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ABRAXAS MODS ([personal profile] abraxasmods) wrote in [community profile] abraxasooc2021-05-20 09:20 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME #1

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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theonlyrealthing: (Default)

Jack Benjamin | Kings | The Devil

[personal profile] theonlyrealthing 2021-05-21 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
I. Welcome Fit for a Prince

Maybe if this had happened a week ago, Jack would have protested, shouted that he is a prince and demand to see the leadership of this quaint, backwards kingdom. But a week ago, he hadn't spent the past five days locked in a very fancy prison with the one person most unbearable to his sight. He hadn't been rejected by family and God and kingdom.

Even being naked in a well is an improvement. The silk tunic and the welcome is a bigger improvement.

So he takes the silk tunic, takes the explanation, files it all away to ponder over. He smiles his best princely smile and goes where he is led. For now. Ushered in to join the rest, he starts looking for friendly faces, as charming as he can be. "So, were you hauled out of a well, too?" he asks. His hair is a mess, curling up terribly since he hasn't had a chance to comb it out, but maybe that will make him look rakishly handsome? (Who is he kidding, he's just about always rakishly handsome.)


II. Study Hall

"Magic, huh?" He watches with interest. He doesn't disbelieve, exactly, but he's skeptical, looking for the trick to it, not quite ready to actually believe. Actually believing would mean accepting magic that doesn't come from Gilboa's God.

Really, he never even believed in that kind of magic. So this, magic that comes from a person, that comes when called, is... too tempting. He can't believe yet.

He leans aside to whatever companion followed him in here, or maybe who he followed in here. "So is this familiar to you, or are you as lost as I am when it comes to this-- magic thing?"


III. Dungeon

"Since I have no powers," Jack assures the dungeon guards, "besides my dashing good looks and brilliant political mind, I won't be missing much down there, I promise. Besides maybe the comfort of breathing properly."

So they let him down, and he's... kind of quietly appalled behind his lofty expression and military bearing. Not even the worst prisons in Gilboa are like this. Not even the one they threw David in was like this. Thorne really is a backwards country, good God.

Jack comes up to the bars of one of the cells. "Hey. What did they throw you in here for?" he asks whoever's inside.
gruesome: (Grue - What?)

Some | OC | The Empress

[personal profile] gruesome 2021-05-21 04:39 am (UTC)(link)
Some can barely see as he's led through the cell door, his head hitting the lintel hard enough to make him swear under his breath. It's too bright here for him, just from the light coming in from the small, high window, and he jerks to keep from being pushed through the beam of light that falls from it.

Over seven feet tall when he draws himself to his full standing height, the grue makes the cell feel small. But immediately, he folds himself awkwardly into the shadows of a lower bunk, all but filling the space. He's afraid. This place reeks of humans, not a hint of another grue anywhere near, and that can't be good. It's not safe here. It won't be safe here for anyone.
serpentinthegarden: (Snake tattoo)

Crowley - Good Omens - The Devil

[personal profile] serpentinthegarden 2021-05-21 04:40 am (UTC)(link)
Crowley shivered. He didn't like the cold overly much to begin with and then that water in that so called well had been absolutely frigid! His demonic eyes glared at the group of people arguing over him as he had not needed the cold shower right now! But his teeth chattered a little too noisily to respond right away.

This was some sort of summoning ritual. As a demon he recognized that right away. People who dabbled in the occult were always sacrificing chickens and drawing weird candle encircled chalk lines in the effort to summon demons like him. It had never actually worked before unless he had decided it would. Appearing suddenly and terrifying the daylight out of those that thought they understood demons better than the demons themselves was always good for a laugh.

This wasn't nearly as much fun.

"You know..." He spoke finally, as he dabbed the cold well water on his bare arm off on the silly mage that brought him the potato sack. "Usually when people want to speak to me they call."

Those in the group didn't get the humor apparently as he soon found himself cuffed and thrown into a jail cell that might just have been as cold and nearly as damp as the well itself had been.

Crowley leaned on the bed, then leaned on the wall, summoning fire didn't do any good, trying to shrink himself only left him squatting on the ground, the bed was designed for a midget and he was 6'1", the bars wouldn't move no matter how hard he rattled them, and one of the guards... smelled like poo. That part at least was almost familiar, he had nearly called him Hastur. Crowley flounced as best one could while wearing handcuffs onto the nearest gnome sized bed.

"Who summons some one only to throw them into a boring dungeon. There's nothing going on down here..."

He sulked, the brooded, then looked to the nearest bunkmate.

"It's so boring. They could have at least threatened us. Made up some kind of grandiose scheme to eliminate the failures... Not even a guillotine this time."

A sigh.

"They aren't being very creative."
Edited 2021-05-21 05:14 (UTC)
mytearsaremine: (annoyed)

Jolie Harmony | Odd Thomas | Justice

[personal profile] mytearsaremine 2021-05-21 04:45 am (UTC)(link)
I. Unjust!

Fourteen-year-old Jolie stumbles into her cell, shoved there by one of the guards, tugging angrily at her scratchy tunic. "This isn't fair!" she yells, as the door clangs shut behind her. "I didn't do anything! I'm not going to hurt anybody!"

Trembling with rage, she bangs on the door, rattling it noisily, until whoever she's sharing this cell with alerts her to their presence.


II. Exercise Schmexercise

"That is so not helpful for exercising or building muscle or anything," Jolie exlaims at the first sight of what's in the courtyard. "What are you trying to do, kill us off with stupidity? Oh my god."

When the guard shoves her away again, she subsides, muttering, to go kick one of the balls around, shoulders hunched and angry.


III. Sharing is Caring

After the scrabble of mealtime, Jolie finds someone who didn't get as much as the rest. "Hey. Here." She offers them a half of her roll.

"So what do you think this is all about?" she asks as they eat. "Do some weird magic thing to summon us and then lock us up? I mean jeez. The least they could've done is send us back."
Edited 2021-05-21 04:48 (UTC)
therichremember: (horizon)

Jean Tannen - The Gentleman Bastard Series - Strength

[personal profile] therichremember 2021-05-21 04:47 am (UTC)(link)
1. Welcomed
a. Dining Hall
The variety of food available here is clearly a surprise (and something of a delight) to Jean. The man knows gourmet cooking, and immediately begins taking small samples of several dishes available, to see if he can identify the ingredients and spice profiles--that might help him understand where in the world he is.

"I wonder if they'd let us in the kitchen, to see how these dishes are prepared." This comment is to the person who's sitting next to him, striking up some small talk while he examines...some sort of fish? Citrus sauce? Not quite familiar...

2. Imprisoned
a. The Cell
Jean is no stranger to being in dire straits, and he's definitely not prone to panic. While being here without Locke is definitely frightening to him, the broad-shouldered man exhibits a thoughtful demeanor, watching the guard patrol patterns and checking all corners of the cell for any lockpicks or shims or other tools which might be used in an escape.

