larkers: (pic#12386243)
MEADOWLARK MODS ([personal profile] larkers) wrote in [community profile] meadowlarklogs2019-03-23 11:46 am

EVENT LOG 004

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: The dreams.
WHEN: Starts October 12
WHAT: The displaced are put to sleep.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, themes of death, gore.

> EVENT LOG #004

There is a version of reality where the displaced don't go to sleep. There are news reports where New Johannesburg lies in ruins like New Tokyo, like how New Amsterdam nearly did. This is a world where the worst keeps happening, and the foundations of the world lay in ruin. Chaos begins to lay waste to human civilization as the people of Earth begin to pressure the people of the colonies to work faster to terraform the planets so that they can have somewhere more acceptable to live. After all, the world is visibly dying around them, and the people of the colonies are supposed to provide them with the promised land.

There is a version of reality where the displaced do sleep, and that world goes on just the same. Will this be that version? Or will they set things in a different way?

For now, there are things to see – pressing matters, and an opportunity to finally see one another. Truly, in the most raw way possible. Revealed without anything obscuring that in a world where falsehoods and fears seem more real than truth.

> THE UNDERWORLD

You don't remember taking the dive or being near water. Movement is difficult, like a wheel trying to move from the mud. The pressure is overwhelming, pressing against your skin, your chest, your head. The air is thick, the pressure stifling; there's something deep in your gut that feels as if you're being undone from the inside, both physically and mentally. It doesn't subside, nor does it become tolerable, but you can ignore it in spurts in order to make sense of the world around you.

Where you are feels claustrophobic and lifeless – unnatural forms raise off in the distance, expanding in unique, abstract statues. From where you stand, you can't quite make out what these are, but they're shaped like obelisks. Even if there are no tangible walls, there is an emptiness that feeds into the claustrophobia – your footsteps are silent, and your movements flow like you're underwater. There's an echo far off, like the lurching, final call of a dying animal. Here, there is a harrowing feeling, one that buzzes in the back of your brain that there may be someone watching you.

Off in the distance, there is a light – bioluminescent in nature, coaxing you forward. The light grants you just enough vision for you to see the floating bits and pieces of dull blue debris, twisting in suffocation like faceless creatures beneath the harshness of the light. Soon, an outline of a person will brush past you, stop and stutter in their footsteps, before ending up behind you again.

At the heart of this – since it seems as if there should be a heart – there is a spear with a sharp metal head on a shaft beginning to get dragged into the ground by long, white roots, as if they were trying to swallow it down into the mud. On the edge of the head sits four copper and gray birds, their song piercing.

> THE FACILITY

◉ Dim lights coax the PCs further, but they'll find that much of their surroundings have been buried by a different form of life. The obelisks are covered in coral and barnacles that have formed in this otherwise lifeless place. They flow together, a red and white shapeless lump that conceals whatever was beneath it at one point.

◉ Where there were once large, metal pillars helping the facility withstand the immense water pressure, they're now abstract lifeforms that exist on their own. There are some stretches where it's obvious why the barnacles have latched on here, as they intently feed upon the remains of human life that were splattered there before.

◉ The overall feeling of the facility is oppressive and the pressure makes it difficult to move; even though it's a dream, it's hard to breathe. There's a constant feeling of something ripping away at their sense of self that will begin to impact their physical and mental state. Since it's a dream, time is nebulous; your character can be impacted from the start, or it can be gradual. They can be affected by either – or both!

Physical effects include a headache much like the feeling of a driving spike in the temples, so painful that it becomes difficult for them to orient themselves. It's followed by bleeding from the nose, mouth, ears, and/or eyes.
Mental effects include an eerie calmness that has strong feelings of detachment from emotions and body, along with a dissociation from themselves. This can be followed by strong bouts of overwhelming anxiety that cause irritation, rage or a prevailing feeling of desolation with no cause. These can come at interchangeable increments, or as one or the other.

◉ The spear with a sharp metal head on a shaft rooted to the ground will not move. Touching it causes a sharp feeling that cuts through the mind of anyone near it.

◉ Eventually the characters may find themselves standing in a cold room surrounded by the specters. A sharp, acrid smell pierces through the room. The specters range from nearly fully translucent to somewhat corporeal. They're dressed in nicely pressed lab coats with their names stitched on. These names aren't legible, blurring together and causing vertigo for anyone who tries to identify them. They repeat the same phrases in cracked, desperate voices, no matter who tries to speak with them.

◈ "What have we done? This is what we deserve for trying to be gods."
◈ "What we're witnessing is the height of human achievement. There's no turning back now!"
◈ "It was all a lie. They promised us everything, promised a better world for us!"
◈ "How can I face my son now? How can I? Forgive me, forgive me. If you ever learn about what we've done here, please … please forgive me."
◈ "Torn apart. My insides are all being torn apart!"
◈ "Why are you here? You shouldn't be here!"

