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- !arrival log,
- dceu: diana prince,
- dogs b&c: nill,
- dragon age: marian hawke,
- marvel comics: thor,
- mcu: tony stark,
- red vs. blue: terrence ephemera,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- the 100: lexa,
- the boys: homelander,
- the last of us: ellie,
- the magicians: quentin coldwater,
- the vampire diaries: kai parker,
- xena: callisto
ARRIVAL LOG #027
WHERE: A hotel in the financial district for all training. For the Displaced who were around for Anime Naex, it's the same hotel! Later, it all comes together for a big competition concert in the New Amsterdam Stadium.
WHEN: July 22, 2512 for the big show!
WHAT: Auditions for a singing competition, as well as new arrivals!
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Coercion and loss of autonomy, second-hand embarrassment via singing competitions.
Awareness comes to you in blurred snatches, cloudy fragments of sound, light, color, and sensation. It's hard to grasp onto anything but a series of rhythmic beeps, a medicinal astringent smell, and the sensation of movement beneath you. Your eyes are heavy and you struggle to keep them open, but in the glimpses between slow blinks, you see a man in front of you dressed in all white. There isn't any other visibility. Not yet.
You realize there are others with you who are dressed the same way as you. To your left there's an armored interior door, two more people visible, and large, hulking buildings passing by through the window. 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.
When the vehicle stops, a nurse steps into view. His jaw is set as he pulls the IV out of your arm. The movement is harsh, sudden, like he's not taking care to be gentle with it. He's on the clock, it seems.
The nurse opens up the van's door soon after, and he steps out, monitoring the way the two heavily armed soldiers yank you out. The first of them speaks: "Get 'em out—the orders on high say that we're not supposed to stick around too long. Something about us having some heat on our necks." It's a woman from the sound of her voice, and she's irritated, impatient. This job is already weird enough, right? Now there's tension.
Both the guards and the nurse don't waste any time after that. They take care of the IVs and get everyone lined up. "Now listen to us. You're going to head around to the front door of that gaudy bar with all the red lighting. Go inside. They'll know what to do with you. Ask them about the glow if you're not sure." At this time, you'll notice others like you: all dressed in tank tops and a pair of shorts, along with neon-colored flip flops. Given that it's warm as hell outside, the clothes fit.
With the orders given, the guards pile back into the van and pull off into the sky, hitting the road. The road, of course, is in the sky. For the newcomers, it's better to head into the bar like directed. Well, it's not like you have any choice in the matter.
◉ 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 that comes this time is a picture of the shorts-wearing newcomers being funneled into the van, likely from their original destination. There aren't any words, just the picture itself. It can't be traced, but does appear to come from a different, anonymized source than the previous messages.
Did something change?
Out of the alley and around to the front, the newcomers will find a city that is in the process of rebuilding itself. While New Amsterdam has seen better days, it's starting to regain some of its more pristine gleam that it especially tends to acquire in the summer time.
Despite that, New Amsterdam has been through a lot—so much that it's almost impossible to summarize it all. The city's seen a lot of tragedy between giant kaiju attacks, people being hit with a rage sickness, an EMP that killed lots of people, and a vengeance-driven simulation put on by a very angry AI. And this was all New Amsterdam alone. Most recently, the entire world was hit by a monster attack, with the monsters pouring out of unknown crevices beneath every city. Oddly enough, New Amsterdam fared the best throughout the attacks because of the intervention from the strange people with the blue glowing chests (known to each other colloquially as "the Displaced").
Ah, the Displaced. These people have had a presence in New Amsterdam for a while. First, they were the weirdos who inspired messages from the NAPD to remind people that vigilantism is a bad idea after they took out a kaiju all by themselves. Later, they were creeping into medical wings and heading up into the floating pyramid outside of the city to help bring the environmental grid around the world back online. Over time, they've become known, but a lot of the footage of their deeds kept disappearing from the internet. After the simulation where their powers were key to causing little glitches throughout the experience, the Displaced became more widely known. And most recently? They've come out as a group in connection to the bar they run. (Oh, yes, the very same bar that everyone got dropped off at today.) As a result of that, the public has started calling them the "Red Wings."
There has been a group that has quietly appreciated the Displaced for a while. Around September 2511, little shrines started sprouting up around the city depicting the Displaced. While many of these shrines were simple in nature, made up of candles and a simple piece of art portraying someone with a blue shape coming out of their chest, others were beautiful murals, lavish in every way. These murals sell for a lot of money, but the people buying them don't seem to know why these paintings are a big deal.