His attention does flicker from time to time to his cellmates, though. There's a wry humor in his tone of voice when he finally speaks up to address them. "First time in a prison?"

b. The Recreation Yard
When allowed out, there's more of the same scrutiny of the situation, checking for weaknesses, but Jean's also checking the social pecking order--his attention is particularly drawn to anyone who seems to be a bully or a victim thereof. It's a simple way to establish oneself in a new situation--find the biggest, meanest bastard around, and then show him you're bigger and meaner.

At least, he intends to try. Jean may look something like a soft clerical sort in wire-framed glasses, with a bit of a potbelly, but underneath it is muscle and years of experience as the bruiser for the Gentleman Bastards. While he doesn't have his beloved hatchets with him, he's fine with his fists.

But just as important as sticking up to those who're trying to push others around is making kind overtures to those who get picked on. Younger prisoners and those who're meek enough to become targets might be surprised to find Jean approaching them with a mild smile.

X. Wildcard
OOC: I can be found to plot with on Plurk ([plurk.com profile] darkersolstice) or Discord (darkersolstice#9463)
Edited 2021-05-21 04:52 (UTC)
nadine_he_loves: (started pre vegas)

Nadine Cross | The Stand | The World

[personal profile] nadine_he_loves 2021-05-21 04:48 am (UTC)(link)
At first, it didn't seem that odd. The darkness, the sense of being free of reality, the surrounding nothingness...in a way it seemed right and fitting, the desert night gone and this darkness slipping in around her. That changed quickly, and Nadine was gasping and trembling when she found herself dumped on unfamiliar stone. Nothing was right and nothing made sense, least of all what she'd been told. There'd been no fight - being naked and soaking wet and the intent focus of strangers took the fight right out of her - but little comprehension.

It isn't that she doubted she had some great destiny, or that her life was at the whim of some great magic force. She'd known that since she was twelve. But this wasn't it. This is all wrong. After everything she'd done, after all she'd given up and allowed to be done to her...she'd bought her future at too high a cost, she deserved what she'd paid for.

But there's nothing she can do. She has no power of her own, and even if she did, she understood it would be useless right now. All she has is the tunic the people calling themselves mages gave to her - even the stone she's worn around her neck most of her life is gone. Nadine feels naked without it. Why her?

The idea of sharing living quarters isn't a thrilling one, but at least the beds offer some small bit of privacy. She lingers in the doorway, white hair still damp, frowning thoughtfully at the interior and whoever else may already be there. The sign of The World is embroidered on her tunic.

While not terribly interested in exploring this place, there's little else to do and knowledge, as the old public service messages always said, is power. The library seems the most likely place to start, and Nadine can be found puzzling over book titles and flipping through old tomes with a fierce sort of determination.

The study hall also sounds like it may offer much needed information on this place...but Nadine is immediately distracted. This seems the most unreal of anything she's encountered so far - not that she's been here very long. Turning to the first fellow-abductee she sees, she finds herself asking:

"Is this real? They can just...teach us magic?"
no_63194: (Oh the youthful innocence)

Emma | Promised Neverland | The Sun

[personal profile] no_63194 2021-05-21 05:02 am (UTC)(link)
The memory of near asphyxiation was still on the girl's mind as she stood there clothed in a tunic that looked slightly too big for her and she listened dutifully as the adults around her began relaying information they considered pertinent to her stay here. Her shock of orange hair resembled a colorful dandelion puff, her green eyes still seemed to sparkle despite the earlier ordeal. She was of a slight stature compared to them in keeping with her age, but perhaps she could use that to her advantage and these persons would underestimate her abilities. As they walked the corridors she couldn't quite shake her unease, since most of the adults she'd met during the course of her brief life hadn't had her wellbeing at heart. Still, they had fished her out of that well and that counted for something.

Occasionally and reflexively Emma would reach up and cup a hand over the left side of her face before letting it fall away again. Maybe the apprentices thought that if they delivered this information rapidly enough she would forget it but she was a child from Grace Field. A girl that could memorize input at a remarkable level and always got top marks on her rigorous testing. She would survive this next hurdle, and get back to those left behind.

Once in the North Wing she would bombard her roommates with questions, and try to make some new alliances. She'd marvel at the library, looking for any books with an owl inside the front jacket just to make sure.. Then once she was sure the food was safe to eat, she would dine accordingly. It had been some time since she had a meal of this variety. Her family had to either hunt for their meat, or grow what was necessary ever since they escaped the farms. It was peculiar but there didn't seem to be any immediate danger, that being said she would still stay on her guard.

[OOC: Feel free to run into her anywhere because she will be trying to get a firm sense on the floorplan]
Edited 2021-05-21 05:05 (UTC)
hardcase: (pic#14773540)

randall flagg / the stand / tower arcana

[personal profile] hardcase 2021-05-21 05:04 am (UTC)(link)
1 / Cellmates
[ Flagg's aware of the fact that he doesn't have his magic here. At all. If he did he'd play along for a while before getting up, walking through the bars, and taking a nice big bite out of one of the guards for his trouble. As is, well, he's been without his magic before, but never in a situation like this.

He remembers poor Lloyd Henreid, starving away in prison all alone. That could be him now, he thinks, but he has his cellmates and the other prisoners. Strength in numbers may be the best and only chance they have of escape.

Time to turn up the charm and make some friends. ]
First time being shitcanned?

[ He smiles, big and wide. Without his usual threatening aura, it's not so off-putting. ]

2 / Recreation + Arcana Talk
[ Flagg doesn't feel the need to lift weights or run around or scrap with any of the other prisoners. He's happy enough to stretch his legs and look at the sky, as if his powers might return to him any second and he could fly away.

He does, however, take notice of the signs on everyone's uniforms for the first time. Of course, his own would be The Tower. He almost wishes Roland were here to see it, but that'd mean letting his nemesis witness him powerless and captive. No thanks.

Captive. The thought still stings. It's not right, that something like him should be held like this. He looks to another prisoner, trying to take his mind off of it. ]


I used to do tarot readings, back in my magician days. Never took it this seriously, though. [ That's not entirely true because he sure did make a big damn spectacle about it. ]

3 / Visitors
[ He doesn't need a good reason to be bitter about the people who are free to walk around as they please. They're in a better situation than he is, and so he has contempt for them.

When anyone walks by his cell, he leans against the bars and smiles at them, a much sharper, less-friendly smile than the one he offered his cellmates.

He won't bite, though. Not unless he's provoked. ]

4 / Wildcard
[ ooc: Anything goes, or feel free to hit me up at [plurk.com profile] dandymott or vellocet#7191! ]
baltimores: (111; don’t hold back)

amos burton | the expanse | lovers arcana

[personal profile] baltimores 2021-05-21 05:17 am (UTC)(link)
> imprisoned

[ So, this is all pretty fucking unimpressive.

Amos had gone along willingly for the most part. Not like there was a whole lot else he could do, except maybe give everyone else around him a flat stare. Best chance of survival was to just shut up and go where he was told, force down any inclinations to lash out. Not when he's so obviously outmatched. Wouldn't end well, to pick a fight with the people who ripped him from space and into some dark ages bullshit, would it?