◉ Dense clusters of unusual, deep sea fish and creatures swim around, all of them red in nature. They're likely unnoticeable at first. The specters and distant lights are more likely to draw the eye. Yet these creatures are on the edge of everything, feeding on what lives there now – and what may have been there before.

◉ Should anyone walk too far, they'll find themselves standing on a cliff's edge, peering downward. Malevolence wafts upward – anger, as well as the sense that anyone might be dragged down for eternity. This is a live grave. Anyone who risks jumping in will be forcibly tossed out of this part of the dreamscape. Wherever they end up next, they'll find themselves suffering from a great deal of nausea.

> THE CITYSCAPE

The sky overhead is gray and where they arrive is nebulous by definition. The ground is made up completely of limestone that paves the entirety of the city, and there are hints of days gone by visible as imprints in the fossilized stone: leaves, skeletons of birds, stones, and more.

The paths through the cities are rigid and linear, rows of different streets, set up tidily like New Amsterdam. None of the landmarks are the same: none of the districts maintain their typical appearance, instead replaced by a strange contradiction of familiarity and confusion.

There is a wealth of pathways for the characters to take. Each of these pathways are filled with buildings lining them, many shapeless and formless – a good number of them lack windows, as if incomplete in their imagining.

> CORPORATE INTERESTS

◉ As characters head toward what should be the financial district, they'll find a series of towering buildings. They aren't unlike the corporate buildings in New Amsterdam, but they're unique and fused together. A single skybridge hangs overhead, connecting Vyonation, Pulsar, and Giles Bell. There's an additional skybridge that connects each of these corporations to city hall and the governor's office.

◉ There are familiar faces in these offices, but they may not be where someone thinks they belong. Aoi Maeda drinks coffee in an office in Vyonation while numerous people surround her, waiting on her hand and foot; Jose Mercado mops up messes at Giles Bell, dressed in a janitorial outfit. Governor Lydia Gill-Jade walks about everywhere – but it's never just one of her. There are many of her, standing in office doorways, waiting for her barking orders. She never seems to have a mind of her own, repeating the same words to herself. If someone draws closer, the words will sound like the beginning of a speech, yet never make sense.

◉ Time isn't linear here, as being inside the buildings seems to accelerate the schedule outside. Once someone leaves, however, the depiction of the day outside will revert to what it was before someone stepped inside.

◉ There is no server access in any of these buildings. Technology is surface level – manifesting in a distant way, as if someone hopes to paint a picture but can't show the finer details.

◉ The monsters can attack in this section, but they can't impact it permanently. The buildings and people will persist even if the monsters destroy them. The people will remain right where they were even as the monsters attempt to ravage them. If the larger monster is led toward these buildings, they will recover simultaneously like someone hit a reset button.

◉ The potential safehouse coffee shop is here, as well. Though it's far less dramatic than the fusion of major corporate powers, the building itself is covered in vines. They don't look as if they belong to coffee plants, but on closer inspection, the flowers themselves provide beans. Upon retrieving a seed, however, it'll disintegrate in the hand of the holder. The interior is also covered in vines, with a path inside that leads deep into the underground portion of the city.

◉ While technology isn't on the same level, many of these buildings' insides will be inspired by the world as it's known to the characters themselves. Seeking out a specific person or their office isn't impossible – it just requires more guesswork and trial and error as individuals are seemingly displaced from their corporate branding.

> BE THERE OR BE SQUARE

◉ Several streets north, there is a large open square, filled with yet another festival: this one with people dressed in unusual garb with various different logos. On closer inspection, these are all sports fans, tailgating for an upcoming event. A large stadium looms off within reach, announcing the day's events on a large, scrolling monitor. Never mind the anachronistic nature of a monitor – surely it makes sense to someone, doesn't it?

◉ These fans rally around while talking about their favorite Vestica star athlete. Whatever the sports event is, there is a sense that it is somehow more glamorous than any current sport outside of the dream. In fact, today is meant to be the grand finals: a place for the different Vestica athletes to come together and show their worth. The information on the scrolling monitor details a number of different sporting events about to go down: Rugby ("Recalling the Sporting Past of Johannesburg"), a FPS competition featuring Overstrike Aeon ("Come see the best aim that our pilots have to offer!"), a timed raid in Planet of Battleforge ("See teamwork come together!") and a traditional decathlon ("Never forget the accomplishments of past Olympians!").

◉ Whether these events are an actual finals or a great exhibition of talent is unclear. There is no opposing team; there are no answers about this, either. Further investigation only leads to the impression that the Vestica athletes will win regardless of their efforts within the stadium.

◉ On the other side of the square, there is a large building, not unlike the 109 Building in Shibuya today. A large screen runs down the front of the building announcing what the various characters are doing in the world. Visiting Jose Mercado? Eating coffee beans off a vine? It seems that someone is tracking everyone's every movement. View of this building is limited to this section of the city.

