![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
larkers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
meadowlarklogs2019-01-06 09:54 pm
- !arrival log,
- darker than black: hei,
- dc comics: dick grayson,
- dc comics: jason todd,
- detroit become human: markus,
- ffxiv: x'rhun tia,
- ffxv: noctis lucis caelum,
- marvel comics: thor,
- npc: gaby,
- re6: jake muller,
- starfighter: cain,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- the silver case: sumio kodai,
- voltron: keith,
- westworld: maeve millay
ARRIVAL LOG 006
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: Night of September 3 to night of September 4
WHAT: The sixth arrival
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy. Further notes at end of log.
Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound and light, color, sensation. Hazy and difficult to grasp on to, but slowly aligning into focus. A series of regular, rhythmic beeps. A medicinal, astringent smell. The sensation of movement, a low hum and accompanying vibration under you. Your eyes are heavy, hard to keep open, but in the glimpses between slow, dark blinks you see four people in black body armor seated opposite you, as well as a man in dark gray scrubs.
You realize there are others next to you. All of you in white scrubs, hair recently cut but at various stages of growth, restrained by straps across your chests, arms, feet, holding you to the bench under you. To your left, an armored interior door, two more people visible, the movement of streets passing through a windshield. You try to open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your tongue is coated in tar, and you manage nothing more than an empty parting of lips.
The vehicle stops. The guard opposite you stands and comes to unbuckle you from the bench, helping you to your feet. Your limbs feel wooden and heavy, slow to move. One guard opens the back of the vehicle, and false, colored light, illuminating the streets in the distance will first alert your senses of being somewhere else, combined with warm air that's only cooled with the setting of the sun. The nurse moves to stand at the back, checking each passenger over one by one just before they're helped out of the vehicle, quick and methodical. He doesn't climb out after you, moving to sit as the last passenger is unloaded.
The guards keep their heads down. Their actions are quick, firm, but not entirely unkind. Once all the passengers are out, they climb back into the vehicle and close the doors. The engine powers up again, and then the bus is gone.
You're left alone in an alley, with no idea of where you are or why you've been brought here.
Around the corner of the alley, the streets are lined with bright orange, yellow, and red ball-shaped lights cluttered together overhead. Despite seeming rather tangible in nature, the balls themselves are merely well-designed projections. These lights illuminate the streets filled with people – some of which seem indifferent to the festivities, while others move in dense clusters toward a city square filled with countless trucks and tables. They disperse as they arrive – to trucks, to stations to have faces painted, to admire the wide array of sweet confections available. Numerous bits of signage announce various additional activities – but anyone new won't be able to interact, won't know what information is there.
◉ Though entirely capable of independent action and thought, new characters will find themselves completely, unquestioningly compliant to any verbal statement which could be taken as a command or request.
The message from El – no, wait. It's Gaby this time. Otherwise, it's the same as previous: insistent, not waiting for any active attempt to open it. Scrolling within your vision as if being written while you're reading it.
I'm on announcement duty this time. Bus #6, for anyone who's counting. The location? Well, the heart of the lantern festival. A short walk from the safehouse.
Like many of these festivities, the New Amsterdam Lantern Festival is an annual event, dating back decades as a means of celebrating the mish-mash of culture that influences New Amsterdam as it's seen today. Sponsored by Polarized – a known subsidiary of Pulsar – the lights go bright just as the sun begins to set late in the evening, spreading over the city, acting as a dense layer of luminescence for 24 hours. Even in the daytime hours, the lights remain, and the technology seems to make them seem just as bright – which acts as a sign that the lights themselves are not natural, projected outward by numerous devices set up throughout the city.
Most of the events are concentrated in a district square that was once known as the city's Chinatown. At the heart of this festival is a large gathering where numerous food trucks and restaurants come out to advertise their wares. Specializing in desserts and little else, these businesses flood the street every year in hopes of bolstering their business because they can't partake in the restaurant promotion throughout September. The festival concludes with a competition, with each chef revealing their unique lantern festival dessert. These are often rather impressive in nature: cake pops strung together like a dragon, ice creams that make people's mouths look like they're glowing, and large cakes, shaped and designed to celebrate New Amsterdam's arts and festival scene. Many of this year's offerings will both celebrate the year before and offer a somber reminder of the lives lost in the monster attack just months ago. Smaller, sample sizes of these desserts will be available for purchase, which also grants people access to one vote for their favorite dessert.
As the lantern festival comes to a close almost a full day later, the lights clear a path to the river, where countless people will be stretched out and looking skyward for this year's fireworks. Loud, symphonic music featuring some of New Amsterdam's most popular composers will play throughout the area, synced up with the bombastic explosions themselves.
