SEPTEMBER + OCTOBER + NOVEMBER TDM.

[ximilian]

● ● ● T D M . 0 7

MORNING AFTER • RANDOM SCENARIO • RATE THAT ASS(ASSIN) • OTHERWORLDLY • FYI

// PART I. morning after  

… What are you willing to do to erase your regret from existence?

The words ring in your ears as in the darkness of your dream, a purple glow blooms, slowly enveloping you. It is not a feeling of comfort that surrounds you, though — as a distorted voice whispers in your ear, you feel it: cold dread, and a sudden certainty that everything is about to be irrevocably changed.

It is to this daunting realization that you wake, and as your heart slows into something resembling a normal tempo, you notice something you should have noticed immediately: you are not in your bed.

1.0   White walls, clinical yet clean, sparsely-furnished rooms. You may wake in one of three rooms: a room with only one bed, a room with two beds, or a room with four beds. Those waking up in rooms with more than one bed notice that they are very much not alone. Perhaps the other occupants of the room are still sleeping, dreaming the same dream as you just did, or a regular one after returning to the station just barely a week ago … or perhaps you wake to the other person in the room watching you.

What you do is entirely up to you: yell in surprise when you wake to someone staring at you? Or maybe you’ll try to sneak away before anyone notices you...

2.0   Those with life-threatening injuries find themselves awakening in the infirmary, in a regular hospital bed. Most of their injuries have been treated, and any lingering illnesses or conditions will have designated medicine bottles on the table next to the bed.

White curtains surround the bed on both sides, giving an illusion of privacy. But is that a rustling sound you hear? Some footsteps? Perhaps you’re not the only one in need of some medical attention... or you've attracted the attention of those with experience in medical aid, and they rush to your bedside, surprised about this sudden new patient.

It is not just for your injuries that you may want some company, but also for leaving the infirmary — you can’t stay there forever, after all, and will have to make your way through the hallways of the station to the living quarters, and claim a room and a bed there.

Once you’re up, you may notice there’s something in your ear: an earpiece that, when you become aware of it, quickly runs you through the instructions for how to use the network, a recorded message by a female voice that explains exactly why you’re here… and leaves you with a map of the station.

TOP

// PART II. random scenario  

So what else is there to do but to explore? Best get to know what is now your new home.

3.0   When trying to decide where yo go, you may find your way to the armory, where you can try to work the machine there to make yourself a weapon — perhaps to replace one that didn’t come with you to the station… or maybe you want to be prepared for the future. The recently-returned team members will surely recommend having a functional weapon with you.

4.0   After you’ve exhausted yourself training, it’s time to grab a bite. For that, you should head to the kitchen, which is equipped with all the basic appliances you might need, and ingredients for most regular dishes.

5.0   A welcome reprieve to the cold, dark space that surrounds the characters can be found in the sunlight room. A skillful illusion surrounds anyone who steps inside the room: you can hear the trilling of birds, feel a light breeze caress your skin as you walk through a grass field. The illusion has been programmed to reflect the seasons — the leaves in the trees are currently bright with all the colours of autumn: orange and red and yellow; and the air is crisp and clean. If you follow the path, you'll be led to a bridge rising over a sparkling, babbling brook, a few fallen leaves floating on the water and falling around you like very bright raindrops.

With an illusion so authentic you can almost taste the pumpkin spice, it is easy to forget you are in space at all. Perhaps that gives you comfort, or just makes you miss the real nature all the more.

6.0   If you’d rather choose tinkering over nature, the lab is guaranteed to provide you with some entertainment. Glass vials and jars of chemicals sit on shelves in a surprisingly beautiful display of colour on one side of the room, while the other side of the room contains stacks of boxes containing assorted equipment: cords, bolts, panels, buttons, gears, gadgets, gizmos, and thingamabobs. The downside is that the parts available seem to have no apparent method to their sorting. So get digging, and you may just find exactly what you need to make what you’ve always wanted to make!