◉ The base portion of this building opens up to a sports bar that appeals to the sensibilities of the displaced. There are numerous monitors that reveal the characters in action around the dreamscapes. The screens show other dreams, though the images on these cut in and out.

◉ Sound from this square reaches other parts of the city. While the sporting exhibition, whatever it might be, never seems to start, there is a rush of sound and noise elsewhere in the city. People screaming, shouts, booming beats with loud sports anthems (modern and old), as well as the cacophonous sound of vuvuzelas.

> A BRIDGE TO SOMEWHERE

◉ If characters follow the river, they'll find that its mouth opens into a large, endless body of water. The entire area appears to be a large port – except an extremely unusual one, as the "docks" are glowing bridges reaching up into the gray, murky distance, reminiscent of aspects of the very first dream in the arrival log. For anyone who didn't experience that particular dream, there will be a sense of déjà vu, as if they've been here before.

◉ One of the bridges leads to a building for New Johannesburg Space Transit. There is a window for ticket sales, even if it's wrong and anachronistic. There is no entry into this building: it's locked, and the door is hot to the touch, like access here is barred for some reason.

◉ There is a paper poster on the inside of the ticketing window announcing trips to Pluto. "Come and determine if Pluto is a planet for yourself! Experience the mystical power of the edge of our solar system!"

◉ These bridges branch off on seemingly endless roads, with some ending with bright blue portals. Many of these portals are closed off with an invisible barrier blocking anyone from walking through.

> MONSTER PARTIES

◉ No matter where someone goes, there is always a risk of the monsters causing problems. The largest monster appears to be wherever the characters may be clustering – which means that it's possible to lead it to specific locations should anyone choose.

◉ The monsters are as described:

◈ One is 800m long and appears reptilian, with a tough, scaled hide. It has four legs, one head, and a long tail. Its coloring is dark, but its scales are iridescent, and shine in a rainbow of colors in the light. Its eyes, mouth, and many vein-like cracks along its body glow a bright gold.
◈ The smaller creatures are all roughly 2m in size, all have bright gold eyes, and come in three varieties:

Serpentine creatures with two clawed arms. They move using their strong tails to propel themselves forward at extraordinary speeds and use their claws to climb, hook onto objects, or impale victims.
Dog-like creatures with huge, powerful jaws. Slower moving, they will often track down a victim and hide motionless nearby, lunging out at the perfect moment to attack.
Crab-like creatures with a large shelled back and a row of prehensile tentacles along the upper edge. Able to climb over most obstacles and squeeze themselves through small spaces, they lash out with their tentacles to ensnare and drag their victims to them. The tentacles also carry a venom which causes numbness and paralysis of the affected area for 10 minutes.

◉ There is the sense that these monsters can and should be defeated. While their destruction doesn't affect the financial district, the rest of the city can lay in ruins unless the creatures that have overrun the land have been stopped. They can destroy the stadium, any other seemingly familiar buildings, and even trample over any of the characters in the process. If it's mass destruction that can be caused, it will be caused.

◉ Killing a smaller creature will reveal that any damage they've caused will be undone. Does that mean the same will happen with the larger monster?

> UNDERGROUND CAVE WAYS

◉ Unlike the real New Amsterdam, there isn't an underground portion of the city where people live, instead replaced by a natural system of underground caves. There is the sense that the underground portion of New Amsterdam was once like this before it was corrupted by those with selfish interests throughout the years.

◉ There are numerous paths to the caves underneath the city. They're underneath businesses, through various sewer covers, as well as multiple other similar places. It's not hard to find a way in; someone just has to be inspired to try in the first place. They also connect most of the city to itself.

◉ There are also paths leading outside. One path leads to a forest, dense and humid. But tread carefully here, as the trees themselves are fragile, easily set alight or toppled by human influence. There are other areas that just lead out into water. If someone walks too long, they'll find that they may be sucked underneath. And then there are the ruins: large, deserted wastelands with no hope of life. They stretch for miles, are extremely hot, and offer someone little opportunity for escape. Walk too long, and someone may find themselves wandering forever – or until the dreams themselves are done.

> THE PERSONAL

While there are certainly places to visit, there are also the minds that have an opportunity to be understood with new context. Not every mind will have an open door – but there is a sense that they may be available at another time, in another context. For some, this is the right time and the right context – an opportunity to welcome someone in to see what needs to be seen, felt, and experienced.

> FINAL NOTES

A few final notes for clarification:

Characters transitioning between dreams: This is up to the player! Your character can find themselves in a different dream at any time.

Time: Time in the dreams is non-linear. For instance, your character may arrive in the city and see no sign of a monster attack, or they can arrive smack in the middle of the city being trashed.

World Changes: Refer to the thread below.