Are the Displaced worthy of shrines and attention? Debatable. The people connected to the shrines think they're either touched by god, gods themselves, or carrying something god-like within them. These people tend to be marked with sacred geometry tattoos. They aren't in the majority in the city by any means, but they were the first "fans" of the Displaced. Now that the Displaced are becoming known (not for being people from another world, but for their feats to help the city and their glowing blue chests), their shrines are getting more notice.
There does appear to be some basis of truth in what these worshippers believe. The Displaced are connected to weird underground structures that help them fast travel around the globe. They've also had prophetic dreams, as well as some dreams of the past. They've also rewritten reality via a different dreaming experience. Oh, and don't forget the massive amount of greenery growing around New Amsterdam, turning it into one-part rain forest, one part massive metropolitan city. That happened directly after the Displaced returned from a pocket dimension.
Along the way, the Displaced have made some enemies, but whether they're truly considered a threat is still yet to be seen. The UN recently released a statement making it abundantly clear that they aren't fans. There are also mysterious people in shadows hiring mercenaries to move the Displaced around—both in their initial drop offs, as well as during an event. Mercenaries in this world tend to be arms of corporations because they're the ones with the big credits to spend. Of course, corporations are the ruling power in this world.
The most notable of the corporations at the moment is Riverstone. A former entertainment mogul in the 20th and 21st centuries, Riverstone eventually began to broaden their interests prior to World War III. Most recently, they offered to perform tests on the Displaced in exchange for some information. Riverstone has a mild presence in New Amsterdam, but has a symbiotic relationship with the United Nations in their capital city, New Beijing.
Perhaps it's better that New Amsterdam isn't in Riverstone's sights, and instead it's the Displaced themselves. Thanks to New Amsterdam's ability to recover more quickly after the recent monster attacks, they're beginning to move forward on a progressive agenda set out by newly-elected Governor Joseph Lynch and his right hand, Lieutenant Governor Amabel Delafield-Chapin. Part of their agenda involves affordable housing, a way to maintain a low unemployment rate around the city, and various shelters and locales to help people out of hard times. Some of these things are being put into motion by various Displaced, but they aren't the face of the movement.
It feels important to note that it's hot in New Amsterdam right now. Hot, humid, and unpleasant. There is also water rationing going on. So, you know. That's fun!
> RED WINGS
The newcomers were directed to head into a bar that is on the other side of the alley, and there is only one available: the Displaced-run Red Wings. While Red Wings has looked worse for wear thanks to the recent monster attack, it's starting to look like its old self again. Bright red lights welcome the newcomers inside. The windows have been repaired, and the bar looks like it's in better shape. Thanks to the attack, there are still some cosmetic changes in progress to freshen up the place, getting rid of the booths and replacing them with tables, but this appears to be a work in progress.
Thanks to the recent reveal—or owning up to being strange—Red Wings is hopping right now. While it's not possible for any of the newcomers to see because their implant hasn't been activated yet, there are various baseball and soccer games from around the world playing on projected screens. The bar is standing room only at the moment, but there are various bouncers/guards ready to cart anyone out who's seeming a bit unruly.
Even if business is like this, it's unlikely that the current Displaced will ignore you. So, be ready to ask about the glow.
The "When You Believe" competition came about due to a rather simple pitch: all 104 megacities send their top three performers to New Rio De Janeiro to compete with one another to determine who is the best singer in 2511. The problem? It's not 2511 anymore. It's not even early 2512. After months of setbacks, the "When You Believe" competition is finally on the road. Ten cities have already picked their top three performers, and New Amsterdam is next!
Now, what is reality TV like in 2512? Invasive. In a world that already has flimsy expectations of privacy, a singing competition like this is meant to give an inside look at the lives of everyone who signs up. Hell, all permissions are granted by the long-ass contract that you sign when you audition. Everyone's forced to sign the contract to even audition, but no one blinks an eye. Terms and conditions were never anyone's favorite thing to read, right? Nothing's changed.