He stays quiet, glaring at anyone he catches looking at him, and keeps up that demeanour as he's thrown into his cell. Takes a moment to look around the space before his eyes fall on an unclaimed lower bunk and it quickly becomes claimed. He just barely fits on it, which, honestly, fine. Whatever. He's had worse. (Whole thing is kind of worse already, anyway.)

He lies flat on his back, brings a hand up to rest under his head, shuts his eyes. He hasn't said a word yet, so it's possible he might have just fallen asleep. At least until his eyes snap open again, expression neutral and empty, and he turns his head to look out at a cellmate (or speak out loudly enough for a neighbour to hear), and, clearly annoyed, ]


So anyone here actually do anything to deserve this, or did you just get ripped from wherever you were buck naked and thrown in here for no fucking reason?


> signs

[ When Amos gets a chance to actually look at the design on the back of his tunic, the word beneath it, he snorts. Hearts and shit. Lovers. Yeah. Sure thing. ]

Well, that don't make no sense.

[ It's a bemused drawl, more to himself than anything, but it's not like it's impossible to overhear. ]


> hours of the day

[ He takes advantage of rec time.

He's already got the kind of physique that makes it obvious that yeah, he would: muscular and solid and it takes work to maintain that, which has been a deliberate choice on his part. And Amos has never been in prison before. Was always real careful about avoiding that. So that he'd end up jailed, and through no fault of his own, with seemingly no way out... Yeah, he takes advantage of rec time. Just in case. It'd be stupid not to.

Might be kind of tough to approach the guy by the weights with an expression that's closed off, doesn't exactly scream conversational, but hey. Not like anyone here's got a whole lot of free will at the moment.

Meal time, on the other hand, surprises him. Take someone who's spent most of his life in space, where natural ingredients are hard to come by. Give him food that clearly came from a planet that can support life on its own once a day. It might be the happiest he looks at any given moment, because yeah, fuck being jailed, but this is some of the best stuff he's had in decades, and it's all too easy to clear his plate every time.

If he catches you looking at him, he'll shoot you back an unreadable look of his own. Guy's just trying to eat here. ]


What?


> wildcard

[ ooc: If anything else comes to mind, you want to visit, or whatever! arii#6412 or [plurk.com profile] cadiai if you want to plot. ]
oomfies: 𝑜𝑜𝓂𝒻𝒾𝑒𝓈 (✨ november.)

lottie person | snotgirl | the hermit

[personal profile] oomfies 2021-05-21 05:25 am (UTC)(link)
Ⅰ. 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞 🏰
[ Nowadays, Lottie feels more a spectacle than usual. She thinks it has something to do with the fact she was birthed from an abyss, a pool of water that left her alarmed and lost. Everything is a blur, a body on autopilot. Even hours after, fitted with clothing she is still shivering and lost. On the verge of a complete break (is she crazy?) and epiphany (is she crazy?) - she can't tell and it scares her. Not enough to outright say anything, to explicitly brag about the sign of the Hermit emblazoned on her tunic. Really, she hopes her hair obscures it enough when she moves through the halls as the apprentices recall tale after tale of her, her exploits.

The whole ordeal is awful, gives her the biggest case of imposter syndrome she's had to date and it makes her gut churn. She wonders if her new roommates feel the same way, the other heroes everyone has heard about. She sits plainly on an empty bed, doesn't even feel like she's really speaking from the shock of it all when she addresses the person sitting pretty across from her - ]


Did you catch.. What kind of peril the kingdom is in?

Ⅱ. 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 📚
[ Don't they think it's weird she can't do anything? How have they not seen past this barely there facade of 'I'm fine' and 'I'm definitely a wizard!'. Lottie feels like she's going to throw up amidst all the learning and the polite conversations, and the magic. She leans up against a wall, right beside the entrance after her session, hand pleasantly (alarmingly) warm.

She doesn't quite notice the company she has, not until she sways a shaky hand right in your direction - poised, ready to do something so long as she wills it. It's clear, after a moment, it doesn't quite work - a fresh, pleasant breeze wafts your way. Her expression is, in this order: embarrassed, frustrated, and surprised. ]


Oh, god - sorry, I didn't see you there. I didn't mean to do anything!


Ⅲ. 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 ⛓️
[ 'They pose a great threat to the Kingdom'.. They said. The guards are completely adamant about this, so much that Lottie can't really argue against it the first time she wanders to the dungeon. She doesn't live here, they're probably right.. Right?

It's her third visit after making a 'friend', so to speak. Someone to come talk to that isn't glitz and glamour (not like the #DungeonLife is better, but it makes her feel grounded, a bit better about herself). Today, she's snuck in some food - a simple pastry, and a little book. Big enough to hide beneath her clothes, interesting enough to stow away for another day. She sits beside the bars as best she can, unnaturally silent today. And then: ]


Are you really that dangerous?

Ⅴ. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝 🎴
[ or hit me up with something else, i'm open to anything! feel free to pm or pp [plurk.com profile] snottie if you want something specific 💕 ]
shadowsran: (144)

Misty Day | AHS: Coven | The Lovers

[personal profile] shadowsran 2021-05-21 05:25 am (UTC)(link)
[Likely the warmest welcome she's ever received is lost on Misty - or one could be forgiven for assuming so, as she spends the first minutes, hours, in something of a fugue. The card is eyed almost hungrily, the first thing she's certain of being a desperation for something to focus on. Anything to think about but the journey here or what here is. She follows as instructed, silent and pale and wild-eyed, huddled in her tunic.

Mention of her exploits makes her feel ill. Incentive to keep her head down until the most immediate orientation is through.]


I. Meeting

[The relative privacy - or presence of individuals at least seeming at a similar loss - does her good. Sinking onto the nearest unoccupied bed, her head drops to her hands. There she stays, rubbing her scalp as if to assuage a headache. Introduction, greeting, question, anything directed to her falls on deaf ears.

Minutes pass before her head snaps up, hands left to wring in her lap. Of the hundred questions she has, one is unbearably pressing.]


Are we dead?

II. Grounding

[By the time she bothers to find food she's come considerably more down to Earth. Not doing well, necessarily, but coherent. More readily focused on exploring, observing, lapping the same corridors twice before moving onto any other. Groping at tables or walls as if to test that they're real.

The dining hall is a welcome break, an hour lost while wariness takes a back seat to the fact she is starving. There's no rhyme or reason to what she helps herself to, or what amount. Eating is a mindless rotation between the half-dozen things she's crammed onto her plate, done with an urgency that only just falls short of abandoning table manners altogether. Should nearby company make themselves known she'll slow - sheepishly, and unhappily.

By the time she reaches the library she feels as calm as any could expect of someone in her position. The castle is too grand to be comfortable; the walls of books no less so, but being walled in by something familiar puts her at some ease. The absence of recognizable titles can be interpreted as exciting - new stories, new histories, information and context to be acquired without begging more explanation of her hosts. Quickly she amasses an armful of texts, pausing only as she realizes how difficult it is to balance. Rather than seek out a table she sinks to the floor, content enough to start working through the stack immediately.]