Can I assume something is present even if it's not described?: Yes, you absolutely can! It may not impact the world right away, but it definitely will in time. These descriptions are more cursory to give our players a lot to do, as well as highlight what we felt was significant.

I have another question! Where do I ask it?: On the QUESTIONS THREAD on the OOC Event Post. We also intend to keep the FAQ up to date.

Please refer to the OOC EVENT POST for this event for all OOC info, as well as for any additional planning that needs to occur now that the world locations are more obvious. Since this event currently has no set end date, we encourage you to keep planning what might be best or more fun for you. No one is late at this stage, as aspects of the event were still up in the air!

We'll touch base with everyone on MARCH 30 to see where everyone is, and how they feel about things.

As a reminder, there is one power level up available for this event. This will be granted for a thread of at least 5 action/log comments of participation in this event. We originally misspoke that they needed to use their power in the dreamscapes – they do not! They will need to reach the 5 comments required by APRIL 27 to be eligible. Submission will be handled on the wrap up post.

Our Activity Check will be posted on April 1 at 12 AM UTC. It will run for seven days and close on April 8 at 12 AM UTC. We will not post a warning list.

We will also post our April Calendar and accompanying CR meme on that day. If you still have things you'd like to do in your dreamscape, this CR meme should help you supplement your threads in progress!

strove: (the end of the fucking world)

clarke griffin | the 100 | ota

[personal profile] strove 2019-03-23 10:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[Coming to in Clarke's dream is a little like drawing in a large amount of oxygen and trying to fill up your lungs, only to find that you never wanted to do that in the first place. There is an immediate, burning sensation here, along with the sense that someone might want to get rid of any of their stomach contents.

Enough light slips through the cracks to illuminate the room where everyone will wake up. Purely metal in composition, there's an unnatural hum of machinery that plays in the background. There's a small bed, left unmade, right off to the side.

The light offers enough of a look that it shows the art on the floor. Some of this art is trees, water, birds, and more—but others are people. A smiling man working on a machine. A doctor with a crease in her forehead, preparing for surgery. A young woman with a gear-shaped bindi on her forehead, sleeping peacefully. A man with curly dark hair and a pensive jaw. None of these people are known to Clarke's fellow displaced. But then there is the new canvass, right near the door's opening. This place contains art of a solemn man with a shaved head, and a hint of wisdom, dressed in a simple white shirt as he overlooks a rooftop. Another shows a happy young(er) adult in front of a pile of donuts with a camera in his hands. Another shows a dark-haired man with a hint of mischief in his eyes, peering around a corner as if he's up to something. There are a few more that are not yet fully formed, but can be identified: someone in a bunch of layers, with lighter, curlier hair, hand to his chin. A doctor with facial hair, prepping similarly to the aforementioned female doctor. A woman over a microscope.

All of the art is drawn with a pencil, sketched onto the metallic floor. There are some paints in the corner that remain untouched, and they give off the impression as if they're out of place and don't belong here.

There is nothing here that lends to someone's survival. Just art, just remains of someone who's left it all behind. Getting out won't be easy. The door appears to be collapsed in, but survival is important. The room will begin to lend to that impression: the need to move, to survive, to do what's necessary.

Once someone is free—they'll step outside to unkind conditions, even if the actual visual of it all doesn't lend to that. There are numerous ways to move, segmented off. One is a rover, ready to drive somewhere in the distance. Another is a large, tall building, but getting up it will involve a bit of a climb. And another is a wooded path, with little indication of what may come next. The final part, to the left of the woods, is a large, metal satellite-like ship, looking as if it lays in ruins, recently burned.

It won't be immediately obvious whose dream this is, at least not at first. It doesn't help that the dreamer herself is nowhere to be seen, hidden away.]


[ooc: Clarke will not be present in this dream, but I'll be running it a bit like an exploration thread or a bit like choose your own adventure. There will be spoilers for a lot of The 100, so there is a risk of the following: body horror, death, death by radiation poisoning, Lord of the Flies-esque themes, immorality, and more. If you have any questions about Clarke's dream or if I'm ever unclear in my descriptions, feel free to communicate with me here.

There will be opportunities to change Clarke. They can even start in the very first room! But I wanted to show the options for what may come after that.]
Edited 2019-03-23 23:00 (UTC)
merced: (pic#12934707)

[personal profile] merced 2019-03-24 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Aranea doesn't remember precisely what came before this room, by the fluid logic of any dream. It's simply where it all starts, and she doesn't think to question it. There's only forward. She steps over the art on the floor without any especial care, her feet scuffing the pencil accidentally - does that erase any of it? Or is it indelible, surviving her unaware trampling?

She looks over at the newer canvassing. One figure is particularly recognisable, prompting a faint smile hovering at the corners of her lips. She doesn't linger at it, though, instead pushing her way out through the door (does it fold easily, or does she need to work at it?) and steps outside.

