TDM: NOVEMBER / DECEMBER

[ryslighelpers]

TDM: NOVEMBER / DECEMBER

Welcome to the Ryslig Test Drive Meme! Below are a few prompts to get you started, but you may make up any prompt you desire! Please take a look at the navigation page for rules, setting information, and links to reserves and apps. Have fun!

SCENARIO ONE

You wake up on the beach thoroughly drenched, with your mouth full of sand. The salt water is making all the cuts and scrapes on your skin sting and the sand isn't helping. The air is slightly humid, ruining any feeling of refreshment you might have gotten from your dip in the ocean.

There are lights in the distance, but the unfriendly scent of gunpowder fills the air. If you're lucky, you're alone. If not - you might find yourself staring up into a pair of monstrous eyes or down the barrel of a local's shotgun.

SCENARIO TWO

So you've just arrived, and already some of the natives are trying to get on your good side with offers of food, shelter and other luxuries in return for hoping you don't eat them. They even have some helpful pamphlets to share with you. "How To Deal With Changes", "Alternatives to Human Flesh", "What to Expect When You're Expecting (to turn into a monster)" are all on the more informative end of the scale. There's even some detailing certain monsters, and the changes they go through. Some of these seem to have been passed down from one monster to the next.

Among these however, are some... not so helpful ones. "Bunnyipyips And You", "Axe Thief Axehounds," and "So you're becoming a Fur Bearing Trout" among others. Sometimes they have marks on them from previous readers saying they're lies, or pointing out good "jokes."

Then there are the people who aren't happy to see you at all. Glares and silent, judging stares if you're lucky, torches and pitchforks attempting to drive you out of the town if you're not. You may need a friend to help you.

SCENARIO THREE

"Seek us out," the voice whispers in your head, and before you have time to question it you've found yourself in someplace entirely alien.

Maybe it's the Fog God's ghostly town of Dyster, where exultant followers dance around bonfires and sing their praises to the skies above. Maybe it's the Fourth God's arcade, with small robots wheeling about amidst the lights and colors of old pinball machines.

Only one thing is certain: you are not alone, in this sacred place.

SCENARIO FOUR

The time has come and you've found yourself becoming a monster. Is the change instant, or gradual? Are you familiar enough with monsters to know what's happening, or is it a complete shock? Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.

Comments

Julian Bashir | Star Trek: DS9

[asklepian]

I.
[Statistically speaking, going to sleep and waking up in a strange place has never meant anything good to Julian.

He wakes up all at once, with a sharp intake of breath as his mind whirs to life and starts to catalogue, analyze, compartmentalize. He's wet and covered in sand, the air is uncomfortably thick and smells of rotting sea plants and salt, there's sounds of surf crashing against stone. He doesn't hear the low hum of a holodeck--though he's been fooled by that before, he doesn't immediately discount the possibility.

The actual feel of salt stinging in cuts and wounds under his uniform sleeves, though, lends some feeling that this is happening in reality.]

Ezri?

[Though he doesn't get the chance to hear her respond before he hears approaching feet and sits bolt upright, staring wide-eyed at the shabby man with a--is that a bloody shotgun?--raised and pointed right at him.

Oh, this was bringing back some extremely unpleasant memories.]

This is most likely some sort of mistake, let's just calm down and talk about this...

II.
[After having...removed himself from the uncomfortable situation on the beach, Julian had gone towards the lights he'd seen in the distance. His sodden uniform jacket was stripped off and tied around his waist, leaving the long-sleeved teal underlayer at the top.

The natives here seem much friendlier to start with, which he finds a relief at first until he catches sight of the titles of the pamphlets they're trying to hand him.]

This has to be some kind of joke, and I can't say I find it funny. Excuse me.

[He turns to leave--where he's going, he's not sure. Maybe back to the beach to see if he can find his comm badge, but somehow he doesn't think this will be that easy.]

III. (Waldgeist)
[Well, he had been convinced that the pamphlets were some sort of macabre joke, but the unbearable itching and headaches brought on by having bloody antlers erupting from his skull have started to change his mind somewhat. Literally bloody now, as the protective velvet started to slough off.

He grits his teeth at a stab of pain in his back, around the top of his spine, and newly long and rounded ears flick in agitation. Whatever's happening here, there must be some way to stop it.

Whatever transformation happening here has made him extremely sensitive to light, so he's moving in as much shadow as he can to avoid further discomfort, looking for a library or something, somewhere where he can try to solve this bloody mystery with a rational explanation.]

3!

[sawteeth]

[ Oh, ew. There's a lot of blood and scraps of tattered flesh on this trail, and Montgomery can already tell that this is going to be disgusting. Unfortunately for him, he hasn't gotten a hold of a weapon yet--well, not a proper one, anyway. He's found a sizable enough board in an alleyway, though, and that's good enough for him. Could do with a few more nails, but beggars couldn't be choosers, after all! ]
[ By the time he tracks down Julian, the smell of blood is practically the only thing he can pick up on, metallic and--off. It's not quite the scent he's grown so accustomed to in his line of work, and if the start of the trail hadn't already tipped him off that something was wrong, this would've been it. He catches sight of the other man as he slinks along, trying to stay out of sight--a sensible enough ploy, honestly, but one that hadn't quite paid off for him. ]

Th'fuck are you. [ His tone is sharp, commanding--there's no use beating around the bush, is there? He doesn't really need to know at the end of the day, but--this island is new territory, and he's not completely confident yet. If the pamphlets were anything to go by, this guy might not necessarily be a threat to be destroyed, either. ] 'Sides bleeding, that is, but I think that much's obvious.

I

[boneshears]

Today was not going to be a good one. Having woken along the shoreline in a thoroughly sodden wool suit and sand in his mouth, things had gone from bad to worse as he was forced to dodge weirdos with weaponry who seemed to have a massive problem with him.

And here Morgenstern was, for once having not given them reason to do so.

The man on the beach calls out to the shotgun wielder, but Morg's experiences so far with such people tells him reasonable conversation is not an option. When the man raises the shotgun he grabs it, wrenching upwards so the shot is instead discharged into the sky. Then, he pulls hard on the gun, dragging the man close, and headbutts him, feeling a twang of satisfaction through the pain as the man goes down.

"I'd get moving, if I were you. Folk ain't so friendly round these parts."

II

[liveandletdye]

[As Julian dismisses the pamphlets and begins to move on, he passes by what appears, at first glance, to be a middle aged human man sitting on a street bench and idly contemplating a pastry as he calls out to Julian in a glib, conversational tone.]

Well, that's a rather uncharitable assumption.

[If he looks a little closer, he might find that the man looks vaguely familiar and also vaguely dead. His face is sunken in and his complexion is dull and pallid. The only part of him that isn't washed out and lifeless is a pair of keen eyes that look up from the pastry to meet Julian's gaze.]

