warmth, his arms wrapped firmly around Arthur Lester now that they've been reunited. The size difference is a little funny but hopefully the giant non-human figure looks significantly less terrifying while shamelessly cuddling someone who seems just as glad to be there as he is. (The vibe is a lot more My-Neighbor-JohnDoedoe than anything else.)
Feel free to come by and say hi. He doesn't bite!
Once John's here, he's... well, he's here. He can be found with Arthur or without Arthur, often in their home on Thompson (neatening up) or in the community hall, getting a feel for...
Everything, frankly.
He's new to this place, he's new to having a body, he's new to clothes (namely the largest coat he could find and a heavy blanket used as a kilt) and food. He's new to people seeing him, acknowledging him, speaking to him. He's new to being able to pick up a book by himself, being by himself in the physical world. He's new to fatigue. He's new to all of these senses that are both more vibrant and duller than what he might have had.
So if you catch him looking confused or looking around, or if he points at himself and looks to make sure you're talking to him, well... he's not fucking with you. This is all a lot to deal with.
It's as they're settling down in their home (their home!) in the loft area that John starts feeling the pull on his eyelids, the way his limbs are heavy and the urge to get comfortable becomes incredibly strong.
"Arthur... what's-"
[ Return player! New character! As you can see, he's a very obvious non-human! If you want to chat, or an individual starter,![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
yarnzipan or the same on discord works just fine! ]
« What: John makes his way to Milton
« When: March! Starting early March! Prompts to be added as needed!
« Where: Woods, Milton, and in between
« Content Warnings: none so far!
[ i. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep... [journey to Milton] ]
John hadn't liked the castle, even after their host had stopped being a secretive fucking asshole, but he certainly liked it better than whatever fucking cave he wakes up in. The first reason is because it's cold as hell. Or. Maybe not hell, but it is extremely goddamn cold. The second is that somehow, somehow, he is not where he is supposed to be in a much more disorienting fashion than any other: he is not within Arthur Lester. He is in a body, a body that feels like his body, that has a collection of limbs and pieces that feel like they belong to him and, from his limited ability to look at it, looks the way he feels like he ought to look. The gold of the robes, the matte black of his skin and hair and claws, the way his right arm seems whole until the individual tentacles that form it separate and stretch like spread fingers-
Legs are new. He can't say he's a fan, especially these that don't even have toes like he'd gotten used to. It takes grabbing a freezing cold stone to push himself up, hooves skittering across the uneven floor at first before finally finding a catch, and then he's hauling himself into an upright position to start really looking around.
"Hel-"
A pause before he puts his claw to his throat. What a sentence that is: his claw, his throat. But more importantly, is that what he sounds like out loud? Fuck, that's weird. Okay.
"Hello! Arthur!?" A pause before- "...Yorick?"
That's what makes him look around, or rather pat down his robes to find the items that had apparently come here with him. The coin is surprising, given where he'd last seen it. The beastiary is a boon, one he's glad not to have lost. But the skull on it's chain, dead and lifeless, no yapping to be heard...
"Shit."
It's not the most auspicious start to a day, but it's also not the worst that he's had. After all, there are trees and snow and rocks, pieces of the real and physical world. It doesn't look like Addison to him, from what he remembers of that place, but it is at least Somewhere. Not the Dark World. Not the Dreamlands, or so he hopes.
It means he needs to get walking, try and find people, or at least a warmer place to stay. As such, he'll set off into the forest, looking for signs of life, movement, and always, always Arthur.
Feel free to find him on the way. ...he'd appreciate if you didn't try to kill him, but he won't be surprised if it happens.
[ ii. And miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep. [entering Milton] ]
It's been a long, cold, unfortunate slog, the only benefit of which is the fact that he can wear with pride the 100% success rate at not falling into holes during his first sojourn on legs. It's the sort of thing that he holds to himself as tight as his robes against the frigid temperatures and the rising dark, something to tell Arthur about when he gets back to him.
Because he is getting back to him. That is not up for debate. It's just a matter of how long it'll take him to get there.
He sees the houses, avoids those that are dark and heads towards the greatest source of light. He'd considered trying to sneak around, gather information, learn what this place is and who lives here and what they might do to him if they saw him. But he also knows how clumsy he is in this new body of his, and large, and cold, and that someone caught sneaking would no doubt be thought of as a sneak. Instead, he decides to go (tentatively) for the larger gamble: he heads for the main area of town, the brightest light, the most people. He'll walk slow, gauge reactions, see if he can get someone to trust him at least far enough to let him get near a fire or perhaps provide some food (hunger? sucks) before he gives up, runs, and seeks some other place to go.
He remembers 'hands up' from those police on the island and readies his arms to put them up if asked.
Once more with feeling and in he goes.