"When You Believe" has your typical singing competition setup: three judges, each willing to be a mentor for their favorites, as well as an extremely charismatic host. The competition's host is Amoli Bhasin, a charming young actress out of New Delhi who's made waves in the last year for her role in the remake of The Bodyguard. (Sensing a theme here? Whitney is huge in the 26th century, all thanks to the Displaced.) While this is her first hosting gig, Amoli calls the shots. Zany ideas? Invasive interviews? Catching auditioners on candid camera? It all comes from her.
The judges pale in comparison to Amoli, but they are: an older folk singer by the name of Raul Vaites, a dancer named Claire Esposito, and the owner of the world-famous record label, SLAMMING records, Drake Miller.
> AUDITIONING
Think you've got what it takes to believe? (Look, even with all the delays, they didn't come up with very good catch phrases.) Well, guess what: Amoli Bhasin has her sights on the Displaced for her competition. She's going to swing by Red Wings two days before the competition starts to let every employee know that she's looking for a star among them. It would be wasteful to come to New Amsterdam and leave without one of their homegrown stars! Come on, Red Wings, show your spirit!
As mentioned before, auditions essentially provide Amoli and the show's producers a ticket to someone's life. But they don't announce this fact or shine a light on it. Seemingly believing that their way of being incredibly invasive is the new normal—and frankly, it's kinda been that way for centuries, so they aren't wrong—they aren't too forthcoming about the fact that anyone who signs up will be in for more than just fifteen minutes of fame.
Once you sign away your right to privacy, Amoli and her camera crew will be everywhere. Waking up? Oh, they got a key to your apartment through the contractual agreement. Taking a shower? Well, they want to see if you have any tattoos! The only thing that remains private is your accounts that you access via your neural implant. Try as they might, these reality TV shows haven't been able to get the rights to access those things freely. Darn!
Outside of the complete loss of freedom, auditioning is shockingly straightforward. The judges don't care about Amoli's need for spectacle and are just here to judge talent. If you're talented and a Displaced? Odds are you'll move forward through the audition process. If you can't sing and you're here for shits and giggles? Well, Amoli's still grateful you gave her the right to see the inside of your apartment … on accident. Unless, you know, you were angling for voyeurism.
If you're interested in having your character audition, sign up below! Let us know there if your character can sing or if they sound like a dying cat. There is a potential for lasting consequences if your character proceeds through the competition, but they won't be in place until after the AU event ends. Unfortunately, any new arrivals in this log will not be able to audition. (Maybe that's for the best?)
> RISING THROUGH THE RANKS
After the audition period ends, the chosen handful will be assigned a mentor in one of the three judges. These mentors specialize in different areas, and they take an interest in who suits them best. Raul prefers musicians who'll play their own instruments, while Drake is really into the 2512-equivalent of your Christina Aguilera or Mariah Carey type. As for Claire, she prefers performers who can dance, even if their singing might be on its way to a lot of auto-tuning on a record. (They'll still need to sing, but if they can move? That'll help.)
All of the auditioners will be put through a rigorous 48-hour musical bootcamp before they have to perform before an audience full of New Amsterdam citizens.
This performance? Oh, it'll take place in the New Amsterdam Stadium that's riiiight across the street from Red Wings. This competition wants to be the real deal. That may be why Amoli is determined to ensure that a member of the Displaced makes it that far.
> VIEWING EXPERIENCE
Throughout the week-long competition, there will be 24 webcasts of the various people auditioning. Amoli will be everywhere in New Amsterdam causing trouble. Even if the city is hot, miserable, and under water rationing restrictions, Amoli doesn't seem to give a damn. It does seem that some of the filming is done via little drones zipping around the city to spy on people. Look, Amoli can't be everywhere at once.
Otherwise, the hotel holding the initial auditions and main bootcamp is open for anyone willing to pay their way in. Prices aren't steep, if only because they want to make it seem like the competition is getting a lot of attention despite the current state of the city (and the world). Impressions are everything!
> THE FINAL SHOWDOWN
Everything culminates in one big show at the New Amsterdam Stadium. Tickets for this leg of the competition are still recently affordable, though no one will be able to get front row seats. All of those seats are reserved for high-level executives from the three major New Amsterdam corporations (Pulsar, Vyonation, and Giles Bell). Governor Joseph Lynch and Lieutenant Governor Amabel Delafield-Chapin were also provided executive suites in order to watch the show.
Three people will advance from this leg in the competition to go forward and compete in the Rio de Janeiro contest later in the year. If Amoli gets her wish, one or more of those three will be a member of the unique group of people with glowing chests.
