TEST DRIVE MEME #1

[abraxasmods]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to the very first test drive meme for Abraxas! This meme is run a little bit differently than most in that you'll be asked to choose one of the two different arrival scenarios below for your character to take. If you have any questions about this mechanic or anything else related to the TDM, please take a look at the questions below or ask one of your own here. For general game questions please still use the FAQ.

Arrival

You awaken suspended in the abyss, silent darkness stretching out in all directions. If you try to yell, you'll find that the sound doesn't carry. If you try to move, you'll find it's impossible to tell whether or not you're actually getting anywhere. If you reach for an item you were carrying last time you remember being awake, your hand will only touch bare skin.

You're naked and floating helplessly through the void, and what little air you have in your lungs is running out.

There's a pinprick of light that almost looks like a faraway star but as it grows it becomes clear that it's actually quite close. Through the opening you can see a bright room, but it's hard to make out any individual objects, as if you're looking from beneath rippling water.

A hand plunges through and you realize water is just what it is. Whether you take hold of the hand or not it will grab you and yank you up through the surface, lifting you out until you're sprawled on solid ground. Once you catch your breath, you can get a better look at the surroundings: tall trees and even taller stone pillars surround the platform you're laying on. Behind you is an ornate fountain, the base of which is so deep and so dark you might be compelled to scramble away from it lest it suck you back in to that endless abyss. Ahead of you are the walls of a large castle with several tall towers reaching up towards the sky.

If you had any powers, they feel unusually weak. Attempts to use magic or enhanced strength or powers of any sort fizzle out without any effect, but they don't feel completely gone, either.

Set into an indent on a marble slab behind the fountain is a card baring the image of one of the arcana.

An apprentice mage - the one whose hand lifted you out of the fountain - brushes the water off on their robes and runs back to join a group of three others, who all stare intently at a mage with highly decorated robes and a large, heavy book. He peers up at you for a moment and starts flipping through the book.

"I beg your pardon," he says, so absorbed in the pages of the book that he doesn't bother to look up, "I am Ambrose Rhett, the High Mage of the Kingdom of Thorne. One of my apprentices will explain everything in a moment, but please refrain from yelling and thrashing about until then. You're quite alright, and screaming gives me a hell of a headache."

Regardless of your response, he keeps flipping through the heavy tome, until he stops on one specific page, stares at it for a moment, and then exclaims:

"Aha!"

Scenario One: Welcome to Thorne

Ambrose's expression brightens, eyes twinkling with delight. He waves one of the apprentices over with a fine silk tunic, pants, and some basic sandals and with a wave of his hand they reshape to fit you perfectly.

"Success! It's a success!" he exclaims, slamming the book shut and scurrying towards you.

Now that he's not hunching over the book, he doesn't seem quite so stuffy and inapproachable. The apprentices all seem quite relieved at his jovial outburst, and the one that handed you the tunic stops to take the tarot card down from the marble slab. If you show any curiosity about the card, they'll let you take a longer look, but won't let you touch it.

"Please, come with me, you're an honored guest here," he says, motioning for you to follow him towards the castle, "As promised, my pupils will explain your current situation. And, ah - if you had any magic of your own, or other special abilities you can't access right now, fear not, they'll return within the week. The summoning takes a lot out of you."

One of the apprentices steps forward and rattles on and on about the castle, Thorne itself, the names of a bunch of royals and nobles, and of course, your reason for being here. The Kingdom and the world itself is in great peril, and tales of your exploits have reached far and wide across universes. If asked about these exploits, the apprentice will simply smile and shrug. The High Mage was happy to see you and that's good enough.

Once inside the castle you're taken to the North Wing, which has been set up as living quarters for you and your fellow newcomers. There are four people to a room, but each generously-sized bed has opaque curtains that can be drawn around it. You can meet your roommates here and discuss your shared situation (everyone appears to have arrived within the last few days), or you can wander around and meet the others.

There's also a dining hall stocked with all sorts of fancy food to meet every possible dietary need, and a library filled with epic tales and legends and the history of Thorne. Given that this is the Thorne library, it may be a biased account that makes the Kingdom look a fair bit better than the rest of the world sees them. Last but not least, there's a study hall where a few junior mages (younger and less experienced than the apprentices from earlier) might be willing to teach you some simple elemental magic. Think holding a small flame in the palm of your hand, or blowing a door shut with a gust of wind.

You may also notice that your sign is embroidered on your tunic: the same image you saw on the card from before with the name of the sign itself beneath it. If you ask the castle residents, they'll tell you a little bit about your sign (and will mostly stick to the positives, although some might point out the negatives).

Last (and, if you ask anyone else in the castle, least) there is a worn stone staircase leading underground to the dungeon. You can go there, if you wish, but all powers are restricted in the dungeons and spending too much time with the prisoners will lead to some suspicion being cast upon you. If you ask anyone why the prisoners are being held there, you'll be told that they pose a great threat to the Kingdom (and, by extension, the entire world).

Scenario Two: Imprisoned

The High Mage scowls, grinding his teeth as he slams the book shut. "Another failure!" he barks at the apprentices, "You lot wouldn't know your ass from a hole in the ground, would you?"

All four of them lower their heads, and two of them mumble an apology that Ambrose either doesn't hear or refuses to acknowledge. "Well, don't just stand there," he says, waving a hand in the air, "We've put all this effort into getting this wretched creature, we may as well put it to good use."

One of the apprentices drops a baggy, rough-feeling tunic, a pair of pants, and some worn sandals in your lap and glares down at you until you put them on (if you refuse, they'll tell you they can kick you back down that well if you don't want to cooperate). They're glaring at the High Mage as much as they're glaring at you (when they're sure he isn't looking, anyway). You might catch one of them long enough to ask them why they're so upset with you, but all they'll say is that the High Mage knows something they don't, and he's awfully upset about it.

Once you're fully clothed, another apprentice clamps some heavy iron shackles around your wrists and leads you on. The High Mage is far ahead of you already, muttering some long string of Thornean curses before he stands up straight and pauses, spinning to face you.

"One more thing," he says, holding one hand in the air and chanting something under his breath, "Can't have you getting too troublesome."

If you had powers, the slight connection you still had to them slips away completely and you're left with nothing as the four apprentices drag you towards the castle. They may answer a few of your questions (with some insults and curses peppered in), but they won't tell you anything important.

Once you arrive at the castle you're brought to the dungeons and thrown into a locked cell. There are four people to a cell, and two sets of bunk beds with a thin and lumpy straw mattress. If you're over six feet tall, these beds are going to be awfully uncomfortable. You might as well meet your roommates. Once per day you're dragged out to an enclosed courtyard for one hour of recreation (with some crude weights, benches, and balls lying around but not much else), where you can meet the rest of the prisoners, but you can also talk to your immediate neighbors in the cells on either side and across the hallway. Just don't yell too much or the guards will snap at you to be quiet.

Everyone in the dungeon is fed one meal a day, and for a prison meal it's decent: a bit of meat, a bun, and a salad. It would seem that the Thornean chefs take too much pride in their craft to send bad food to the dungeons. The meals are all served in equal portions, though, so the smaller prisoners may be overfed and the larger ones may be getting hungry. Feel free to fight for food or share with your cellmates.

Crudely embroidered on the back of every prison tunic is the same image that was on your card and the name of the sign beneath it. A guard may explain a bit about the sign, and tell you some negative stereotypes they hold about yours.

You may be blessed with a visit from one of the more welcomed newcomers, and they may sneak you some extra food or a small book to read or they may share some of the information they've gathered. However, rumors travel fast and some people believe the honored guests in the castle above are somehow responsible for the lot of the prisoners below. And although you may hope for kindness, there's nothing stopping them from being cruel to you if they wish. The guards will certainly turn a blind eye if one of them wishes to take out their frustrations on you.

---

Questions

How do I choose a scenario for my character?
Pick whichever situation appeals to you most. Whether your character is honored or imprisoned has nothing to do with their personal morality, or how highly they regard themselves and their own accomplishments. Anyone can be put into either situation.

Can I try out both scenarios?
You can! But please keep in mind that only the one you eventually choose can be game canon, if you decide to keep any of your TDM threads.

What happens if my character refuses to comply with Ambrose?
Prisoners will be dragged against their will. Honored guests will be forgiven for their moment of panic or anger if they have one, and Ambrose and the apprentice mages will try to calm them and persuade them further. If they put up too much of a fight and/or start actively attacking anyone, Ambrose will warn them once that he's willing to put them back in the well where they came from (see below), and if they continue to fight he will make good on that promise.

My character intends on causing a lot of trouble (destroying parts of the castle, murdering the castle staff, etc.), what would happen to them?
Characters who make too much trouble for the mages and other staff would be thrown back in the well (which will mean drowning in the void, not returning home). Brawling with other PCs and causing minor damage is fine and will be greeted with a cranky attitude (if they are an honored guest) or a punishment like denial of food or temporary solitary confinement (if they are a prisoner), and there will be plenty of opportunity for destruction and murder later, but for now the Thorneans have no desire to keep huge liabilities around.

Ambrose will take it especially personally, as this experiment was his idea and too much trouble would risk the summoning spell being scrapped and potentially result in him being demoted. Rest assured it does not take much for him to throw someone back in the well at this point in time.

Is the power loss for the prisoners permanent?
No, although honored guests will regain their powers first due to the lack of interference from Ambrose, the prisoners will be able to regain theirs soon enough as well.

Can the prisoners talk about anything private, or will they be overheard at all times?
There are guards patrolling the dungeon, but they aren't always within earshot. Most of the attention is being focused on the new guests, so the prisoners will have some opportunities for privacy.

Can my character leave the castle?
For now they will be prevented from leaving the castle, even if they are an honored guest. A bit of a gilded cage, isn't it? They'll also find that any powers they regain cease to work outside of the castle walls (this is also a temporary effect) so flying outside is not an option.

Can my character eventually side against Thorne if I choose to make them an honored guest/can they side with Thorne if I choose to imprison them?
Yes, characters in Scenario 1 will be able to betray Thorne, and characters in Scenario 2 can work themselves into Thorne's good graces.

How much will my choice of scenario affect my character's plot later on?
This choice will have a major impact on gameplay throughout the first few months of the game, and potentially a bit beyond that depending on where our players guide the plot. This decision - and every other major decision you make in game! - will also be used to flavor some mod surprises that will be coming down the line.

