TDM: MAY / JUNE

[ryslighelpers]

TDM: MAY / JUNE

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 in a dark ditch, the sky cloudy overhead. Dirt cakes into your cuts and scrapes. The air is clammy and damp, and it smells like rain.

You’re in a grave. And when you sit up to inspect the tombstone marking your spot, it has your name on it. Maybe the graves next to you have the names of familiar friends, family, acquaintances. Not all of them are open like yours are. RIP.

There’s a light dancing in the distance, and you hear the jingle-jangle of heavy keys, or worse still, the gravekeeper’s massive pitchfork or shovel. If you're lucky, you can sneak out beyond his notice, and get out alone. If not - you might find yourself on the wrong end of a shovel’s swing, or worse yet, tripping headfirst in front of a pair of monstrous eyes.

SCENARIO TWO

So you've just arrived, and you’re surrounded by an incredibly odd group of natives. Some of them wear elaborate headdresses that resemble a deer, or a horse with seaweed instead of a mane, or a ferocious cat. All of them are covered in tattoos and piercings, and their clothing mirrors their ‘beast’ of choice, from snakeskin boots for the snake-people to cowhide and leathers for the minotaurs, manticore-kin, or kelpie-kin. These people introduce themselves as members of the scouting team for the Tågevalgten, and they’re here to help you settle in! They load you onto a rickety old bus and take you into Town.

The Town is called Rota, according to the rusted road-sign. And the central lodge is all decked out and ready to go for a reception, Children of the Fog welcome. There are food and drink aplenty, mostly meat-heavy, and if you ask them where the meat came from… Well! Maybe you shouldn’t ask.

The Tågevalgten gladly share helpful pamphlets for you. “Embrace Your Fog-Given Gifts,” they proclaim. Most of them are fashioned to sound like self-help with a religious bent favoring a divine entity called the Fog God: “Monster Types And YOU: What Fits Your Personality? Take Our 99% Accurate Quiz Inside!”, “Shed Your Human Skin And Thrive,” “Be Uniquely You And Uniquely Free,” “What to Expect When You're Expecting (to turn into a monster).” There's even some thick books carefully cataloguing certain monsters and the changes they might go through. Some of these seem to have been passed down from one monster to the next.

After awhile, it’s clear that the Tågevalgten are a bit too friendly and enthralled with buttering you up. In fact, it’s clear that they don’t want you to leave their fold, happy to keep you strapped together with a kumbaya around the campfire. They might not let you go until you take a bite of their Soylent Green or accept a group hunting trip with other newbies, and so on and so on. There’s always some excuse.

Maybe someone else can help you out of these uncomfortable pickles and get you away from here.

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? Does it fit you, or does it feel incongruous with your nature? Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.

Comments

Kiryu Kazuma | Ryu Ga Gotoku/Yakuza

[lone_horse]

scenario one

[ The faint sting of small cuts and bruises is a common background radiation to his life, so he doesn't notice them. He notices the dirt and he notices the hole and as he pushes himself up, he recognizes the grave stones from something out of a movie. He doesn't look at the name, doesn't look at the graves around him; after all, he's clearly not dead. Instead, he looks at the light, and he doesn't even see the rest.

Kiryu's going to try and get out as quickly and quietly as possible. Of course, if he sees someone else covered in dirt, trying to do the same thing, all evidence and so so many substories would point to the fact that he'll do everything in his power to help them get out too. ]

scnario two

[ There is absolutely nothing about these people that makes Kiryu feel comfortable, but given the kind of whackadoodle personalities he's both known and helped over the years, his tolerance lasts through the bus ride, through the offers of food and drink, past a very skeptical look at the decorations and some quiet acceptance of their cheerful welcome, allll the way to taking their pamphlets since he doesn't have to conserve inventory space even if he has no idea why he needs to know about this Fog or the 'monsters' or any of what they're talking about.

When they get pushy and start talking like he's going to stick around, that's when he's going to start looking for an exit. There's something about the insistence that he eat something that makes him lose his appetite, the urging towards a 'hunting trip' that sours his usual open-minded attitude about trying new things.

So honestly, as soon as no one's looking directly at him? He's just going to start walking towards the edge of town. You want to ask him why? You want to go with him? You want to try and convince him otherwise? Go right ahead. You'll definitely have more luck with some of those options than others. ]

scenario three / wildcard

[ None of this experience has been particularly enjoyable, but a second dose of ending up somewhere without knowing how he got there is probably his least favorite part so far. The voice in his head (how? why? nani?) doesn't seem apt to give him much more than that, so he starts looking around. He's not the sort to shout out looking for anyone, but if he sees anyone else wandering lost and looking as confused as he is, he might make his way to them. ]

scenario three

[heartgivenwings]

[The teenage girl is lingering near the edge of the town when she sees him. She frowns at the scene before them.]

You hear that voice too, right? Something about it puts me on edge.

DJ Dupree | OC | OTA

[joiseydevil]

1- Slippery When Wet:

[DJ blinks awake with dirt over his face and too much light in his eyes. Squinting, he forces himself to sit up. Is he… in a fucking grave? He sits for a solid minute wracking his memory on how he may have ended up in a creepy cemetery in the middle of the afternoon, mouth half open and staring into the middle distance - but comes up with nothing. Last he remembered was passing out on his friend’s couch after a few beers. Huh.]

Shit, they must’ve been pouring something different.

[He mumbles mostly to himself, finally heaving his body up and out of the grave in a smooth, quick series of motions- you’d almost think he’s done it before. Then again, being tall and built doesn’t exactly hurt.

Once he’s out of the grave he spends a second brushing himself off, even scrubbing his fingers through his hair and shaking like a dog. He huffs a long chunk of hair out of his eyes before squinting into the fog. He doesn’t even bother to read the headstone, it was probably some poor sap still waiting at the funeral home.]

Where… the hell am I?

[This didn’t look like Jersey, at least, nothing in his part of town. You had to drive for at least an hour to get somewhere this heavily wooded and creepy. Is that a light in the distance? He cups his hands and calls out-]

Hey! Any idea of how to get the fuck outta here?

2- For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge:

[So… this is definitely some kind of hippy-dippy commune right? The people introduced themselves as just the “Tågevalgten.” Try saying that five times fast with a Long Island accent. But honestly, the appearances didn’t really phase him. DJ himself is pretty covered in piercings, tattoos, and even looks to have a few body mods himself. One woman in some high snakeskin boots seemed particularly fascinated with his split tongue, and nearly stuck her fingers in his mouth to see it.]

Woah! Careful sweetheart, you ain’t a dentist are you?

[They seem to back off patiently when he raises a fuss, good thing too, because he’s antsy and doesn’t like this much crowding. But then come the pamphlets: DJ frowns as he skims over ‘Embracing Your Fog Given Gifts,’ and it only grows when he finally opens ‘Shedding Human Skin.’ He’s finally starting to realize exactly what sort of place he’s gotten himself, and why they’ve been complimenting his appearance so much.]

Ah, fuck.

[Yeah he needs to get out of here. He’s not a stealthy guy, so there’s a few locals following him as he starts to quickly walk toward the outside of town. They sure can try to fight him, but it’s not going to go well for anybody. He pulls his leather jacket a little higher and pops the collar, getting ready in case they try and jump him from behind.

He stiffens as he crosses the town line and is marching down the road. If they were gonna do something, it would probably be now. Maybe he’ll get lucky with some outside help.]



Wildcard!

DJ is a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, and from a world not dissimilar to Rylsig! He doesn't have much of an opt out, besides the obvious swearing and somewhat crass personality, but feel free to just open up a CR!

1

[theonlymeisme]

[The light in the distance is not, in fact, friendly. The grave digger had not been polite or happy about Fitz crawling out of his grave, and had taken a swing at him with his shovel, Fitz dodging back and immediately turning tail, running from the man as fast as he's able. The man he sees up ahead is going towards the light, towards the man who was not happy to see them, and-]

[Well. Fitz isn't going to let someone get hurt. As he draws level, he reaches out and grabs the wrist of the other, pulling him to one side as the man approaches and back against the wall as the man runs past, yelling something indistinct about performing violence on them, once he's gone, Fitz breathes a sigh of relief, and signs and apology.]

Sorry. Tried asking him for help. Attacked me.

beatrice the golden witch | umineko no naku koro ni

[devilsproof]

i. gravedigger

[Her eyes open like a switch being flipped; she sits like a marionette whose strings have been yanked up by a bunched-up fist in the sky. Upright, she's not visibly injured, but something in her face is off, not as in wrong but as in the opposite of on: nobody's there.]

[And then her absent gaze lands on the names on the headstones around her. The inscriptions are faded, the graves poorly-kept, given names obscured, but all along the row she sees the same surname. Ushiromiya. Twisting in her grave, she reads her own headstone: ▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓. Illegible.]

[What she makes of this is hard to say for a moment. She's still off. And then, out of nowhere and heedless of the distant scrape of shovel and bob of lantern, some hellish light comes to her eyes, rage and savage delight in equal measure. Letting herself fall back flat into the grave, she kicks her feet in the air, voluminous skirts fluttering like a parachute in reverse — and she laughs, a low chuckle at first that grows and grows and grows to something breathless and high-pitched and cruel, ramping into a sound so mad as to verge on the profane.]

ii. meet-and-greet ( cw; GLEEFUL cannibalism )

Gentlemen, gentlemen . . . !

[Far from being unsettled by the Tågevalgten, Beatrice seems very much at home being waited on. None of the rest of the gathering seems to faze her, either: she rips hunks off of the dubious meat provided with her back teeth, speaks to the heavily-modified humans before her as though there's absolutely nothing abnormal about them, demands tobacco and tea in such commanding tones that the Tågevalgten scramble to procure whatever it is she desires.]

[But she draws the line at Cosmo quizzes.]