> MERCHANDISE
As a part of Amoli's pitch, she's working together with local second-hand clothing companies to put out patches and various types of merchandise to let New Amsterdam citizens rep their favorite Believer. These things will be hastily put together, and they won't be cheap. While they aren't charging a lot for tickets to any of the events connected to the competition, they're eager to make up for it via this merchandise.
On top of it, Amoli's being a bit shameless: she's also requested that a few thousand Red Wing pins and patches be made. Even if she can't get a Displaced on her show—and she sure as hell is going to try—she intends to make money off of them!
Hell, if Red Wings isn't gonna do it, that means it's up for grabs!
Not long after their arrival, the new Displaced will be brought across the city to an abandoned hover-bike garage in a neighborhood that's clearly seen better days.
Located under said hover-bike garage, access to the safehouse is a hatch in the floor beside a rusted set of metal shelves that used to hold tools and supplies. The immediate area is similarly abandoned: full of rundown and dilapidated warehouses and forgotten businesses, where numerous people squat in hopes of having some stability because they can't afford a place themselves. Gaby will be around, ready to greet as many of the new arrivals as she can and get them settled in. Brusque and no-nonsense, she'll be open to questions, but will advise the newcomers to ask the people who brought them in for the beginning bits of information. Newbies can also contact El through zeir inbox, if needed.
The safehouse is a large space with multiple rooms for storage, with the largest of the rooms filled with rows of basic cots set up to sleep a large number 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. There was a VR system for anyone who'd be hanging around the safehouse for a long time, but it's currently still out for repairs. Unfortunately, the partitions that were setup were destroyed by some viciously digging moles, so privacy is back to being nonexistent down in the safehouse.
◉ New characters will be asked to pick their beds, and be provided with a change of (second-hand, mismatched and somewhat threadbare) clothes and basic toiletries.
◉ There is a mini-bar set up in the kitchen. The quality of the alcohol inside is akin to what someone might get from the well at a bar, but it's well-stocked.
◉ While the kitchen has basic foods and necessities, anyone looking for a jolt of caffeine from coffee or tea will find themselves sorely lacking. The only tea present is herbal in nature, and caffeine appears to be pretty much nonexistent in most of the beverages lying around.
◉ Along those same lines, newcomers will find that this is a world that is steeped in sustainable choices. Paper is a thing of the past. Ever used a bidet regularly? This world gives everyone a crash course in exactly what that feels like if they haven't done that before.
◉ Gaby will make it clear to all new arrivals that if they have any requests or queries, they should contact her or El. Either she or El will explain that they've been given a modest stipend of credits to help them get by until they can find a job. This will be enough to cover their living expenses for about a month while they hang out in the safehouse, if they're careful with budgeting.
◉ 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 do not have access to the internet until their ID is setup. They only have limited access because they're present in the safehouse, but they can't surf the rest of the internet, check out Cooltalk, or watch the equivalent of Netflix until their ID is made.
◉ New characters cannot leave the safehouse at this time. The hatch is locked tight for them, making it impossible for them to get out for the next four days while they're locked inside. There won't be any immediately obvious ways to cut their way out through turning off the power, either. Time to sit tight.
◉ New characters will not be allowed to leave the safehouse until JULY 26 (NOVEMBER 21). 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. However, this is when the AU starts, so while characters will know they have to sit tight for four days, they won't be able to explore outside of the safehouse as themselves until after the AU is done.
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 to roam free until after the AU event and characters return to their normal selves. (Keep in mind that our sole AU opt-out option is to be brought into the AU but not mentally AUed in. If you take that route with your character, they will of course be able to roam free in that world!)
Before the AU, all characters will appear as @anonymous on the network. While sitting down in the safehouse, it's expected that 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. Of course, then they'll be tossed into an AU, so how's that for a whacky crash course?
If you have any questions or ideas about how you'd like to get your character involved in the world, please head over to the plot engagement post and drop us a comment! For questions specific to this log, there is a thread below.
The November CR meme for the month is here.
Please check out our November calendar rundown for a look at things happening this month.
As we announced in our calendar, AC will remain halved until at least January 2021. New players will only need to provide at least five comments across two-four (2-4) threads, while older players will only need to provide ten comments across two-four (2-4) threads. Please let us know if you have any questions about this!