Don't get too anxious about this choice, though; this is just one choice you'll get to make in a game that has a lot of them, and every character in both scenarios can work their way towards many, many individual goals and outcomes. You're not locking yourself out of anything in the future via the choice you made on the TDM. It will primarily impact the immediate future with the far-reaching effects being up to each player.

Are TDM threads mandatory for my application?
No, you may use other samples, but we encourage you to post to the TDM and get a feel for this game and its mechanics before you join. If you do not have a TDM thread you will still need to choose one of the two scenarios on your application.

What if I haven't settled on a sign yet?
You can ignore sign-related prompts if you're undecided (or try out different signs in different threads).

Can a put a character on the TDM if their canon is less than 30 days old?
Yes. For this app round, anything that's at least 30 days old when the game opens on June 12th can be applied from.

Do the apprentice mages have names?
Their names are Jeffrey, Grigory, Noelle, and Jolene.

---

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Comments

caius porthmeus | original character | the magician + imprisoned

[sumptus]

dungeons;

[ There are times when the smartest course of action is inaction. A duck caught in a dog's jaws may go limp; a beetle, presented with a mouse; a spider. Their survival depends upon the ability to present an unappealing target, one that does not flinch so gallingly when struck, nor complain of a roughly handled arm, nor argue about the roughness of the fabric of the clothes they're given, or the darkness of the cell in which they will be allowed to live, when an unrecoverable alternative lies so near at hand. Their lives rest on the length of time they may withstand such things without response, lest their predator spot the ruse before losing interest. Before an opportunity arises for escape.

In animals this is instinct, a reflex irreparably ingrained in them through breeding and repetition until there is no other way one might respond to a threat than surrender.

Caius tells himself his is a choice. And that the only reason most ducks die while playing dead is because ducks are stupid.

It's with fairly little fuss, then, that this pale, lanky young man had arrived in the dungeons, his fingers half curled at his sides but his eyes downcast. Over the hours that follow he is more observer than talker, more corner shadow than central point. He draws little attention.

But when the guards' presence wanes, those thin fingers find their way to a chip of stone from the floor and a corner of his bunk that's difficult to see from the bars. Quietly, busily, with barely a glance spared in the direction of his work lest anyone else feel the need to follow it, he begins to scratch. ]

Did you get a good look at it?

[ --comes the eventual question, to whoever is nearest. ]

wildcard;

( come at me with visitors or cellmates or whatever! caius is a lurker but won't be going anywhere for a while.)

[therichremember]

At...which, exactly?

[Jean's a little heartened to hear Caius speak. The meekness the young man had shown seemed to worry the bespectacled man, though he hadn't made any overtures. It'd be rude to spook the already-timid.

For his own part, Jean's seemed to spend the time cataloging the routines of the guards and making nice with the visitors from above. He turns on the charm, plays innocent for all he's worth. He's discussed some theories with cellmates and the cell next to theirs and visitors, gathering his own information. But now, he's not sure which part Caius means.]

Maleficent | Sleeping Beauty | The Devil

[darkestfairy]

Scenario One

[A: Always invite a fairy]
[As it would seem, there is, in fact, a limit to the hospitality a fairy will accept. Being summoned against her will definitely nearing the top of the list of things Maleficent was not particularly fond of. So, the moment she's dredged from the fountain, naked, cold, and scowling.

She accepts the garments - man-made? How positively dreadful - with an appropriate level of complaining. As a matter of fact, there's far more complaining as they lead her through the upper levels of the castle.

Unhand me, she commands with a quickly added calming gesture, surely you are aware I am not some mindless child.

Ah, a room. For her? How... sweet.

The moment they've left, and the door is shut, the present attitude melts away from her sharp features. Too bad for her roommates.]

Insolent fools. I would like to receive an invitation before being summoned.

[B: It's a kind of magic]
Hm? You would wish to teach me magic?

[The apprentice casters in the castle study may have bit off a bit more than they could chew. One is hesitant to answer her; he's scared, mostly because Maleficent towers over him, even without her billowing robes.]

As though a minute's teaching could match all my powers.

[To demonstrate, Maleficent extends an arm, fingers tensed. Clear as day, energy forms in the palm of her hand. Twitches of lightning bounce and dance up her arm.]

Once I regain my full power, I would be glad to display more of it for you lowly magicians.

[C: Those who live in the shadows | The Dungeon]
Well, isn't this a surprise. Seems even this quaint little kingdom has enemies.

[For someone so inhuman, the sight of Maleficent wandering the dungeons seems almost natural. As if she's spent quite a bit of time around them. A good fortress is only as good as the prison it can contain a prince in, after all.

A quiet gaze, ice cold, inspects each cell. One by one. Until...]

Greetings. [She offers a low bow of respect towards whoever's in this cell, eyes sweeping over you.] And to what do you owe the pleasure of finding a home in this fine prison.

C

[therichremember]

Being a failure, or so I'm told. Though I don't understand why a failure on the part of the summoners should lead to me being down here.

[He's never seen a woman quite like her before--her skin color and grace grab his attention and hold it.]

I've done nothing that I know to be against any law since arriving here. Nor, from what I've heard, have any of the others. We don't know what makes your summoning any different from ours.

lisa | genshin impact | high priestess

[languide]

exploring.

[ well, there goes any opportunity for a nice nap for the foreseeable future.

if lisa said she wasn't irritated, she'd be lying. there are so many adventurers in monstadt to choose from - even *more* around teyvat as a whole. why would they drag her here over anyone else?

and the impudence of those mages, forging ahead with bringing them here without figuring out a way to put them back in their own worlds. it's exactly the kind of blind pride that drove her away from the academy in the first place.

of course, there's no use in saying all this out loud. so lisa smiles, and laughs, and acts as graciously as she can until she gets the chance to explore on her own. the more she learns about this place, the faster she can get back home. ]

Is any of the magic here familiar to you? [ she'll ask anyone she comes across, as she begins to work on putting together a plan. ]

reading.

[ lisa has commanded one of the tables in the library, one closest to the window. as long as she has to do work, she might as well do it in a nice environment! she's surrounded by stacks of books she's picked out, and she can be found poring through them, sipping tea as she does. ]

As long as we're here, we might as well get to learn more about the kingdom, hm? They've got plenty of very... interesting stories here.

learning.

[ now this is interesting.

her vision not working doesn't bother her too much. but the opportunity to learn new magic, a different kind that what the gods deal out in teyvat... well, what's not to like?

lisa can't hold back her wonder as an apprentice teaches her how to hold a little flame in her hand. half to herself, and half to whoever might be walking past, she says- ] Well, isn't that different. How fun.

wildcard.

[ feel free to respond with any provided scenario, or PM me if you want to hash out something particular! ]

Exploring

[thehandhungers]

[If one is tired of blind pride, getting Owain's attention isn't the way to do it. Still, he's more than happy to help as he's still trying to figure out all of this. The magic! He hasn't even considered the magic yet. When she asks him that he freezes a moment as he considers it and quickly shakes his head.]

Alas, I am more master of the sword than of the tome but upon deliberation I cannot say any of this looks anything like the mystic dark arts practiced by my allies from home. They channel their will through tomes and staves, some so ancient and powerful that only masters of the craft can call forth the miracles they contain.

Eikarr - D&D TTRPG Character - 5e - OTA!

[hopelesswandrer]

Welcome to Thorne

I. Where I Am Now,

Eikarr is cold, wet, and uncomfortably naked. He wouldn't usually make such a fuss about the issue, but as far as he can tell this isn't anywhere he's been before and none of these people kindle even the vaguest spark of recollection in his mind.
Did he mention being cold and wet? Because right now he's incredibly cranky, 'Honoured Guest' or no.
"What in the Bloody Fae Hells is going on," he growls, snatching the tunic from the apprentice that hands it to him. He bites out a thanks, but even that might be lost as he attempts to clothe himself post-haste. He's far too irritable to ask more than that, even as he sees the tarot card bearing a sign of what could be Star, could be Wheel, could be fucking anything for all his tired mind can make of it at this distance.
Either way, he manages to keep his acidic tongue in check, the only thing keeping his mood from dropping further being the fact that he can't feel the looming presence of his patron in this strange realm.
Eikarr almost wants to snap, to say that he doesn't give a rat's fucking arse about Thorne, but he knows all too well that survival often depends on what you know, not how well you can hit something. He dutifully files all the information the apprentices yammer at him away, but as soon as he gets even a modicum of freedom, he splits.

II. In a Room Not My Own - Rooms

The Tiefling takes the news that he's been given shared chambers with a sigh and an irritated flick of his tail, though he still makes sure to thank Jolene for leading him there.
The Apprentice points to the one that's been assigned to him, and Eikarr wastes no time in flopping face-first into it.
There's so much to think about, and, as he idly worries at the thorn-like scar on his chest, he wonders if the others are okay.
It takes a little while, but perhaps a movement of sheets or a cleared throat brings him out of his dour reverie. The Bard sits up, trying to keep his tunic from falling loose over his form and only somewhat succeeding as he looks at whoever made the sound.
"Ah- Yes. Shared Quarters," he recounts aloud, tail twitching thoughtfully. "Sorry, I should have said my greetings earlier," he laughs, but the humour doesn't reach his bright blue eyes.
"My name is Eikarr," he offers, taking this moment to get as much of a look into the other person as possible.

III. And In A Land I Know Nothing Of - Library

Well. Suffice to say that the explanation given to him by the Mage's apprentices hadn't really answered any questions at all.
Eikarr supposed he'd better take matters into his own hands, and when he learned there was a library available to him there didn't seem like there'd be a better place to start.
The Tiefling sits in a corner, huddled between bookshelves atop cushions he's stolen from unoccupied chairs and various tomes, slowly thumbing through the pages of a historical tome that he'd spied. Of course, that's only the entrée; the rest of the books he’s got piled up around him vary in size and decoration, one being almost entirely gilded that he seems to be saving for last.
But, for now, Eikarr is taking his own hasty notes, the most prominent of which is a sketch of the singularity-
"The... Feywilds?" He mutters, mostly to himself, but loud enough for someone else to have heard him in the stillness of the Library.