After all, what kind of person would go to all that trouble for the sake of a cruel joke? They would have to be remarkably mean spirited to do something like that.

Gabriel Morgenstern | Original Character

[boneshears]

[I]

He awakens and immediately throws himself upright to choke the sand from his mouth, spitting and coughing furiously as he does so. The world spins from whatever had put him under, and for a moment, there’s a blind panic that he did not, in fact, plan for every outcome if this was the world in which he was awakening. He’s vaguely aware that his clothes are plastered to his skin from water, and when his brain kicks into gear, he runs his hands over himself until he’s sure he’s unwounded. No vibrio vulnificus infection to worry about at the minimum. But he’s not going to relax at all.

Morgenstern runs a hand (thankfully still gloved, though sodden) over his face, and stops to pinch the bridge of his nose. He needed to do so many things all at once. Work out where he was. Spend several hours scrubbing the sand and salt from his skin. Use an entire bottle of mouthwash until he felt even the memory of sand in it was washed away. Plan. Make many, many plans to deal with whatever shithole situation he was finding himself in, no doubt thanks to the wretches in Team Ragnarok. Most importantly, he needed one thing: Information.

“Unless you’re here to either put me out of my misery or tell me what the fuck is going on here, piss off.”

He doesn’t turn around to see who’s approaching. He supposes it doesn’t matter. He can’t feel the telltale weight of a weapon at his side as he hears the soft crunch of wet sand under foot. He’s at the mercy of whoever approaches. Small comfort in the inevitable.

[II]

He’s not at all bothered by those that clutch their pitchforks (What is this? American Gothic: the Jamboree?) closer and glare silently at him. Few in number are those that are ever happy to see Morgenstern in any capacity. Them already being unhappy with his existence was just skipping a few irritating steps where he was forced to deal with people too stupid to be bothered with. Some of the people are okay. He doesn’t accept any offers of food, but also does not bother explaining that it’s because he hasn’t seen it prepared at every step and can’t be sure it isn’t full of some disgusting uncleanliness. He does, however, take the leaflets.

These, Morgenstern thinks to himself, are hilarious. Axe Thief Axehounds. The Gillygaloo and You. Each one is filled with various observations from previous recipients. He leans in a little closer to one of the other newcomers at the fire, faux-charming grin revealing perhaps just a little too many teeth.

“Aren’t these darling? I do love a little local colour.”

[III]

There’s wood smoke on the wind, marbled through the fog that swirls around him like milk in this morning’s coffee. Morgenstern spins wildly, brain working overtime as he tries to reconcile turning around a corner in the Ragnarok compound and finding himself here. Behind him only stretches more fog, with bonfires like orange beacons interspersed between the silhouettes of what might be buildings. As he watches, stock still, hair on the back of his neck rising, he can see black figures crossing over the flame.

Where the hell was he?

The voice in his head is a surprise, and he hisses with sudden fury as it echoes within him: Seek Us Out.

“Who are you?”

He’s careful to say it low, quiet so as not to draw undue attention in an unfamiliar land. He can’t risk it. He runs a hand down the front of the suit, and registers, almost blankly, that he’s been entirely disarmed. He was going to have to fend for himself, if anyone approached. He swears, furiously, disorientated in the Fog.

2--

[sawteeth]

You could call it that. [ He shrugs. ] I'm more of the opinion that they're horseshit, myself.
[ Still, he's clearly amused--there's even a bit of a smirk on his face, and that's something of a rare sight. Without bothering to ask permission, he reaches over, delicately tugging out a pamphlet labeled 'That's Not A Bug--That's A Faerie' in bright, blocky letters. ]
Y'seen this one yet? Spends like, two pages talkin' about how the Tooth Fairy really just wants your blood. Wild.

iii

[coffeepots]

Clint doesn't know how he ended up here. The Fog has ways of turning people around, and with an entity as fickle as the Fog God, it's difficult to tell why she does...well, anything, really. Clint highly suspects that whatever she does is an effort to push more people into her little cult. Maybe this is just her attempting to test Clint.

He blinks, nose twitching at the smell of burning wood. It's difficult to see anything beyond vague shapes through the mist, but he can see a figure a few feet away. Some words are spoken aloud--he can't quite make it out with how quiet it is.

He pauses for a moment, unsure of whether to reply. Unfortunately for Clint, the Fog has trapped him in his (annoyingly fluffy) monstrous form. But if this person does mean harm, he's not entirely defenseless--he's got teeth and claws, even if he's hesitant to use them.

"You're gonna have to speak up, bud. Some of us are deaf."

It's a joke at his own expense. He sees the figure move--running a hand down their jacket, or searching it. For what? A weapon? Could they be armed? A vague sense of alarm creeps through his mind as he takes a small step back, putting some distance between himself and the stranger.

ee

[allroadsendwithreality]

Between fumbling for a weapon imaginary and nothing at all, Mister Treble is glad he has yet an umbrella left to twirl.

“Unfortunate, isn’t it?”

It spins.

“Vomited by the sea in a three piece suit,” clarifies Mister Treble. “Never going to get it out the way you would like.” As for him, if his corduroys were meant to be in similar peril, it doesn’t show. Consider the possibility that Mister Treble has been more careful.

As he is and ever always.

There are not enough pockets of what could be sunshine poking through the clouds to make Mister Treble’s sunglasses shine the way they are now. His is a beaming smile, close lipped and polite. How couldn’t he be in the presence of another gentleman? They might even be familiar. (Wouldn’t that be fun, or so thinks Mister Treble; he can’t say he would mind such an old chestnut, really.)

“Hmm…”

His head turns to the breach of forest, and gnarled and dank and anathema juxtaposed against orange and lightness and so many eyes, uninterested. Mister Treble knows what is coming next and, like anyone, finds it rude to spoil the surprise. But he does say this:

“You ought to duck.”

3

[feudalladyshandmaid]

An unfortunate thing about "undue attention". It can be drawn by other things besides your voice, such as your choice of attire. And right now, Dyster wasn't exactly the climate to be walking around in a tailored suit; many of the Fog worshippers danced around in simple cloaks, or various more ritualistic garbs. Fortunately, none of them were paying Gabriel any mind.

Even better, it makes newcomers very easy to pick out amongst the crowd. Red eyes watching him, redder than the flames the crowd danced around.

"Are you asking specifically or just in general?"

Asked a young woman who seemed to just sort of... appear nearby. Unlike the denizens of this unfortunate little town, Cassandra wore a impressive trenchcoat, with hat pulled tight against her head. It's into the evening here, but you could never be too careful when the sunlight causes you... uncomfortableness.