I think this is the historical section, [she'll murmur to any passers by,] If you were looking.

III. Inquiring

[The study group is eyed from a distance once she's moving again, the most useful of the books she'd skimmed hugged to her chest, but nothing she need rush for. Fire, she overhears, and she can already manage that much.

But people reliably filter through, some lingering, and most at least pausing. It's no head count, but it's something. She mentally tallies humans, nonhumans, general ages, dispositions. What interests her most is ultimately the variety of tunics - her own explained in brief some hours ago, but nothing said of the many, many others.]


Excuse me? Your sign, there - have they told you what it is? Or means?

IV. Wildcard

[Hit her with anything, or pp [plurk.com profile] tadcooper with any questions/concerns.]
Edited 2021-05-21 05:29 (UTC)
restoral: ([famira]7bw45V2)

Bucky Barnes | MCU | Strength

[personal profile] restoral 2021-05-21 05:29 am (UTC)(link)
Arrival
Bucky's pulled from the abyss ready to claw his way free like an alley cat. For all his desire to avoid violence, he can't help the impulse to fight his way out when everything in him says he's in a trap. He doesn't care that he's naked, although he's not happy about it, either, and once he hears the dismissive assurance that he's alright, he stops fighting, at least outwardly.

It's then that he really lets himself get a good look around the place. He doesn't trust anyone who wants him contained or controlled and he's got even less trust for someone who might pretend that's not what they want.

So while he waits, he glares at the man with his big, dusty book. He might be naked and lacking his normal strength, but he can still glare like a champ.

Honored Guest
Yeah, Bucky doesn't trust anyone who wants a former brainwashed human weapon for a guest in their weird little castle and he's just going to cross his arms and glare through most of this.

At first, he doesn't want to eat the food and hangs back to watch more than talk, but going hungry isn't going to do him any favors once he figures out what the hell is going on, so he eats a little food at first and then a little more the next time he's hungry. By the end of the second day, he's filling up a big plate at meals in the Dining Hall because he hasn't gotten sick yet. The food is good, too, but he doesn't want to admit how good it is, because mostly he's been eating takeout since he left Wakanda or his own lackluster cooking.

"You going to eat that?" Said through a full mouth as he gestures to something good-looking on a possible-stranger's face.

As he explores, he finds himself skipping over the library in favor of faster answers. Apprentices are practicing spells in the Study Hall, but Bucky doesn't ask for lessons. Instead, he hangs to the side to watch. He's no complete stranger to magic thanks to the last few years of Avengers-related weirdness, but this all feels a little different and it's not like Doctor Strange is his new best friend, either. He just knows the guy exists and he can do a lot more than these little fireballs.

"So can anyone learn this stuff here?"



[ Feel free to switch to brackets or hit me with a wildcard or reach out at [plurk.com profile] blauren ]
coerthantorment: (20)

Estinien Wyrmblood | Final Fantasy XIV | The Hermit

[personal profile] coerthantorment 2021-05-21 05:40 am (UTC)(link)
There's a moment when Ambrose pulls out his book that Estinien thinks he almost understands what's happening to him - it all sounds familiar, doesn't it? Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light had spoken of it, of the experience of being summoned across worlds for some greater purpose. Alphinaud has similarly arrived in the First with nothing, and so while his impulse, when faced with conflict, is to fight, there is a fleeting moment where Estinien is inclined to listen.

The moment passes all too quickly. Something changes - the mage sees something he doesn't approve of, and any chance of a peaceful explanation is gone. Estinien becomes all too aware of how exposed he is, how there is no lance for him to grasp and no armor to protect him. He fights against their demands because he simply isn't one to surrender easily. After he's chained and bruised for his efforts, desperate and prepared to claw for the slightest flicker of power he can still feel within him, that is taken away from him too.

These people have power over him, and in a way he doesn't fully understand. Though he strains against their manhandling, some of the fight leaves him, replaced with an obsessive tunnel vision as he tries to take in as much information about his situation as he can.

To his cellmates he'll look like a caged animal, pacing within the small prison and sizing up every guard within sight, and every piece of furniture or recreational tool that could be used as a weapon. He doesn't ask many questions, but he listens to everything, staring at his cellmates as if he's trying to glean something about them without exchanging words.

When he eventually winds himself down after far too long spent awake, his use of the beds offered is almost humorous. Intensely muscled and towering at six feet and eight inches, he's incapable of laying on the thing without his unnaturally lanky limbs hanging over its sides.

During "recreation" he similarly spends his time eyeing everything and everyone up, as if hoping to see a split moment of opportunity that he can make a run for it. Eventually, he does start "working out", though it looks as if he's trying to literally run up the walls of the courtyard. His vertical leap is, indeed, incredibly impressive - but it also seems to be less than he's used to or expecting.

This culminates in one of his ambitious parkour attempts failing miserably and leaving him to fall flat onto his back in the earth below. When this happens, he can't help but pause and reflect on his situation for a moment, staring at sky above in a kind of helpless daze.

He put off making a decision for so long, he thinks, his thoughts drifting back to home. Now it seems like he may never get a chance.
catchatting: ([refresher]50081608877_a2310d5a0c_o)

Zari Tarazi | Legends of Tomorrow | The Chariot

[personal profile] catchatting 2021-05-21 05:55 am (UTC)(link)
Arrival
Zari is naked.

"Excuse me?" The words are out of her mouth the moment she realizes she's not alone and she's without clothes, because this is just rude and invasive and it's pretty hard to cover herself, but she's going to do her best with one arm across her chest and the other trying to obscure the rest of her.

"Clothes?" She looks at the apprentices as if they're the dumbest people she's ever seen. If she were wearing more than her own hands, she'd snap at them, but as it stands she's got very little standing between them and her last shred of modesty and she's going to have strong words for whoever dumped her here without an appropriate outfit.

The itchy sack of a tunic isn't exactly a great option when she's given that, either, but she sighs and pulls it on, because at least it's something she can wear while she looks for something that will actually work for her.

Imprisoned
It's when the shackles are clamped on her that she feels it. Her connection to the totem is gone.

As she's lead to the dungeons she asks a barrage of questions, none of which get answered, and though she's not dragged in, it's clear to anyone watching that she's probably tried to slip away a few times based on how closely she's being guided and how resolutely the apprentices are ignoring anything she says.

"When do I get real clothes?" No answer. "Is the food here Halal?" No answer. "What about cell service?"

And that's the last question she gets out before she's pushed into a different kind of cell, nearly tripping before she catches herself.

"I'm going to write you a long one star rating for that!"

Later, when they're provided with a meal, Zari goes straight for the salad, but when she asks about what kind of meat it is, she can't seem to get a straight answer, so she pushes the rest of the meal away.

"Eugh. No thank you."