I told you already. I have no need of divination. I'm already the very best monster of all. Here I thought you were devoted, but maybe you're all ignorant children after all. [Ignoring the genuinely crushed looks of several Tågevalgten before her, she flips the page in the pamphlet before her and jabs one line with the end of her pipe.] And what is this? Slime? That isn't a monster. Slime is what happens when monsters are finished with their prey!

[So saying, she flings the pamphlet into the fire and slams her hand on the table.] Enough of this! Bring me something more entertaining.

[Or maybe you're the entertaining (or at least unusual) thing she chooses to fix her attention on. Leaning too far into another new arrival's personal space, she gives a smile that trips over the line into leer territory.] Why so down? It's a parrrty. Don't you like parties? Eh?

[There is absolutely a finger bone on her empty plate. She absolutely has given no visible fucks about this.]

iii. come, try to remember ( lich | cw; death, decay, explosions, amputation )

[With the fog well under way, it seems Beatrice is taking it poorly. She looks dead rough, as in rough and also dead, body paling and mottling where blood is beginning to pool. There's a massive wound at her shoulder joint, so large that "wound" doesn't even seem quite right. More than anything, it looks as though she lay down on a land mine.]

[That's not what's caught her interest, though. With a hoarse cackle that shows off her white-pale gums, she tosses something red and oblong up in the air, then catches it. Up and catch. Up and catch.]

[Then she turns towards you and yeets it.]

Catch!

[Hope you do, because that is deadass her heart. Oops.]

iv. wildcard

[I will not be going into any of the dozen CWs relevant to Beatrice in this TDM (other than nasty gore obviously), but please let me know if you'd like to opt out of spoilers up to the end of episode 5 of Umineko.]

ii eyes emoji

[puppetmurder]

[Back from the dead—or rather, back from the the cold embrace of the Sea of Stars—Dandy doesn't look too pleased by the grand display set out for him. Of course, he knows he's a star, and this is a Star's treatment. But this hut, and these... people? They just scream commoner filth.

Not the lady next to him, though, she's hollering and ordering everyone around like they're her personal servants. He doesn't mind her either, freaks like these need to be put to work; but when she turns her attention to him and points out his sour mood, Dandy rolls his eyes and exhales a heavy, melodramatic sigh.]

This party is boring. [Dandy groans as he plucks up a knife off the table and pokes at the eyeballs settled on his plate, like a child playing with peas. One rolls around, its once-green glassy gaze staring right past him,] I mean, I already know what monster I am. I'm a vampire.

[His head lolls in her direction, and when his red-tinted lips peel back from his teeth, two sets of overlong fangs are bared in her direction—one slightly smaller than the other.]

I was hoping something interesting would happen, but I think I'm going to have to make my own fun.

Joseph Kavinsky | The Raven Cycle

[burnyoudown]

a. Scenario One

[Kavinsky never expected to open his eyes again, yet here he was. Brushing dirt from his face, he sat up slowly. It didn't take a genius to figure out where he was. Twisting around to see his headstone, he read his own name off of it. To the left and right, the other headstones also read Kavinsky, first names obscured. His lip curled. The whole family was here.

Pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, he started to laugh, abruptly cut short when he heard the distant jangling of keys. Raising his head, he squinted in the direction of the sound before silently climbing out of his grave. He didn't know what he expected the afterlife to be like, but he doubted it was full of nice things.

Just as quietly, he crept towards the cemetery gate. He was no stranger to sneaking around; it didn't phase him.]

b. Scenario Two

[He was used to attention. Thrived with attention, really. But this was too much. He felt like a caged animal, trapped, unable to leave. He wanted to go, not hang around the bonfire some more. He wasn't interested in the food or going hunting or whatever else these people were offering, no matter how friendly they seemed to be.]

I said fuck off. [Backing away did nothing; someone snagged his arm, pulled him back to the bonfire.] I mean it, I'll fucking bite. [He bared his teeth.]

c. Scenario Three

[He'd been about to ask who the hell he should be seeking out and why he should care when he blinked and found himself somewhere he hadn't been standing just a moment before.

It was an arcade, old-fashioned, a small robot rumbling around his feet. Kavinsky resisted the urge to kick it. Something told him that wouldn't be a good idea, and for a change, he listened to that little voice. Stepping around the robot instead, he made his way to one of the pinball machines, laying his hand against the glass top.]

This shit's gotta be older than I am.

[He said it before realizing that he wasn't the only one there. Turning to face them, he quietly eyed them, sizing them up.]

d. Scenario Four

[He'd been trying to get his bearings, meandering down a street in Bavan, when the pain hit him. At first, he brushed it off, did what he could to ignore it. But then it doubled, tripled, the searing pain in his back bringing him to his knees on the sidewalk. He ground his teeth together, told himself to get the fuck back up but choked on a shout instead when the skin on his back tore open.

Three pairs of wings burst from his back, absolutely shredding his shirt. They were slicked with blood in places, more blood running down his back, soaking into the material of his shirt. Kavinsky felt dizzy from the pain, even as it started to fade, his new wings flaring and flapping once, twice, testing their muscles.

There was a throbbing in his head next, and it was only getting worse. His suffering, it seemed, was not yet over.]

What the fuck.

B

[lone_horse]

[ Given how he grew up and honestly, most of his life after that, Kiryu's seen his share of angry, foul-mouthed young men. Which is why he steps forward between the villagers and the young man, grabbing the villager's arm and squeezing it until the fingers let go. He lets go shortly after, flicking the villager away. Then, ignoring them entirely, he looks the young man in the face as he asks with a quiet intensity- ]

Would you like to go for a walk? [ He raises his voice a little to make it clear to the villagers. ] We could both use some air. It's a little too warm near the fire.

[ His eyes are pretty clear- I am getting us an exit. And given the young man has exactly as much on his person as Kiryu does, he'll bet, what they do once they have that exit is something they can discuss on the way. His words might be more diplomatic, but he's an old hand at exuding the kind of menace that says anyone who objects to what he wants to do is going to end up tasting dirt, seasoned liberally with their own blood. And that is exactly what he wants them to know right now. ]

Theo 'Fitz' Fitzpatrick | OC

[theonlymeisme]

[ i - this hole you put me in, it wasn't deep enough ]

[There are few things quite so bad as dying. But perhaps among them you could find waking up in a grave, not actually dead, and looking out at the sky above. Fitz is cold, and pulling his way out of the grave is a struggle, the short, skinny man grimacing as he pulls himself up and out as best he can, looking around himself. The graveyard is unfamiliar, and doesn't even look like back home. Perhaps he can figure out more by exploring.]

[ ii - grab a chair and fill your platter | Cannibalism CW ]

[The strangers are a little... Overfriendly, when you've spent as long as Fitz has alone. He's wary of the food they offer, not entirely convinced it's in his best interests to eat it, having read some of their leaflets. What is comforting is that none of the tattooed, leather wearing cultists seem too worried by Fitz's silence, understanding his sign language as if he's speaking aloud to them. Okay, maybe being dead wouldn't be so bad after all.]

[When the pressure becomes a little too much, he takes the chance to slip out of the gathering, taking deep, shaking breaths in the air outside, feeling the worry slip off now that he's not being poked or prodded to sample things or read things or talk about things.]

[He might only get to enjoy solitude a few moments, but it'll be nice while it lasts.]

[ WILDCARD ]

[ I can be reached at talloran for plotting. ]

kugel | suisei no gargantia

[apotheosised]

↳ { i. stranger in (another) strange land; }

[ although kugel had indulged in some of the luxuries the seemingly endless bounty of earth provided, other things hadn’t changed. he still took his rest in the cockpit, never quite able to get used to the way people slept in the fleet — in their soft beds, feeling every shift and movement of the ships. it was easier to pretend he was still in space and that the next time he woke it would be to greet an enemy.

perhaps he should have been more specific.

without striker, he’s at the mercy of his senses to inform him something’s changed. the stillness of the grave is too similar to the silence inside the cockpit to disturb him, but the sound of dirt and gravel against the visor of his helmet is certainly not something he could have anticipated. a lifetime of combat experience sets kugel to action even before he’s able to assess the situation entirely. even the sharp pain that lances through his chest when he takes his first actual breath in a while doesn’t give him pause. he at least knows it’s not Hideauze, so lethal force isn’t needed, but the man on the other end of the shovel doesn’t have a chance. in an instant, the gravekeeper has the wind knocked out of him as the metal handle of the shovel connects harshly with his gut, kugel having grabbed hold of the other end and wrenched it from the gravekeeper’s hands.

other things are starting to come into focus now. on their own, the man in his strange attire and the primitive tool isn’t that unusual. he’d seen all sorts on the fleet even if his awareness of them began and ended at simply noticing them in passing. it’s the earth and the great stone slab. real stone. the fact that it bears his name registers as an afterthought. he climbs quickly from the grave, brandishing the shovel like a weapon threateningly just in case the other man decides to try and take a shot at him. he’s confused to see familiar names on other stones adjacent to his own, unaware of the significance of graves, but he’s sure that can’t be a good thing.

well, it’s fairly obvious he’s not on the fleet anymore. ]

Identify yourself. What is this place? What have you done with Striker?

[ it doesn’t occur to him that he might have just appeared here alone because that would be an absurd impossibility. implausible edge case scenarios are for the scientists. ]

I have no reservations about killing you, but if you provide me with the information I need, that won’t have to happen.

[ so he’s apparently just a weird spaceman threatening to beat a guy with a shovel. you know... as one does. ]

↳ { ii. network; }

<STRIKER>

[ somehow it feels wrong to associate humanity's highest technological achievement with this lowly machine that barely deserves to be considered one at all, but it's only fitting he should continue to speak through it anyway. ]

Is there a competent individual in this place who can give me a useful SITREP? What exactly are we facing? My understanding is that these "Tågevalgten" are a vocal minority, and I have no desire to take anything people dressed like fools have to say as fact without verifying.