Most of the six newcomers will have hopefully been gathered long before the fireworks go off – but anyone else is free to enjoy them and the festivities leading up to that final conclusion. The festivities vary in nature, from a place for someone to claim a lantern of their own with a wish, to using UV paint to legally cover the ground in unique symbols and lights, to joining competitions where people place chess and checkers for a wider audience. Each of these activities is monetized, so don't expect anything to be for free.
There will be several new and persistent additions along the most likely path to the festival from the safehouse: small, man-made shrines that have appeared just hours before the dense layer of lights settled over the city. Depending upon their makeup, these shrines vary in structure, size, and design, but have several unique, persistent similarities between them.
Some of the shrines are fully formed, with candles lying underneath them, and cloth blankets acting as an overhang for the art within. At the heart of each of these shrines is an image of a person, with a large, upside down triangle projecting from their chest – blue and noticeable – with their arms spread wide. Some of these triangles project from the chest as if a piece of a 3D pop-up structure, while others are simply a part of the image itself, a flat, smooth surface. Beneath them, there will be a scene from a familiar event for anyone who's been here for a while: a car flying into a monster's mouth, a person healing someone else, bright blue eyes and fingertips, showing the artist's personal interpretation in motion. Any of the cloth is covered in geometric symbols, intersecting circles and triangles, many of them in specific and particular patterns.
Other shrines are two dimensional in nature – painted, to be more specific, on the walls themselves – both hidden bits of scenery meant to blend in with the surroundings, or large and spread out, splashing wide arrays of colors and symbols. Whoever set up many of these artistic displays had a special paint and familiarity with the lantern festival lighting, as it draws special attention to the blue light that pours out of the people featured, whether it comes from their eyes, mouths, or the traditional chests. Silver and gold geometric symbols stretch around these images, framing the scene portrayed.
These additions aren't only located near the safehouse, but that's where they're concentrated for now. Within days, they'll be elsewhere: on walls in oft-frequented public restrooms, behind popular nightclubs and bars, and just about anywhere else – popping up and coming down as people tire of their presence – or are simply bothered that they're there at all.
Access to the safehouse is a hatch hidden behind stacks of empty storage shelves in the back of an abandoned supermarket in an outer district of the city. The immediate area is similarly abandoned, empty stores, flanked by several blocks of dive bars and clubs which cater to more niche tastes. A place where people can come and go unseen, or, if seen, not spoken of. A dark haired woman called Gaby is ready to greet the new arrivals and get them settled in, brusque and no-nonsense – she'll be open for in depth questions later, but will advise everyone to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information.
◉ The safe house is a large open space, filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large amount of people. Basic, but outfitted with everything necessary for daily life. A few doors lead to back rooms for storage, medical care and a large communal bathroom, and past the long rows of cots there is a communal kitchen, fully stocked, and an eating area. Privacy is at a minimum.
◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries.
◉ While there were previously also NPC occupants of the safehouse, natives to New Amsterdam, these people have now been moved on to somewhere safer. A few of their belongings remain, discarded or accidentally abandoned.
◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El.
◉ The drugs making new characters compliant will remain in their systems for a few hours after their arrival at the safehouse before finally beginning to fade. They will be gone entirely after a night's rest. In the meantime, they may want to be careful of what others say to them.
◉ New characters will be given rudimentary access to the network on arrival in the safehouse, but will not have their ID set up yet. They will be able to make posts and replies, but their messages will be anonymous and they do not have inboxes yet.
◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until SEPTEMBER 7. These 4 days are for them to adjust, learn about the world they've arrived in from their fellows, and for El to speak with them and work on setting up their IDs.
Welcome to Meadowlark, newbies! You're now free to post to the network and logs comms. To reiterate, your characters will have no IDs or inboxes, nor be allowed out of the safehouse until September 7 (January 14). At that point it's expected they'll have gotten a good idea of their new situation from their fellow characters, and will have discussed their background and job potentials with El in order for their false IDs to be set up.
If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, or if they'd like to join Morningstar, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below.
Please check out our January calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month.
As a reminder, AC for new characters accepted in December and January will be 10 comments across 2-4 threads, while current characters will need to provide the full AC of 20 comments across 2-4 threads. AC will be posted on January 20 and close on January 27. If you do not reply to AC, you will be considered idled and dropped from the game. We will not post a warning list.
heine rammsteiner | dogs: bullets & carnage
ii. WILDCARD
a.