It's during her hour of recreation that she starts her search for a reflective surface. Most of the metal around here is dingy, but she'll do what she has to. Finally, she manages to find something she can check her teeth in.

"Would it kill them to give us toothbrushes?"

[ Feel free to switch to brackets or hit me with a wildcard or reach out at [plurk.com profile] blauren ]
dependably: (pic#14795872)

naib subedar ❯ identity v ❯ strength arcana.

[personal profile] dependably 2021-05-21 06:00 am (UTC)(link)
I. | suspended in the abyss. ❬
( arrival ✦ prison )
[ the initial arrival shook Naib to his core. the sudden blackness and suffocation sensation of everything almost triggering an episode, breath heavy even as he was dragged out and collapsed on the ground. most of it was a blur as he was given the tunic and forced to dress.

though he put up a bit of a fight at first, he had to bite his tongue and simply glare back in turn as he was pulled along by the iron shackles. even if Naib was capable of putting up a fight, Gurkhas weren't well known for their physical strength- always better in numbers so his chances of escaping this solo was slim to none. no, he would have to bide his time for an opportunity to sneak out.

so, for now, he had no chance but to go along with it, even as he's pushed into a cell and looks to any potential cellmates or neighbors beside him. a hand ruffles his own tied up brown hair in annoyance, huffing a breath and wishes he still had his hoodie to pull the hood over his head for sake of privacy. however, comfort aside he knows he has to learn what he can of the situation than sulk in the corner. ]
I take that you also got summoned by those bastards and stuffed in here?

[ either these people were in the same boat as him or just unlucky to be stuffed here for other reasons. if there's even a chance they were dragged in here like him, then he'll want to know. ]


II. | not all are enemies. ❬
( prison ✦ meal time )
[ color Naib a little surprised at how good the food is. given his past experiences as an ex-soldier and a now retired Mercenary, he's had some not so pleasant food on the road. which cannot be helped during a war- one cannot afford to be picky with what they eat. he took and ate whatever he was fortunate to get his hands on.

and now, he won't let the food go to waste. even if it has a chance of being poisonous, it's better to test those odds than go without eating and lose his strength. the meat is easily devoured, a piece of his bun hanging from his mouth as he passes any other prisoners nearby that seems to still be hungry a glance.

the Mercenary debates for a moment, before he quietly slides his dish over with his untouched salad. sorry if you were hoping for some extra meat or bread from the man, but at least it's something? ]
You can have the rest of my food if you want. M'not that hungry.


III. | talk about responsibility. ❬
( prison ✦ visitors )
[ as the time goes on, Naib continues to keep to himself. though he offers some commentary to any fellow prisoners, he barely casts any attention to those newcomers so graciously welcomed that have found their way here to visit the dungeons. it is not his business whether his cellmates or others respond in kind to their curiosity.

however, the moment their attention seems to settle on him does he finally offer words in a rough and almost gruff voice. ]
You shouldn't be here.

[ already he can tell the differences between him and the person lingering on the other side of his cell. even if he keeps his face propped on a palm, eyes remaining closed to not spare their visitor a glance. ] Whatever you're looking for, you won't find it here.

[ despite the words, he holds no harshness and poison to any curious visitors. even if rumors may suggest they may have been the reason why he and others are locked up.. it is the mages that have thrown him in here, not them. so he holds no animosity, no frustrations or anger. instead, he tries to keep his composure while he thinks of what he can do to get out of here. ]


IV. | wildcard. ❬
[ this is the option to just throw anything my way! i can wing most scenarios. or feel free to pm this journal if you wanna hash something out. ]
perpetual_underdog: (Such joy)

Joey Wheeler | Yu-Gi-Oh! | The Fool

[personal profile] perpetual_underdog 2021-05-21 06:21 am (UTC)(link)
I. Arrival

"Woah, woah.. what is all dis?!" The currently naked and bewildered youth shouted as soon as he had collected himself enough to do so. He practically snatched the offered robe right out of the apprentices clutches as his earlier attempts to preserve some level of modesty proved insufficient. ".. Bunch of perverts! What da heck did you do wit' my clothes?!" In his haste he struggled to get the garment on correctly, getting one arm through a sleeve first and getting trapped as he tried to get his head through the neck hole.

That didn't deter the boy from continuing to shout his frustrations. "I've had some weird introductions in my life but dis one takes da cake!" If he had only seen the symbol emblazoned on the stone or understood what it meant he would have been more offended.

"Honored guess.." He snorted derisively as he finally got the right of his tunic. "Is dis anyway to treat an honored guest- by trying'ta drown him?!" Considering this wasn't the first time he'd nearly met a similar fate, he was starting to grow a strong dislike of watery death traps.

II. The Dining Hall

"Now dis is more like it!" A smile split Joey's features from end to end as his gaze raked over the spread greedily. Finding a plate he started piling it high with anything that looked good, anything that piqued his interest, and anything that was left. The amount should have been daunting for most to even attempt to consume but he was fully willing to take on that challenge.

"Eh.. I'm coming back for seconds... and thirds!"
Edited 2021-05-21 06:22 (UTC)
nightwash: (015)

ronan lynch | the raven cycle | the moon | honored guest

[personal profile] nightwash 2021-05-21 06:32 am (UTC)(link)
living quarters
Ronan did not expect his narrow escape to land him in a fairytale castle, but he also did not not expect it. This is exactly the sort of magical bullshit that's come to define his life, and he's so worn out by the past few days that he's really just grateful no one here seems intent on shooting him in the head.

After his tour guide drops him off in the North Wing, Ronan spends a good few minutes standing by the doorway of his new bedroom and staring. At the walls. At the ceiling. At the beds. The beds. More than one bed in a room he's expected to share with other people. He's supposed to sleep in a room that has other people in it.

If he thought he was going to get any rest in this place, that idea goes right out the window.

He doesn't even step forward to claim a space. If he gets comfortable at all, he might fall asleep, and he can't. Not here. Instead, he leans up against the wall and puts his face in his hands, scrubbing at his eyes.
the dungeon
Nowhere in the castle holds Ronan's attention for long, and eventually his wandering leads him to a place that captures it for the wrong reasons. Posing a great threat to the Kingdom sounds like a descriptor that would normally be applied to him. Just what kind of monsters must they be keeping in the cages, if he isn't one of them?

Warily, he makes his descent, half certain someone will realize their mistake and throw him into a cell after all. But all he gets are a few funny looks, like no one there can imagine why he'd pay a visit of his own accord.

That is a very reasonable question. Something inside him is asking why, too. The air feels wrong down here, or he feels wrong, or maybe the past week has him rattled and he's just being a fucking baby.