7.0   As you wander back towards the common areas, you may notice there seems to be a room there that hasn't previously existed... not that you, a newcomer, would be able to tell. The room takes up a chunk of the common area, and on its unassuming door is a little plaque that reads, 'The Ximusic room'. Should you enter, you will find a sound-proofed practice room that contains — yes, you guessed it, band equipment that even the most musically inclined should be satisfied with. So pick up an instrument, saunter up to the microphone to belt out your favourite tunes, or take a seat at the side of the room and enjoy others' playing.

8.0   If it’s items you’re lacking, though, some time after your arrival, the earpiece alerts you to a new message.

// VIVECA

Hello, everyone. I hope you've had time to rest, and those new here have got used to being here. Those who’ve been here for longer know the deal, but to the new arrivals: we've got a drop of new supplies. I hope —

But something strange happens, then — the message turns into an incomprehensible jumble of sounds: at first, it is just static; then, whirring noises follow, as if something rewinding... and then, there's a knock.

Silence.

Another knock.

// ???

𝒲𝒽𝑜'𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒?

A sweet, lilting voice poses the question, the words sounding as if through a filter — soon after, a woman's laugh follows, lingering as its echoes fade away slowly.

After that, some may decide it's best to not look at the supply drop at all, while others may be even more curious — but as you make your way to the platform, you'll see there is nothing amiss in the neat piles of items on it. There’s clothes, shoes, dishware, skincare, books… even a couple of CDs, and a few cute stuffed animals. So sort through what there is and grab what you want, before someone else does!

TOP

// PART III. rate that ass(assin)  

For those on the antsier side, maybe a trip to the simulation room is just the thing to address all that restlessness. Here you’ll find a preprogrammed mission to get those orb-snatching skills of yours in tip-top shape.

Fortunately, the simulation gods have decided to smile down upon you this time around; there’ll be no need to search for the orb, you already know exactly where it is: in the hands of the High King of Selrahines. The good news? His Highestness has already graciously agreed to part with the orb. The bad news? He requires a bit of a favor first…

Every year, High King Ghythih celebrates his awakening day with a party. But not just any party. For three days and three nights, the entire kingdom of Selrahines rejoices His Noblestness’ life with drinking, dancing and debauchery — the most anticipated and talked about party of the entire Gamga Galaxy. Everyone in the cosmos is invited, which is good because everyone in the cosmos wants to attend.

Now if it weren’t for that pesky assassination attempt, everything would be perfect! You see, just two weeks prior, His Royalestness received a warning that this year’s awakening day celebration would be His last. Obviously, that absolutely must not happen because talk about a killjoy. Be good dears and thwart His would-be assassins, would you? Then the orb’s all yours.

9.0   Even though you’re here for a job, you’re still expected to dress up for the occasion. Ghythih has offered you full access to the royal tailors, but if you don’t mind off-the-rack, Selrahines has many boutiques and shops in the merchant district. Go big! Go bold! Just don’t upstage the High King, or He’ll have you thrown in the dungeons. (No, really.)

10.0   During the three day celebration there is plenty to do. The first two days serve as primers, consisting of street celebrations that close down all four roads leading up to the capital. Up in the north you’ll find the carnival, where a menagerie of exotic and dangerous animals from neighboring planets are showcased and — should you happen to know the right people — put up for sale. Over on the west is for the theater crowd, where plays are put on depicting all of the High King’s conquests and achievements throughout his 800 years of being awakened. Across that to the east is for those who prefer to be part of the action; riches and fame can be won during tournaments of jousting, melees, spell-weaving and pageantry. And finally down south, by the lowlight district, are where the sinners thrive and the saints go to forget their values. Here, everything and anything is not only allowed, but encouraged.

11.0   The main event, of course, is the High King’s Gala. For the entirety of the third day, the castle’s expansive ballroom opens its gilded doors to all who wish to celebrate Him. Here there are live bands, delectable foods and a dancefloor that never seems to feel too crowded, no matter how many attend. The atmosphere of the ballroom is effortlessly jovial and contagiously hedonistic — literally. The High King hates a party pooper, see, so nearly every inch of the ballroom is enchanted to encourage celebration; sometimes it’s a melody in a song that gets your feet moving, or the bubblies in your drink that have you smiling wide, or maybe it’s that pastry you snuck a bite of in between polite smiles making you feel warm all over. Whatever it takes, the longer you stay in the ballroom, you will have fun.