Once again, the choices are laid out in clearly delineated manner, but she'll get to that momentarily. ]
strove: (plus Aaron Judge is hot right)

[personal profile] strove 2019-03-26 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
[The rubble on the outside of the "room" needs a bit of work, as if it's enclosed. It isn't a pleasant experience to get out, but it eventually gives, letting her free.

Once Aranea is out, the sun seems to beat down in an incredibly unnatural way. The air isn't thick with radiation, exactly. But there is something about Aranea that's changed, something that will allow her to survive this experience.

Nearby, everything is lifeless. Dull, light brown ground. It's not sand so much as what happens when society collapses on itself a second time in a single century. Out of the corner of her eye, it may seem as if these different paths are unsteady in their depiction. One second, it's there, and another, a sweep of fire moves over it, causing it to be whisked away.

Thankfully, the fire doesn't seem to be real.]
kleptocratic: (κηʹ)

[personal profile] kleptocratic 2019-03-25 06:20 am (UTC)(link)
[ Eugenides coughs up his first breath in this place, not conscious that this is his first breath in this place. For a few trance-like moments he thinks that he's in prison, again, but there are no chains rubbing scars into his wrists. He doesn't care about the pictures, he wants to get out.

He spends a few stupid minutes groping with the door, trying to find a lock to pick, or some hidden switch, like a stage at a festival play. Eventually he remembers that he can just step through the collapsed door, and so he does, parts of him momentarily glowing blue. Cheater he thinks, vaguely proud of the fact.

Outside, the landscape is unfamiliar to him. The desperate, root-deep need of the place is equally unknown. Eugenides has run for his life, and killed for it, too, but never has he had to carve it out of empty surroundings.

Still, he thinks to seek the high ground, at the top of the building, to get a better sense of his environs. ]
strove: (the end of the fucking world)

[personal profile] strove 2019-03-26 02:20 am (UTC)(link)
[As Eugenides moves closer, he'll find that the building is the heart of a small, bustling community. There are various stalls laid about cooking a strange array of food. There's nothing normal to be sure—weird snake-like creatures and mutated reptiles appear to be the treat of the day. There's also some smoked meat, though it's not clear what kind of meat it is. It could even be a panther.

The layout of the city is simple yet complex, made up of what happens when a people have discarded their past, but have salvaged it at the same time. Polis—because that's what this place is called—is made up of a bunch of scrap metal, torn down trees, and different pieces of Washington, DC architecture, dragged far distances to help present a certain appearance. How much they know about the Roman architecture is up for debate. (Probably not very much.)

A pair of guards show up in black leather garb, with heavy makeup under their eyes. Each of them likely look similar in appearance: a lot of facial hair, large and burly, and like they're seasoned warriors. They move to grab both of Gen's arms to attempt to hold him in place.]


They say you're familiar with gods. There is only one faith here. For that, it's time to answer to the Commander. [This may make no sense, but at least they seem to be bringing him to the tall building...?]
kleptocratic: (οϝʹ)

[personal profile] kleptocratic 2019-03-26 03:31 am (UTC)(link)
[ Eugendies recognizes what he knows as the style of the Invaders, the ones who came to the shores of his peninsula long ago and instituted their laws and their gods. There is one column in particular, split in half, that look like it might belong in Attolia's palace, graceful lines ruined by mashing it up against some kind of oversized tin shield.

To Eugenides the men look like Medes, with their kohl-swept eyes and exaggerated beards. He doesn't resist. This part of the dream is one he's had before. ]


You don't have to pull so much. It's not my fault my legs are shorter than yours.
strove: (BANG BANG)

[personal profile] strove 2019-03-26 05:37 am (UTC)(link)
[The men look at one another before beginning to speak an unfamiliar language. (Even if Gen had the neural implant, he wouldn't be able to make out any of it.) There is something about a Heda, a grumbling, and then a tug. Smart asses like this don't do well here, unless they're quick like the brief Flamekeeper. Or still the guy who's Flamekeeper? It's hard to tell?

As Gen moves, he'll see a pair of people pinned to a cross off in the distance. Think crucified, with a lot of soulless eyes watching them at the same time, removed from any and all pain. Their screams sound through the yard.

And then they're gone, as if they weren't there in the first place.

The place they lead Gen is an elevator. Two men prepare to stand at the bottom while they step inside. Given the lack of electricity, it's a hand crank that brings them up. This'll be a while. They pull the door shut with their hands, and then up they go.

Once they reach the top ... it's hard to tell how long it takes. Forever? A minute? Are the men that strong? (They could be, honestly.)

Gen's two captors open the doors again and shove Gen out. Even if it seems like he's here to see someone, the top floor of the building is completely barren of people. Or so it seems? There are three paths to take: one to what seems to be a makeshift throne room, one to a bedroom that's part room and part study, and then another to a set of private quarters.