[ some might say he has no room to talk, but everyone else is strange from his perspective. ]

↳ { iii. activation; } [ cw: body horror, violence, death ]

[ when the changes started he was sure that whatever this is — his life here — was coming to an end. that would make sense according to the way the natural order ought to be. kugel is surprised to discover this seems to be quite the opposite. it hurts, of this there is no doubt. but out of that, he feels stronger than before. he requires less sleep over time until he stops sleeping altogether. but he still looks perfectly human; no one can see from the outside what’s going on underneath his skin.

on this night, it’s as if someone’s flipped a switch, activating something that hadn’t been there before. he doesn’t know what, only that it is. but he still looks perfectly human, just a jackass wandering the streets in a purple rubber suit. like bad cosplay. he probably looks like an easy mark for a couple of street thugs with knives.

kugel senses the attack before it happens; it feels strangely familiar, like being plugged into striker’s systems and feeling as well as hearing an alert for oncoming danger. he turns and extends an arm, but of course, it’s his own and not his machine calibre’s; there’s no beam rifle. there’s something else there instead he couldn’t anticipate — and apparently, neither does one of his attackers given the horrified scream at seeing “living” wires sprout from the palm of his hand — but it’s too late now. kugel’s already moving, the wires grasping like vines even before he gets a hold of the man’s throat. when he does, his fingers grip like a metal clamp, his arm barely shaking despite the frantic thrashing of the man’s attempts to free himself.

curiously, he watches as blue and magenta lines light up along his fingers and his arm, just the same as they did when he was piloting. it’s fascinating enough that he only remembers the man he’s still holding when he notices it’s gone much quieter. shocked, he lets go of the desiccated corpse and watches the wires recede into his hand, having emerged through the control port on the palm of his suit.

something flashes in his peripheral vision, and he realises too late that it’s a knife. he anticipates pain and blood, but instead, there’s only a sensation of tearing and the sound of metal striking metal. another hesitation borne of a fear response — it’s almost pathetic, these people — and one good strike snaps the man’s arm, and the blade slips from his fingers. ]

Leave.

[ he hadn’t intended to kill. still isn’t quite sure how he killed, but the body on the ground is no illusion. he’ll let this one go. tentatively he reaches up to feel at what should have been a nasty wound but finds only a cold, hard metallic surface, not unlike a machine calibre’s armour plating and the torn edges of his skin, like his face is only just a mask he’s wearing. ]

What the hell is happening here?

↳ { iv. wildcard; }

[ ooc; kugel's canon point is post-canon, so let me know if you want to opt out of any spoilers. if you wanna plot or do anything else, hmu @ koutenko ! ]

ii.

[aquilasshadow]

< dragonfly >
You've been stranded on a different world so disregarding the locals just because they don't fit your views, which naturally they wouldn't unless you are arrogant enough to think the whole universe revolves around your world, which it doesn't by the way, doesn't say very much about your competence.

[Granted, anything the tagevalgten said should be taken with a very large grain of salt after that horrendous valentine fiasco but that was besides the point.]

leon kuwata | danganronpa | demon.

[poppunk]

001 ⦁ the arrival.

( Leon Kuwata. Sayaka Maizono and Mondo Owada on either side. He's all sobs and gasping for life and breath once he climbs his way out of the hole, dirty fingers clenched down into earth.

There's a jingle of keys and — someone calls out to him. He gets up and he runs, still heaving, jumping expertly over graves and flowers. Until he ends up tripping and wiping out into another hole.

It might be funny if he weren't so hysterical. )

002 ⦁ spill this blood.

Fog-given gifts? Uh ... Haha.

( He blinks at the locals in front of him, feeling uncomfortable. )

Does this shit get better? Is that what you mean by gift ... ? 'Cause, listen, I already got a gift and it didn't do fuck-all for me in the end ...

( Please help him. )

003 ⦁ wildcard.

( hey i'm over @ ragekind for plotting if you want something else ^^ )

1

[devilsproof]

[Excuse you, sir. This grave is occupied.]

[Before Leon manages to fully collapse into this open grave, all four of its occupants limbs are kicking and punching to get him out. There's a high, loud noise, too, which eventually coalesces into actual words, which, together, make up . . . basically a small tantrum.]

Go get your own! This is mine, it has my name on it. What kind of boor simply falls into other people's graves—

[Pretty words for someone who is trying very hard to kick Leon in the groin to get him out of her personal dirt square. Man, there's a lot of flying skirt down here. Amazing that it all fits in the grave.]

Quasimodo | The Hunchback of Notre Dame | Nephilim

[ugliestfaceinparis]

[Scenario One]

[Quasimodo easily climbs out of his own grave, but he stares at the name on his tombstone for a while. It doesn't even register to him that he's outside and that's not good.]

Am I... dead?

[He doesn't notice the shovel being swung at his head.]

[Scenario Two]

[The people dressed up as monsters reminds Quasimodo of the Feast of Fools, and there's no way he's sticking around for that. He's desperate to find some kind of hiding place so that he can figure out where he is and try to get back to Notre Dame before Frollo notices he's gone. But before he can do that, there's people in costumes stuffing pamphlets about monsters into his hands. He looks very awkward standing there, trying to read them and walk away from the crowds at the same time.]

[Scenario Four - Nephilim]

[Quasimodo didn't want to believe that he'd turn into a monster - he already was one. But as he's wandering through the building, he collapses as a sharp pain shoots through his back.

He lets out a yell as six, feathery wings burst from his back.]

scenario one

[lone_horse]

[ Kiryu had been trying to find a good way out of the cemetery and avoid the groundsman who would no doubt have questions for him that he could not answer, but as he sees another confused soul, he starts to approach; maybe this one, waking up as he had, might need help. He sees the man with the shovel notice him as well, and makes a snap decision.

Which ends with his foot sailing into the man's arm, knocking away the shovel before it caves in the confused man's head. He looks up as he rolls to his feet and his voice does not brook argument.]

Run.

[ Then he's dodging a punch and swinging around to throw an uppercut against the groundsman's chin.]

Magnus Burnsides | The Adventure Zone: Balance | OTA

[rushtic]

( scenario one; the shovel talk )

[ Being buried in a shallow grave is...honestly not the weirdest way Magnus has ever woken up (the fantasy high school takes that cake), but it's definitely up there. Top ten maybe, if not top five. It doesn't take long for him to clamber out, brushing the dirt off his clothes and looking around at the tombstones, eyebrows jumping up when he reads off some very familiar names. ]

Oooookay, this just went from a pretty good prank to someone getting an ass-kicking when I find them.

[ He isn't too worried about the obvious implications, given that he's still alive and also all the shit they've been able to survive this far, but if his friends are buried somewhere under there too, then it's his job to help dig them up! Or wait, hang on...nope, doesn't seem like he's carrying any markers he can use to deface the tombstones with. Okay, digging them up it is!

He starts off with the stone marked Merle, on the logical basis that a) it'll take the least amount of effort what with being the smallest grave, and b) Merle would definitely be the one among them who would need the most help. With only his bare hands and the rain making the soil heavier and harder to remove, it's slow going despite his strength. At the distinctive sound of a shovel hitting the ground in the distance, he glances around and perks up when he sees the shadowy silhouette underneath the light of a lantern. ]

Hail and well met, stranger! D'you mind if I borrow your shovel?

[ For anyone nearby, now would probably be a good time to shove the loudly waving man into the dirt for his own safety...though given his own fairly impressive size, maybe it'll be more entertaining just to sit back and watch the fireworks. ]

( scenario two; final jeopardy )

[ Ahh, rustic hospitality pays off again! Clearly his folksy charm is the main reason why these natives are so eager to welcome him into their fold and definitely not for any other nefarious means. At any rate, Magnus can be found at the center of the festivities, enthusiastically dancing with the locals and chatting up a storm...though he does make a point of avoiding the meat.

Eventually, he separates himself long enough to start poring over the pamphlets they gave him...or at least the ones that seem like fun to read, aka the personality quizzes. ]

...let's see, carry the two, subtract the number of M-points, and - oh come on, nephwhatever again? How do I get the one that lets me turn into a bear?! [ He turns to anyone sitting nearby with their own pamphlets, bearing more than a passing resemblance to a kid trying to cheat off a test. ] Hey, have you taken these quizzes yet? What did you get?

( scenario three wolf moon )

[ Because Magnus has been a very good boy, Foggy Claus has gotten him the greatest gift for Candlenights this year - getting to turn into a dog! Not that he's aware of this at first as he strolls down the crowded streets of Bavan, before suddenly coming to a halt as he feels something squirming in a place where...things should not squirm. ]

Uhh, okay, everyone look away right now! I have a butt emergency!

[ He yanks down his pants - thankfully not far enough for anything untoward to be seen - and a long fluffy brown dog tail emerges, wagging happily. Magnus stares at it with wide eyes, looking like all of wishes have come true. ]

Oh, sick! Look at me, I'm adorable!

[ Eagerly, he grabs for his new tail to test how fluffy it is, only to have it sway out of his grasp. Undeterred, he reaches for it again and again - and again and again, as he starts spinning in a circle trying to chase down his tail. ]

( wildcard )

[ Got something else in mind? Hit me up at octanes! ]

the one with his name in it

[soulwood]

[ As if on cue, an arm breaks through the loamy soil marked by his respective tombstone, waving around spookily before finding purchase on the ground. With a overdramatic grunt of exertion, that arm gives way to becoming an arm and a shoulder, then the rest of Merle's diminutive frame busts out through the threshold into open air. With only one working arm, he drags himself mostly out of the grave, only to face plant and eat dirt. ]

Gee, thanks for the help. Couldn't have done it without ya.