(—but “fun” is pretty subjective, isn’t it? Hopefully your idea of fun doesn’t ruin the party…)

12.0   But hey, don’t forget you have a job to do. Enjoy the festivities all you want, but remember you have to ensure the High King’s survival and the capture of His assassin(s). As His special guests, you have full access to every part of the castle and all the authority you could want to question anyone and everyone. Of course, that doesn’t mean everyone’s okay with that so you may find a couple of citizens and guests less than thrilled about being questioned when they’re just trying to have a good time. Remember, the High King isn’t a fan of Draduak Downers, so covertness is key here.

● ● ●

N O T E:   Additionally, personal tasks are provided to each character as they enter the simulation. In-game, each character will be given one task. For the purposes of the test drive, we’re leaving it to players to pick a task from the following list for their character and run with it.

A   Pretend to be (or become) inebriated and make a scene.

B   Ask three strangers to dance.

C   Reveal to a teammate an embarrassing story of your past.

TOP

// PART IV. otherworldly  

For those looking to do something a little less involved, there is always the training room — though there’s something off about it this time around. What is normally a large, mostly empty room lined with benches and wall racks to hold weapons now resembles more of the simulation room upon entering.

Try to fiddle with the control panel as much as you want, but nothing seems to set the room back to the way it was. Seems like the only way out is to let the simulation play through, but rather than any of the preprogrammed missions the simulation room is known for, these simulations draw on all of this team’s previous missions, as if you yourself were a part of it.

Seems you’re on an unexpected walk down the orbers’ memory lane… Maybe you’ll get lucky and someone will act as your tour guide.

• MISSION FILE: GHOST GIRL — A plague, monsters, questionable royalty, and the whispers of a girl in white. You walk into Gyeongje, a prosperous city with something dark surrounding it. Discover the secrets within the walls and find out why that girl in white actually needs your help. Maybe the destitute inside the market are a good place to start.

• MISSION FILE: BRASS DEVIL — Bright lights, extravagance, and liquor-soaked evenings keep the city of Braccia alive. Three crime families rule the streets, and if you want to get anywhere here, you have to make nice with them. They may play nice on the surface, but there's something tense pulling at the heart of the city... Can you figure out what it is?

• MISSION FILE: THE SLEEPER — To sleep is but to dream; at least, that's what they say, but the inhabitants of Kilnan may not agree. A strange sleeping illness has taken over the kingdom and no one can figure out why. To make matters worse, the royal wizard, Remi, is unresponsive. How will these sleeping beauties save their kingdom from ruin?

• MISSION FILE: BAD COMPANY — Welcome to Scorpion's Bend, the wild west with a curious and melancholy twist. Something isn't right about this place, but you can't figure out just what it is. There's bandits wandering around looking for some kind of fortune, so you might want to avoid them. Oh, and, be wary of the food.

• MISSION FILE: UPSTAIRS, DOWNSTAIRS — A tale as old as time: "good" vs "evil," up vs down. Giva is a world steeped deeply in tradition and culture, so it stands to reason that the afterlife would be, too. Taeum is where the "good" souls go, Sedorum is where the "bad" souls go... or so everyone's been told. But, it won't take long for you to realize something isn't quite right about that distinction.

• MISSION FILE: 4:50 TO VREFESEA — Productivity and innovation have been the hot topic of Novis Nox lately, as new and amazing things are being produced in a way that almost seems like magic. If that was even a concept the locals understood, anyway. Craemore and Vrefesea are separated by a vast ocean and traveled between by train, usually easily with no interruption. And yet, suddenly, you find yourself in the middle of a family whodunnit. Hopefully, you can make it out of the finger-pointing.