If Gen's looking for a vantage point, the throne room is probably the best one. Otherwise, well, they're pretty high up regardless. Like the very, very top.]
kleptocratic: (μεʹ)

[personal profile] kleptocratic 2019-03-26 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ There are no smart asses like Eugenides. If he could understand them, he would clarify.

He pales when he sees the prisoners in the yard, expecting a drop in his stomach that doesn't come. He never liked watching executions, and avoided them whenever he could find an excuse. But the scene disappears as quickly as breath on a cold wind, and leaves his memory like vapor. His face recomposes himself.

As he's cranked higher and higher, Eugenides thinks that maybe he should have escaped earlier, when he was closer to the ground. He has a superstitious fear of falling.

At the top, he thinks about going into throne room, but decides to head into the bedroom first. Maybe he'll find something to make himself more presentable. ]
strove: (toward future happenings)

[personal profile] strove 2019-03-26 08:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[Once Gen walks into the room, there's a sense of longing and regret that pervades through every inch of the place. It's a room that indicates what was lost—because it had been had in the first place. The room itself is intricate and beautiful in its design. There's a small couch, with what appears to be a coffee table of sorts, all hand-carved. These weren't salvaged, but made for someone deserving. There's a chair nearby, where yet another bit of art sits. This time it's a sketchbook, closed, with a bit of charcoal lying on top.

There is a mirror nearby—this one was salvaged—with a brush and other supplies, and an unmade bed, with a large frame, wooden and intricate. The blankets on it are made of various furs, and there are multiple pillows. It wouldn't be wrong to assume that this is a room that belongs to the same person who sits on that throne.

There are other parts of the room: a bathtub that rests in the open, currently empty. A wardrobe full of intricate clothing and capes, all handmade. Various bits of makeup, tucked away neatly for whenever someone may need to pull them out. There is also a box that sits near the doorway, large enough to hold a man. It's closed, sealed tight.

The light in the room is dim because the windows are covered by fur curtains, but the sun still manages to make it through, illuminating most of the space.

Although this doesn't appear to be a world that's lush with privilege and material goods, they've managed to create that here.]
Edited (clarifying the kind of tub it is) 2019-03-26 20:15 (UTC)

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saviorexe: (92)

[personal profile] saviorexe 2019-03-25 08:47 pm (UTC)(link)
[He’s come in through a plain door, but hit with an oppressive air. It takes minutes for him to recover, for queasiness to ease in his stomach (what sense does that make? housed in an android body now), but eventually the discomfort is tamped down and curiosity breaks through its veil. The art draws his gaze, as art always does — familiar faces (the displaced? his own?) and strangers alike, detailed and strangely personal. He doesn’t touch them, only looks, and an indeterminate amount of time passes before he feels pressed to move forward.

It takes even longer to get past the collapsed door, the calculated and slightly augmented strength of an android doing him no favors. He expends considerable effort, strains his limbs, but finally the door gives way, scraping against the ground just enough to let him slip through.

And he’s free.

The path diverges. With the tense hands of survival pushing at his back, Markus chooses the trail leading to the tall building, mouth set in a thin line.]
Edited 2019-03-25 20:50 (UTC)
strove: (SYMBOLIC BACK OF HEAD)

[personal profile] strove 2019-03-26 02:15 am (UTC)(link)
[The path to the large building—Polis, as it was known—is met with equal parts sadness and hope, curiosity and uncertainty. Isolation. Walking up, it would seem as if there's no life to be found here. It's been removed, erased by some outside force. But suddenly, Markus will find Polis come alive around him. There are different stalls with people selling bits of food—unusual mutations because of the world that's burned. There are some children running about. Everyone wears tattered clothing and bits of cloth to block their heads from the beating sun.

This is not a village, nor a city, nor a town. There are bits of Roman architecture that look like they belong in Washington, DC as a part of monuments. There's the sense that some were here already, while others were dragged here. They meld together with a blend of tree and scrap metal, creating various curves of the city itself.

At the heart of it is the tallest structure, the aforementioned building. Two men in all black leather garb will come to greet Markus, firmly planting their hands on his shoulders. They wear dark eye makeup.]


The Commander will see you now. [They will proceed to start tugging him toward an opening of the building, grips rough and unfriendly. Markus isn't a prisoner—right?]
saviorexe: (88)

[personal profile] saviorexe 2019-03-26 02:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[He’s out of place, wearing only simple dark clothing from a life no longer his, an attire that doesn’t match the tattered appearance of those around him. The sun beats down on his features, though Markus only registers the heat as background data in his mind.

For a while, he doesn’t know where to go, where this is; a dream, surely, since by now he’s been shaken out of non-lucidity after being jostled towards realization in his own. All that calls to him is the center structure, a beacon that draws him in like a thing meant to converge, and so he does.

Until the guards come, gripping him unkindly, ushering him towards the entrance without ceremony. Markus frowns, never welcoming forceful, sudden touch.]