Finally, take a look at our AU event outline one last time and let us know any questions or concerns you have about it! We'll be posting the full planning post on November 16th, with the first log for the event going live on November 21st.
wanda maximoff | mcu | ota
.• ii. safehouse arrival
.• iii. safehouse night
.• iv. wild card
red wings
--well, like the young woman there leaning against the wall. In a moment, Diana is up and nodding at her question, gesturing for her to take a seat on the stool.]
Yes, of course. I'll order some for you.
[All that takes is a quick wave to the bartender, and then her attention is back on Wanda, brows creased with concern.]
Are you alright?
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(is that how long she'd been out — ?)
shuffling her feet across the floor, trying to avoid tripping in her newly given flip flops, she slides onto one of the stools, gripping her finger along the counter's edge to regain her sense of balance. ]
Thank you. [ she responds quietly but politely, giving a light nod as she gradually lifts her head to look at the woman. ]
I think so, it's just — it's a bit like when you wake up after sleeping for so long and your throat feels like a raspy desert. I might have just ... overslept.
no subject
Her brows raise slightly at the comparison, but after a moment of thought, she nods in agreement.]
I know what you mean.
[It's a very apt description, actually, and just serves to solidify her suspicion that she might be one of the new displaced. The water finally arrives, and she flashes a smile at the person behind the bar before gesturing to the glass.]
There's your oasis. Hopefully it will help you feel better.
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red wings.
At first Booker thinks to let someone else take the lead on helping her out; there are always other Displaced ready to lend a hand and a kind word, and Booker isn't great at either of those things these days. But the long years spent with his family, and his own discomfort of letting someone helpless struggle on their own has him up on his feet, approaching carefully with a glass of water in hand. ]
Here. [ He offers the glass. ] They told you to come here, didn't they? The people in the van.
no subject
but now, there's nothing but emptiness when she tries to reach out that part of herself, nothing but the chatter extended through the bar along with the man's voice as he offers the glass.
in any other moment, she might refrain from accepting it. but in this one, her mouth feels dry enough for her to bypass skepticism as she takes the cup from his hand. ]
Thank you. [ she mutters it in a quiet breath before she brings the glass to her lips, taking a long, almost desperate gulp as she feels the freshness spread along her throat.
with a satisfied sigh, she catches her breath, lifting her eyes to him again. ] Are you the one I'm meant to meet?
no subject
[ Yeah, he gets that — maintaining a constant edge of paranoia in every decision made, every interaction with a stranger is what kept him (and his family) alive all these centuries. Of course, a death is just a death for someone like him, but it's the discovery of what he is, what he can and cannot do (die, that is) that scares him. Or it did, anyway — until Booker made a horrible mistake, and he'd woken up here without it.
Still, he tries to look as harmless as possible. It's a toss-up when he's dressed like he'd come off the streets, his t-shirt worn and frayed at the hems, his joggers a bit too short in some areas, too loose in others. No flip-flops, at least. God, he hates flip-flops. ]
If by 'the one' you mean: have I been through the same thing? Then, yes. [ His voice is deep, a little gruff, but kind enough. Understanding. And there's an accent too — French. ] I can tell you what I know, though it might not exactly bring you much comfort.
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safehouse arrival
Except that Steve's gone.
Except that ever since, Bucky's been slipping in to the new population just on the off chance — maybe to disappoint himself and gradually crush out the hope.
In any case, the familiar face he finds isn't one he'd been expecting. Of course he knows her, reputation alone would be enough, but that fight at the airport cements it. Friends of friends, and on top of that he owes her. ]
Hey.
[ A little bit of surprise in the quiet greeting, a barely-there furrow in his brow. ]
No, I... don't think I've seen anybody around it. It's Wanda, right?
[ His hair's been chopped off, but the metal arm is a pretty distinguishing feature. Memorable, probably. ]
no subject
when he speaks, the familiarity finally begins to strike in, her lips parting with that silent gasp that comes paired with clarity. ]
... Bucky.
[ she isn't sure if there's more shock in seeing him in particular or just in simply seeing someone whose face is familiar from home. ]
Right, yes — Wanda. I ... didn't realize any of the others would be here. Have you been here all this time?
no subject
The silver lining to this place: no criminal record. No wanted posters. No deaths by his hands. He doesn't hate it here as much as he probably should.
He offers a small smile at the sound of his name. Tiny, but genuine. ]
A few months.
[ Confirmed with a gentle nod. ]
Natasha's here. Strange — the... wizard guy, I don't know if you know him. Steve--
[ A start and a stop.