Shouto Todoroki || My Hero Academia || ota

[freezeflame]

I) wheel in the sky keeps on turning

[it's been a little while since Shouto's found himself disoriented and confused. he wakes up feeling like he's been sleeping for weeks, his body sore and... and wet? why is he wet? why is he sandy?

he rolls from his back onto his stomach so that he can push himself up. augh, it hurts. but he can't just lie here on the beach without answers. he moves to rise, and that is when he realizes that he is not alone.

there are other people on this beach, people who have been waiting for him to wake up. there is a gun shoved near his face. he stares, wide-eyed, and plots to defend himself.

only... his Quirk... it won't work! why? he stares up at the gun like a deer caught in the headlights]

II) worlds apart

[a few days after his arrival, Shouto is walking through Bavan to get acquainted with the area. townspeople approach him easily, not because he's got such a friendly and personable personality, but because he's new. they can see his weird hair, his different colored eyes, he's not from around here, certainly.

and then they start shoving pamphlets at him?

Shouto tries to avoid the crowds, but now his arms are full with these things. he finally stops at a cafe with his new reading material. over tea, he starts to digest what's been given to him.

alternatives to human meat? why would they have even bring that up... unless... realization starts to dawn in. he turns to someone nearby, looking more frantic than usual]

Are we really turning into monsters?

III) wildcard

[for other scenarios! feel free to poke lovebakery to plot. if you want to use a different format, that's fine, too. i can match. he's up to date with the anime only, so he's between 14 and 15 years old]

1

[mystree]

[New arrivals were supposed to show up along this beach, or at least that was what he'd gathered. Dipper wasn't entirely certain, but checking it out wouldn't be a bad idea, he imagined. Some people might need help or be disoriented.

He was very much right when he saw a group of men, one with a gun, surrounding a boy who looked somewhere around his age. Crap. He's in trouble. He looks disoriented - confused -- that's when he whistles, getting the men's attention.

One of them creeps over to check where he was hiding...and that man is promptly met with a rock to the forehead. Luckily, that's the one with the gun, and Dipper's just fast enough to grab it.]

Back! Back! Go back where you came from!

[...He has no idea how to use a gun correctly, but he knows how to turn the safety off and wave it around like he does. This is enough, however, to scare the other unarmed men off. Dipper smirks, before he puts the safety back on...carefully...and decides to take the gun with him.

Just in case. He'd get rid of it soon enough.

He walked over to the other boy around his age, the one being menaced, with a weak smile.]

Uh...hi. Sorry for the rude awakening. You've probably got a lot of questions, but you're not alone here and we're probably safe even if we probably shouldn't stick around this area too long.

2

[justbeingknife]

Sure are.

[ Majima was at a nearby table, with a chocolate croissant and a cup of his own. Sometimes it was hard to spot the out-of-towners; Majima himself looked human during the daytime. But in the case of Todoroki, this was a little less so. ]

Not immediately. You get a little time between when ya wake up here and when it starts.

Montgomery Rhodes - Original

[sawteeth]

[ one ]

[ The first thing he registers when he wakes up isn't the damp or the persistent sting of saltwater in fresh wounds--instead, it's simply the grit, sand caked to his face and clothes like he's been sleeping here for hours. Between the smell of brine and seaweed, he can pick up on gunpowder somewhere nearby, and that's all the jolt his brain needs to finish waking him up. Immediately, he bolts upright, taking only the briefest stock of all those new twinges and stabs of pain as he scowls down at the layer of coastline he's sporting. Eugh. His tie's all out of sorts, and the rest of his clothes haven't fared much better; after a bit of preening, however, Montgomery finally decides that he's gotten to a much more acceptable level of presentation, especially with the half-pound of sand swatted off of himself. He gently tugs his gloves back into their proper place, setting the cuffs just so, and turns-- ]
[ --only to spot the source of the smell a few dozen feet down the beach. There's a few people crowding around something, and he has to squint to pick out the details through the crush of limbs and angry gestures; it's not at all hard to recognize the silhouette of a shotgun, however. A few of them, even. That didn't exactly bode well for the local temperament, honestly. ]

[ There's something else nearby, though; he's heard the faint rustle of movement coming from somewhere in his blind spot, and his hackles rise before he can even figure out what it is. He's not alone--and if he doesn't get out of sight soon, the locals further down the beach are going to notice him before he can even get his bearings. Grumbling quietly to nothing in particular, he pushes himself up to his feet, trying not to make too many more sudden movements. He can spot lights, but that didn't mean safety; at the moment, his goal is to simply make it to the underbrush, hoping to keep himself out of sight before the locals get through with their current business. The fact that Monty still can't pinpoint where that other sound was coming from irritates the hell out of him, but it's something he'll have to worry about later, once he's properly hidden. ]

[ The sound of a shotgun blast very close by tells him that he should probably move faster. ]


[ two ]

Are you fuckin' kidding me, here.

[ Even if they were, it wouldn't be all that funny to him. Monty had been more or less on board up until the pamphlets, the pile of offers he'd received amounting up to a relatively comfortable stay here, but--something didn't sit right. Never mind that the fact that the idea of staying here stuck in his craw, even with the cushy padding; all of these pamphlets point toward one thing in particular, and that's what really gets him. ]
[ Becoming a monster. Becoming something else, something inhuman, and having little to no way to resist it, if the information he'd gleaned from them on his brief glance through the less trashy ones were anything to go by. He snorts, shaking his head--this can't be right. ]

Load'a bullshit. [ He flips open 'So You're Becoming a Fur-Bearing Trout,' something close to amusement actually finding its way to his face for once. ] This ain't even what these things look like.


[ three ]

[ 'Seek us out--' ]

Nah. 'M good, actually.

[ It's a bit of a kneejerk reaction, to be sure, but Monty likes to think that he knows better than to go following weird ethereal voices trying to seduce him into doing something. Even still, he barely gets the words out before his surroundings shift and change, eventually settling on the bonfire-lit scenery of Dyster--the customary scowl on his face only deepens at the realization that he probably didn't have any choice at all in this particular matter to begin with. What was the deal with this place? ]

[ His cigarettes are still completely ruined from his earlier soak in the beach, and if they were just a little bit less damp, he'd probably be lighting one. As it was, he rounds on the first face to catch his eye--unfortunately, it's yours. Such is the misfortune of existing somewhere nearby. ]

You. Where the hell is this, an' how do we get out of it. [ Is he looming? Absolutely! ] Dunno about you, but I'm not exactly fond of gettin' dropped somewhere without much warning. [ His eye briefly flicks over toward one of the crowds of revelers, singing and dancing in the firelight--that's never something that meant much good, in his experience. ] 'Specially if they're into weird Wicker Man shit like this.

two

[stimpaks]

Hmm.