IV. What Will Become Of Me? - Wanderer

Eikarr will often be round roaming the castle, learning what he can of the peoples and generally trying to grasp as much of the situation as possible.
It was inevitable, though, that a man such as him would get into trouble at some point. He gives no fucks about the apparent hierarchy here, not when Mages and Kings die the same damned death any other mortal does.
And especially when none of these Mages or apprentices aren't able to tell him anything more about the Feywilds.
"What do you mean 'No one's been there in living memory'? The wilds aren't beholden to the mortal sense of time, and it would refuse to be forgotten!" He may or may not be harassing a poor Apprentice or Scholar about the evident lack of current documented history.
But He has to know. He has to know if they're the same place he's connected to.
Are you going to help Eikarr, or his victim?

V. Wildcard!

[OOC:
Eikarr is a 5e D&D OC! He's just recently bargained with an Archfey to become her Warlock in exchange for safe passage for the rest of his adventuring party, and the last thing he remembers is falling into a lake in the Feywilds (fun!). He's not a particularly happy bunny right now, but he'll soften up eventually!
I'm down to plot anything really, contact me at levelthreehooligan to chat! Eikarr's history is mostly written up on his journal, but if you want to know anything please feel free to ask me!]

Rooms

[teafling]

Molly rustles around the room, looking into wardrobes and the drawers of bedside tables. Everything is predictably empty and he breathes a dramatic sigh before plopping himself on the nearest empty bed. Oh, at least it's lush. That's nice.

He's pleasantly surprised to catch sight of the other tiefling across the room.

"Well, I'll be damned," he says with a smirk. Jester is the only other tiefling he's used to seeing. This is a nice change of pace.

"The pleasure is all mine, Eikarr. I'm Mollymauk, but you can call me Molly. I have a feeling we're going to be very good friends."

louis de pointe du lac | the vampire chronicles | the moon

[deathoftheauthor]

arrival

Anyone who would claim to be impressed with Louis's exploits he presumes is either lying through their teeth or completely mad. Whatever their reason, any doubt that his captors know exactly what he is vanishes when he's offered a glass of human blood to drink — and, famished and impulsive, he gulps it down without a second thought.

arcana

Louis is seated alone at a table near a window open to the moonlight, one leg tucked carelessly under the other. He's found paper and a pen somewhere, and he's drawing a symbol with perfect, deliberate strokes. If one looks closer, they'll see that it's the same symbol on his tunic — the Moon — and he's committing it to memory.

He looks up at the sound of someone approaching, and offers a brief nod in greeting.

"Pardon me, but can I ask what you've been told about your sign?" His voice is soft and polite, with the lingering ghost of a French accent. "I would very much like to compare notes."

self-education

Louis takes to his first magic lesson quickly, much to his surprise. He'd always been afraid of his capacity for violence, shying away from the use of his vampiric gifts — but these spells are harmless, wondrous things, and Louis can't help but be intrigued by the opportunity.

He's in the library quite late, curled up with a history book, and his long fingers flick every now and then to summon a tiny breeze to turn the page. He frowns as he rereads a particularly vague-sounding paragraph, and doesn't seem to notice the approach of another until they're very near.

Startled, he miscalculates his spell, and the pages flutter shut so that he loses his place.

"I'm sorry," he says, apologizing for nothing in particular as he looks up from his chair at the stranger. "I didn't think anyone else would be here so late."

( ooc: questions? alternate scenarios? pm this journal or pp @ melodramatics. i'll tag in brackets if you do! )

Arcana

[nadine_he_loves]

Nadine is restless, feeling too cramped and trapped inside the room she shares with her fellow 'guests'. She hasn't been able to settle herself since she was hauled into this brand-new madness...but luckily there's enough to explore in this section of the castle that she can distract herself. She's promised to seek out whatever information she can find, and she's determined to.

"Hmm?" She glances at the man, shaken out of her thoughts. She glances down at her own tunic, displaying the sign of The World, and back. "Oh, not that much...Have you been studying them?"

It isn't a branch of information she's looked too deeply into yet, more focused on what could prove most useful and practical.

Asriel Dreemur ( Undertale )

[letmewin]

( heavy undertale spoilers in the prompts below )

I. Arrival

( Awakening feels all-too-familiar to Asriel -- it feels like a nightmare after everything that's happened - like the entire world has been reset and he'll awaken in his Father's garden. He can't feel anything except for the cold that greets him as he regains consciousness. More than anything, it's the helplessness that feels terrifying. He's been through something so similar so many times – one would think that he'd be more indifferent, apathetic – but, that's just it, isn't it?

It wasn't him who initiated this to start all over again.

But then, a hand reaches out for him, and it feels more like instinct than anything else to tentatively take it.

He falls then, a quiet yells escaping him and he can't help but look around – panicked and confused. This wasn't the Underground, and-- he... most certainly wasn't a flower anymore.

Anyone who may see him may see him looking over himself – looking to his hands and feeling over his long ears – taking in his surroundings with nothing but disbelief and awe – only for him to jump when someone speaks.

When the woman finishes speaking, he opens his mouth to speaks – draws back in hesitance – only to finally ask one question. )

Excuse me, but I think there may have been a mistake.

( There are so many humans here. How could he be the only monster to have arrived? And.... how is it possible that he had been brought here in the first place? )

II. Welcome to Throne

( Honored guest? Him? Asriel points to himself, tilting his head. )

Golly, me? But – there are so many others here who came with me!

( But then, he brings up magic and Asriel can't help but stop, shaking his head quickly – withdrawing a bit. )

My magic? But, I'm not sure about using my own.

( He... doesn't want to risk hurting anyone. At least, not anymore.

Still, he has so many questions. He had been taught that humans could no longer use magic – so... how is it possible that things could be so different here? )

Mogget | Old Kingdom Trilogy | The Hanged Man

[eighthwhohid]

welcome honored, guest;

[No one sees to know what to do when he's hauled out of the water, a wet hissing ball of angry cat. The mages holding the robes stand around awkwardly, not sure what to do as Mogget's expression deters even the bravest from trying to put anything on him.

Really, the indignity of it all.

He doesn't bother to stick around to listen to the prattle, not even when an apprentice tries to run after him to explain the situation. He's not interested, his priority is to return to his own Kingdom and find the Abhorsen- he doesn't have time for this nonsense.

It's easy to become lost without a guide and so he approaches the next being who looks remotely intelligent.]

I hope you're not as lost as I am or else we're both in trouble.

all you can eat buffet;

[While he is more than capable of jumping onto the table of food to try to find what he wants but that's something that common animals do. And why go through all that effort when he can have someone do it for him? He will just sit in front of the table like an ordinary cat waiting for a table scrap or two.

He selects his target carefully, waiting until just the moment they have just taken a bite of their food before speaking up without warning.]

I assume you can take a break from stuffing your face to share a fish or two for a hungry cat.

study hall;

[The magic here is strange, there are no signs of the Charter, none of the taint of the Dead lingering. None of it makes sense as he watches some of the mages demonstrate their magic, ignoring the idiot trying to call him over with a tsk tsk here kitty kitty kitty.

Without anyone here to warn them of the consequences of setting him free he's confident that one of these fools wouldn't think twice about removing the collar and the bell.]

I don't suppose anyone could help me off with this collar. It feels a bit restrictive and I would be grateful to anyone who could remove it.

wildcard;

[choose your own adventure!]

feed! the! cat!!

[shadowsran]

[It isn't interruption enough to startle, but the sight of him gives pause. It would seem laughable back home, but a moment's consideration is enough to remind her the expectations need to be much, much higher of her misplaced peers. It helps that this is something she finds herself wanting to believe.

A hand rises to obscure the lower half of her face while she works through the bite taken. She sits taller, straighter, squares her shoulders. An endeavor to look, if not fit for the polite company a cat presents, less like this is the first she's been fed in a week. Successful or not, it's more trouble than she's gone to for any other mealtime company thus far. Once that's accomplished she wordlessly sets about preparing a plate, fish - baked, battered, roasted, seared - neatly piled and divided.

By the time she's stretching to set it in front of him she's swallowed and free to speak.]

Anything else, or just the fish?

9s, nier: automata, high priestess (?)

[pod153]

[ no default clothes means no visor which means ignore all my icons and perceive his nice blue eyes. ]

01. welcome to thorne.

( the whole process was so out of common that even the most quick-witted of androids wouldn't know what to make of it. when one knows only of machines, androids, and the occasional animals that still lingered around earth, these many interactions with beings that are neither of those is beyond comprehension. even for scanner types, meant to gather intel and knowledge, this is far outside their reach, and without his pod, abilities, and the uniform yorha provides, what is there for him to do? between the confusion and the rising curiosity, he goes for the latter.

everything he's told is a little too much to take, for now. he doesn't know what thorne is, has never really quite heard or read of that about an earth kingdom. everything else is on par with what he's more knowledgable about, like the world being in danger (right, against the machines, he'd say, and they wouldn't quite agree with him), but there's still surprise even in regards to that, because the suggestion that project yorha has been heard of across universes implies... far too much than he can really process.

somewhere along the way, he manages to escape the 'mages' and find some room for himself, for his thoughts. it's hard to obtain information like this (or at the very least, information that doesn't quite require the aid of these people, whatever they are), and all 9s can really do is— walk around, which is fine. walk around, and look around, look for 2b, of course, but there doesn't seem to be any quite immediate danger in here. if she's around, she's most likely safe, and they're certain to rendezvous, as they always do. )

Alright, let's see what we have here. Guess I'll check with others who got summoned here too.

( would they be yorha androids too? something else? but then, what else? it's not as though it'd be too hard to find others like him; they all wear the same weird clothes. a turn here and there, and even in a castle this big with no map to access, he still manages to spot someone. )

Heeey. ( you, yes you. no point in trying to hide from him. ) We're kind of alike, so we should talk and get to know each other, like those guys wanted us to. ( that's good enough reason, isn't it? )

02. library and signs.

( a library is a good place for information when he lacks access to his pod and the bunker, but a library filled with books about the kingdom and its triumphs isn't exactly the most... helpful. it's interesting, for certain, and at the very least it offers insight on what these people have been fighting, what kind of powers they have. magic is not something yorha knows the humans to have; if so, they could've defeated the aliens and machines themselves, right? if all these triumphs are real, why were they nearly eradicated and exiled to the moon? )

They really are proud of themselves, huh...

( good for them, but that pride won't really help any of them. every book he goes through just tells stories and tales, at times a general history lesson on thorne, but nothing about the outside world, or where they are at all. he shelves them back, and it's probably just easier to ask around. there are others here who likely seek to find answers themselves, or anything at all that'd help them learn more about what exactly they're dealing with.

now to find someone... well, anyone would do. the closest person with a book, he approaches them in swift steps. )

This library sure has a lot of books about fancy battles. Have you found something different? Like say, these signs in our tunics or something?