What does the Commander want with me? [—he asks, and every step grows taut with an inlaid defiance.]
strove: (SYMBOLIC BACK OF HEAD)

[personal profile] strove 2019-03-26 08:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[There is a stutter in how the guards hold themselves. They're not used to defiance, or someone asking them questions. Or is that just how they've been created? Meant to act as a guide to get someone to where they seemed to want to be. It's hard to tell.

Their grips tighten after a moment.]


That's where you're meant to be, [they ultimately say, perhaps in unison. Gruff. Unyielding. They look up, indicating the large building above them.] Didn't you come here to see her?
saviorexe: (114)

[personal profile] saviorexe 2019-03-26 08:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[Did he? He can’t deny the pull towards the building, towards the center of this strange non-city. Was it the Commander he was seeking, or just unraveling whatever this dream has to offer him? Markus cannot ignore his curiosity, held close to his chest.

But he doesn’t like the tight grip, and bristles against command so freely given.]


I want to find out why I’m here, yes.

[But Markus bites back what he might say next, shearing away words to both mollify and make clear a point.]

As nothing more than a curious traveler passing by.
strove: (FALLOUT 5: PRAIMFAYA)

[personal profile] strove 2019-03-26 08:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[There is a sense—fed to him? Offered? It's unclear—that these people aren't kind to outsiders, to threats upon their person. He is an outsider. He could be encroaching on their land, and he could be posing a threat to the Commander. Couldn't he? There's a nebulous sense of uncertainty here, one that isn't in his head, but wafts around him. Like someone else had been in his shoes, imparting wisdom, but hadn't fully come to grips with it.

The men look to one another, and speak a language that Markus has heard before—though it's far more involved than the few phrases that Clarke spoke in his presence.

And then they switch to English.]


You have a choice. Leave now and never return, or go inside and greet the Commander. You must seek her approval to be here among her people. [Yet they're allowing him to grace her presence. Odd, isn't it?] She welcomes your audience. [As if that clarifies anything. It does not.]

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selfimage: — ɢᴀʀʙᴇᴛᴛ — (Maggie's farm.)

[personal profile] selfimage 2019-03-29 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[ reality is always an interesting concept. it's never more or less itself, but it takes twists and turns, using metaphor more than not and showing signs to those who listen for them. Loki is not unfamiliar with the grey lines between dreams and what is real, particularly when dreams feel more real than what is deemed real.

he stands amid pencil drawings, never quite solidified. pictures in a room of metal, stark and lifeless.
]

Well, well—isn't this depressing? Someone needs to hire an interior decorator.

[ and so, he goes for the paints, riffling through them until he finds two colors: a nice green, and a nice black. he finds a paintbrush with an a nice edge. ]

I've never really been much of a painter.

[ but here comes the first brushstroke. he's drawing a ......

........

plate of pancakes.
]
strove: (should I start a patreon?)

[personal profile] strove 2019-03-31 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
[Well, the good news is that Clarke will now have a strange fondness for pancakes. In fact, it will seem as if it's a part of her life in New Amsterdam, in part because of the painting.

Thanks?

There won't be any noticeable changes or ripples, except that the painting itself will dry quickly, as if it's permanently become one with the rest of the art.]
selfimage: — ɢᴀʀʙᴇᴛᴛ — (Magic dance.)

[personal profile] selfimage 2019-04-03 02:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[ yw. time to make Clarke enjoy more things.

a hand runs over the dried paint and he tilts his head with a little hm! in satisfaction of his own handiwork.

the next thing to come is a milkshake, and after that, a picture of a double scoop of ice cream, complete with whipped cream and a cherry. there's a low hum in his throat, which could be recognized as Queen's Keep Yourself Alive.

after that he goes to look at the pencil sketches, and on one of the closest ones he draws a thin, twirly mustache.

maybe to lighten the mood a little bit. Clarke definitely needs to enjoy things more.
]
Edited 2019-04-03 14:43 (UTC)
strove: (Default)

[personal profile] strove 2019-04-04 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)
[Just like the pain, the pencils take the art and accept it, absorbing it. Making it permanent. Whether a mustache will translate that way is anyone's guess, but it's definitely a permanent part of how sketch!Bellamy looks.

Nothing else changes in here, only seeming to await further adaptations. Loki can draw in here all day, or he can seek something outside. The world out there awaits him, if he chooses to follow the path there.]
selfimage: — ɢᴀʀʙᴇᴛᴛ — (As the world falls down.)