[A rather concerned, but contained vocalization is Arcade's public review of the pamphlet labelled "Alternatives to Human Flesh". He doesn't even acknowledge the other man until he makes a comment about his own pamphlet. Cautiously, Arcade looks over towards the rather crude depiction of a trout with a fuzzy coat.]

Yeah, after spending years studying biology and medical textbooks, I've concluded...that fish don't grow fur. [A beat.] Unless they happen to be heavily irradiated.

[He says it in a dry tone--hard to tell if he's joking or being serious. Probably the former, given the fact that the corner of his mouth seems to twitch upwards. Arcade pauses, taking in the stranger's battle scars and eyepatch. Wherever this man washed up from, it's clear that he's seen some action.

Maybe that's cause for some concern.]

Crashworth "Crash" Bandicoot | Crash Bandicoot (N.Sane)

[cratecrasher]

A - Laid Bare

Beach sand is normal, even familiar. For a while, there’s one figure among the other washed-up figures sleeping like the dead. No shirt leaves the lean torso yet gangly frame accompanying it bare for all to see; otherwise, they’re dressed in blue board shorts, socks with his red high tops, and fingerless gloves.

... Or maybe he was dead?

The young man briefly twitches in his sleep and releases an obnoxious snore for everyone around to hear. (Nevermind.)

And if nobody’s around to or doesn’t want to shake the weird stranger awake, well…

---
A.5 - Naked and Afraid
The man half-consciously reaches with one hand over to his arm, patting it up and down as if perhaps feeling around for a blanket.

While vaguely still experiencing the sensation of bare skin touching goosebumps on bare skin, wakefulness finally starts creeping back into his brain. For a moment, he stares at his brown, hairless body-

"Hm."

...

"AUH!!!!"

He scrambled to his feet, spun around, patting his skin, pulling at his appendages, frantically searching for where his fur and other features had gone. Once the fellow human finally notices someone or anyone looking in his direction, he cringes back and crosses his arms over himself with another surprised yelp.

---
B - No Taste Like Home

Crash, the former bandicoot, only has the thick red hair on his head and green eyes (with occasionally twitchy pupils) as physical remnants of his normal form. After being bombarded by locals, he has a cozy sweater (ooh) out of it and papers with words (boring).

... Food? Aha!

He spotted the fruit stand almost as fast as his old nose would've been able to sniff it out. With haste and excitement, the man bounded over, plucked an apple out from the assorted bunch, tantalizingly bright red and yellow, and brought it close to his nose (totally out of necessity) for a sniff.

Then sniffled at the fruit again in apparent distaste.

"That's the finest quality you can get at this time of year!"

While the dubious expression on his face remains, that’s enough of a prompt from the seller for Crash to chomp into it suddenly.

"... Peh."

This doesn’t leave the other man very amused, probably because his produce’s boasted quality has been directly insulted. "You got 70 crescents for that?"

At first, Crash just blinks at the shopkeeper, then hums while digging through his pockets- then scratching his head as if a solution will fall out when the only thing that comes up is lint and sand.

---
C - Life Isn't Fur (Naga)

Sharp claws on his digits and toes were a distant memory, but a memory nonetheless. It hurt when they pushed out his nails and whenever Crash wasn't careful about the tips while scratching himself- which in this case was from a genuinely itchy sensation on his skin rather than pure confusion.

Couldn't be fleas. Humans don't get those stupid bugs, right?

But it gets to the point that risking bloody scratches isn’t worth leaving a specific spot on his arm alone. Nevermind how it looks as Crash chews at the skin furiously-

-then stopping as instead a sign that his fuzzy coat was growing back, bright orange scales were pushing up out of his skin instead.

"WAH?!"

---
D - WILDCARD

[Got something else in mind? Come at me! Leaning on the 4th Wall is welcome.]

a.5

[pendulumentertainment]

[Well this was certainly a sight, wasn't it? A barely clothed man? Boy? washing up on the beach in November. No shirt, just pants... And he looks like he's searching for something.]

Can I... Help you?

[Yuya isn't really sure what else to say or do in this moment. But he's not just gonna a leave a weird shirtless guy alone to freeze on the beach.]

Kazuichi Souda | Dangan Ronpa Series (SDR2 + DR3) | Pooka

[creamsouda]

i. Arcade... but not that one

[In Bavan there's another arcade, separate from the Fourth, with a set of rules on a sign that says No God Talk. Souda's been wavering between greeting that god or not, and so he's settled on a compromise after hearing just who made this particular arcade.

Chiaki Nanami. Now there's a name Souda's glad to hear.

She's not here anymore, he knows that, but Souda swears he can feel her in every machine, hear her sleepily chattering about her favorites. It doesn't take Souda long to find which of the game machines need some TLC, and he sets up behind an old cabinet almost instantly.

Wrenching away at the casing and starting to clean up the parts inside, Souda's fairly focused on his task and pretty easy to ignore or stumble upon by accident— but someone getting surprised by him would throw him off, so whenever he hears the door open, he greets; ]

Sorry, I'll be done in juuuuuust a minute!

[...But until he's inspected and cleaned all of the arcade cases, he will not, in fact, be done in a minute.]

ii. Task Rabbit.

[Gone are the days of free food and communal living! Now Souda's got to make his money on the streets of Bavan, which he does by doing odd jobs. Being so blue-collar comes in handy, as Bavanites often need a pipe repaired or a car looked at or a bus has broken down en route somewhere else; Souda's got plenty of tasks to keep him busy.

It's made easier now by him being a good four feet tall. Though he's got his hat keeping his new long ears pointed down, Souda's legs are unmistakably hare-like, bouncy and narrow and far too fast but generally pretty harmless looking. It'd seem Bavanites have even gotten used to his now-red eyes; they're not exactly nicer to him than they are to any other mechanic, but they sure do hire him.

It's not Solars that have Souda on a talking-binge today, though, nor is it that pooka instinct making him want to socialize (well, that too); instead, it's mana coins. The only hint he's gotten about getting more of them is making nice with other monsters, and boy does he want coins for some reason.

Listen... pink hair dye's hard to come by, and if he just didn't have to dye it-]

Hey! Hey there, you busy?

[Souda might not be used to being so short or to hailing folks on the street, but he's gonna get there, damnit.]

Kazuichi Souda. Nice to meetcha! You in need of a mechanic?

[the Ultimate Mechanic, perhaps?]

ii

[adandyinspace]

[As busy as Bavan usually is, Dandy wishes it could be busier. You know, like back in the good ol' days, before humans were only dying just a little instead of en masse due to some sort of shenanigans.