[ Not!!!!! ]

laios touden | dungeon meshi

[teratovore]

i. original character do not steal

[There is one person seemingly immune to the Tågevalgten's pushy, over-friendly attitude. A man with short, blond hair fully clad in plate armor is busy perusing a few pamphlets, with even more having been stuffed into his boots. His face is alight with enthusiasm as he thumbing through a totally accurate Monster Personality Quiz, occasionally flipping to the results to compare the responses.

As he converses with the cult members, he seems utterly oblivious to any threat they might pose to him--as far as he's aware, they've just proven how nice and generous they are, and how stoked they are about monsters. Laios jabbers on and on, and the cult members hang onto his every word.]

--I always wanted to know what kind of monster I'd be. Just looking at these pamphlets, I think all of them are pretty cool. I've never encountered a s--simulacrum? Is that what it's called? But I don't think it'd be too different from animated armor or something.

[He snaps his fingers, as if remembering something.]

Oh! That reminds me, I used to have this really cool monster design that I came up with when I was little. Do you want to see?

[A nearby cult member wordlessly hands him a pencil and paper, and Laios begins to draw something. After a few minutes, he presents a doodle to the crowd that has gathered around him. They murmur among each other, nodding and not willing to speak against him.]

Isn't it cool?

ii. ..............slime man (cw: body horror)

[It happens while he's out at a cafe in downtown Bavan, enjoying the outdoor air. He waits for his order to come--a serving of bratwurst, potatoes, and cabbage--tapping his fingers against the table.

He only notices something is wrong when the familiar sound of tapping is replaced with a soft, wet squelch. Puzzled, he looks down at his hand, only to see his fingers stuck against the table. Laios carefully pulls his hand away from the surface, and as he does so, the skin pulls taut and stretches thin like freshly melted mozzarella cheese on a pizza. Were it not for the viscous drops of...of soupy flesh dripping onto the ground, it almost looks as though his very skin is sloughing off.

Naturally, Laios's first instinct is to scream, jumping up from his seat and trying to scoop up the remainder of his hand from the table. However, it quickly dies as he realizes that there is no pain associated with the change whatsoever. He stops, staring at his hand as his fingers continue to collapse in on themselves. Multicolored slime, shimmering like oil on the surface of water, drips down onto the ground.

Laios's original expression of horror slowly morphs into that of morbid curiosity. Slowly, he lifts his melting hand to his face and licks it. His reaction is instantaneous--he gags, spitting it out and trying to wipe his mouth, only to spread the slime onto his face. After taking a moment or two to recover, he looks back down at his arm, which has only continued to degrade.]

I wonder if it'd be better cooked?

iii. network - < ChimeraLover45 >

Hello, everyone. My name is Laios, and I'm really interested in learning more about the monsters here. There are a lot of similarities between the monsters I've encountered in my own world, like kelpies, but I'm kind of sad that there aren't any as many chimera-type monsters here. There are manticores, but that's the only one that comes to mind. Back at home, we have a lot of different monsters that combine different parts from various animals, like cockatrice, basilisks, hippogriffs, and more! What's really cool is that monsters like cockatrice and basilisks taste remarkably similar to chicken, though cockatrice meat tastes a little more bitter.

Anyways, I have a few questions! Has anyone eaten any of the monsters here? If so, what kind of monsters, and did you eat them raw or cooked/prepared? What did they taste like?

I'm also looking for monsters who would be willing to donate some of their meat to be consumed. Since monsters heal every time it gets super foggy, it shouldn't be too much of an issue, right?

1 STICKS M LEGGY IN HERE

[boneshears]

[The manticore, leaning over the seated boy, furrows his eyebrows.]

A chimera, is it not?

[They were absolutely the coolest monster. Very difficult to kill back home, but altogether they had just the slickest overall look. A mix of everything that's deadly, all in one body? Hell yes.]

You might not want to eat what they're offering, by the way. Just a little advice.

Faith Lehane | Buffy the Vampire Slayer

[neverbest]

i. scenario one - deadgirl walking

[ It takes a moment to register the situation she's in as Faith wakes six feet under, surrounded by darkness and deafening silence with walls at each side of her but after the initial panic she knows what she has to do. Her space is limited for drawing her arms and legs back, but after a few solid hits with her fists and feet the wood above her cracks and gives way, dirt pouring in in a rush as she scrambles to rise above it and out of the grave.

Faiths been in her fair share of graveyards over the years, but generally speaking she's the one above ground not the one clawing her way through the dirt and shards of broken coffin from below.

She looks around now, realizing none of the tomb stones are familiar, she's never been here before. Even so, she reaches down into the pile of dirt to fish out a palm sized piece of sharp broken wood, a make-do stake if there ever was one. Familiar graveyard or not, if there are vamps it would be good to be prepared. ]

ii. Backwater Burning Man

[ When Richard had promised her a chance to start anew with the device he'd left her, she'd been under the impression that she was going to get herself a fresh new body- well, not entirely fresh- but she would take Buffy's body and her life all the same. It was going to be kinda poetic and everything. Instead, the device had transported her to some backwater Burning Man in a hell dimension which was probably not it's original intention.

She takes one of the pamphlets that the decked out weirdos are peddling, skimming its contents. ]

The hell is this? Aren't these things supposed to tell you what Backstreet Boy you're going to date?

I

[lone_horse]

[ Kiryu makes sure there is plenty of space between himself and the girl with the pointy blackjack there before he peeks out from behind a grave. Quietly, just above a whisper- ]

The groundskeeper is probably walking back from that direction. Go the other way.

Otsuu | Mary Skelter 2

[heartgivenwings]

1. Scenario One: Cold like the Snow

[She wakes up staring at the sky. So... things didn't work out, did they? That was that the only thought that crossed Otsuu's mind as the scent of damp soil reached her nose. She covers her eyes with a hand, barely able to look at the sky--

The sky? She can see the sky? She blinks as she stands up, the soil falling from her clothes. Her body aches but that's no surprise. Just what happened? She shouldn't be able to see the sky. Her eyes glance at the grave markers then she shifts her gaze away. Her teeth grit.

The sound of someone approaching makes her turn around.]

Hey... just what's happening? I'll owe you one if you can tell me.

2. Scenario Two: Birds of a Feather

[If you owe a debt, you repay it. Even now that's something Otsuu feels strongly. The urge is strangely weaker than normal but a habit is hard to break. These strangers are helpful and because of that she feels like going along with them for a time.

The problem was that everything about them made her skin crawl. If half what they say is real, then no human should be close to her or any of the other newcomers. It's unnatural. Wrong.

A prince should be generous and kind, she finds repeating in her head yet without Little Mermaid around she really didn't need to be a prince anymore. Still. She lingers, flicking through the pamphlets.]

All of these look like marchen... [She murmurs to herself at the pictures of various monsters. There's a pause when she finds a picture of a plant-like creature and she suddenly shoves the pamphlet at the nearest human.] I'm good, thanks. I don't care what I'll be as long as it's not one of those.

[Her face is suddenly paler than usual as she moves quickly in the other direction. She'll find a way to pay them back later for their generosity but for now she needs to just keep that image out of her mind.]

3. Scenario 3: Time to Fly South

[The bonfire, the praises meant for the sky above makes Otsuu nervous. It's easier to be afraid when you don't have to pretend to be brave. Still, she lingers at the edge of Dyster. Her gaze is firmly focused on the ground.]

4. Network | Username: PrincelyCrane

Hey. My name's Otsuu and I've got a couple questions. Is everyone from the surface? This really is my first time so I didn't think it'd be like this. I guess maybe it's just a thing where we're from different realities, huh? It's still strange to think about.

Another question: can someone tell me about these merpeople? Are there anyone out there who is one? How's swimming like? Is the water cold here? I have a bunch of questions, actually. Just call it curiosity.

Oh, right. I do have a third one! Does anyone know where I can get cloth? I'm not bad at sewing. I might as well try to help since I'm not good at fighting like this.

5. Wildcard!

[I'm really up for anything. Otsuu's canonpoint is after the normal ending of the game.]

2.

[apotheosised]

[ kugel managed to retreat to somewhere just a bit quieter than where he'd ended up originally, needing a break from liveliness and the noise. the fleet was many things — not all of them good — but it was quiet. he's paid the other newcomers only a scant amount of attention so far, in no particular hurry to engage with any of them as they were as useless in this position as he is. he's had his doubts about the tågevalgten since they'd first appeared but in the time since that feeling of unease has only worsened, although he can't quite put his finger on it.

in any case, isolation is hardly the best course of action here.

it's the movement that catches his eye first, different from the rest. body language is all wrong. that's nothing he'd ever been formally trained in, but he has plenty of experience in recognising fear when he sees it. it's at least more promising than some of the others; at least the ones who have the sense to be afraid have demonstrated that they have any. the ones partaking in the food or pouring over the pamphlets with genuine interest? doubtful.

fortunately, he's not gone far so it requires little effort to circle round the outer edge of the gathering to catch up; it's not as if he's sneaking about either, there's a good chance she'd notice yet another oddly dressed person approaching anyway, but at least to his credit, it's a very different sort of odd. ]

You saw something there you didn't like, didn't you? An enemy, perhaps?

[ not his... best introduction. no one would dare say anyone from the galatic alliance has any amount of skill at dealing with others, but isolation does things to a person's ability to hold a normal conversation. ]

Simple curiosity. Where I've been is nothing like this place; it's very easy to justify not trusting them. [ he finishes saying so as someone wearing an elaborate kelpie mask goes galloping past. not that he's ever seen a horse nor a kelpie to even have a word for it, but he doesn't need one to know it's damned strange. ]

Not to insinuate that that might be normal to you, but it's helpful to know where others' lines are drawn.