[personal profile] selfimage 2019-04-07 02:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[ before heading out he leaves a few more things: a dirty joke on the wall, along with Loki was here elegantly scripted in Norse runes. when he's properly satisfied with his vandalism, he slides through the open door and to the outside—he leaves the door a little open still, just in case he needs to get back in.

his first inclination is to head to the broken ship, hands in the pockets of his ridiculous jacket. he keeps whistling Queen's Keep Yourself Alive under his breath as he casually heads down toward the ship.
]

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strove: (I am a pretentious person)

underground | closed to x'rhun

[personal profile] strove 2019-04-04 09:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[It isn't the coffee that lures Clarke underground. It's her desperation to find a way under there, curious about how this version of New Amsterdam lacks the multiple layers that she's become accustomed to by now. If that's changed, there must be a reason. Seeking answers, unearthing whatever mystery is here—those are all fitting goals. They're her goals, even if she doesn't necessarily want to leave.

(And she can't. Though Markus offered her a better life, she knows that if she took it, it would be selfish. Clarke knows what happens when someone invites Wanheda into their home. She's all too aware.)

Her climb down through the coffee shop isn't steady, and she remains alert. Once she slips down all the way, she begins walking. Though the woods on her planet weren't silent, she knew how to train her hearing to make it seem as if they were. Pick out sounds. Prevent herself from behind found.

So, when someone approaches from behind, she stops, reaching for a weapon that she's not even sure works. She pulls the gun up and points it forward.]


Who's there? [And if it isn't a who and it is a monster, it's time to see how well this works here. All the tech is wonky, so is this likely to be the same? Time to find out.]
verflair: (063)

[personal profile] verflair 2019-04-04 09:47 pm (UTC)(link)
[ X’rhun had found the state of the long-defunct coffee shop fascinating – not the first piece of civilization he had ever seen that was being slowly reclaimed by nature, of course, but it stuck out to him that it was in such a state in the middle of the city. He very well couldn’t leave such a thing unexplored, now could he?

The flowers had yielded little, apart from dust clinging to his gloves, so into the building and down into the tunnel he went. It’s not as if he means to follow Clarke. In fact, he isn’t aware that he’s not the first person down here until he catches the distant sounds of footsteps with feline ears.

It doesn’t take long for the footsteps ahead of him to stop, warning words thrown out of the darkness on a familiar voice. That makes him relax some, though not enough that he doesn’t proceed with caution. ]


X’rhun. Clarke, is that you?

[ As he comes into view, Clarke will get a look at X’rhun in an interesting outfit, hands well away from the rapier at his hip. ]
strove: (comic books should NEVER CHANGE)

[personal profile] strove 2019-04-04 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[Clarke lowers her gun to her side. X'rhun's voice is unique enough that she can't mistake it with anyone else—and it's extremely unlikely that anyone else would be down here with her. Now that she's here, it's obvious that any civilization is separate from this place. Whatever it means, she can't quite grasp. But she knows that these caves aren't unlike the natural fixtures that were on the outskirts of the Insomniac's Ball.

Still, knowing that she lacks the meaning only tells her that she'll keep on. Having an acquaintance at her side won't hurt. It means that if anyone should follow them down here, they'll have support.]


Yeah, it is. [She's relieved. She twists the gun, a little sheepish.] Sorry, I had to be careful. Do you remember when we met at that party down here? Well. [Her eyebrows raise and lower, as if she's considering that thought.] A version of these caves, anyway.

[For her part, she's dressed conservatively, but her worn jacket, tattered shirt, and jeans seem like they're from another life. For one thing, the jacket itself seems to be made of a dark blue leather, so certainly not anything found here. Plus, her hair is long, going right past her shoulders.]

It's like this dream undid whatever would be underneath the city.
verflair: (039)

[personal profile] verflair 2019-04-05 03:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ He is acquainted enough with how clothing works in New Amsterdam to know that the leather is certainly out of place. Awful kind of whatever power that's shoved them into this dream state to give them their old clothes back. ]

No offense taken, I would do the same.

[ X'rhun has had a great many weapons leveled at him in his day, so it's nothing new really. He certainly cannot fault her for her caution. ]

I could scarce forget that dreadful party, but I do remember the way in being substantially less green. 'Tis why I ventured down here in the first place.

If you intend to see where this goes, I would be glad to accompany you.
strove: (there goes the sun dododododooooo)

[personal profile] strove 2019-04-05 04:35 pm (UTC)(link)
It's probably not good terrain to experience alone. [Clarke says this, fully aware of the fact that she came down here alone in the first place. That's no matter, really. They're both here now. If she can have someone she trusts at her side—and to some degree, she trusts him, if only because of how he's spoken before of wishes, desires, and more—then that's good. It's a net positive.]

I can't shake the fact that it seems like there has to be something that we haven't seen outside. I don't mean ... I know a lot of people have left for relief efforts outside. [The message passed. Markus was among them. Clarke didn't go: it seemed to be a risky venture.] But there are stretches of land between the cities, ones that aren't unlike where we are now. I'd like to see them. And if this is something undone, maybe it'll give us a clue if there's a reason why we haven't.

[Since Clarke likes to rule things out, as well.]

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