Not so when the city is lit up bright as an explosion, when the streets are thronging with too many bodies pushing in too close.
And so he does his best to slip around the backstreets and winding alleyways, to evade the worst of the brightness, the push and pull of vapid human life. It's what brings him here, down along this particular side alley at this particular moment in time, for once their oncoming rendezvous not something he's sought, or planned.
Hence the lack of any attempt to hide his approach as he ducks into the relative darkness and keeps moving, eyes down and expression fixed into something smooth and blank and cold that hides the fierce clatter of jangled nerves underneath. He looks up though, on hearing the familiar voice. And just like that he slips on the mask, lips curving in a carved-pumpkin smile.]
Come, now. Having a guess would have been much more fun.
[As though he intended this all along.]
no subject
the open space above their heads is like a physical weight, the very fact that there is somehow infinitesimal amount of sky and stars and everything that they could never even have imagined (oh but they did, a long time ago, about flowers and sky and clouds and all) - it is almost terrifying even for him, and he cannot imagine how Giovanni feels about it.
even so, Heine is - cruel enough to ignore it, to blind his eyes to the truth of the matter. each and every one of them are broken in the worst of ways, the cracks showing through on Giovanni's face in the shape of the jagged, knife-slash smile.
a slow breath, in and out, and Heine slits his eyes against the sight of the other emerging from the shadow of the shadow of the darkness. smiles back with all the viciousness of their first meeting, none of the conventional mirth associated with the act. ]
I don't believe in wasting time. Especially not with you.
no subject
[He says, pausing to lean loose and boneless against the dusty wall of the alley, the scent of sun-baked brick a strange assault on the senses, so far from the cold damp derelict world he's walked through and stalked through and knows right down to the centre of himself, that place trapped feet upon feet below ground, where no light of any kind can hope to penetrate.
There's only this, all this strangeness, and so encountering Heine here in the night has something of the familiar to it, even if they've been parred back to the bare bones of themselves. No longer the wolves they were, just wild dogs in the dark.
But wild dogs still have fangs and claws and hard edges, and as he rests a hand on one cocked hip, the smile on his face remains a terrible thing.]
You prefer wasting it on meaningless self-flagellation and abstinence. Abstinence from what you're supposed to be, from what you were created to be. Back then, down there in the dark...you used to be a lot more fun.
no subject
a slow breath, in, out, count to four.
almost like back home, isn't it? something familiar to fall back on, the banter, the fangs, the eyes staring back into his sharp as needles even while veiled out of sight. maybe that's the simple heart of the problem (but no problems are ever simple) - that this is something familiar, old as blood dried under his nails, as old as the floral bitter sting of antiseptic, as old as eternity. this is, after all, the only things they have truly known how to be. down to the bare bones, now, if only to sharpen their teeth on each other. ]
Don't [ his voice is like brittle snap of a branch, like a crack of a whip ] Don't you fucking dare, Giovanni.
[ it's not meaningless. none of it. if he turned his face away from what happened, from what he had done, then
what was the point? a meaningless existence. ]
no subject
It's in them, down to the dark rotten centre of themselves.
The lantern-light flicker makes monsters of them, or more rightly perhaps threatens to show them for exactly what they are and Giovanni moves too, just a little, sliding snakelike along the wall until the shadows consume him once again. A broken thing, not meant for the light, and cruelly he laughs.]
What's this now, you don't like the reminder? Lily's blood on your hands and up between you teeth and yet you don't want to savour it. What a waste.
[Never mind that it hurts him too, cuts down into the meat of him like a butcher's knife, because this is a pain that's meant to be shared, doubled, tripled, until it becomes so big that everything else dies inside of it.]
no subject
(stand up and fight)
what good are they for, otherwise?
the only life he lives now is such meager existence as this, a half life, a nothing life bent on revenge and memories of bloodred ghosts, phantom limbs in the dark.
a ghost before him with shadows like some many limbed monster, like snakes, like a pack of wolves.
he didn't ask for this but heine doesn't say it, biting it back like bile rising in the back of his throat along with some ugly emotion that isn't quite hate or disgust (too close to home, the broken figure half sunk in shadows too similar to his own) but it is. ]
Are you really someone who could talk about waste, Giovanni?
[ the hatred makes him bitter, spitting acid and fire in every tense line of his body, in the eyes that stare like murder, like ripped open wound. ]
stalls
Brows hike up, surprised (and not necessarily displeased) at having inherited a bunch of food. Fire ants aren't so bad, right?]
These free, or are you trying to steal food now too?
[You filthy criminal.]