03. wildcard.
[ you know the drill. if you're a prisoner, 9s would absolutely visit the dungeons eventually and look around, so if you just wanna react to him passing by feel free. i'm open to anything tbh. ]

Exploring!

[hopelesswandrer]

[A long, purple, pointed ear twitches as 9S approaches Eikarr from behind, and the man turns around, managing to make it look exceedingly elegant, even though it was so simple a movement.

He looks at 9S, looking at him from tip to toe, a curious look on his face, that then breaks out into a cheeky smile.]

I'm not sure about that, little human, I don't think we look alike at all. [He laughs, his tail swiping out from behind him to give the android a little wave, the decoration on his horns glinting in the light of the hallway. If Nines had read about Human Daemonology or even old Religious texts, such horned humanoids might not be as an alien concept to him as it could be, though most of them were decidedly 'evil'.]

I don't think that's what you meant, though, [Eikarr's smile turns less teasing as he holds his hand out to shake.] Call me Eikarr. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?

Coraline Finch | Changeling: The Lost OC | Imprisoned + Wheel! Of! FORTUUUNE

[not_caroline]

One Million Years Dungeon

The iron manacles make Coraline shriek, brief but surprised and pained when they're clamped on her wrists, and stay on her despite her panicked yanking - she should be able to escape, nothing should be able to hold her when she doesn't want it-- until the creepy old man in the robes waves his creepy old man hands at her and- she can't feel her Glamour.

"What the fuck?!" But there's not much she can do to resist being picked up by the apprentices and dragged away. "HEY-- I'm not done talking to you!!"

It's quite a sight to watch her get dragged away, screaming bloody murder and demanding release, respect, their heads on a fucking platter, wait until Hunter hears about this, but her impotent rage falls on deaf ears. (Or at least, ones that are very used to this manner of abuse.) Not that it lasts long - the warning about being dunked in the well does earn her silence, at least temporarily. She's volatile, not suicidal.

When she's eventually planted in her jail cell, and the manacles removes, the skin around her wrists is almost completely torn up, almost like mild burns or inflamed scratches rather than simple tightness marks. She doesn't immediately care, rushing back to the bars to grab them, with intent to stick her head through and keep yelling - but again, as soon as she touches them she swears in high-pitched surprise, yanking her hands away like she's been burned. Which, judging by the reddened insides of her hands, may be true.

She can't resist yelling down the hallway after them, though, "Just wait until Slipshod hears about this-- you'll all be dead!!" Her chest and tiny shoulders are heaving, before she turns away from the hall and actually looks at her cell. And possibly cellmate: for a moment when she turns there's a look of fear on her face, but as soon as she makes eye contact she stands up straight, pulling her shoulders back and glaring steadily.

(By some small blessing, her Mask remains in place, and she looks like a young white girl with dark waves around her shoulders, golden-hazel eyes and either a young seventeen or mature fourteen, less than five and a half feet tall. For those who can see through magical illusions, she's inhuman: a plant-like person with curling fronds of Cape sundew leaves for hair and a mouth like a Venus fly trap, fingers and toes stained an unpleasant brown, and the strange, almost sickly-sweet scent of melting rainbow ice cream follows her.)

"...I call top bunk."

Out in the Sun

Coraline's not here to make friends, she's pretty sure. She doesn't want to, at least. She's on edge, and her little frame is wound tight as she patrols the edge of the yard, picking up one of the leathery balls as she passes it and dribbles it as she walks. Her eyes are barely on it, instead watching anyone that might try and approach her with open hostility (that turns, just a little bit, to fear if the person approaching is too distinctly larger than her five-foot-three, eighty-pound frame). But anger protects her, makes her spine stay straight and her the first one to speak so she can feel like she has control of the conversation. "What? There's plenty of other balls around."

Or maybe she's just off in one corner, having propped her ball on top of a heavy dumbell as she stands a few feet away: it's awkwardly balanced, but that's not the point. Coraline's actions are: and they're erratic as shit. Sometimes she'll bend down, scraping the stone and brick walls and floors with her fingers, sometimes dragging her nails along them like she can scrape it off with an irate grunting; or cupping her hands over her face so she can huff long breaths into her hands, literally trying to catch it; or even spitting into her hands, and rubbing them together with a fervor bordering desperation and a muttered "Come on, come on, what the fuck...?" Why isn't this working??

Well, there's always desperate measures. She moves to a patch of courtyard where there's no-one between her and the courtyard wall, and lowers herself down into a sprinter's starting position; then the get-ready pose; and then she launches, sprinting with a surprising turn of speed towards the brick wall someone please stop her.

Lunch time best time

Coraline's pretty small, but she's still a teenager; she can pack away food like no-one's business. Not that she's doing so for a good little while when she gets her food and sits down with it; instead she's taking the time, for once, to actually observe everyone else around her. There are a few weird people, but she can't really get a read on what, exactly, anyone else is. It's weird - it's like she's the only Changeling here.

After a while, though, she eventually starts fiddling with her food. Bread, meat and a salad? Perfect ingredients for a little burger, and she licks off her fingers when she finishes constructing it, more than a little proud of herself. "Still not as good as Pete's place, but I'm not sure anything is," she says, with a little smile - it'd take some noticing to realise it doesn't quite reach her eyes, before she starts eating.

[runs]

Some time after lunch time, a small figure wanders through the dungeons, not truly stopping at any of them but peering into every single on, carefully staying away from the iron bars with a dubious glance at them.

To anyone but Coraline, it's a young human girl of perhaps nine with dark hair and dark eyes, wearing the nicer clothes of welcomed guests. ...To Coraline, that's not quite the picture, because she gets the Mien, which has cat ears instead of regular ones, gills on the sides of her neck, thick soft black fur covering what's visible for her body and a cat's tail swishing under the hem of her tunic. Her eyes are that of a cat as well, as are her teeth, and her hands and feet are a mix between human and cat.

She stops when she spots Coraline, steps closer (though still careful to not touch the bars) and cocks her head at the older Changeling, before throwing a quick glance up and down the corridor, and then looks back at Coraline after a another look around to see if she has cellmates or not.

adria | stargate | the emperor

[theorici]

i. warm welcome

[she's ready. she's prepared. the pain gives her focus and determination that soon no one will be able to stop her obtaining the power that is rightfully hers. as the pain fades and she slips into darkness only to find nothing.

there is nothing. no rush of power that she had been promised. nothing until she's being pulled up out of water, sputtering as she falls to the ground. as sensation returns she feels the last of the toxin still burning in her veins as reality sinks in.]

No, this can't be happening. You can't-they can't-

[where there was one strength and power flowing through her there is a void. she lifts her hand towards the nearest mage, fingers tightening weakly as if around his throat but despite the rage welling inside of her, nothing happens. nothing comes except a tunic being slipped over her head and hands to pull her to her feet.

there is nothing she can do until the last of the toxin leaves her system and her strength returns bit by bit but by then, the apprentices had disappeared which was fortunate for them. by the time someone else approaches her she's prepared but she hopes that they will prove cooperative. it would be unfortunate if things became difficult.]

I am seeking a way out. You will show me.


ii. roommates

[her explorations has yielded only limited information about the kingdom. there is no knowledge of origin, of the ancients- it was as if she was in an entirely new galaxy. while she was at a disadvantage it would not stop her from trying to show this kingdom the light.

but since she is still bound by a mortal form, she feels the exhaustion setting it. she had barely been able to touch that higher plane and the pain of that is worst than the last of the toxin. she needs rest to gather her strength for what is to come.

The door of the room swings open in front of her without warning- this is her room after all- and she's not pleased that someone is already here in her space.]

You're in my room. Explain yourself.

iii. wildcard

[if you wish for a different prompt please feel free to contact me by pm. if you have any questions or concerns, i also have a permissions post in her journal.]

Soren | Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn | The Hermit

[silentsavant]

i. cast your lot

Though it's been a while since he's been called a wretched creature specifically, Soren isn't unaccustomed to being pelted by vilifications. Name-calling is among the least of his worries.

The magicless mage hangs at the edge of the lower bunk as he processes all the events that swept him up, his slender white fingers playing with the manacles his captors never bothered to remove as he tracks the activity from outside his prison with the wariness of a stray cat in an unfamiliar neighborhood. His long, dark hair clings to his cheeks and spills down his back in a loose series of ties, damp still from the fountain and soaking through his ill-fitting, scratchy tunic crudely emblazoned with the lantern of The Hermit, making the draft unbearable especially to someone so slight of stature. Questions buzz in his brain as he tries to reign in patience and keep it together, for he has far more of them than answers.

The cell door whines open and another prisoner is shoved in with as much brutal disregard as had been done to him. He winces in reflexive sympathy and studies his new cellmate while they gather their bearings.

"Another failure?" he asks bluntly but on a softened voice, his intention merely to set course for an exchange of their recent experiences.

ii. recess

Too many guards, too high of walls with no footholds, and nothing but the sky to see. Still, the fact that they were even being given the opportunity for some fresh air and community despite being cast out as rejects - on top of served food that was better than even his company provisions at times - registers as noteworthy to the mercenary. Just what "use" are they expecting to be put to?

The longer Soren stays here bereft of understanding what position he's been thrust into, surrounded by strange people from lands he can't pin on a map, the more on edge he becomes. He strays from groups, more keen on keeping his distance from others where he can analyze them from afar. He's uncomfortable enough around strangers as it is. It's more likely that someone else approaches him, and there's a tension he just can't seem to wipe from his bearing.

a. That said, if you come to try and break the ice or confront him, he will be a little guarded.

"Yes? What is it?" he'll ask in a tone that's really asking, 'What do you want from me?'

b. But even Soren knows there's value in getting to know one another, and sometimes an introduction is the best way to start. Though he's learned self-reliance, he does comprehend the value of being able to rely upon others. Maybe you're just vibing in the same space, completely disinterested in lifting weights or playing ball like he is? Or maybe you're passing by? Maybe you just happen to have the same sign, and that's enough to get Soren curious about what the two of you might have in common?

He's not exactly adept at small talk. But after surveying the place and checking for chinks in security, what else of any use is there to do? If they seem receptive to being spoken to, he goes ahead.