[ he supposes that's attempting to find "common ground", a term that is absolutely meaningless in space but seems reasonably applicable here. ]

Kohaku | Tsukihime

[ergine]

ooc

As the remake is an upcoming release, please be aware that Kohaku's tags are likely to contain plot spoilers for Tsukihime as a whole. Additionally, some content warnings can be found in her journal.

scenario one

[ There isn't anything strange about Kohaku lying in a grave. Instead, what's strange is the fact that she is alive to notice in the first place.

She sits up. Her kimono is dirty from the damp earth that had embraced her corpse, but more than that, its dark cloth is torn and bloody in the front, too. She must really look like a monster from a horror movie as she pulls herself out of her grave, she thinks—but then again, if she's a dead person moving around, she might really be exactly that.

The sound of movement doesn't scare her. The distant, heavy noise of wet earth being shoveled or packed doesn't scare her. Monsters don't scare her, her expression nothing less than the pleasant smile of morning well wishes. ]

Pardon me. Could you tell me which cemetery this is?

scenario two

[ The Tågevalgten don't scare her, either. ]

Hmm? [ She hums, polite interest. ] Hunting? Sorry, I don't know anything about that... The Tohno family was pretty traditional, but even they used the supermarket.

[ She laughs, ahaha, her voice light.

Even so, one of the strange locals answers her. It seems that they aren't satisfied by her gentle refusal. ]

"Can't avoid it"...? I'm not really trying to avoid anything, though. [ Even so, her smile remains undisturbed on her lips. ] I appreciate the hospitality, but it's a bit of a problem if you're so hospitable you end up treating your guests impolitely. Don't you agree?

scenario four

[ Time passes. Kohaku gets a job at the clinic, or at a flower shop, or in the kitchen of a diner. In the morning, she wakes up with two even puncture wounds red on the pale skin of her throat, as though someone had snuck into her bed the night before and carefully pierced her skin with the needle of a syringe.

She goes to work anyway. She feels a little lightheaded, but it's nothing so bad that she can't work through it. Except, now, someone is talking to her and she can't really hear them. Except, now, the edges of her vision blur—like a tunnel, her eyes growing glassy and unfocused as she continues to look in the direction of that voice she doesn't hear.

There's no word of warning as she suddenly collapses forward. As the floor rushes up to meet her, she just barely has time to wonder—is this the way Shiki-san's anemia had felt? ]

4

[clonelord]

[Rare is the occasion that Fabius actually comes in to Crowe Clinic; but with the recent parasitic outbreak, more hands were needed to care for the aftermath of wounded monsters. He hadn't paid much attention to the newer staff members—he doesn't care enough to—except for a lone girl whom he hasn't said more than simple orders or half-baked pleasantries to since her arrival.

Most steer clear of him, something he enjoys, but most also fear him too. Kohaku, for the most part, did neither.

So, when she seems delirious, Fabius took notice but hadn't said much. When she collapses though, he's methodically quick to take to her side and pull her up into one of the nearby unoccupied beds. He takes a moment to apply first aid to her bleeding forehead, making sure there isn't more than a scratch's worth of damage. He looks her over, only then noticing the mark on her neck.]

A vampiric bite, [his brow furrows as he tilts her chin to look at him,] how long has it been since this appeared?

Yugi Mutou | Yu-Gi-Oh!

[turnstart]

scenario one

[This... is not Yugi's bed. Nor his room, nor his house. It isn't even a building. Just a hole in the ground. Just soft earth staining clean clothes, and dirt mashed deep into cuts he knows he didn't go to bed with last night. His supernatural adventures should be over - he shouldn't be dealing with anything more otherworldly than the dregs of magic in his cards and puzzle box.]

I thought I was done with all of this...

[Not just with strange things happening; more importantly, he thought he was done with waking up after a blackout in a place he didn't remember being... a long time ago. It's weird, feeling unsure of his body again.

Yugi groans and rubs his head, which-- not his best idea. Now he just has more dirt on his face. He pulls himself from the grave, sees his name on the gravestone and those of his friends and his grandfather - shocked, but he swallows down that fear to get himself up and moving - he has to move so he can understand what kind of game this is. Because this must be a game. His friends and family are not dead and neither is he and he needs to get to the bottom of this and

and he runs further into the dark, away from the light. He runs until he bumps into some other pour soul trying to escape the graveyard, or until he makes it out himself, stopping to catch his breath once he thinks it's safe.]

scenario two

[Whatever happens in the spooky graveyard, Yugi eventually makes it onto the bus. Which is also kind of spooky, but-- everything about this is strange so far. Might as well jump into the thick of it. Besides, RPG logic states that looking for information is often easier by following the NPCs. Plenty of those around the fire.

Which is how he ends up with his hands full of pamphlets. He's too nice to say no, so once in Rota he ends up accepting at least one of each with a polite thanks, and a friendly wave, and a sheepish comment to those that look new around him--]

Monsters like... monster cards? I still feel like me, though...

[Not like a monster or a Fog Child or anything but Yugi Mutou. And later, said Yugi Mutou has some difficulty getting out of the kind of culty-feeling campfire.]

Thank you for the hospitality, but I have to get go-- Hey, cut that out! I'm not interested in hunting!

scenario three

[Seek us out. Okay, but, like... where?

The voice doesn't give him any sort of direction, but eventually he winds up at an arcade. Which, of course he does. Jury's out on whether the voice somehow leads him there or if Yugi just falls back on old habits. It isn't unusual for him to find solace in a game - occupying idle hands or a scrambling brain with what's familiar.

But-- no, playing pinball is absolutely not going to get him out of here. Yugi sighs to himself before quietly venturing further in, calling out softly:]

Hello...? Is anyone else here?

wildcard

[Feel free to hit me up with something different, either in a PM or by just throwing down a prompt! Yugi is from manga canon, post- Dark Side of Dimensions.]

there he is!!

[knifemonopoly]

[The other Yugi makes it a point to investigate entry-points. He'd heard a graveyard had appeared around here, and people had appeared in it, so he's just nicely making his way in as somebody is making their way out.

His vision's sharp as a nocturnal monster-type, and he sees clearly who's heading his way. He stops dead -- no pun intended. It's him, but it's not him, but it's...

It is very dark. And the combination of his own shock and Yugi's entirely ordinary human vision means that he doesn't get out of the way quite in time for them to not bump into each other in a literal sense just inside the cemetery gate.]

Oof!

[He stumbles back, but doesn't fall -- even though he's a good few inches shorter than this other him. It's enough to knock him back to his senses, though -- if Yugi's running from something, then it's probably bad! If Yugi did fall, he'll extend a hand (oddly chill, in the night air) to help him up; if not, he'll just beckon.]

This way. Come on!

[And he'll take off at a human-speed run, once he's sure of being followed. If Yugi didn't recognize the voice, once they hit the part of the street that's better lit, the streetlights that cut through the fog will make it perfectly clear who it is that's leading Yugi away. He's not had many physical changes; his skin's a little bloodless, his eyes were red already, and his fangs only really show when he talks. Strangely, the weirdest thing might be that his bangs flop into his face, like Yugi's do -- the Puzzle that hangs around his neck doesn't have any of its powers, not even the hair ones.

(He and Steve Harrington have talked about workshopping a solution, but he's not quite found the time yet, what with, you know, one thing and another.)]

Emma Hawkins | Turtle Head: Unmasked

[youcantsaveher]

Scenario I

[Emma wakes up with a start, and she immediately wants to scream. This was a grave. Oh dear god oh dear god.]

A-am I…?

[She takes a moment to assess that she is still alive, if only because she feels like heaven or hell would probably not look like this. Did that turtle man do this? Was he going to bury her alive? She hated how reasonable that sounded, she hated it so much.

With some effort, she climbs herself out of the grave, and feels her heart stop when she sees her name on the grave stone.]

Of course that bastard…

[She doesn’t have time to say anything else before she hears a dull pickaxe in the distance, getting steadily closer. She scrambles behind the gravestone, covering her mouth with a hand as she sobs quietly.]

Please don’t find me, please don’t find me.

[Her eyes are screwed shut. She knows who it is after all, she has no need to watch out to see who it is.

...Right?]

Scenario II

[Emma lets out an undignified shriek when she sees the people in animal headdresses. She didn’t know what was happening but she knew one thing: she already hated whoever these people were.

She wanted to run away. Just punch these assholes in the faces and bolt for it, but she finds herself overwhelmed and dragged on the bus. She shakes like a leaf the whole trip there, only occasionally hurling insults at the members

Once arriving, she manages to calm herself down knowing that she’s not going to be tortured and murdered by these people… yet. She stays away from the food and drink and instead occupies her time reading the pamphlets, and eventually gets to the Monster Quiz.]

“Question 1) What’s your favorite food? A. Human Flesh B. Human Flesh C. Human Flesh D. All of the Above”

…

Did anyone ever teach you guys how quizzes work?

[Eventually the members notice her refusing to eat, and start getting insistent that she at least have a bite. Emma feels her heart sink as she feels the members swarming around her, asking what’s wrong. Insisting that it can’t hurt to just have one bite. They made it especially for her.]

Look, I’m not hungry! Can’t you bug someone else already? Geez!

[They don’t seem to like that as they get more insistent, and in a panic Emma scrambles on top of the table just to get away from them.]

S-shut up you creeps! Just because I’m gonna turn into a monster doesn’t mean you can just force me to eat human flesh! Get away before I punch you all in the dick!

[Despite her yelling, he looks visibly terrified as the group advances on her, some even climbing on the tables themselves.

Emma decides to book it, shouting for help for anyone that can hear it.]


Scenario IV - Network - [Nephilim]

You know, I heard about how horrible this place is. How it transforms you into a bloodthirsty monster that kills innocent people. And you know I thought I could handle it. I mean clearly a lot of people here were able to handle it! But this?!

Bird wings and a halo? This is an ANGEL! That’s not even a monster!!! I know they’re supernatural beings but I was promised monsters! It’s like if you told me I was going to turn into a dragon and I become a unicorn!