It means he finds himself bored more often than not when business gets slow, which also means more smoke breaks outside. Dandy leans against his parked surf bus right outside his restaurant, the bright yellow vehicle tends to stand out compared to the kind of stuff one would see driving about Ryslig.

So maybe that's why Dandy suddenly finds himself solicitated by a...um...rabbit?]

Tch, no?

[Dandy's brows furrow as he glowers from behind his cigarette.

...And then his front bumper falls off.]

I mean, yes.

Kaeya Alberich | Genshin Impact | Vampire

[cryoticchill]

001;; Arrival

[ For what it was worth, while he liked to drink, he'd never really gone overboard. Not to the point of blacking out without much warning or anything. So to slowly come to, with the acrid awareness that he was somewhere wet, the taste of sand in his mouth and a distinct stinging to his skin?

It was enough to have Kaeya's eye snapping open as he sat upright, though his body was also aching a bit so the action did a bit more harm than help. Other than, of course, informing him that this was definitely not anywhere he was acquainted with. Was it even on Teyvat? ]

...This is honestly not how I intended to start today.

[ He sighed and tentatively tested what level of pain he could handle up to the point where it became VERY apparent that someone else was here. Someone who decidedly very much pointed a gun at his face, to which he raised an eyebrow and made to use his vision with a wave of his hand in an attempt to just conjure up some ice to scare the stranger away.

Only to find that it wasn't working at all. Great. This just got so much worse.

Kaeya held up his hands as he looked up to the stranger, a smile quickly - and easily - plastered onto his face with ease. This was fine. He could handle this, of course. ]

There's really no need for that, I assure you. I'm really quite harmless.


002;; No right answers

[ Was it something about his demeanor? His appearance?

Either way, a couple days later find Kaeya in search of answers, or he would be if it wasn't for the whole part where some friendly people have taken to handing him all kinds of pamphlets to the point he's gotten... quite a lot of them. At some point he stopped to check one of them out, raising an eyebrow. ]

...Changing into a monster, huh? That explains a lot, doesn't it.

[ Okay so it was also frustrating but what could he even say? He started picking up a couple of the other pamphlets to read, having sat down somewhere to read them. Most were informative, and then the others... were not.

Then there was the matter of spotting some people shooting him some kind of dirty, vicious glares. Something he was not quite accustomed to where he came from, but it wasn't something he couldn't handle. So he turned to someone else he could tell wasn't one of the locals, eye shifting towards the few people glaring at them. ]

Is that common around here?


004;; Here be Monsters

[ For the last couple days, to say Kaeya had felt awful was an understatement. He didn't really have much hunger anymore, his neck itched awfully from some weird bite marks that he was absolutely positive he didn't have before.

It wasn't like he was uninformed of things, having read up on pamphlets and the like, but this... it was not the part he wanted to go through.

He happened to be on a moonlit street in the city when his whole body lurched, heart slowly stilling as the strength started leaving his limbs. Kaeya braced against a building with one hand, a shaky breath leaving his lips after while his other hand clutched at his chest. It'd be quite the sight, to anyone who didn't know what was going on.

Being aware of dying was not quite a fun experience, after all. ]

Damn it...

Wildcard ;;

[ Don't see anything that tickles your fancy? Feel free to hmu @ indulgentsin or PM this journal to do any plotting! ]

No right answers

[tonedeafbard]

As far as I can tell it is.

[Venti starts, and though he says that like he's just as confused, there's a smile on his face.]

Though, you're the first person I recognize around here!

[Even though he doesn't say his name, he's aware, or at least hopes Kaeya is acquainted with him enough that he doesn't have to give out his name again.]

Steven Quartz Universe || Steven Universe: Future

[universebound]

[One]

Among the sand of the beach, a young teen laid, eyes closed. Yet, he was aware of a unique sensation. One he never felt before.

Prolonged stinging.

He coughed out some of the sand, groaning slightly. Sure, he’s been sore before. Felt the lingering effects of pain from his injuries, but this?

It took him a moment to push himself up. Where was he? The only thing that comforted him was the fact he was at a beach. Otherwise, he had a bad feeling about where he was.

Finally, he glanced at his arms, and let out a small sound of surprise. Cuts. But, why…?

It didn’t matter. He just licked his hand and placed it on a cut.

But it didn’t go away.

“What…?” He tried again, but got the same result. And again. “Wh-why isn’t it working?”

[Two] (Nephilim)

Eventually he’d been informed of this place and what it did. Though he kept trying to deny it. There was no way he’d turn into a monster! His powers weren’t here! So he couldn’t! Right…?

Of course, with how sure everyone was and all the pamphlets, there was always that worry that he was wrong. That he was just deluding himself.

That hope he tried to hold onto was fading with the horns that grew.

“No, no…” He spoke, voice soft and broken. His hands touched the horns. “This isn’t happening. It can’t be.”

Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. Unable to stand, he dropped to the ground.

“Please… I-I can’t be one again…!”

[Wildcard]

( Don't like any of these or have a different idea in mind? Feel free to let me know! )

1

[pendulumentertainment]

Uh, you okay there?

[Yuya asked from a ways away. Though close enough to see that he is... definitely not a human. Not anymore.]

You probably shouldn't lick your hand after you just got out of the ocean. Sea water makes your stomach all... not good.

[The goblin added at the end, with a little nervous chuckle. He's never been good with big words.]

Phoenix Wright | Ace Attorney (canon point: after first three games) | Will match format

[thewrightidea]

A. Arrival

A face full of sand, soggy clothes, and a sunburnt neck really isn't the greatest way to wake up. Not to mention the fact that it's really cold and so the ocean water is not incredibly inviting. In fact, Japan California usually doesn't get this cold, even if the Alaskan current makes the ocean abnormally cool.

Okay, okay, how did he get here? What exactly was he doing before? He tries to hoist himself up, coming onto his hands and knees, but-- oh. Hello. That's a double-barrel shotgun in his face.

"Ah--" His eyes widen in utter fear, and he slowly puts his hands up in surrender.

The local behind the gun brusquely tells Phoenix to stand up, muttering about his hatred of "new arrivals".

"--I.. I didn't mean to arrive here!" He does quickly get up onto his feet, but meanwhile his eyes frantically search for anything in the vicinity that he could use against the man, whether as a weapon or as something he could ask about to distract him. ...Or even someone to help him!


B. Pamphlets

Well, Phoenix avoided being blasted by a disgruntled local, thankfully, but maybe he didn't. Maybe he was shot and now he's in a coma, dreaming about all of this nonsense. He looks at the first pamphlet with cute illustrations of monsters, mouth in a straight line as he reads through the description.

Maybe he's not saying anything outright, but the varied expression on his face says it all, from the quirk of an eyebrow to the shaking of his head. It's all ridiculous. Maya would probably get a kick out of this, wouldn't she? It sounds like a messed up fairy tale.