"These signs we bear supposedly represent aspects of our personalities and aims. What did they tell you about yours?"

iii. visitors

The prisoners receive numerous visits from those who had not been summoned in error. Soren scrutinizes each passerby as they take their tour of the unwanted in their cages, tries in vain to piece together what about them is so different from those shoved behind bars like him. Are they so honored as to be permitted to venture just about anywhere with impunity? It's only a matter of time before the guards' rising suspicions mount too high.

They are the only shaft of light illuminating the mystery of the world above.

As you pass him, your eyes meet and lock with the young-looking man by the bars, back pressed to the wall and his arms folded tightly to himself. His expression remains stony, but his piercing red eyes flash with hunger not for food. In a hushed voice, he asks:

"Do you have a moment?"

iv. choose your own adventure

[ a scene that doesn't fit any of the ones outlined above! feel free to PM me if you want to hash anything out. unlike my character, i am very friendly and easy to talk with, haha.

also, feel free to switch to different formats (brackets, etc.) if that's what you prefer! i'll go with the flow. ]

reversed Cast Your Lot, as discussed.

[therichremember]

Jean glances up at Soren, nodding when the question is asked.

"I managed to convince one of the others--one of the 'successes' to sneak me a blanket. If you want to move to the back of the cell so the guards don't notice it, you can huddle under it and get warm. It's not much, but better than nothing."

Even if they do get caught, he considers it worth risking the blanket. Soren seems to have less insulation than the stocky, broad Jean, and building favor with the other prisoners can only do him good in the long run.

Sansa Stark | A Song of Ice and Fire | The Star

[porcelainandsteel]

[Thorne is strange. She's never heard of such a place before. They talk about magic as if it were everyday, and they talk about her as though she were something more than what she is. Sansa, who has seen enough in thirteen years to know when it's best to keep her mouth shut, says nothing but empty pleasantries, asks no questions, and keeps her eyes open.]

[Thorne is strange, and far from Winterfell, but Thorne is also far from King's Landing, far from the Eyrie, far from Marillion and Littlefinger and the cold ache of Lysa's dislike. Far from the Queen. If Sansa has to be far from home, at least here she seems to be safe. They dress her in strange, unfeminine clothes, call her an honoured guest, and not a word is breathed of Imps or pretenders or treason. For now, Sansa thinks, that might have to be enough.]


[ 1 | Roommates ]
[She keeps to her chambers for the first few hours, gathering herself. She sits on the edge of the bed she's taken as her own, plucking at the curious clothes they've put her into, combing out her long hair (the dye seems to have washed out of it in whatever strange water she was pulled out of), and trying to think what comes next.]

[When someone else comes in, she starts, leaping to her feet, and essays a curtsey which is made unseemly by the trousers (she's never worn trousers in her life, and even something as simple as a curtsey feels different in them), her blue eyes modestly downturned. If the newcomer is a man, there's an added tension in her posture, but either way, there's a wariness in the glances she gives from under her lashes.]

Are we... is this your room? [There are four beds, after all.]


[ 2 | Dining Hall ]
[She can't stay in her room forever. She isn't at all sure how comfortable she is being seen this way - these clothes feel indecent, and she's not sure she looks much better than they do - but it isn't as though she has much choice, unless she wants to walk around naked.]

[Which, to be clear, she very much does not. Arriving naked was bad enough, with those eyes on her and the memory of the throne room far too clear in her mind.]

[It's the dining hall she goes to first. It isn't greed that brings her there, she's quick to reassure herself. It's just that it seems like a good place to discover her situation, and she is hungry.]

[For a time, she browses the food available, but she's largely more interested in the people, and if you happen to glance over at the slim young redhead, you're liable to see her watching you for a moment before, embarrassed at being caught, she looks away quickly.]

[But then she reaches the desserts, and one dessert in specific, and for a moment the wariness and guardedness drops away entirely. She's just a child, smiling in sudden and innocent delight at the cake she's just taken a bite of, and turning to the person beside her.]

They have lemon cakes! You really should try one.


[ 3 | Library ]
[The books call to her, a pleasure tinged with the same guilt as the lemon cakes. Not the knowledge they contain, although Sansa is old enough and hardened enough now to be all too aware that she'd better learn where she is and what's expected of her. But the stories...]

[Sansa Stark has always loved stories. It's an indulgence she's rarely been able to give herself, since this whole miserable chapter of her life began. As soon as she sees the library, she knows what she wants to do: gathers up an armful of books, finds a quiet corner, and sets out to bury herself in handsome knights and beautiful maidens and epic loves. It isn't the same, of course, as sitting with Jeyne back in Winterfell, listening to Old Nan's stories and giggling as they did their needlepoint. It isn't the same, but she hopes it can take her back there, for a moment or two.]

[That hope is dashed quickly. The stories themselves are not so different to the ones from home (which is, she tells herself, good to know), but that makes it worse. She is different. Time and again, she reads the stories, and she thinks Lies. Lies. All of it lies. The knowledge of it sits like a stone in her belly, until at last, looking close to tears now, she stands abruptly and goes to return the books to their shelves. If you happen to be reaching for one of them, she looks at you with red-rimmed eyes.]

Don't bother. There's nothing worth knowing in that one.


[ 4 | Dungeons ]
[A lady shows kindness. A wise lady builds goodwill. Sansa is a little afraid to go down to the dungeons, especially when the natives of Thorne keep on saying that the prisoners down there are so dangerous - but she also keeps thinking about her father. She keeps thinking about what different kinds of prisons there are. After a day or two, when she's heard from others that it isn't so bad, she gathers up a selection of sweet cakes and pastries from the dining hall, wraps them in a kerchief, and starts down into the dungeons to visit the prisoners.]

[So it is that a young girl comes to be standing outside your cell, her nose wrinkled just a little at the smell. She smiles at the inhabitants, a small and shy smile that doesn't fully reach her eyes.]

I brought you something. It isn't much, but I thought you might like it.

[She holds out a cake, but she hasn't actually come all that close to the bars, hanging back as though she's afraid she'll be grabbed.]

Roommates

[song_of_ice]

[He held back, amazed to see her, not simply here, but so much younger and less worn than he last saw her. He hated to admit it, but he missed the girl she was once. While not exactly kind to him, she had been gentler and...young. The Sansa he left was hard, cold, distant and aged by trauma. This was a glimpse into the past.

And perhaps part of him that wanted the sister that never second guess him or seemed to resent his position. But that thought left him guilty and cross with himself.

He finally stepped forward, worried she might not know him...or even want him.]

Sansa?

Huojin Chi | Original/Dungeons & Dragons | The Hermit | Imprisoned

[theotherfirefox]

I. Roommate

Huojin all but refused to speak the moment he was shoved into a glorified crate. He was seething with rage and his blood boiled not only at the fact that he was ripped from his homeland, but that his magic was stripped from him just as easily. He was confined and defenseless and that was far worse than the horrid clothes, single meal a day, minimal answers, and lack of privacy in his eyes.

After some time had passed and he calmed down just enough to be civil once more, he turned his attention to the only other person in the cell. Though, he knew that, given there were two more beds, they'd have some more company soon enough.

"What do they want with us?" he asked bluntly, hoping the other would have some semblance of a clue as to what was going on there.

II. The Visitor

There was no twinkle in his eyes and his face made it clear that he was rather bored as he leaned against the wall, watching anything and everything that happened in the hallway outside of his cage. There was virtually nothing new until a well-dressed stranger stopped by him. While he was rather surprised someone had "deemed him worthy" in some regard, the Huli Jing did nothing but lean his arms against the bars that caged him, body bent at the hips as he gazed up at the other as they spoke.

"You say your name as if it's supposed to mean something to me," he droned, his voice as unimpressed as his expression.

With a soft, exasperated sigh and a tilt of the head as he glanced expectantly, he stood up straight with his arms still settling against the bars casually. "As much as I enjoy company," which he didn't, "why are you here? Do I know you or something?"

III. Dinner time

It had been a few days since he had be summoned to this place, but it only took the first one for Huojin to notice that things, while better than he expected, were pretty all around terrible. Meal time was absolutely no exception. Sure, the food was some of the best he's had in his life, but the fact it only came around once a day was rough.

In a sense, he was glad he had faced such hardships relatively early on in life. He was used to going hungry as there were days he hadn't eaten at all. And, in fairness (which was something he'd never thought to think of with his abductors), the meals were larger than what he's used to, so he was pretty full by the end of each meal.

Though, it didn't take long to notice that it wasn't the same for everyone.

His gaze moved over to the other nearby him, having noticed them the past couple of days. With a soft sigh, he slid over, dragging his tray with an untouched piece of bread and some extra vegetables.

"Hey," he murmured softly, hoping his voice evaded wandering ears. "I have some leftovers if you're still hungry.

the Visitor sort of!

[hopelesswandrer]

The thing about being a bard is that you absolutely have to be on top of all the local gossip at all times. Not only does it keep your own head above water when it comes to your competition, it allows you to craft your songs and snipes in ways that make people feel seen.

And so it was no surprise that he knows about the people trapped in the dungeons, for apparently the same reason he was kept upstairs: Absolutely none.

It raised his hackles, and while he feels pretty helpless in the grand scheme of things here, he figures he can make at least a little difference to someone down here.

"Nah, it doesn't have to mean jack shit if you don't want it to," Eikarr shrugs after the response from the other man. "I just know I've got spares, and you look like you might appreciate an extra bun or two," he says, bringing the paper bag he'd brought with him.

"Or if you don't, someone else here might."

Goro Majima | Yakuza 0 | The Hanged Man/Imprisonment

[sunshinehan]

I. Meet the Cellmate

[Majima was already in the cell, alone up till now, when another prisoner was finally dumped in with him. He had to wonder if it was because the place finally got too full to keep him in solitary confinement or if was just inevitable that they put someone else in here. Everyone else had at least one cellmate already it seemed as he was often drug by on his way to somewhere more...private.

He'd caused a bit of commotion or maybe they just didn't like his face, whatever the reason the expelled yakuza was high on the list of 'maybe we'll feel better if we beat the hell out of this guy repeatedly'. In other words, he'd been tortured more than once in his stay here so far. (Un)Luckily for Majima, he was used to a hell of a lot worse torture than the mild beatings they gave out here. A year of being tortured near to death would do that to a man, harden him up to the point he just didn't notice it anymore.

But it was obvious the moment the new cellmate stumbled into the cage. The one-eyed man was covered in bruises and even a few cuts and slashes from dagger blades. If he hadn't been bound at the times of the beating he could have given as good as he got, but that wasn't the case of course. He looked up with his one good eye--he was missing the eyepatch he normally wore so the missing eye was closed only behind his eyelid which thankfully remained intact--to assess his new cellmate.