He picks back up again without a change in expression. ]
Was here for a while, too. You're not alone.
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safehouse night
It's cool that there are people who slip in and out who seem to know the ropes of this place, but he figures there's just something different when you're lost and alone. The others from before might understand, but they don't get it. Not right now.
So yeah, he'd recognized Wanda as someone who'd been brought in with him when he'd slipped into the kitchen for. Shit. Something. He doesn't know. Being stuck in here can make him restless, sometimes; he doesn't like it.
He freezes at the sound of her voice, not expecting it. Slowly turns to look over at her. Evaluates for a second. ]
Sure. [ It's not a bad idea. It's an idea, which is more than he'd had.
He goes to take advantage of the still hot water, making his own tea. He goes for a generous amount; he enjoys having flavour, whatever it actually ends up being.
And then stands there, looking at her, unsure of if there's an invitation to join her.
Tentatively, ] Is it working?
no subject
but she knows he'd been one of the ones to arrive alongside her, recalling how unsteady she'd been then, mind still hazy from the iv that had been pinched her arm, still unsure how long she had been out before she'd woken up. ]
Not yet. [ she gives a small smile, more in humor at the lack of confidence she actually has in the method. ]
I think a part of me is frighten to go to sleep again. As if I don't know when I'd wake again, like this past time. [ when she'd been so vulnerable, so weak. she tightens her fingers around her cup, looking up at him. ] Do you know how long we'd been unconscious?
no subject
Being frightened to go back to sleep - yeah, he can relate to that, maybe. He hadn't really thought about it before, but something about being trapped in another darkness, body left alone and vulnerable.
He shakes his head. ]
No.
[ He looks down into his tea, the faint steam wafting up from it. Back up at her. He's... not entirely sure how to express empathy. ]
I get it, though. You're alone out here. And just because nothing's happened to you in the past couple of days doesn't mean it won't again.
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Safehouse but a vague wildcard
It's fairly early in their process that Midge heads down to the safehouse, heels clicking lightly, a large dish in her hands. She's dressed to the nines, wig and makeup and dress straight out of the 1950s, and the moment she rounds the corner to face everyone she's all smiles. ]
Hiya.
[ She catches eyes with a girl--pretty thing, she thinks--and her smile widens, just a fraction. ]
Hungry?
no subject
still, nothing is quite as out of place as the woman who eventually arrives to the safehouse with a meal, her own eyes more on the woman's attire than the food that she brings in, as if perhaps she could somehow piece together the reasoning behind it — she can't. ]
A little. [ it's spoken politely, but the look in her eyes is clear that she's starving, not recalling the last time she's had a decent meal. ]
Are you ... the cook here?
no subject
Not quite, but there's nothing quite like something homemade to get you guys back on your feet. When I first arrived here someone brought pizza and I nearly went bonkers over how good it was.
[ Mostly because it was coming from someone soon to be a friend, and here it's the little things that count. She's already unloading what she's brought, glancing over at the girl again. ]
I'm Midge. We're going to need plates--could you be a dear and grab them?
safehouse | night—
not the involuntary brain surgery, the compulsion or even the whole new world rerun that makes up the majority of his forty-something years of life. he can handle them just fine. once a guy's been to hell, a lot of things seem trivial in comparison. besides, at least he isn't alone this time.
no, it's the incredibly inconvenient setback of a) losing his ability to siphon and b) not being confined to one place.
he knows, he knows. it's temporary — the confinement; not the loss of his magic, heart and soul. (although, to be fair, he has either lost or never possessed all three at least once before.) they're gonna release them back out into the wild once they've set up their new IDs and then he can be on his merry way.
the problem is that until then, he won't be able to leave the safehouse and he unfortunately hasn't had a sip of blood since he woke up in that delightful, little van.
luckily, he has managed to subdue his growing hunger with the generous amount of alcohol available at the minibar, but... it's really not as effective as time drags on and time is definitely dragging on. he feels like an addict on the brink of a withdrawal and he is trying his darnedest to hold on because he seriously does not want anyone to know that he's a vampire. they're generally not received well, especially in enclosed spaces. he finds it cosmically hilarious that he has lost all of his supernatural abilities, yet he still needs blood to survive.
why couldn't they have at least let him keep the compulsion?
so, in order to keep himself from looking at all his fellow "displaced" as a hearty meal, kai makes his way to the kitchen for his umpteenth drink.
just his luck, he isn't alone. ] No thank you. [ his tone is a little too chipper and his smile is a little too tight, but it has nothing to do with the brunette at the table. nope, it's allll him. ] I need something a little more, ah—... [ he opens up the cabinet where they're storing the booze. ] strong.