He picks up the next one, and it's more of the same. Well, he'll file them away in his jacket to use as evidence, even if they're pretty ridiculous.

"Oh, excuse me!" He calls out to the next person he sees. "Excuse me! But, do you know anything about these?" He pulls out the pamphlets.


C. The gods

Something has been keeping Phoenix awake at night. He tosses and turns in his bed in his new home, wondering about all of the changes, but also of course the voices. Seek us out, it calls again and again in the back of his head.

So he decides to finally scope it out, cautiously following the source of the voice... Then again, how can it have a source if he's literally hearing it in his head? He has no idea how to answer that, because the voice still seems to be guiding him... somewhere.

But it isn't long before he finds... an arcade? Of course he's curious, but he stands at the entrance, eyes glancing over every corner. Why would a voice be calling him here of all places? And... are those robots?

"What is this place?" he idly wonders aloud. It feels eerie, in a way. He knows that someone else is here, but... who?

[creamsouda]

"What kinda guy just walks into some place he doesn't know alone like that?!" complains a deeply synthesized voice from nearby. Phoenix might notice the stench of oil. Like a lot of it.

One of the robots is addressing him from a pile of what seems to be broken junk and tools. His voice pitches from what looks like an atomic age style radio, and though his body looks like what any other droid might it's notably very, very yellow.

He's very obviously tinkering with those broken electronics in front of him.

"This is the Fourth's arcade. As in, the Fourth God."

Shun Kurosaki | Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc-V | Returning Werebear

[raidraptors]

[ A – Back in Black (Bear) ]

[Awareness returns only slowly to Shun, the sound of rolling waves too soothing to bother with anything and that's. It's fine like this, really. After all… what the hell is there even left to wake up for, when–

Then his mouth fills with sand and salt water, forcing Shun to push himself up into sitting while coughing out salt and grime, and really just a terrible taste, before he can actually take stock of his surroundings.

It takes a moment until everything catches up and each and every memory slots back into place… and a look down at his sharpened black nails reassures him... he's still a werebear. This is Ryslig and not Standard, and the dream he's just woken from–]

Deal with it later.

[It's a command to himself; he has to figure out his situation first of all. Getting distracted will get him killed, here or elsewhere.

So, first of all…]

How the hell did I end up back in Vandare?


[ B – Hunter on the prowl ]

[There are no answers at the beach, but that's hardly unexpected. Vandare isn't much of a track at least, not enough to warrant slipping into his bear skin (even though Shun can feel the itch to change form and pretend that things are much more simple, for a moment at least).

While the sun is still up, he passes as human – at least if no one pays close attention to his nails, teeth and eyes – and he takes ruthless advantage of that to slip through the crowd of newcomers and 'helpful' pamphlet sharing natives.

He knows exactly what he's looking for – though maybe, if he sees someone spending a moment too long on a particularly ridiculous pamphlet, he won't refrain from commenting.]

You can't honestly think that this will do you any good.

[Past that particular crowd, he helps himself to some food – he'll need a kill soon, but this will do for now – and a paper.

…And then spends a good while just staring at the date on the top.]

…Four years. What– How did–?

[…He may need a moment to process that one.]


[ C – Oh, ye of little faith ]

[The whispering is more than familiar, when it comes; the Fourth had been the first to dig his claws into what's left of Shun's soul and even after the Fog God had made his stay permanent, that mark had stayed.

Expanded, even, at least until now – the connection is no longer here, not like it used to be. Maybe Yuto had been right back then, and it had been a bad idea to allow the Fourth any power over him, but–

Yuto isn't here. Neither is Ruri. They are not anywhere and Shun will have to deal with that, eventually. For now, he has a deal to renew.

He plants himself right in the middle of the arcade, eyes narrow as he starts to shout:]

Hey! I have a bone to pick with you!

B | Long time no see old pal! OOCly and ICly

[chocolaterazor]

It's weird how a few of us keep popping in and out of this place, huh Kurosaki?

[Ah, look who it is this time hovering in the air, in YET ANOTHER different form entirely. If Sora didn't have any plans to be something else anytime soon, one might almost wonder if either the peninsula or the boy himself can't decide on the most appropriate monster.]

But welcome back, I guess. For the third? Fourth time? You tell me.

Ima Wiggles | American Horror Story: Freak Show

[gourmandized]

[Scenario 2]

[There's only one thing stranger than waking up in a strange world full of monsters for the first time, and that's doing it twice. Ima, of course, has no recollection of the long stretch of time she's spent lost in the sea of stars; that kind of sleep is always dreamless. Only the crowd of humans waking up around her on the beach clued her in to the missing time.

As a full-fledged monster already, she has it easier than the truly new arrivals. There are no monster changes to worry about, no adjustment to cannibalism to fearfully anticipate. This isn't, as they say, Ima's first rodeo--which is why she's so puzzled by the few humans who still insist on filling her hands with informational packets.]

Thank you, but I don't...you can see that I'm green and covered in plants, right? Save these for the arrivals who truly need them.

[ka_mai]

[Well now...Bert's rather certain that's a familiar face. He never forgets one, but even so, a lass like that is not one a fellow forgets. It's been ages, though. He's not good with time, but...]

Hey, bugger off ye daft louts, she obviously hasn't a need for the welcome wagon. Shoo!

[He waves his hands at the over-eager humans as he approaches, baring his fangs to drive home the message.]

the chilling adventures of sabrina / sabrina spellman / ota

[evileyeing]

i. information

(She had a bad feeling about this, and that is saying quite a lot. Sabrina finally found her way to the city, after somehow stealthily hiding from the sights of angry locals on her way.

Swarmed by the locals and pamphlets, Sabrina finally finds a place to sit down for some peace and quiet. There are so many flyers and informative booklets on her lap that she doesn't even know where to begin, so she selects at random.

"What to Expect When You're Expecting (to turn into a monster)", she reads out loud, words coming out like she was doubting each one of them.)

This must be a joke! Where even am I? I need to find whoever is in charge.

ii. dyster

(This is somewhat familiar, at least. When she sees herself in a small town, seemingly abandoned if not for the people dancing around the fire, she feels some relief.

Prayers, rituals, bonfires, all things that people back home are used to, and thus, she feels a small connection - it's enough for her to waltz in without even thinking about it, a wave and a smile directed to the praying.)

Hello! I'm Sabrina Spellman. Is there any chance any of you can tell me what's going on?

i.

[gray_son]

[Dick was a little less successful dodging angry locals. He'd managed to slip them after a few shotgun blasts - having not quite trusted that they could possibly be hostile to him when he was just a guy in a blue polo and dark slacks. No Nightwing suit, no escrima sticks - as much just a guy as just a guy can be.]