A moment of silence drug on as he let the newcomer regain bearings, yell at the guards, or whatever else wanted. Then:]

Yo. Might as well get comfortable. Prefer it if they don't come back anytime soon.

II. Recreation

[It would have been nice if there was more equipment or something to use while stuck out here but beggars couldn't be choosers. Except they totally were so he was inclined to complain loudly as a beggar might but somehow decorum won out and he remained quiet at he seethed.

He didn't need anymore bruises anyway.

Now was a good time to get to know some other prisoners, see what was going on, if anyone knew anything. Maybe they'd overheard something from the guards or one of the privileged chosen had come round to talk and let something new slip. Never knew, it was worth a shot.

Failing that, he could always see if a brawl was acceptable form of exercise or not in this place.]

III. A Visitor? A Chat with Neighbors?

[There wasn't much to do in this place most of the time. It felt odd to Majima. He was used to more torture in his imprisonment. Sure, he'd gotten a few doses of that in the past few days, but not nearly as constant as back in the hole. This was so boring by contrast.

Visitors from outside were a welcome distraction. After the first one piqued his interest and bolstered his spirit, Majima found himself watching, waiting for others to come down and talk if they would. If he heard footsteps at any time his attention focused on whether it was a guard or not, and moved closer to the bars if it was someone other than a guard on patrol. The better to grab their attention if wanted.

When that wasn't forthcoming, Majima started trying to talk to other cellmates. The cell across the way so long as they weren't too loud or to either side if possible to get their attention.]

Hey. You heard anything new lately? [ Or ] Why do you think they keep us around if we're failures? Why not get rid of us?

Visitor!

[hopelesswandrer]

It's actually pretty early on that Eikarr comes down to visit the dungeons. He's both curious and wary this first time, wondering just what kind of people had been so bad that they'd immediately carted them off down into the dark.

By the time he sees Majima among the (mostly normal looking people) in the cells he's stewing in dissatisfaction. There was pretty much nothing different!!

This man just looks human! Sure, some humans and human adjacent people hosted fell creatures from beyond the material plane inside their body, but surely not this many?

"Are y' alright down here?" He asks, since the man's already up by the bars. "For the life of me I can't figure out what's got you down here and me up there," he sighs.

Alucard | Castlevania | The Hierophant | Imprisoned

[cryptsleeper]

Dungeons, 1
[There are in fact many awful parts of this situation. Being dragged somewhere else entirely. Having some stranger hunched over a book take a single look at the state of Alucard and calling him a wretched creature. (Not wrong, but it still stings.) And then, defiant and furious and knowing full well that this situation would endanger his life further, the dhampir had snapped furiously at the first hand laid upon him.

The next part was a blur. Alucard had always been good at a fight, and the situation was no different until somehow, in some impossible moment after a spell he couldn't dodge, there were shackles around his wrist. Again.

These weren't made of silver, they didn't bind his entire body, but the sheer horror of the situation meant he did nothing to defend himself in the minutes that followed. One punch after the other. Kicks to the chest. And then--

--then his skin refused to heal itself. In that awful moment, Alucard understood how dire the stakes were.

Since being thrown into the cell, he has been quiet. His torso smarts from bruises starting to blossom, no part of him is capable of movement. There's only the weird pale man on the pitiful straw bed, making a point to mush himself in the corner to force himself upright and to see everything he can.

No one gets to sneak up on him yet again.]

Dungeons, 2
--Hm.

[If there is one surprise to be had here, in this particular situation, it is the food. Minimal, yes, given that it comes once a day, but there's always effort put into it. The meat isn't covered in fat to hide a rotten hunk of critter - the meat is well cooked. Seasoned, with salt, pepper, and herbs. The salad isn't just a few ripped up leaves with nothing on it, there's effort to make it presentable. Palatable even. The bun has yet to be stale.

It is the weirdest detail in all of it, and every time Alucard finishes the meal, he stares at the tray, trying to determine if this is some awful sort of long game.

Today is no different. Food devoured, he pushes the tray aside and leans against the cell wall.]

Nonsensical.

[He breathes the word out at a bare whisper.]

Recreation no parks
Whose...?

[Alucard uses his foot to stop a runaway ball that threatens to careen past the little corner he's staked out for himself in order to enjoy the precious our of daylight afforded to everyone housed in the dungeons. He's far enough away from guards to avoid suspicion as well as far enough away from other prisoners that in theory, he should just have this little hour of alone time.

He frowns, picking up the ball and then looking for whoever was using it.]

[ooc: Alucard is from the conclusion of s3, although I am caught up with s4]

Dungeons 2

[therichremember]

That they're feeding us meat? I've come to theorize that they're conjuring the meals. It'd explain why we're all given the same portions, and perhaps how they can afford to spare meat for prisoners.

[The man who speaks is bespectacled and broad, his tunic bearing the sign of the High Priestess.]

The reason, I'm still trying to figure, though.

stephen strange . mcu . the high priestess / welcome.

[rehandle]

1. roommates

[ It's not what you expect when the last thing you remember before almost drowning in a deep well of nothing is passing a somewhat unremarkable Tuesday afternoon refamiliarizing yourself with New York City. But the unexpected is to be expected when you step into this line of work, and he's had worse surprises in the last— ...lately. So is it a surprise to find himself here, on the summons of mages he's never seen before wielding a magic he's never studied, listening stoically to their limited explanations as his presence is deemed a success? Sure. Is it unusual to find himself following said mages to an unfamiliar castle, led to an unfamiliar room where unfamiliar people wait looking equally out of place? Absolutely.

But past a certain point you have to learn to roll with the punches. And he's rolled with more than enough by now to have learned to accept reality for whatever it is, however unlikely, and fight it only when it needs fighting.

And so Stephen Strange is left in his new room with these new strangers. His hands ache, his magic feeling far away (though not, he thinks, inaccessible). Without the privacy to test his grasp on his power he stills his fingers before they can twitch into habitual patterns and cast something, or nothing, into the air, and having nothing else in this world to his name save the clothes on his back settles instead for claiming a bed.

He crosses to a vacant one, pausing once he reaches it to address a new roommate nearby. His tone's a little tight - he's experienced, not inhuman, and arrival in another world is slightly outside of his outer limits for remaining completely calm and unfazed - but it's still with mild dry humour that he asks: ]

Is this seat taken?



2. library

[ Having had a little time to accept and recalibrate, the most pressing need he's struck by isn't to eat or to sleep. It's to know. The apprentice's descriptions of the place and situation he now finds himself in covered basics at best, and his ignorance feels cloying, dangerous - exhilarating. The sheer scope of what he doesn't know sits in his mind like a promise and a warning. There's a whole world beyond these castle walls to familiarise himself with, an entire new system of magic to understand. And in the absence of the internet, there's really only one place to go to start things moving.

He's no stranger to a library. Half of his life has been spent poring over books in dorm rooms and study halls, offices and kitchen counters. More recently, leafing through ancient tomes while his body sleeps, reaping knowledge for those eight hours so he can train for the other sixteen. Living inside a brownstone behemoth filled with bookshelves and artifacts, history and magic and a bigger picture bound in leather or kept in cases, worn on his back when he steps out to take on the unknown. There are worse fixations to have. It comes in handy, and it helps him now as he pulls volumes from shelves and piles them heavy in his arms, moves them to stack in multiple few-book towers on a table, more books than anyone could ever hope to get through in one sitting. There's too much to learn and, for now, all the time in the world to do it.

He can be found there almost every day, either gathering his mini mountain range of books - a definite hoard of resources, showing absolutely no consideration for the needs of others - or already settled at the table with a minimum of two books from his stacks open at any one time, cross-referencing and clarifying. When he settles in he stays for hours at a time, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon or evening, sometimes multiple times a day. Keeping odd hours and pausing to eat and sleep only when not doing so has started interfering with his ability to pay attention to the words on the page, or when lured away to move from study to practice with the junior mages in the study hall. ]



3. dungeon

[ Learning comes in many different mediums. Once upon a time he didn't put much stock in whispers or in rumours, looked down on the gossip that spread through hospital corridors. Then he became a sorcerer, responsible for guarding Earth against the rest of the known and unknown multiverse, and whispers became very, very valuable. Embellishment could be fact or fiction, but usually contained truth. Rumours, traces, hints. All of it critical.

So it doesn't take him long to venture down to the dungeon. Oftentimes, the places people least encourage you to go are the places that hold the most important secrets. Nobody stops him. The guards make way. He can feel his slowly strengthening connection to the sources of his own power dry up as soon as he takes the steps down, and that's another clue in and of itself.

Once he's down there, he strolls along the rows of cells, and it doesn't take long to notice the crude embroidery on the back of someone's tunic. Verifying it with a few more, he approaches a cell, waiting until the inhabitant has afforded him their attention before asking: ] Why are you here?


4. wildcard

( I'm a little bit late to the party but feel free to throw anything else at me or pp me at enrapt to plot something out! )

3.

[sunshinehan]

[Majima has been waiting for visitors from above these days, nothing much else to do down in the dungeon. When he wasn't getting beaten by angry guards anyway. He looked better than he did several days ago when they really got into his hide but there were still plenty of bruises on him and some were fresh. Despite this, there was a certain demeanor about him that was lively rather than beaten down, an anticipation for something to come perhaps. Like he was biding his time.

He was already near the bars when Strange approached; not close enough to be easily touched but close enough to get a good look and hold a low toned conversation. He had heard the other coming and predicted a visitor rather than a patrolling guard. There was a distinct difference in sound. He cocked his head slightly at the question and then smirked slightly.]

I'd like to know that, too. Ya figure it out, let me know.

Homelander || The boys (sign; Judgement)

[moremilkplz]

[ooc note; please, be advised that The Boys is extremely violent. Warning of graphic violence, sexual violence and someone loving breast-milk a little too much. opt-out post.]

Scenario One: Welcome to Thorne
i. Meet your roommates and making friends

This was better. New York had started to chafe, the Vought cooperation was about to go down in flames, hopefully, and the adoring public had become dull. Sheep-like and stifling. These knowledgeable fellows seemed more like the right sort. The instant praise, the fawning. Yes, this was where he belonged.

Thorne.

The hero they had all been waiting for. Homelander stands in front of the large picture window, hands clasped behind his back as he gazes out towards the land beyond the castle walls. To the sky above.