THEY ARE TWO! UNRELATED!! THINGS!!!

I hope the fog god or whoever can issue refunds because I am disappointed.

… I can keep the extra eyes though.

2!

[gray_son]

[The weirdos out in Rota remained a point of interest for Dick Grayson, even months after they had largely faded from the public consciousness. Perhaps that was why he was out on a nice, foggy day, ready to watch over the proceedings below. The peace of his quiet observation is somewhat spoiled when someone comes flying out of one of the buildings, the Tage in hot pursuit.]

[Dick's swift to drop out of the branches, the massive Gargoyle dropping deliberately between the stranger and the cultists, the latter drawing up short at the real monster that's made an appearance.]

Whoa! Back up, gang. Chasing newbies is low, even for you guys.

[He doesn't turn from them, but looks back over a shoulder at Emma.]

You okay there?

Tyreen Calypso | Borderlands 3

[notthatkindofgod]

[Scenario one]
[There are worse places to wake up on Pandora than an unmarked grave. Better places, too. If not by much. Pandora was a world marked by blood and death. One of the worst in the galaxy. It was home, in a sense. Home's where the family is - that's the saying, right? Even if your "family" is the frothing, homicidal, utterly devoted masses.

Tyreen Calypso awakes with a cough, spitting up a good mouthful of dirt before dragging herself to the edge of the ditch.

Every cut and scrape along her body stings, but it isn't bothersome, it's surprising. The greatest power in the universe was flowing through her not moments ago, and now she felt tired, sore, and severely pissed off. A feeling that persists as she climbs to the edge...]

Not... today, vault thieves.

[...And spies her own gravestone. It's not big enough, or flashy enough. Gods deserve better.]

... Troy...?

[Looks around at the dead - heh - silence. No fanatical followers. No parasitic brothers.]

Figures.

[Time to drag herself out of an open grave and... Try to smash the headstone? She's got nothing better to do.]

[Scenario two]
[Others may be concerned by the Tågevalgten, with their headdresses, tattoos, and overall eager to please attitudes. Or the town of Rota itself, with its rustic... downright 'feral' aesthetics.

To Tyreen, it feels like home. It's comfortable having folks fawn on her with a fanatical bent. So it's not difficult to catch the former Siren amidst the throngs of locals, happily chatting them up.]

Hey! You with the face! Yeah, you. [she's talking to you, lowering her hand to hush the Tågevalgten at her sides.] These guys want to start up a hunting party, "for noobs." Their words, not mine. Mostly.

You in?

[Scenario three]
[They ask her to seek, and she'll seek. But not because they want her to.

Imagine Tyreen's surprise when she's drawn to the Fourth God's arcade, a bastion of technology in this wasteland of a world. Wall-to-wall arcade machines light up the dark in a variety of flashing colors and chiptunes.

She's never been... so disappointed in a entertainment set up in her life.]

This is what passes for a setup in this town? Where the cameras? Where the dubstep?

[Apparently, to emphasize her point, Tyreen rears a leg back and punts one of those little robots into a nearby pinball machine.]

Okay. That was pretty funny.

Scenario 2

[thedifferencebetween]

[Wow, some people have no manners! He's only here in case something important goes down, so he doesn't get caught off guard. Or left out of the loop.]

Do I look like I've got nothing better to do? Cuz I do. And even if I didn't, like I'm gonna waste my precious free time dicking off with a bunch of knock-off bandit cult losers.

[Handsome Jack is an important man with important things to do, by some definition of 'important'. He'd be sneering if his face could move, but instead he can only pleasantly smile while his eyes light up with an eerie brightness.

This scene? Not his bag.]

Grace Monroe | Infinity Train

[noreturnvalue]

BOOK ONE

[ Hm. There's a lot of wild stuff on the Train, she admits, but this seems a little excessive. And dark, even for the weirdest cars she's seen. The Train doesn't exactly try to let you think this hard about your own death.

Not that it's absent from the train, obviously. She knows that now. But she stays in the ditch for a long few minutes, staring up at the sky. She raises her hand - number's still there - and thinks, long and hard, about what's going on.

Then there's jingling. Of course she's not alone, there's not a lot of alone time on any car, so she kicks herself up to her feet and-

Right. Not violence.

And so, slipping on a very charming sort of voice: ]

Hey there, uh, big guy? You got a name?

[ SWING.

Grace dodges back. Okay, nothing on the Train does that. ]

A shovel! I can see you have a shovel, wow, it's... very nice...?

[ SWING. ]

Oookay, nice to meet you! Bye!

[ And she is just! Running! Wow, she's fast for a human. Anyway, she's liable to run right past you? And then kind of. Sigh. And stop for a second. ]

You should probably run too!

[ A beat. She looks back. ]

Wait. Is he still back there?

BOOK TWO

[ Okay, this? Still creepy, but way more passenger speed. She's still half-convinced she's managed to wind up on a super-glitched car or something, but...

This is still solidly in Very Weird territory. Luckily, Grace can handle people. Even this kind of people. Probably? ]

Wow! I'm so excited about that, that I'm just going to go take a walk and think about it, okay? Great, thanks. Love the pamphlets, by the way, definitely not weird or creepy at all!

[ And, to the first person she sees after getting a moment away, in a low tone: ]

You want to just try and book it? What are they gonna do, chase us?

BOOK THREE

[ Wildcard! Want to do something else? Hit me up via pm! ]

Book Two-ish. Like 2.5.

[isawallflower]

[ You know, that's what Grace would say to anyone who would qualify as a newbie. Not someone who looks like you crossed a person with a freaking turkey.

New arrivals in Rota aren't ever good. The Tågevalgten are dangerous, and Riley's a lot of things, but she's not the kind of person to leave these people to their fates. Now, if only she could get around the whole monster thing...

It's a stupid idea. A very stupid idea, particularly because her bird feet are still visible—but when Riley approaches Grace, it's under a full-on cloak. The tips of her wings still almost brush the ground as she walks, and a hint of a vibrant tail pokes out—but at least she's not just strolling up to someone who hasn't met a monster before on full display.

Kind of amazing, that someone who looks fully human—modernly human—talks to her and doesn't do a double-take. ]

Yes! Yes, booking it sounds like a very, very good idea. Aaand if they start to follow, I can just...you know, you can just let me talk to them, I have a few...ideas.

[ ...That sounds suspicious doesn't it. Damn it. ]

akechi goro | persona 5 royal [spoilers for the end of said game]

[forfeited]

scenario one;

[It's not the first time he's "woken up dead", though it's certainly a little more blatantly symbolic, this time. Regardless, he doesn't get up immediately. He lays there, mind running a thousand miles a minute, and it's not until he hears the distinctive sounds of movement that he figures he ought to get his less-than-dead self out of the ground before someone comes along and buries him alive. He isn't especially interested in dying a third time, since God seems to have chosen to make him everyone's problem, again.]

[He gives the gravestone a cursory glance before he scans the graveyard for motion, but it's abysmally hard to see. Unfortunate. He's not especially well-camouflaged in his khaki coat, but the grave dirt all over it does something, because he manages to slink along from gravestone to gravestone until he gets oriented enough to find a way out of the graveyard.]

[Of course, should you come across him mid-sneak, feel absolutely free to throw him right back in his grave where he belongs.]

scenario two;

[He discovered the hard way he had no means of fighting offensively, and frankly, he was pissed about it. To wake up in a grave wasn't so terrible he'd have openly complained about it, but being swiftly rounded up by a group of bizarre natives had been less than ideal. The friendlier they behaved, the less Akechi had any interest in being near them. Unfortunately for him, there were far more of them than there were of him, and he had no concept of the surrounding terrain to make an attempt at escape. So on the bus he went, and to Rota he went, seeming to strangers like a perfectly model, appreciative lost soul.]

[The pamphlets did not help, even if he collected them to gain intel anyway. The Stockholm tendencies of the Tågevalgten proved only to unnerve him, but he continued to play along, not aiming to make any hasty escapes until he could come to a better understanding of... well, anything. If you happen to be someone not among the Tågevalgten, expect to be approached by an ornery young adult trying to better understand circumstances you, likely, don't know anything more about than him.]

[Or maybe you do?]

Not that I don't appreciate the welcome by the locals, but I don't suppose you have any insight on how to get the hell out of here.

scenario three;

[Oh now what.]

[He is, at least, glad to have been spirited away from the Tågevalgten. Landing in the Fourth God's arcade was-- strangely nostalgic, and he walked himself in a careful circle to take in his surroundings. If you just so happen to be the first person he sees, monster or otherwise-- he's approaching you.]

I'm beginning to think it's common practice here to just never understand anything, would you care to shed some light on the situation?

three b;

[Or-- perhaps you'd like to approach him as he slowly paces through the arcade like a predatory lion. Anyone he passes he specifically does not meet the eyes of, trying to take into account how many bodies are in the building and determine his best course of action. He's also most certainly looking for an exit, but it's slow-going while he tries to figure out why he's wound up in a retro arcade, of all places when he woke up in a grave far too few hours prior to be processing this.]

the first one

[jokey]

[How appropriate that Akira should spot a cryptid of sorts milling about the graveyard. Don't get him wrong, it's an alarming sight and he absolutely is sweating bullets beneath his poker face, but it doesn't take long for his eyes to recognize the creature skulking through the shadows as distinctly human. Moreover, is that...?]

...It isn't.

[It can't be. Akechi most certainly is in some manner of grave, but certainly none of these and certainly not here, wherever here is. Akechi-shaped men belong in their Akechi-shaped graves. This can't be anything more or less than a dream if Akechi exists within it, so Akira sucks down a steadying breath and calls out calmly to the boy Solid Snaking through the graveyard.]

Akechi.

Mollymauk Tealeaf | Critical Role | OTA

[tieflingtarot]

Scenario One

[Yeah okay.