[ iii. From what I’ve tasted of desire / I hold with those who favor fire. [community hall fire w/Arthur] ]
It takes a bit of coaxing, and more than a bit of looking out, but John does eventually come in from the cold. They head for the community hall, since the fire is always going there and John's been out in the wilds for quite a few hours. He'll finally get a chance to rest and soak in some warmth, his arms wrapped firmly around Arthur Lester now that they've been reunited. The size difference is a little funny but hopefully the giant non-human figure looks significantly less terrifying while shamelessly cuddling someone who seems just as glad to be there as he is. (The vibe is a lot more My-Neighbor-JohnDoedoe than anything else.)
Feel free to come by and say hi. He doesn't bite!
[ iv. I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. [around Milton] ]
Once John's here, he's... well, he's here. He can be found with Arthur or without Arthur, often in their home on Thompson (neatening up) or in the community hall, getting a feel for...
Everything, frankly.
He's new to this place, he's new to having a body, he's new to clothes (namely the largest coat he could find and a heavy blanket used as a kilt) and food. He's new to people seeing him, acknowledging him, speaking to him. He's new to being able to pick up a book by himself, being by himself in the physical world. He's new to fatigue. He's new to all of these senses that are both more vibrant and duller than what he might have had.
So if you catch him looking confused or looking around, or if he points at himself and looks to make sure you're talking to him, well... he's not fucking with you. This is all a lot to deal with.
[ v. One can see what will trouble / This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is. - closed to Arthur ]
It's as they're settling down in their home (their home!) in the loft area that John starts feeling the pull on his eyelids, the way his limbs are heavy and the urge to get comfortable becomes incredibly strong.
"Arthur... what's-"
[ Return player! New character! As you can see, he's a very obvious non-human! If you want to chat, or an individual starter,
no subject
"It Happened One Night." Clark Gable, he wants to say. One before the Hayes bullshit fucked up all of the good stuff.
Well, that's boring. Not the movie, but trying to summarize it.
"I haven't heard of it," Tom lies, and presses the back of his thumb to his own chin in thought.
"I guess that means we'll have to write it together, huh?"
no subject
"You think I could help write something like that?"
no subject
"Haven't you ever thought of a story? Created something?"
The cabin is warm and inviting despite the unlit fire, which Tom wanders to rectify with a wave of his hand as a grand gesture of 'make yourself at home.'
no subject
"No. I've... never really had the chance. Nor the time."
The Dark World is not particularly conducive to writing, after all.
"B-but I would like to!"
no subject
It's been a very, very long time. Alan Wake doesn't write here, no one collaborates, but this?
Tom's hold around the creature twitches slightly, tightens, but other than that he's very careful to keep as calm as he's capable of. Best not to startle the deer just learning how to watch. He lets go, fingers lingering across the small of John Doe's back before he makes his way to the fire to re-light it.
"It's a good thing we ran into each other, huh? It just means it was meant to be, man, you and I."
no subject
Kellin, he's thinking of Kellin.
But here, it's just... inviting. Interesting! Exciting. He leans into the touch on his back and he waits for Tom to relight the fire, watching him curiously.
"I-I'd like that. Doing something together with... someone."
He'd like to do it with Arthur. But Arthur isn't here. He has to find him but-
But if he has his own body, perhaps he can find them new allies. New friends, like they'd found Noel.
...he's not thinking about Oscar.
"How do you... start?"
no subject
Somewhat.
He glances over, grinning wide and brilliant.
"Start with what you like. What makes you feel, what makes you get up in the morning. Like here--now--your emotions." The smile fades slowly, observing the other.
"You must be very lonely."
no subject
"No." He's not lonely at all. Because-
"I have Arthur. Even when we're apart. I have his words and the memory of his voice and the poetry he gave me. The songs he sung. The music he's played. I have them, always, and that means I'm never really alone."
no subject
Things click into place, softly and quietly as Tom continues to look carefully at the other, head tilted to the side.
"That's very sweet," he says at last. Is Arthur a part of him physically? Is this like Alan? There's certainly a lot of questions he has, and his eyes narrow slightly as he sorts through them all.
"He's here? Arthur? Or is he a part of you like longing is?"
no subject
"I..." and that's the first show of doubt. But he rallies, almost immediately. "Yes. He has to be. He has to be somewhere here. I'm- we're- our fates are entwined. If I'm here, Arthur has to be here."
no subject
No--
--wait.
Tom's nose wrinkles. Hadn't he been around one once, when he just arrived? Is he gone yet? Is it the same Arthur? How long ago was this? Shit.
"Is Arthur mean? Hates touching and parties?"
no subject
"He can be mean, yes. I-I don't know about parties or touching. B-but he has a scar here, and here." and he points to the side of his neck, and to his eye and temple. "And he's probably wearing gloves of some sort. English accent. Brown hair. Does any of that ring a bell?"
no subject
"It was a while ago, though. Months, even! He definitely doesn't know how to go with the flow. Maybe he's still here! How's he know a cool cat like you?"