Well, it's got me beat.

[His voice filters down from a tree, where, upon a branch, he relaxes, his own pamphlets in hand. He swings down with ease, landing neatly , legs bent to absorb the shock.]

Geography doesn't match anything I'm familiar with, and believe me - I've traveled a lot. [He brandishes a particularly... Dubious leaflet.] You read the one about the furred trout?

Kamado Nezuko - Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

[oninoko]

one.

[ Waking up and finding herself somewhere different than where she fell asleep isn't too out of the ordinary for Nezuko. Though usually, it comes with the intermediary step of waking up in the wooden box that Tanjiro-nii uses to carry her around with him. Before opening her eyes, Nezuko shifts and stretches, pausing when she doesn't feel her limbs press against the hard surface of the box. In fact, the surface she's lying on feels like... sand?

She opens her eyes, slowly pushing herself to a seated position, then quickly flinches and curls in on herself when she sees the sun overhead. Quivering in fear, anticipating the pain of burning to ashes, she sits in trembling stillness for a long moment. Only... the burning never comes. She's... fine? Even though the sun is hitting her skin? Slowly, she unwinds herself from her protective ball.

What is happening? Where is she? Where is Tanjiro? Zenitsu? Inosuke? Where is anyone, she thinks, finding herself alone on the beach.

All that worry fades away, however, as she stands and feels the warmth of the sun on her face. It's a feeling she hasn't felt in... years. She hadn't realized how much she missed it.

Tanjiro-nii will find her. She's sure he will. In the meantime, she's just going to stand here, eyes closed, face turned up to the sun, enjoying this miracle moment. She's so wrapped up in the joy of the sun's warmth that she doesn't notice the sound of sandy footsteps approaching, or the cocking of a shotgun. ]

two.

[ Nezuko still doesn't have a lot of answers, as to where she is, how she got here, and why she feels like she's human again. She doesn't trust that last part, and so she's kept herself muzzled for now, just in case. But as she walks through the streets of the most crowded, busiest city she's ever seen, she is amazed that she's able to just... withstand it. All these humans walking by, and she doesn't feel any urge whatsoever to prey on them. Not only humans, but demons, too! At least, she thinks they're demons. Most of them don't look like any demon she's ever seen, but then she knows that demons can look any number of unnatural ways. All these demons-- monsters, the people here call them-- walking around in the sunlight like she is, openly and without fear.

This place only gets curiouser and curiouser.

At one point a human man gives her a bunch of small paper leaflets to read, so she obediently sits on a low stone wall at the side of the road and sets to reading them. Most of them don't make much sense to her, but there's one that makes her freeze, eyes going wide. ETHICAL APPROACHES TO CANNIBALISM.

A tear comes to her eye. No... She is human now, isn't she? Why do they still want her to eat people? It isn't fair! She's worked so hard to avoid it. And now they're making it sound so inevitable.

Her hand clenches around the leaflet, crumpling it into a paper ball. In a tearful pique, she throws it away, not caring what direction she throws it in, or who it might hit in its path. She refuses to eat people! She won't do it, she won't! ]

unhinges my jaw and sCREAMS!!!! one;

[zutsuki]

[Find her, in fact, Tanjiro very much will.]

[He's lucky he wound up a Pooka, because it more or less let him keep his already-heightened sense of smell. So naturally, the moment he smells her, he's scrabbling out of his burrow like a boy being chased by fire. He stands on his toes, sniffing the air frantically while he tries to determine if he's just finally gone insane or not, but the scent is consistent. It makes his limbs feel cold in a way he can't articulate, but his nose doesn't lie.]

[He takes off running on all fours, and it's a whole different thing to see her. He skids to a halt a bit away, catching his breath and reveling in the sight of his sister the same way she reveled in the sunlight, but the man with the shotgun throws an absolute wrench in what could have been a simple, heartwarming reunion. In that the moment Tanjiro sees him he's veritably howling, running full-tilt (on all fours, again) and launching himself at him feet-first.]

[He goes down like a sack of potatoes, not especially surprising, and Tanjiro hops off like it ain't no thang in favor of turning back to his sister. There are absolutely tears in his eyes.]

N--Nezuko? [He understands why she isn't scorching in the sun. Here, at least for now, she's human.]

Dick Grayson | DC Rebirth

[gray_son]

[ i ]

[Dick wakes up and immediately has to spit sand out. That's a terrible sign. Things are never going well when that happens. He sits up, looking around where he finds himself, and immediately notes he absolutely has no clue where he is. Okay. That happens too. Plenty of weird islands and things he's never been to before about the place. Not to mention he can't be expected to know every spit of land in... Europe? Is this Europe?]

[Thankfully that goes unanswered. Or perhaps unfortunately? Can't be sure yet. Admittedly it's nice to not have Bruce immediately breathing down his neck insisting they start on reconnaissance and rattling around what was in Dick's head to see what was in there.]

Hello? Anyone there?

[He's sure he saw someone moving between the dunes, just over yonder. He staggers to his feet.]

I've already spotted you, so the element of surprise deal is kinda lost.



[ Wildcard ]

Thinking of something else? Grab me for some plotting on talloran

👀 time to pretend we know how the judas contract went down in rebirth ig

[bullschistartist]

[ tara doesn't always walk by the beach, even if it's one of the places she knows new arrivals may turn up. she's not like some people, combing the beach in search of their wife or child. tara can't think of a single person that she'd like to see here. she misses brion, but he sure as fuck wouldn't make it here.

and then she sees someone she recognizes, unexpectedly. a someone who she hasn't seen in years- and who has every right to want to kick her ass. ]

Oh, shit.

[ it's more of a murmur to herself, and she turns away quickly - but not before dick calls out.

hopefully, the transformation will render her unrecognizable. tara's eyes and ears are now feline, with the white-gray color of her winter coat. she's got fur tufts down the sides of her cheeks, and fur covering her neck and arms beyond that. so he totally won't recognize her. it's fine.

she pitches her voice down an octave, just to be sure. ]

Sorry, can't talk!

herbert west - reanimator

[malpractiiice]

[ one ]

[ There's sand all over him. It's still not the weirdest way he's ever been woken up, to be honest, but it's not great, and Herbert is already in a terrible mood by the time he pushes himself up off the beach. After a few seconds of spluttering to get the sand out of his mouth, he begins to feel around for his glasses, wrinkling his nose at the unfortunate variety of seaweed and debris he touches along the way--eventually, though, he manages to come across...something. ]
[ However, it's very much not his glasses how he'd hoped. Instead, it's a boot, currently being worn by a very irate local with a very loaded shotgun pointed at his face. ]