Soon, they said, soon he would fly again.

"Welcome," he laughes, the perfectly practiced PR smile, "And why did they bring you here?"

ii. The Library and making friends

Only Madeline had ever tried to give him homework, and Homelander smiles to himself. Too bad what had to happen to her, but that was life. He leans back in the library chair, a large book perched on his lap as he crossed his legs on the table in front of him.

The mages, the robed and smiling things, are around. Somewhere. They sneak glances at him, as if he wouldn't notice and Homelander makes sure he smiles back, eyes glinting.

"Can you believe they actually read all of this? And this slowly. I don't mind look at it, but by the end of next week, I will have this entire library memorized."

iii. Dungeons, aka the zoo. Also, making friends.

He has free reign of the castle, obviously, and the people here show him the proper amount of respect. Not like in New York, with social media clouding the issues and too many people willing to be sheep for cold, hard cash. Not enough principles and too much time on their hands to meddle in things they don't understand.

Not like here, where he's bathed in the morning and served up a variety of cold cuts and wine at every meal. They even have milk, fresh fruit and freshly made bread, just like his mother never made it.

But being watched and admired gets boring. This is boring, just wandering around the castle, doing fuck all because there's nothing to do yet. No threat and no flight. In time, they say, but he's been waiting for days and it's... creepy, not flying. Not having to watch himself when he touches things and pushes people. Unnatural.

This is why he makes his way down in to the dungeon, and no one stops him. He stops in front of a pitiful looking cell, a bowl of grapes in his hand and he leans carelessly against the bars.

"That looks really uncomfortable, pall."

While he picks up a grape, slowly sucking it in to his mouth.

iv. Wildcard.

[Homelander can be found wandering around the castle, making friends and making small-talk. He can also be found in the dining-room while eating or just sitting outside, enjoying the sunlight.]

okay here we go

[gunbunny]

"Ah, the torture has finally begun."

His failed escape attempt had, hopefully, gone relatively unnoticed, but really what was the point of a dungeon without a bit of torture? Jesper stayed seated on the ground, back against the back of the cell wall, and just watched that grape move like a cat watching a bird. Ever restless, his foot bounced as well, almost like said cat wiggling before pouncing.

Will Graham ¤ Hannibal | The Moon

[cognitivus]

dungeons & dragons

( He is suspended in the abyss; a hand reaches for him, and Will's mind automatically assigns a face to it. He hesitates, but his lungs are running out of air and the void feels oppressive, like it might swallow him whole. He wraps his fingers around the offering, and it pulls him gasping and dripping out of the water.

He doesn't recognize anyone in the room. Or the room. Or most of the contents in the room, which should... probably be more alarming than it initially is, but Will is used to his mind constructing elaborate and vivid fantasies like this.

Usually, it's his mind trying to tell him something.

He has... not the slightest clue what it's trying to tell him right now.

He's understandably stunned and confused as they lead him away, no resistance in his limbs, lips gently parted, mind reeling. He seems dazed, right up until the guards deposit him into a cell and shut the door behind him. A silent second passes, and then he affixes his eyes on his cellmate. Breathes out a lost-sounding: )

Is this real?

thanks i'm vegan

( Will is one of the quieter guests in their involuntary barred hotel, restrained save for the few times he stands up to pace across the room and wrap his hands around the iron bars. Strangely enough, he's not actually looking out when he does it — his eyes close, and he seems to retreat into kind of a trance for several minutes. His eyes will snap abruptly open, his shoulders sag, and then he paces back to his cot.

When they're fed, he takes to staring down at the tray with a small measure of discomfort. After a while, he turns his attention his roommate. )

I'm not, ah... big fan of the food.

( He says, offering his tray out with the meat pointed at his cellmate. All yours if you want it, he'll stick with the bread and the salad. )

and the kitchen sink

( dungeon visitors or neighboring cells can catch Will leaning against the bars, his hands threaded through and lightly clasped, either surveying them or staring out into absolutely nothing. also feel free to wildcard me with any other kind of shenanigan. )

Vegan??

[therichremember]

[Jean frowns deeply at that comment and moves most of his salad to Will's plate instead.]

Keep your strength up. They're keeping us alive for something. Letting yourself become weak before we get an opportunity isn't worth it.

[The man is a little hard to read; bespectacled, broad, he moves deliberately and seems to be paying attention to everything. He often talks to the visitors from upstairs, exchanging theories and thoughts with them.

You'd think he's used to dire situations like this.]

victor frankenstein | code realize

[chemicaled]

≫ Welcoming committee.

[ He definitely doesn't belong here.

That much, he knows. Yanked out of a pool with water spilling from his lungs and clinging to his bare skin, he felt much like a cornered animal brought back from the brink of death. Nothing to his name but the stitched soft silk embroidered with a star and the glasses they deem important enough to return to his face, his muscles almost ache with how tense they are as he lets himself get led around with confusion still the forefront of his mind. They speak of his exploits, even with no detail to be given, and he can't help but feel a sinking stone settle in his stomach and churn it with every step.

He has done things to be noted, certainly- just as much as he'd done things that should never be forgiven.

The room is...cozy, at least? He sits on the edge of one of the beds, staring down at his bare hands with a severe expression, idly folding them after a few moments of intense silence. The door opens with a creak of wood, and suddenly it occurs to him there's more than one bed in here- a realization that brings a sheepish look to his face as he quickly gets back on his feet. Getting caught like this by anyone is still a little embarrassing... ]

Ah, sorry...! I'm normally more observant, but it completely escaped me that we'd be getting roommates. [ Nonetheless, he does offer a soft smile, in an attempt to make a good impression. ] It's been a while since I've roomed with someone else, I've gotten a bit too used to my privacy...but at the very least, I hope we can get along.

≫ Knowledge is power.

[ The heavy smell of books and ink is somewhat nostalgic, albeit not as much as the stench of solutions and mixed chemicals. Still, knowledge is knowledge, and he'd be a fool to give up any opportunity to learn more about his situation. After all, he still has a job to do, and he very well can't continue his research for Cardia while he's stuck here on the whims of another.

There's a pile of tomes next to the man sitting at one of the tables, more of the history than the legends, although there are a few there regardless. With a soft sigh, the one in his hands is closed, added to the smaller pile beside him. While he does try to hide it, frustration does knit his brows, a solemn look lingering as he mutters to himself. ]

..As expected of a place like this, it's mostly painted in a good light...Monarchies aren't known for their explicit details of their failings...

[ Looking up again at the stacks makes him pause, as it becomes apparent there's somebody else there. Somebody who may or may not have heard his mild slander, which makes him quickly cough. ]

Ah...I don't suppose you heard that...?

≫ Cellular divison.

[ While knowledge is certainly always a help, the newfound bits he's found from both asking and looking around don't sit well with him. If they were all pulled from the same pool, frigid and far from home, then why are they down there and he's up here, treated like some kind of honored guest? It simply doesn't feel right, for more reasons than he can count.

All this talk of posing a great threat...then what separates them from him? There's a morbid curiosity, not to mention a sense of responsibility, which drags him down the stone steps, food filched from the dining area lining his pockets (which he hopes they don't mind). The smile he aims towards some of the guards is kind enough, but they still offer glances of suspicion, moving on patrols with their gazes on his back. Once they're far enough away, Victor turns to the nearest cell, frowning lightly. ]

They don't seem to trust me, but I expected as much. [ Stating the obvious, but he's trying. He lets his hand slip into his pocket after casting another glance to make sure he's not being watched, pulling out a soft bun he's squirreled away. ] I can't imagine they feed you quite enough down here, so here. It's not much...but it's the best I can do for now, and I can vouch for the taste.

≫ Wildcard.

got something else in mind? feel free to hit me, or message me at lupical!

Cellular Division

[therichremember]

That's very kind of you. [Jean nods, accepting the bun gratefully. He doesn't eat it right away, though, glancing over his shoulder at one of his cellmates who could probably use it more.]

They're giving us one meal a day. But that meal includes meat, that's what surprised me. Not even organ meats, or scraps, either. [The information is shared in case it's interesting or useful to the visitor, but also to reassure him they're not starving completely down here.]

Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier / IT / The Hanged Man

[trashmouthed]

ONE █ Welcome to Thorne !

[Richie's not sure what's worse, the fact that he's still reeling or that the people around him seem to be so well-adjusted and comfortable. One minute he's fighting tooth and nail in the underbelly of Derry and then the next he's sucked into this Tolkien-Lovecraft fanfare with nothing to his name but the clothes that they gave him on his back.

He feels like an eyesore, worse than usual, and no amount of shrinking away from every adult and bright-eyed citizen has taken the sting out of it. Richie's hair is still caked with some dirt, pushed up by the now dry cake at the crown of his head where it meets the nape of his neck. A spattering of dirt is still on his face and neck, and some of the scrapes and bruises from running around the sewers are still fresh. He looks nice, but he doesn't smell nice and he has nothing nice to say about the child kidnapping that reached across time and space. He knows when bite his tongue but he left the wizard and his stupid smile as fast as he possibly could. People weren't that cheerful, no one was ever that happy. Not that he'd ever experienced.

As soon as he's escorted out of the room with the well he hightails it away from his handlers, and for a lanky string bean, he could move pretty damn fast. Fast enough to not see where he's going and go careening into strangers and tables neatly tucked into corners. Richie clotheslines himself with something a body, a post, some obstacle that totally thwarts his plans, and he goes scrambling.]

SHIT!

█ THE DUNGEONS █

[In true retaliatory fashion, once Richie's stuffed the pocket of his trousers with as much salvageable bread and keepable foods as he can he goes exactly where he was told not to. First, doing a quick study of the guard rounds to make sure he'll have enough time to see for himself. He's got a few well-devised excuses in mind for if he's caught, but being told to believe something just for the sake of the comfort of someone else doesn't work for him. He's had enough of people telling him what to think and what to do.

Richie takes the stairs down slow and sticks to the darkness as much as he can. Richie knew what a dungeon was but he wasn't expecting the sheer size of this one. The cells were decently sized and besides the constant dripping and the humid atmosphere, it was a lot nicer than some of the places he'd seen in Derry. The Neibolt house made it look like a palace.

Richie's so awe-struck by the people in the cells that he lets time escape him. The guards come back on their regular patrol and he's forced to hide behind some stocked barrels of some kind, probably freshwater, or provisions to wait for them to leave. Once they're far enough away he tries to hop over the aged wood and make a break for it but his glasses fly off his face when the new tunic snags and slide into the unknown.]