Sure, cool, cool, cool. This was just peachy. Everyone loved waking up in a grave. It was so awesome you guys.

Granted at first Molly thought it was just a dream. A really shitty one, adrenaline already spiking as he expected to be unable to move as dirt slid in to bury him-

But the surge of attempted movement worked. It worked really well in fact, the tiefling all but hitting the side of the grave face-first in his sudden wild scramble to drag himself up and out, breaths coming in ragged gasps as he hauled himself from dirt to grass, not even noting the gravestones beyond their existence, red eyes wild, purple skin and flamboyant outfit smeared with grave dirt as he coughed and hacked in a way that was almost reflexive, fighting the rise of bile and entirely unaware of the jingling of keys that might herald trouble coming his way.

More focused on floundering his way away from the open grave like it might somehow snatch him back, not trusting his legs just yet with as shaky as he felt, so it was more an ungraceful tumble across the grass on hands and knees until he hit the ground again, rolling onto his back with a weary muttered curse, filthy hands dragging through his hair-

And freezing utterly when his fingers didn't find the expected horns, the alarm of this just having him sitting bolt upright suddenly, hunting by touch.]

What the actual hell-


Scenario Two

[Molly had been admittedly a bit rattled when he was found. Which meant that getting him to come along to Rota wasn't too hard, even if there was already that little scrap of uncertainty about his supposed helpers. And as time passed, and the startle of how he'd woken up in this place faded, that little scrap was fed into one hell of a Bad Vibe as he was shuffled towards the lodge, where he was plied with food and drink that for all his stomach growled he was finding himself wary to touch, pamphlets pressed into his hands. He smiles his usual charming grin and buys himself some time to think and for them to forget that he hasn't eaten anything yet by thumbing through the literature though he wasn't reading any of it.

The people were friendly but... something about it made his skin crawl. It was like a cult and if there was one thing Mollymauk Tealeaf wanted nothing to do with? It was cults. When they were this invested in you, he'd noticed that there was a high likelihood that you were absolutely on the sacrificial chopping block and no thanks. And his unease just grew as he noticed every time he tried to bow out or slip away through the front door there was some rebuff or friendly blockade.

No way in hell was he hanging around, making a vaguely plausible excuse of wanting to clean up to get directions to a washroom, waiting to hear his escort get drawn away by something else before he turned his attention to the window. It took a little work to wedge open and if he was any wider in the shoulders he wouldn't be able to make his escape through it, but like fuck that was going to stop him. Anyone heading by the alley or into it might hear him, swearing softly in Common and Infernal both as he was sliding head-first, the bottom of his ostentatious coat sliding over his head as he got caught by the belt in the window's latch, hanging somewhat awkwardly before the part in the fabric moved just enough for him to realize he wasn't alone anymore, red gaze turning to see who had come across him, a grin slashed across his face.]

Care to lend a hand? Kinda finding myself a little stuck.

[A kick of a foot somewhere inside the washroom knocks something off the sink with a clatter that echoes, the tiefling wincing faintly at the noise as he squirmed to try and get uncaught.]

Sooner rather than later, please and thank you.


Scenario Three/Wildcard

[Want to find him wandering elsewhere? Stumbling around like a loser because how do you people balance without a tail? Getting into mischief because what else is he gonna do while unsupervised? Feel free to hit me up at atomic_kiwi or on Discord at Atomic_Kiwi#4878 and we can sort out some shenanigans!]

2

[blackdogstar]

[As soon as Sirius heard that there was shenanigans going on with Rota again, he rushed out to help. He is utterly incapable of leaving innocent people without protection, if he has the choice. Thankfully, he left a fairy ring out near Rota last time he visited, so he's there in no time at all, clear wings carrying him easily through the streets looking for humans to free or newbies to get away from the Tågvalten.

He doesn't quite expect to see one of said newbies hanging out of a window like winnie the pooh in rabbit's house, but okay. He can't help it, he stops to laugh, a fully belly shake that barks like a dog's.]

Sorry, sorry. Here, grab onto me.

[He steps forward, wrapping his arms around the man's middle and waiting until arms are around him as well.]

Ready on three? One, two- [Yank]

Huey Freeman | The Boondocks

[builderrefused]

A. I am the spark that makes your idea bright
There is a highly-unimpressed ten-year-old walking the streets of Bavan, waving away the pamphlets that are being offered to him. (He's the guy who gives out pamphlets, anyway, and these are amateur hour.)

Mostly he's looking in stores for an assortment of...interesting items. You may be able to find him purchasing some innocuous household chemicals, or trying to buy a machete (sadly, no katanas are on offer) or a BB gun. Most stores in Bavan and Vandare won't sell weapons to anyone underage, not even a proto-monster. Not like proto-monsters need weapons, anyway.

B. I am the ballot in the box, the bullet in the gun
< FreeHuey >
So you all are just...accepting this. You're not doing anything to change your fate. Just accepting the self-imposed authority of this Fog.

How beaten-down are you folks?

C. And I'ma remain a soldier 'til the war is won
There is a small Nephilim standing on a street corner in Bavan, on his soapbox. Literally, he is standing on a soapbox. There's a cloth tied around his second pair of eyes, and it looks like he doesn't have horns, aside from the very tips of them poking out of the top of his afro, but the six wings on his back can't be hidden, and he spreads them out in bold defiance, holding a picket sign that reads as follows:

THE FOG IS AN UNJUST AUTHORITY
THE FOG IS A KIDNAPPER
REBEL AGAINST THE FOG
NO GODS NO MASTERS

Now he's the one with the pamphlets, passing out black-and-white copies of something called the Free Huey World Report to anyone who will listen. Ask him about how the Fog God is connected to the Illuminati. Or don't. Actually, don't. It's probably a bad idea.

b., <WhiteWizard> and also bless this kid

[softspokenlandlord]

There's not much in the way of changing fates, but I don't like the fog god either.

[As evidenced by his subtle refusal to capitalize her name, unless he's engaging in polite conversation with a follower about their beliefs. Which is generally February 30th 2000-never.]

What is your suggestion, if I may inquire?

Jonathan Knight - OC - will match format

[knightofthedead]

1. Don't Run Away, It's Only Me
At first he thinks he's mummified himself in the blankets again. But the weight on top of him crumbles and falls away as Jon moves, and there's something in his eyes. He reaches up to wipe it away, and as he breathes in - "Fuck."

Is that dirt? Yeah, that's dirt. He ate enough of it on his rollerblades as a kid to know. He gets it out of his eyes, snorts it from his nose, spits it, and reaches up to tousle it out of his ginger curls. "Real fuckin' nice joke, there, April, hardy har... A+ for effort." He crawls his way up out of the hole he's half-in, and sits on the edge of the grave, raising his voice in an imitation of a feeble old man. "I FEEL HAPPYYYYYY..." The old joke dies in his throat as he spots the gravestone. And the ones around him: April Maine, Ral O'Dailigh, Troy McLaren, June Slovich, Beatrice Ledrey, Rowena Knight. He's just feeling his skin start to crawl in earnest when he hears the slide of feet on loose dirt.

"Okay. Officially not funny anymore. Who's out there?"

2. Treasure Chest of Lust and Mortal Sin
At first, anything out of that weird graveyard is a welcome change, and Jon's entranced by the freakshow the Tågevalgten present with their strange costumes and enthusiastic greetings. Ravenous, he accepts a kebab, and gnaws at it as he sits down cross-legged by a fire, going through the pamphlets.

"Hey," he says to whoever happens to be sitting nearby. "Do you have any ones I'm missing? These things are like Weekly World News trading cards. I've got Werewolf, Kelpie, three Manticore - holy shit, is that Waldgeist? I'll trade you one of my extra Vampires for a Waldgeist, that looks boss as fuck."

3. Wildcard
[mun is a Ryslig oldbie and will be happy to do any random peninsula shenanigans!]

2.

[voteforpedro]

Napoleon blinks at the other newcomer sitting next to him. In his hands, he holds multiple bronchures, some of which he has already folded neatly into small squares so that he can safely store them better in the pockets that aren't full of tater tots.

"No, I got these first," he grumbles. "Ask them for more."

Coco Bandicoot | Crash Bandicoot

[overallsandlaptop]

[One]

[Coco in theory should be alarmed at waking up in a grave. The smell of rain is annoying, and cold dirt isn't the most comfortable place to be after all.

In practice, she grunts in irritation, pulling herself up and out of it, bellowing out a warning for her brother. He must be nearby. She's going to punch him so hard.]

Crash! I swear- this is not funny!

[Clearly, Crash had decided to burrow and she had been in the way. Again. That is her assumption until she pulls herself up and out, staring at the graves behind herself.]

Oh. Okay, weird. Whatever.

[Coco starts to dust herself off, pausing to realize she is suddenly very furless. Now that alarms her. Her eyes widen in mild horror as she pats around her bare arms. Where is her fur? This is not normal.]

Oh, that's very weird! Hate this! Hate it a lot!

[cratecrasher]

[Well, it's very dark, yet not so dark that something "monstrous" can't see where he's going. But the voice is what he catches first in his sharp ears, flicking up at the strong familiarity. It can't be? Can it?

So very soon and very quickly, something is bounding over at her. Something just above Coco's size. Probably not so comforting either.]

Marik Ishtar | Yu-Gi-Oh!

[primadonnaboy]

[ Scenario One ]

[ Marik comes to underground, suffocating, and screaming.

Clawing in panic, he hurls himself out of the grave, surging forward until he's climbed all the way out and has the sky above him again. He sucks in breath, smells damp leaves, decay. Grave smells. Wetter than those of his childhood, but that just makes them stick in the back of his throat all the more.

He doesn't want to, but he twists to see what he's just escaped, and -

Frowns. Critically. ]

That's the wrong tradition.