[ Herbert simply stops, fixing the man with an utterly scathing glare--from there, he sits up, scoops his glasses out of the sand, and does what he can to brush them clean. Once they're back in their proper place, he straightens his tie, looking up at the local with no small amount of disdain. He's not even bothering to hide it, either; a shotgun was concerning, of course, but he's seen worse. ]

Picked a bad time for a dip, I take it. [ The local isn't amused, and neither was he. After a silence that stretches on far too long, Herbert frowns, straightening up to his full height of--not at all intimidating, especially not when he was on the ground like this. It was the thought that counted, really. ] If you don't mind, could we just--not do this right now? I'm rather busy, as I'm sure you can see.
[ Rather busy sitting on the beach and being confused, but--busy nonetheless. He was all booked up, honestly, and it was incredibly rude of this man to assume otherwise. The audacity. ]

[ The sound of a shotgun being racked in the dark tells him that maybe the local didn't care about his scheduling conflicts. Dammit. ]



[ four ]

[ Based on the pamphlets he's been given and the information he's been able to scout out, one particular Mr. West has determined something about his oncoming condition: it was going to be one hell of a ride. ]
[ He's been taking notes and doing everything he can to record it, of course. Why wouldn't he? It was a very strange thing to feel yourself dying, to watch as your body began to decay in a process both so familiar and alien simultaneously. There was something almost ironic about it, but Herbert didn't have time to indulge himself in anything other than hurried scribbling and frantic page-turning. If what he thought was correct, which--he'd certainly checked and re-checked it enough times to be sure, he was becoming a lich. ]
[ Honestly, that's almost enough to get a laugh out of him. Almost. ]

[ Unfortunately for everyone else, however, this is all happening very much in the public eye--Herbert had simply intended to go retrieve some supplies from the market at the start of this little venture, but now, the bag he'd been carrying was left quite forgotten at his feet. He'd half-jogged over to the first clear park bench he'd spotted, with the look in his eye enough to make anyone give him a wide enough berth; if that hadn't been enough, the dark veins of necrotic tissue rippling across his skin had certainly done the trick. ]
[ Now that he's settled, his attention is almost exclusively on his left wrist--he's already pushed his sleeve up over his elbow to watch the progression, almost marveling at the concentration of decay amassing around muscles and tendons. The fact that his handwriting has remained more or less legible is incredible throughout all this, and although there's somewhat of a pained grimace on his face, it's clear that isn't doing much to stop him, either. ]

[ What actually does is something unexpected. With a sickening crunch, Herbert feels a sudden shift in his wrist--and just like that, his hand snaps off, falling to the ground with a soft thud. For a moment, he simply stares down at it, expression twitching through a myriad of brief emotions; finally, with an exasperated sigh, he puts down his pen and bends over to pick it up, lips pursed. ]
[ He turns back to writing after the briefest bit of examination, although it's a little more difficult without the extra fingers to hold his notes in place. He's muttering something to himself with a sort of fevered intensity that probably doesn't mean anything well, and there's an odd pallor to his face that wasn't there that long ago. ]

Complete decay in...thirty seconds. Fascinating. [ Is it, though? It hurts, to be sure, but that's not enough to stop him. ] Further progression--likely. Hm. What to do with this, now...
[ He's clearly talking to himself, with no consideration for whether or not anyone else is listening. Idly, Herbert nudges at his freshly-detached hand with the end of his pen, waiting to see if anything happens. He looks rather...expectant, unusually enough, as if he'd be more surprised if he got nothing at all. ]

four aka we can make a better evil dead vs reanimator than the comics could ever dare to create

[deadbydawn]

[As the freshly-detached hand lies still on the ground, a disembodied voice can be heard from under the bench.]

Dude, you better keep a close eye on that hand. Next thing you know, it'll start crawling and try and stab you in the back. Or, you know, the people next to you. Either or.

[If Herbert bothers to look under his seat, there doesn't appear to be anything underneath except shadow and...what appears to be a metal gauntlet simply lying on the ground. If he stares long enough, however, the gauntlet twitches, and a pair of glowing eyes appear from the semi-darkness to stare back at him.

The eyes flicker in place, much as a CRT television experiences feedback.]

Sure hope that you're right-handed, 'cus otherwise-- [A sharp laugh.] --oh, man, that'd be hilarious.

Hilde "Sparks of Honor" Johnson | OC

[sparksofhonor]

New Shores

The last thing Hilde remembers is being with her pack. They had been in the middle of a battle with two other packs against a creature that had the ability to alter reality at a whim. As a member of a group of heavy hitters their job had been to provide a distraction. Hilde still remembers her higher ranked and more powerful alpha letting out a loud battle cry that had drawn the enemy's focus to them.

Hilde had been happy. Let the creature focus on them. Let the spirit workers get ready with their trap. It had all been going so well. Then there was nothing. Hilde would question why there is a blank area to her memory soon.

Now her tongue tastes sand and Hilde is choking on it. She coughs and pushes herself up to one knee.

"This isn't Port Orchard." It seems a bit foolish to speak out loud, but her head feels strangely empty. What happened to her pack link? The worst thought comes to mind. The friends that are so dear she would allow them to be spiritually bonded to her are fucking missing.

"What. The. FUCK!" The last part is shouted. Hilde is not happy is an understatement. There is a leather-clad women covered in blood and sand stalking up the beach with what can best be as a resting murder face stalking up the beach.

That's Not How Anything Works

"I don't need your newsletter."

Hilde has been pushing through the crowd. Being a very tall human-looking woman covered in blood? That had caught so much attention. She just happens to be in the six-foot range and looks like she could handle herself.

The local citizens knew exactly what her deal was. They just did not easily understand why she would be covered in blood and ickor right away.

"Trout do not have fur." That is a very simple thing to say. Hilde is a bit baffled and confused by the information given to her. However the one that comes up next has her jaw tighten.

There is an ancient law that had only needed to be drilled into her head once. Do not eat the flesh of man.

What is this place? Is she in some kind of twisted magical realm? Hilde resolves to find a place where she can get a weapon and fight her way out if need be.

She will not degrade herself by eating the flesh of man. She will not stain the one thing that is important to her.

New Shores

[throughavisordarkly]

On the one hand, even Bethan isn't generally a fan of angry, cursing people storming in her direction - at least not unless she's the one who made them angry. On the other hand, well, at least this woman seems to be having the sensible response to waking up here.

The minotaur sighs, and lengthens her strides, turning to meet the human and trotting towards her, hands in the pockets of her own leathers. And at least, she thinks to herself, this makes it pretty obvious who's a newcomer and who's a native. That's not a native Ryslig response.

"What the fuck is a pretty hard one, honestly," she calls, once she considers herself close enough not to shout. "I can give you a head start on where the fuck, if you want?"