He stops outside the nearest cell, eyeing the prisoner holed up in there. He can't see anything immediately threatening, so he asks bluntly, "What're you in for?"
wildcard
Throw a prompt at me! Action or prose is fine. I'll match style.
recursive: (8)

okkotsu yuuta | jujutsu kaisen | the hanged man | dungeons

[personal profile] recursive 2021-05-21 07:35 am (UTC)(link)
—A. AND THEY WERE CELLMATES...
( the iron door to the cell screeches on its hinges as it opens, and a rangy, gaunt teenager is shoved inside. he just manages to catch his footing and avoid falling on his face in front of his new cellmate(s), to whom he looks up through a curtain of dark hair and regards with a halting, shaky smile. the door slams shut behind him, and he can hear the retreating footsteps of the guards as they are left to their own devices in the dark and quiet of the dungeons. )


Ah... Some warm welcome, right?

( considering their shared circumstances, he seems to be taking things in stride. he seems to be, but really — he's just as confused and panicked as anyone else might be. the walk from the stone circle here had given him time to progress from shell-shocked to near-manic with confusion to tentatively resolute. yuuta is just the type to go with the flow and fake it until he makes it. roughly a year of living as a jujutsu sorcerer can you prepare you for a lot of strange things, but this? being summoned via magic ritual to a completely different place, deemed unsatisfactory, and then being summarily thrown into the dungeon?

an unbelievable turn of events, but also? just his kind of luck.

he walks over to an unoccupied bunk and sits; he does not like the way the straw of the mattress sinks as he does so. he rubs absently at the skin the shackles are rubbing raw, dark eyes taking note of the similar tunics they all wore. in particular, he addresses the prisoner closest to himself: )
Was it the same for you? The well, the — water?

( it had felt like water when he'd emerged, but looking back down into it, it had been as lightless as pitch. creepy... and that's coming from a guy who had been actively haunted for six years of his life. a gut feeling tells him they are all victims of these same circumstances, but he wants to make certain. )

—B. AN INAUSPICIOUS SIGN.
(
embroidered on the backs of each of the tunics given to the new prisoners of the castle's dungeons are symbols. like many others, yuuta has been taking note of them whenever he can. be you a cellmate, a prisoner visible in one of the nearby cells, or someone he comes across in the yard during their one hour of recreation each day, you might find his eyes straying to your back as he takes note of the sign, trying to remember if he knows which one this is and then attempting to find similarities between its wearer and any others he's come across.

i. ( regardless of where this is taking place, you, fellow prisoner, are welcome to call him out for his undue and rude attention to the back of your tunic, especially considering he hasn't even done so much as to introduce himself yet. if you don't, however, a puzzled expression settles in on his face. he redirects his attention to your face — though lightly curious, his dark eyes are serious, underscored as they are with dark bags. )


Which one is this, again?

ii. ( he had already been told what his represented by one of the few guards that hadn't shied away or completely ignored him when he asked. an upturned sign with an inverted eye: a mark of outsiders, outcasts, made world-weary by the unique fates that they either took on for themselves or had thrust upon them. in this circumstance, he notices the attention of someone else — he turns sharply, almost preternaturally (hadn't he been looking in a completely different direction? how could he tell?), to turn toward you. but then he breaks into a small, affable smile, gesturing over his shoulder. )

"The Hanged Man." That's what I've been told what it means, anyway. ( he chuckles; it's a dry, fleeting sound, like the crackle of a fire. ) How pleasant.

—C. HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES.
(
it's easy to tell one of the individuals who had been summoned and deemed, for whatever reason, satisfactory to welcome into the halls of the castle above. they walk freely and without the accompaniment of guards, for one, and they don't share the same fashionable shackles that all of the prisoners locked away in the dungeons were sporting these days. why are they coming down here, he has to wonder? yuuta has heard the rumors being shared, that those of the more fortunate fate up above were somehow responsible for the rest of them being in chains down here. he isn't so certain. he feels as though his own line of questioning would go directly toward that ambrose rhett instead, but he, captured as he is, is in no position to demand to question the kingdom's high mage.

so instead he questions this stranger who, in walking down the line of cells filled with their inhabitants, has decided to pause for just a moment outside his own. )


Something in particular bringing you down here to pay us a visit? ( this thin, drawn teen then gives a rushed smile, spreading his hands out in front of him. the gesture causes the shackles and chains to rattle. ) No worries! I don't bite. ( devoid of the ability to sense or use cursed energy as he is, for once he's just as frail and unassuming as he looks. )

—D. WILDCARD.
(
anything else, and feel free to PM me with any questions! )
photophobic: (068)

Kylo Ren | Honoured Guest | The Tower

[personal profile] photophobic 2021-05-21 07:37 am (UTC)(link)
And Then They Were Roomies

Kylo can't think of many people who would consider his summoning to be a success worth celebrating— but nevertheless, with what little of his sensitivity to the ebb and flow of the Force remains he can detect no outright dishonesty in the excitable chatter of the apprentice assigned to orient him. He is near-silent through the process, far more interested in learning than revealing— but throughout the compressed lesson on the history of the realm he can't quite get the imagery of the card from the slab out of his mind. What was that?

Thankfully, it's embroidered onto the finery he's been clothed in. Once shown to the sleeping quarters, Kylo perches his oversize self on the edge of the bed he's been assigned and pulls the tunic off over his head to inspect it more closely, spreading the fabric over his thighs. His fingers trace the lines curiously, brow furrowing as he attempts to discern meaning. The Tower.

He doesn't stop to greet any of his new roommates as they enter, and certainly doesn't think to cover himself or do just about anything to accommodate their comfort— though an eagle-eyed observer may note his fingers stilling on their arrival. Step close enough or stare too long in his direction, however, and Kylo pauses. His head swings, slow and ominous, dragging the darkness of his heavy gaze until it settles, steady, on the offender's face.

"You're in my light," he comments, unblinking.

Fireglow in the Library

Once Kylo has paced the entirety of the castle and learned he isn't permitted to leave it, he turns his insatiable curiosity to the study of its purpose— and, indeed, the purpose he is intended to fulfil here. He doubts he and his fellow arrivals were summoned here for nothing, after all.

He takes advantage of the opportunity afforded by the junior mages practicing in the study hall, observing them closely, and proves himself a quick study. It isn't, perhaps, anywhere near as impressive as his own ability to manipulate and use the Force— but with his own power muted, he finds it strangely satisfying to learn this elemental magic.

Predictably, Kylo finds Fire magic to be the easiest to grasp. Later, in the library, he can be found surrounded by a wide array of books, making notes in a quick, surprisingly neat hand for such a hulk of a man. Should he be practicing repeatedly coaxing a flame to life in his palm and curling his fingers to extinguish it in a library? Probably not, but it seems to aid his thinking. Or soothe his frustration.

Too long spent reading irrelevant nonsense about heroic quests to drive demons from the land and the like will have Kylo scoring his notes through with a furious scratch of his pen.

"Can I help you?" he asks tightly. The scowl on his face suggests he doubts it.

Wildcard

Anything you can think of, I'm happy to roll with it! Prose, brackets, either are fine with me and I'll match style. You can hit me up with any questions you have via PM or contact me on [plurk.com profile] starktech or Discord @ cryloren#2195 !

Edited 2021-05-21 08:50 (UTC)
kafka_esque: (and another thing!)