[ Back over to the gravestones he strides, but this time he's knocking on them, examining the construction, the names on them: MARIK ISHTAR. ISHIZU ISHTAR. RISHID ISHTAR. ]

Whoever's out there - do you think I'm an idiot?! Do you think my siblings would rest anywhere but sarcophagi? That they'd sleep anywhere but the desert?

[ Oh, is someone approaching? Marik has no way of knowing if they're the culprit or not, but he doesn't care. He wants to complain to someone, so over he goes, pointing at the tombstones with aggrieved affrontery. ]

If you're going to mess with my mind, get the details right! This is insulting!

[ Scenario Two ]

[ Oh great. A cult. Just what Marik has always wanted to encounter, except not, he's had enough of that.

Scowling, he keeps to the outskirts of the festivities, arms crossed over his crop-topped torso to press against the growling of his stomach. He's damp and he's clammy and he's angry - a whole, entire new world to explore, and the first people he encounters are just variations on a theme he's been running from all his life. He needs a plan for getting out of here, and he needs it fast.

Does anything here bear any relation to a vehicle....? But that's still striking out on his own. Which is dangerous. He needs allies. Marik's eyes narrow thoughtfully. First target....That one.

Over he comes. ]

Excuse me, could I get your help with something? I'm vegetarian and I can't eat anything here....

[ Scenario Four - Gargoyle ]

Kha ha....ha ha ha....!!

[ The world is dizzying. Everything's sharper, more detailed - even things that had become commonplace look new again, and Marik drinks in the details.

This...this isn't that bad! He'd been so afraid, so horrified of appearing like the monster he knows has slept in his heart and mind before, but this isn't bad at all!! Look how well he can see, look - look, he has wings, reptilian and shot through with gold...and best of all....

Marik tears the remnants of his shirt off, twists to glance over his shoulder and laughs aloud again when he spots the itchy, delightful scales popping out of his back, covering the hated scars of his hatred and guilt. He should feel bad they're gone, but all he experiences is sweet relief. Look! Now he has a shield, and the darkness will never claim him again....

He can see extremely well in that darkness, come to think of it. How much better will he be able to see in daylight? How high can he fly? Ignoring the prickle of terror in the back of his mind, Marik hurries through the fog towards any spare sunlight trickling through.

He has a split second to think Something's wro-- before the world goes away.

And now there is a particularly stupid-looking gold statue paused in mid-stride standing here, a testament to its own folly. ]

One (Actually make that 1/2)

[pecker]

[Niwa climbs out of the graves across from him. There are shared family names among the stones connected to hers and the surrounding ones, but unlike him, she only gives them a passing glance, apparently unphased at all to think the people on them are implied dead. Though in her defense, she does have a very loud guy fussing at her.]

Why are you making a fuss about where they should have been? It's not that hard to move a corpse, you know.

Loki Variant L-1130 | MCU/Loki (series) - will match format

[l1130]

((OOC: First of all, I want to note that I won't use anything that wasn't already implied by this trailer! If you are OK with spoilers, please let me know! As of posting, I have been OK'd by mods to app him up to the 6/23 episode's canon.))

I. Dead Is The New Alive
The lid of the coffin is an oppressive thing, but at his first few breaths of damp, earthen air, Loki is already kicking at it, not fond of being contained in any manner whatsoever. "If this is one more pathetic effort to contain me," he growls under his breath --

-- and then the rotting wood splinters, showering dirt and dead grass down upon him. Loki splutters in a manner most undignified, then clambers out of the coffin, his long limbs outfitted from head to toe in khaki - pants, a dress shirt, a square-bottomed tie, and a jacket which has a single word printed in large letters between his shoulders: VARIANT.

"Listen!" He shouts, his mouth opening wide, his eyes full of blue fire. "This has gone far enou--!" His voice dies abruptly as he takes note of where he's standing. So many stones, engraved with names he knows, and some he loves. Thor Odinson. Lady Sif. Frigga. Odin. And, strangely enough, Mobius.

Perhaps it's some trick that the blight of the timeline has put in place to keep him from following, he thinks. Strange that one of the TVA's time doors would put him underground in a strange box like that. He steps up to one of the stones and traces it with his fingers. At the first stirring of life nearby, he turns around, eyes narrowed in critical, quick thought.

"You, there. Tell me, what year is this? And where?"

II. A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E
It's about time, he thinks, as the Tågevalgten surround him and start to press pamphlets into his hands, chattering excitedly. The one in the bear pelt reeks to high heaven, and he wonders if any of them have ever heard of proper tanning - let alone grooming standards. But they are eager, and the attention is all for him. It's an opportunity not only begging to be seized, but practically pressing itself into his hands. His mouth twitches at the corner for just a moment in something wicked before it morphs fully into a bright, magnanimous smile.

"Children, children," he says, spreading his arms wide and putting each hand on a Tåge shoulder. "Don't fret. I come with a great message-" The briefest glance at the pamphlets gives him enough to work on in the moment - "from the Fog. She has asked me to act as her emissary in all things..."

He has them eating out of the palm of his hand within minutes. They lead him to a choice seat by the fire and start to bring him drinks, food, and a log to put his feet on. Whether or not any actual devotees of the Fog nearby have anything to say about it may be another manner entirely...

III. A New Way To Bleed (Goblin)
Cakes and sweets were not something that Asgard counted among its many riches, and Loki is browsing one of the many bake shops of Bavan when the first transformations hit. His head tilts sharply to one side and he cries out: there's a feeling as though someone has just hit him double on the head with Mjolnir. Blood pours from his head, soaking through his shoulder-length black locks and getting into his ears. Rising from his scalp are two curved horns made of bone. Even as he's bleeding, his pale skin is beginning to turn an alarming shade of blue: not one that could be explained away with massive blood loss. He reaches up to touch his head, only to gasp in alarm as his fingers begin to shift into claws.

"What bedevilment is this--?!"

IV. Young & Menace (Network: [GloriousPurpose])
People of Ryslig, you have my deepest sympathies. I, too, was once branded a monster, simply for the circumstances of my form, for being ripped untimely from my place of birth and thrust into a life not of my own choosing. But I bring you glad tidings: I can show you the way to a paradise of our own making. These false gods, the Fog, the Fourth ... they know nothing of our minds, our hearts. I propose to leave both behind and begin anew. What say you?

IV

[knifemonopoly]

["What say you"?]

"Good luck"!

Eponine Thenardier - Les Miserables

[gardienne]

Scenario 1

It doesn't feel very wrong to be waking in a grave. Or - no. Waking is wrong. Waking is - isn't what should be. But maybe it's hell? Maybe -

Eponine sits up, running her hands over the side of the grave, before standing up to look at her tombstone.

"Who has paid?" She mutters to herself. "Surely no one cares?" Her fingers trace the letters of her name. "E-p-o-n-i-n-e," she spells out. No doubt it cares.
When she hears the jangle of keys, the heavy footsteps, she turns and calls out to whoever it is.
"Oh - oh, will you help me out? Will you come to my aid?"

Scenario 2

Eponine is FAR from uncomfortable in the company of the strange people she finds herself surrounded with. The pamphlets mean nothing to her: it's embarrassing to admit how poor her reading skills are compared to most people - especially when it's the quality in herself that she's most proud of - and so she ends up folding them carefully, tucking them into the pockets of the tattered skirt she wears or into the string holding it to her waist.

But aside from that, the food, the meat is good. So good. After years of slow starvation, it seems glorious to Eponine and she indulges, taking more than she can possibly eat and eating without question. When no one's looking, she stuffs it into her other pocket, the one free of leaflets, just in case it's a trick or a one time only thing. She can feel eyes on her and she looks up guiltily and says,
"I didn't take it. Not steal it, not really. ask 'em. They said I could. They said it were okay to have it."

Scenario 3 - Dyster

It's a strange place, Dyster, but no stranger than the rest of this hell. Eponine sits by a fire, her ragged skirt drawn round her bare feet and her hands stretched out to the warmth. She watches the dancing glumly, not really sure what to do or how to act. How do you act here?

"Why do we worship a fog? Me, I have no use for any god at all. They never do nothing good for the likes of me."

Scenario 4

It started with an ache in her back. But then, Eponine's used to aching; it comes part and parcel with sleeping on hard floors. She shrugs it off, ignores it, but it's persistent and grows steadily over a week or more. Meanwhile, she's found small bumps on her skull, completely concealed by her thick, dark hair, and her skin, gradually, has been changing colour to a sickly sort of greyish green.

At last, she can't stand it any longer. She stumbles into the street, and holds herself flat against the wall. The first person who passes gains a shadow in Eponine, as she steals silently along, before reaching for their pocket. Her idea is to get money to get medicine to cure her - and money comes from picking pockets, right?

4

[getmeoutofthedraft]

Hawkeye is not watching for pickpockets. He rarely does. At the same time, though, if there's one thing rest leaves in Seoul instilled in him, it's a very good sense for when some kid's sneaking a hand into his pocket.

"Hey!" He spins around as her hand dives into the pocket of his slacks. He doesn't look angry, to be fair, just startled. Most of the criminal element in Bavan know him well enough that they don't try to steal from him - it's one of the benefits of running a free, no-questions-asked kind of clinic. "I worked hard for that money, you know! Well, sort of hard. Well, I played a bunch of poker."

He's not angry, no, but he's not a reassuring sight, either. His monstrous nature is a lot less obvious than some, especially currently - he's been human recently enough that, rather than his usual skeletal form, he's almost entirely person-shaped. Just... the shape of a person who's been in the ground for weeks. One eye is sliding out of its socket, and grey-green mould is inching its way up his scalp; his nose and lips are blackened with decay, and under the smell of alcohol, there's a much worse smell. It's not necessarily made any better by the look of concern he gets as he sees the state she's in.

"Hey," he says again, more gently this time. "You, uh... changes, huh?"