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and it hadn't simply been on the outside. no, she could feel it inside within her, the lack of energy that would so often stretch itself beneath herself, making a home around her bones and in her very blood. her magic hadn't just been a special trick she could cast; it had become a part of her.
and now that it had somehow vanished, she'd never felt quite so empty.
tea, of course, is hardly going to help, but in order to keep herself from breaking into a panic (in which she'd have no real way to fight back if they came after her), she attempts calm and patience, the way in which natasha had often advised her to approach a tricky situation that seemed overwhelming. remember the training, she reminds her.
calm or not, wanda still doesn't necessarily look pleased about anything of this, even as she sips her drink slowly, unlike the man that steps in, cheer in his expression that almost seems too uncomfortable to watch considering the situation they're in. ]
If you're looking to pass out more quickly, that might work better. I can't guarantee you'll wake up feeling well in the morning, though.
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being a siphoner has defined his entire life. he was born as one, he was condemned as one, he was hated and judged as one. siphoning determined the path he would take and shaped who he was from the very moment he could exercise it. he neither remembers nor knows a life without it.
it was both his curse and his safety net all wrapped into one complicated and messy package.
so, yeah, that unyielding sense of emptiness and turbulence from deep within? yeah, he feels it too, with every breath he takes, every beat of his heart.
he desperately wants to lash out, to take out his anger and frustration at everyone around him, yet he can't do that. instead, he has bottled it up and shelved it away somewhere in the back of his mind to be dealt with later. it helps that he has bigger worries at the moment. ]
I think passing out is just what I need. [ it'll lessen the risk of him biting anyone. helping himself to a bottle of vodka, he pours a glass for himself. ] Otherwise, I don't think I'll be able to sleep. [ leaning against the counter, he raises the glass in her direction before taking a couple of beats to down the drink. ] Phew. That sure hit the spot.
[ time for another refill. ] What about you? [ he arches a brow at her. ] Having trouble sleeping or... avoiding it?
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iii
he's later tonight than he would usually be, so he's surprised to find someone awake in the kitchen ]
A kind offer, but sleep isn't what I've come for. When there are new arrivals I come and cook a few meals. [ he's a bit of a sight, with one metal arm and an eyepatch, but his smile is warm enough. ] I am Thor, and I've been in this world for a number of months already.
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really, it's the name that draws a raise of her brow, because while he bears a familiarity of the man she knows — a god she's fought — she knows he couldn't possibly be the same. a coincidence, maybe, she thinks, taking a sip of her tea as she hums her amusement. ]
Cooking entire meals is a kind gesture for strangers. [ especially when she's still quite distrusting of most of them in her short time here. ] I'm Wanda. Are you named for the god?
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then he chuckles at her question, even as he notes that the name sound familiar and takes a second look at her. he's met enough doubles of people from his world to know they don't always look the same. ]
Not named for him. I am the god, you see. Not quite as powerful as I was back home, unfortunately.
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safehouse night
He could leave. He's good at that.
But he doesn't. ]
Sure. You'll have to pick the blend. I don't know much about tea. [ A pause. He doesn't think he's seen her before, and her hair still has those rough edges, even if it's longer than what most people get when they wake up here. ]
Has anyone told you about the dreams, yet?
( ooc: I know you're busy with house stuff but here's a late prompt anyway, no pressure!! )
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[ there's a brief moment where she thinks she recognizes him, though she can't quite place it. on account of her feeling everything fairly fuzzy since she's arrived, she doesn't consider it more than her widespread uncertainty about everything she's encountered here so far.
but when he accepts the offer, she nods, feeling a slight sense of pride in having some usefulness. ]
It depends on what you're looking for, but the chamomile is the most calming, I feel.
[ she rises on her feet, going through the cabinets once more.
her head turns, though, with his question. ] The dreams?
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But here they are. ]
That'd be nice. [ The chamomile, he means. The dreams are something else. He presses his lips together, unsure how to explain it. ]
Whatever they did— whatever brought us here. It linked our dreams, as well.
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