Great... Now I'm a sitting duck. This place sucks.

the dungeons ~

[opioid]

[ Eddie is so goddamn fucking bored.

He'd expected the worst part of this situation would be the frustration of knowing he's innocent and still being treated like a criminal, but it turns out he's wrong. The worst part of all of this is the monotony of it all. He's actually been reduced to counting the cobblestones in the wall.

Twice.

He's gunning for a third when the glasses skitter into view and bump his foot. He's sitting on the cold stone floor, wearing one sandal and missing the other – don't ask why, don't make him explain himself – and the sudden appearance makes him flinch back. For one terrible, awful, no good, very bad second, he thought it was a rat. Eddie picks up the glasses after a moment to check there's no tail or whiskers or plague-carrying fly-infested fur, and scoots closer to the bars. ]

Jinkies, Velma, is that you?

Hector | Castlevania | The Magician | Honored Guest

[petcromancer]

And They Were Roommates

[To say it's been a weird year for Hector would be an understatement of the greatest magnitude. But being dragged naked and drowning into an entirely new world, only to be raised up as a desirable arrival takes the cake. The emblem of the Magician is seen as a badge of honor, not a black spot upon his soul. He's apparently honored.

It's really fucking suspicious... but at least his ring finger is mercifully bare. He recognizes a gilded cage when he sees one, but it is better than being literally caged or magically bound. He can work with this.

…Well, except maybe for the part where he has to share chambers with other people. He arrives in his assigned room, and moves to claim whichever bed is most secluded, or at least the furthest from the door. ]


Librarian? I Thought You Were American!

[Hector has no love for Ambrose or his apprentices, but that doesn’t mean he can’t use the library they’ve curated. If he’s to make his way in the world, he needs power and knowledge. His powers, he’s been assured, will return with time. So it is knowledge that he seeks.

He selects a promising volume from the shelf, flips through it, then huffs and sets it aside.]

Fiction and folktales.

[He moves to a different shelf, and tries again.]

Damn it, where are the histories?


Wildcard

[Got another idea? Feel free to hit me up at demonrubberducky)/Discord (Lisa#9166)/PM.]

library

[mercurie]

I've a few here.

[ the voice comes from a table somewhere at hector's back, from behind a small stack of books, and belongs to a small, thin teenager with pale, silvery-veined skin. he's sort of slumped wearily, but he straightens when he's looked at, searching through the stacks to pull a few books out and push them forward with bruised-black fingers. ]

It's mostly propaganda, I think, [ he warns him lightly, lips quirking up. ] It's written that way, at least.

[ he shifts, resting an elbow on the table, chin in his palm, gray eyes flicking with interest over hector and lingering over the patch on his tunic. his own is a stylized skull, which is a little on the nose for his tastes. ] I was trying to find information about the magic they use here, but it's been a useless endeavor thus far.

Jack Sawyer | The Dark Tower/The Talisman | Fool | Imprisoned

[travellin_jack]

[Jack hadn't panicked. Not at first.

He'd been drifting off to sleep when the old familiar sensation had come, that feeling of falling sideways through a hole in the world. There had been a brief moment of confusion and alarm because he hadn't initiated it and that was new, but he was too sleepy and too comfortable for it to penetrate very deeply. Besides, he knows where he'll end up, because he knows where he is, and that's how it works. He's flipped from this room half a dozen times since they'd moved in not quite a year ago now. Never for long, because life is chill and normal and good now, just long enough to get the lay of the land. If there was one thing Jack had learned during that long, strange, wandering autumn, it was that there was something to be said for the Boy Scout Motto.

So he'd just rolled with the transition, making a mental note to not let himself fall asleep on the other side no matter how sleepy and comfortable he was, because his mother and Richard would both lose their minds if they'd woken up and he'd just been gone again and he refuses to ever...

And then the panic had started to set in, because everything was wrong. The transition hadn't stopped. He'd just...floated, helpless and weightless, nowhere...

And then he was drowning and someone was dragging him up through cold water and there were voices again, people again, speaking in harsh tones and calling him failure and worthless creature while he choked and sputtered and tried to get his breath back. They'd shoved clothes at him and dragged him away protesting, catching sights of what looked like ancient masonry walls. A castle. This had to be the Territories then. He'd switched his protests from English to the language he'd come to think of as his other native tongue, hoping maybe it would get a different response, only for the panic to ratchet up another notch when he realized that not only were the men dragging him along the corridors not responding either way, but that he'd actually had to think about it in order to switch languages.

Which meant he wasn't in the Territories after all. So where was he??

They'd shoved him into a dark little cell, two cramped sets of bunk beds along each wall, and even though it wasn't the same at all Jack had burst into tears because suddenly it's two Octobers ago and he's back in Indiana, back at the Sunlight Home, and any minute now Sonny Singer is going to start yelling "Night Chapel!!!" up and down the halls and he's going to have to do it all over again...

(Stop it! Stop it right this second, you're not THERE anymore, it's gone, he's dead, they're all dead, so maybe frigging focus or you're never going to get out of here!)

Even after he manages to calm down, though, he realizes that escaping isn't going to be happening any time soon. Even during the worst moments of his travels he's never been this disoriented, this completely disconnected from where and when and why. He knows, of course, that there are other worlds than the ones he's been to personally, he'd seen them in flashes as he'd fallen through the floors of reality at the end. But unless he can figure out what 'floor' he's on right now, and how he got there, he's completely boned.

Lost in his half-hysterical attempts to assess the situation as he is, it takes him the better part of a day to realize that he's not alone here. There are other prisoners, of varying age, race, and gender, all dressed in the same baggy roughspun jumpsuits with what look like tarot cards embroidered on the back. He wonders, dazedly, which card he got.

Tentatively, he glances across to his nearest neighbor, and speaks a hesitant greeting, trying both languages because it can't hurt, hoping desperately that maybe someone knows more than he does.]

He....hello?

[girl_at_the_window]

[Susan is mostly asleep at this point, having tired herself out with fury and grief and - if she's halfway honest with herself - just the sheer bulk of things that have happened over the past few days. This is her second day here, which makes it the first full day since Maria woke her in a panic, the first day since the jailbreak, the first day since her own imprisonment, since sai Thorin did her best to break her out, since the Reaping-fire, since the smoke and then the water filling her lungs. Since the baby.]

[So, aye, she's tired, and in the absence of anything better to do, she's willing to give in to tired. She's covered her face with a corner of the blanket, and started to doze, not looking up for more than a moment even when the door opens and closes.]

[But then he speaks, and she's wide awake. His accent is strange as hell, but that's the closest she's heard in the last twenty-four hours to anything like her own tongue.]

[She sits up so abruptly she almost knocks her head on the top bunk, shaking her hair out of her face and looking up at the boy who's spoken with something not unlike hope.]

Hile. Hola? Hello?

Ye ken the Low Speech?

harrowhark nonagesimus | the locked tomb | the magician - welcomed

[necrosaint]

i. wandering

Some people are definitely finding that kidnapping is not an effective way to garner assistance, but none of those people are Harrowhark the First. She knows that is her name now because it has been used for her a couple of times (then rise, Harrowhark the First) but she is also frequently still introducing herself as Nonagesimus because she has not gotten used to being First. She has not been First for very long. But she is certain this is a task assigned to her as a Lyctor, that her coming into her necrosainthood has been given this duty.

It's too bad about the fact that her Lyctorhood now feels like it is miles away instead of settling into her skin. She may still be a necromancer, but this world has wrenched something from her. It pains her. It burns at her constantly, the way she knows she still could control bone with little but a twitch of a single neuron, but it also feels like it would make her very tired. But that man--Ambrose--told her it would come back, and she has little choice but to believe him, as she must hang her hopes on something.

So until then, she is wandering the halls looking a bit adrift, but not anywhere near as angry as some might be: a small slip of a girl-woman, just eighteen, with short hair, black robes over a black turtleneck and black pants, and a face painted like a skull.

ii. dining hall

This part doesn't work as well.

With all the fancy food in the world, Harrow is struggling to find things she can eat. She's managed a single corn muffin on her plate, and a cup of water, and is sitting at the table taking tiny little crumbs from the muffin (which is still too rich) and putting them in her mouth. She absolutely looks pathetic and like she doesn't know how food works.

iii. the library / study hall

The library is better.

The library is everything, in fact. It is all she's ever wanted besides to renew her House and become a Lyctor, and so in some ways, she now has everything she could ever ask for in the world except a way to return to the Ninth -- which she would not have had anyway (the way back is closed to you) and will have to live without at least until those rules can be finessed to suit her.

She is reading and reading, and will read until her eyes begin to bleed if she isn't stopped earlier. She researches that sign on her if she can (using the information she got from the hallway as a start), she researches the kingdom, she reads about the war. None of it is sticking until a second read--it is a flurry of excitement--it is a new world that needs her and because she is needed, she is going to learn.

The apprentice mages may find her a bit unpleasantly demanding ("Teach me that") but she does remember to add a please, and of course, she of two hundred (and one -- that soul is a part of yours now) souls shows aptitude, even if it is entirely the wrong kind of magic. The tiny flame in her hand that she can put out by closing her fist? She's smiling.

No one knows her, but if they did know her, they would know that smiling is not something Harrowhark does.

iii. library!

[frontlinetitties]

Gideon has no interest in the library.

In fact, the library is the worst. What could be more boring than a bunch of dusty old books containing an array of even more dusty ideas? And yet, she happens upon it whilst exploring, and decides to poke her nose inside anyway. Some Ninth instinct (loathe as she is to admit it, that place has left its mark on her, quite indelibly) possesses her to scout out as much of her new surroundings as she can. To make mental notes of all the entrances and exits, the stealthiest ways to move from one unforgivably opulent space to another.

You know. Just in case.

She didn't intend to linger here, but the sight of the books and the swift realisation that they're made from actual paper is enough to give her pause, and it's on examining one of these dull - but surely unfathomably expensive - tomes that she hears the feverish sound of pages turning. So she's not alone in here, and when a quick glance around has her catching a glimpse of a narrow back - black-clad, bird-boned - her heart skips one hard beat it startled recognition.

There are a million things she ought to say to Harrow, upon finding her in this place. What she does say - when she's able to find her voice - is, "Of course you'd find the shittiest, most boring place in this whole set-up and inter yourself in it."