Hibino Kafka | Monster #8 | The World

[personal profile] kafka_esque 2021-05-21 07:59 am (UTC)(link)
[ Given the fact he'd been locked up before he got here (for all that said confinement had been largely voluntary), Kafka's a little surprised that after all that pomp and circumstance, this old windbag is yelling at him and calling him worthless. It's not like he chose to get dragged through all of this! It's not like he even wanted to be here! For all he knows, when he gets back, the Defense Force is going to think he ran and that's a whole 'nother thing he puts in the 'future Kafka's problem' list as the irons go on and-

Shit. Shit. He can't feel it anymore, can't feel the strange internal switch that'd let him shift between his normal and his monster form. That weird guy muttering turned it off! Hell, how did he even know? Fricking weirdo. Dammit. There is nothing about this that doesn't suck and he's going to be shouting about how much bullshit this is the whole way down to his cell, even if he's not fighting terribly hard. He knows exactly how much use his normal 32 year old body is in a fight without his monster form and don't think he hasn't noticed that they're using fricking MAGIC. ]


1. Roommates
[ He gets more shoved than escorted into his new accommodations, and he'll take a moment to shout back at said escort that this is bullcrap and if they didn't want him so much they could just send him home, dammit, but the guy's already gone and honestly, he's a little winded from Everything so he slumps before turning to take a look at the room and-

Oh. Hey. ]


Uh, hi?

2. Recreation
Woo ee, that feels better.

[ It's his first time out for 'recreation' and his first time seeing the sky, breathing in fresh air, since he got here. He's just sort of focusing on that for a moment when he realizes that there's a lot more people here than he was expecting. How many people do these idiots have locked up down there? He's going to take a few minutes to stretch out but after that? He's going to start counting, getting more and more upset as he goes.

How do these people have jobs if they've made this many 'mistakes'?]


What the hell?!?

3. Wildcard
[ [plurk.com profile] yarnzipan for plotting, up for anything you'd like to throw at him!]
lone_horse: (jacket: not a fan)

Kiryu Kazuma | Ryu Ga Gotoku/Yakuza | The Tower

[personal profile] lone_horse 2021-05-21 08:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ The card immediately makes him think of Millennium Tower.

It's in his mind as he listens to the old man heap praise he has no interest in on him, because he knows what this praise is going to lead to. Whatever this is, whatever is going on, this man wants something from him and almost like a reflex, Kiryu wants nothing to do with it and trusts absolutely nothing coming out of his mouth. There are half-naked men in Kamurocho he'd step up for and help before giving this man anything he wants and he can't help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn't been a 'success'. ]


roommates

[ Kiryu's experience with roommates begins at an orphanage and ends in prison, neither of which being experiences he'd been all that keen to revisit. All the same, it means he's familiar enough with shared spaces, so when he's brought to meet the three others he'll be sharing his space with, he's quiet and respectful and offers each of them a bow. ]

My name is Kiryu. It's a pleasure to meet you all.

[ He'll be curious to see how the rest of them are taking all of this, what they think, and how they match up to his own sort of life experience. ]

study hall and about

[ It's not that he was looking to learn magic so much as he happened to be wandering around when he looked in a room and saw what was going on. Curious even at his age, he'd poked in and well, he has to admit: being able to summon a tiny flame into his hand, and being able to blow a small gust of wind is neat. Potentially very useful too. He takes to it like he takes to most practical skills, namely pretty well, and he'll start practicing as he wanders around, so you might find him closing or opening any number of doors or sitting out near a window and summoning a flame before dousing it. If you ask, he'd be happy to show you the trick of it too. ]

dungeon

[ The second he ventures down into the dungeon, his hands turn to fists. While there's very few times and places where Kiryu chooses discretion as the better part of valor, the strange weakness he'd felt upon coming here as well as his initial inability to feel the heat of battle keeps him from immediately punching out a guard and freeing the prisoners.

He wants to, though. Oh how much does he want to.

Instead, he's going to start bringing food and potentially more down there, perhaps even willing to go to the library to try and sneak books and other niceties to the prisoners. If anyone questions him? The glare he'll give them has literally made men piss their pants, and if anything, it'll be at a higher intensity for the absolute bullshit that is this situation.

Feel free to talk to him, to ask him for something (if you're a prisoner), or to caution him against being quite so openly supportive of the prisoners as you like. Good luck with that last one, though. ]

wildcard

[ [plurk.com profile] yarnzipan if you'd like to plot! Or throw something random at him, I'm up for anything.]

the_archive: (Default)

Jonathan Sims | The Magnus Archives | The High Priestess

[personal profile] the_archive 2021-05-21 08:49 am (UTC)(link)
No amount of bland pleasantry has ever, in Jon's memory, made him less suspicious of anything. None of the promised explanations actually explained anything important. And anyone who claims to be impressed by his exploits, especially the recent ones – well, they aren't people he'd care to associate with.

He does, despite his misgivings, try to know more. He can feel that it's there, the knowing, but he can't quite reach it. The Web perhaps, interfering? Or something else? He doesn't for a moment believe that it's just a side effect of however he was brought here.

And asking about Martin just gets him blank looks, no matter how angrily he asks.

Roomates

Delivered to room, Jon simply stands for a moment, looking around. He half expects to see a tape recorder on one of the unoccupied beds, but there's nothing. He exhales, irritated, and crosses the room to the window to look out. “If you're listening,” he says under his breath, voice dark. “I don't know what you want from me here.”

Exploring

The library, of course, attracts Jon once he's exhausted himself trying to get any more information out of the apprentices. He is drawn to the study hall, but only to watch – he won't come close to anyone trying to summon flame.

The dungeon is interesting. He's not sure if they were brought here via the Vast or the Buried, but once he sees how many people are consigned to the cramped cells, he leans towards the latter.

“Do you know why you're here?” he asks, but only when the guards are not immediately nearby.
exaflops: (◎ it makes no sense)

Connor ◎ Detroit: Become Human ◎ The Tower

[personal profile] exaflops 2021-05-21 09:49 am (UTC)(link)

the android not sent by cyberlife


[ when connor opens his eyes, he blinks in confusion. this is... he can't tell. nothingness envelops him in a light weightless feeling, but nothingness is an impossibility that cannot exist. the only explanation connor can come up with is that this is some sort of dream state which he's never before experienced or knew himself capable of.

after all, he's an android. he doesn't sleep. the closest thing is stasis mode and even then, it's simply a standby feature. while his mind never completely shuts down, it's not an organic sleep. there's no cycles or dreams... it doesn't even 'charge' him.

connor has had a few people tell him of their dreams. could this be anything like that?

he's pulled out of his line of thought by a hand reaching out to him and without hesitation, connor takes it. there's a flash of hope in him knowing he isn't alone. maybe this person can offer some explanations.

hope is quickly quashed as he's greeted by strange people in strange garb. connor opens his mouth to speak, to ask his questions, but is quickly cut off by the mage busily filing through pages. he considers interrupting, breaking the silence, but decides it's better to remain silent. he lets go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and lets a small groan leave along with it.

connor tilts his head as he observes the tome in the mage's hands and waits patiently. soon enough, he fixes his gaze on a single card displayed with a beautiful scrolling design. The Tower, it says boldly at the bottom. he reaches out for it, wants to pick it up and hold it, but it's at that exact moment that ambrose finally speaks up.

his demeanor has changed and he flings around words like 'failure' and 'creature' that connor doesn't appreciate, but before he's able to protest he's being given clothing not at all like the suit he prefers. they shackle him and usher him into the dungeons, lock him in a cell and leave connor shocked and confused.

what the hell is going on?
]

a) an unappetized cellmate


[ for the most part connor has kept to himself. he spends his time sitting square on the edge of his cot, twiddling his thumbs every now and then. when spoken to he smiles warmly and responds in kind and is quite personable. but the android's brows are tightly knit and he's at unease.

under normal circumstances, connor should be able to access networks and databases and be able to scan people's faces for their identities. he can do none of these things.

so he bides his time without much else to do. he can't make sense of the situation. dinnertime comes along and he's offered a plate of food and he almost laughs about it.
]

I'm not human. [ he speaks up after the guards leave them, looks to you and smiles lopsidedly. ] I don't eat. I'd like it if you'd take my share so it doesn't go to waste.

b) recreational investigations


[ connor heads to the courtyard with his cellmates and while he can't feel the sun on his skin as such, he still appreciates it along with the fresh air. there's a long moment he spends simply standing there and absorbing it along with his surroundings. an attempt is made to mentally process the situation they're in.

more information is needed.

looking around at the faces of everyone else in the courtyard, connor quickly decides to reach out to the people he hasn't yet been acquainted.
]

Hello, my name is Connor. Would you mind answering some questions I have about how you came to be here?

[ the android can sometimes be quite forward and he hopes not to make anyone uncomfortable when he approaches. someone knows something, and connor is determined to find them. ]

c) there's no visitation hours in hell


[ without much available to him within the cell connor passes most of his time in stasis mode. his legs drape over the side of his cot, his back against the wall. hands are neatly folded in his lap and with his eyes closed, the android is powered down to only essential functions. a brightly lit ring on his right temple pulses yellow slowly in a calm manner.

as he hears footsteps, the LED ring switches to blinking blue and connor's eyes slide open.
]

Oh, hello.

[ he turns his head to the corridor outside the cell noticing the new visitor that has wandered down from above. curiously, connor wishes to know what they've exprienced and what they've seen and why their circumstances are so different than that of the inmates.

the last time he tried questioning a visitor, the guards had warned them not to talk to him. after connor persisted he was beaten into silence. this time just a simple hello will do.

he'll be happy to talk with just about anyone, but for now connor will let someone else instigate conversation.
]

d) wildcard


( hit me up at [plurk.com profile] dzintars or bludhavens#3208 for plotting or just general chatter! )
Edited 2021-05-21 10:17 (UTC)
solmate: (JessieMei02774)

alina starkov | shadow & bone | the hanged man - imprisoned

[personal profile] solmate 2021-05-21 10:22 am (UTC)(link)
[ ooc: canon point is show, beginning of episode 8 but i'm good with any and all book spoilers oocly. ic-ly i want to avoid some specific details from near the end of the trilogy but feel free to dm me if you're planning for that canon point and have questions (i just didn't want to dump a bunch of spoilery canon specific info in this ooc note)! also brackets or prose are fine, i'll match you. ]

i. roommates
[ Honestly, the lumpy straw mattress is not the worst place she's slept. She doesn't let herself fall asleep quite yet, though. She's watched the guards walk more people down the corridors to dump into other cells and she doesn't want to be caught totally unaware when she inevitably gets her own company. ]

I don't suppose you did anything to deserve to be here either.

[ But that's usually how it goes, doesn't it? Also... she sort of really hopes it's true, because she doesn't exactly want to share her space with someone actively dangerous. ]
ii. chow time
[ With the exception of her recent stint in a literal palace, Alina has always had to go without in some way. An orphan and then a soldier, she simply wasn't valuable enough to be really worth the effort. It's okay, though. It teaches you to look out for yourself. To rely on yourself.

And although few offered her such kindnesses, she can recognize the importance of it in critical moments. So, even though it's not necessarily true, she leans up against the bars to the neighboring cell or walks over to one of her roommates, holding out her plate with about half the food still on it. ]


Hey. I'm done if you want the rest of mine.

[ Not true, but she's used to going without. She's not sure that's true for everyone here, though. ]
iii. rec yard sign talk
[ At least they get some time in the yard to mingle.

Maybe mingle is a strong word. Alina stays closer to the edges, content to stand silently and awkwardly among the others that choose not to recreate for whatever reason from lack of physical prowess to obstinate refusal to accept goodwill from their captors.

She isn't much of a conversationalist, but if anyone struck up something with her like asking for her sign, she'd be friendly enough to respond. ]


One of the guards told me it's called the Hanged Man.

[ She tilts her head, looking down at the sign stitched into the fabric stretched out between her hands. She sucks her teeth and clicks her tongue in resignation, making it obvious that, yes, she knows it isn't the most fun or pleasant label. ]

Then he said that they were outcasts and weirdos which— [ Alina affects a false and sarcastic tone poking fun at herself. ] —I just couldn't believe that. What's yours?
iv. visitors a
[ Usually Alina likes boring. Prefers boring even. Excitement was really just the other side of danger. Days when she wasn't hiding from a bully or more recently, running away from a fate far more sinister were certainly not boring, but she's not sure she really craves being back there. She just wants something else to do that isn't count stones in the wall, and any visitors provide an opportunity to break that.

She's used to being told no, turned down, or otherwise ignored. When you've only had yourself and maybe one other to rely on, you get used to it.

But that doesn't stop her from asking. She leans up against the bars of her cell, hands gripping the metal beams that frame her face. She speaks in hushed tones to avoid attention from the guards. ]


Do you think you could do me a favor?
v. visitors b
[ Let it not be said that Alina is not adaptable.

With nothing to steal (besides maybe her sandals, which she removes and tucks into her tunic where any thieving hands reaching in would be sure to wake her) and exhaustion scraping at her bones, Alina parks herself in a dark corner of her cell. The noise isn't too bad— between the army and the orphanage she's slept through worse. Pillowing her arms underneath her head, she's asleep with an enviable speed.

Of course, now she's a target ripe for disturbances. Curled up on the cot, she snores lightly. Gentle attempts to rouse her may not work. Louder noises earn a full fledged grumble.

Yelling wakes her up, as does touching or throwing anything, resulting in a bleary but withering stare, and a severe: ]


What in the name of Saints was that for?

[ She was sleeping! ]
vi. wildcard.
[ feel free to shoot something different my way or modify an existing prompt for canonmates she would recognize. for questions or if you want to arrange a custom start, hit me up [plurk.com profile] hellbender ]
Edited 2021-05-21 11:15 (UTC)

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