• MISSION FILE: THE FOX & THE HARE — E-23b is a city on the brink of mass destruction, and yes, it's because of the government. A revolution is set to break, and you can help them. There's something deeply personal about this mission, and best discovered by connecting with The Fables. Can you manage to assist and help them begin to rebuild? Or will everything fall apart?

• MISSION FILE: WISH FULL — Qruria City is one of the many kingdoms scattered throughout the world of Xrisora, a beautiful place with a well-loved monarchy. There are new things to learn, new things to meet, and hopefully, you're not afraid of the ocean...

TOP

F Y I

• TDM threads can be considered game canon so long as all parties involved agree to it.
• This TDM takes place during the downtime between missions from the middle of September to the rest of the year.
• TDM threads can be used as samples for apps. In fact, we encourage it!
• Reserves open on September 20 at 6PM GMT!
• Apps open September 25 and will remain open until September 30.
• For any questions regarding TDM, please direct them here. For questions about the game, please refer to the FAQ.

FOR SOME FUN:
Have a clue for October's mission:

▶ NAV

Comments

questions

[ximilian]

For any questions about this specific test drive, please direct them here! For questions regarding the game in general, please refer to the FAQ.

dante | devil may cry

[shishkabob]

[arrival]

[There is a man drenched in old blood, with a large, curved-edged sword strapped to his back and the remnants of another large sword hanging from his belt, eating a sundae in the kitchen. The tails of his coat hang over the stool, and he radiates a kind of morose resignation that speaks to having dealt with far too much insane shit lately. Now he's in space, because hell, why not, right.

He doesn't seem to notice anyone coming in, but when they step closer, he says, without looking up from the ice cream:]

So where can a guy get a good spar going around here? [Now he glances up, and makes a show of stretching out his arms and wincing.] Been asleep for a while, [a month, he thinks, if not longer than that,] and I'm a little stiffer than I'd like. Gotta loosen back up if I'm going on missions.

Oh, and, uh. [Gesturing to the fridge.] There's no pizza left. Might wanna look into that.

[Guess who's the culprit. Go on. Guess.]

[items/training room]

Well, goddamn. [Dante turns over what looks like an impressive-looking electric guitar, tuning it up and whistling lowly to himself.] Didn't think I'd be seeing you any time soon.

[He'll need her, he thinks. With Rebellion shattered (and that's still a trip and a half, to think of Rebellion broken), he's only got the Devil Sword Sparda and the gauntlets Balrog turned into, along with his trusty handguns and a shotgun. For anyone else that might be enough, but Dante's used to being spoiled for choice, weapon-wise. Nevan being here means that he's at least got another weapon besides the Sparda, and, bonus: something to play when he's bored out of his skull. And he's pretty sure he will be while he's stuck on the station.

But for now, here he is in the training room, tuning up.]

Let's see if I still remember how to play this. [He plucks out a note, and a swarm of electric bats materialize out of nowhere and smash into the dummy. He grins, and launches into a guitar riff that might sound familiar to some orbers. As he plays, swarms of electric bats fly around him, electricity crackling as his fingers fly over the strings, and then, with a final whoop as he slides along the floor on his knees like a rock star, the bats fling themselves at the dummy and fry it.]

Still got it! Hah! [He shakes out his right hand, making a face.] Jeez, how long has it been since I last played?

[Too long, probably. Well, he's got all the time in the world.]

[ximusic room]

[Thankfully, Dante isn't using the electric guitar here. Instead, he's seated at the drum kit, twirling the drumsticks in his hands with a pensive look in his eye. Then he launches into a drum solo, and the ease of his playing speaks to long years of amateur practice—he's no professional, but the grin that sneaks onto his face as he bangs out a sick drum solo off the top of his head says this is something near and dear to his heart.

He finishes up with a flourish, then stands up and gives a little bow to whatever audience has stopped in to watch him play.]

You wanna take a crack at it? [He gestures to the other instruments. Then he pauses and moves his electric guitar closer.] This one's mine, sorry, she's a little too much to handle for other people. But you can have the rest.

[simulation room - high king's gala]

You're serious? No pizza? [Figures. Dressed to the nines with a velvet black cape draped over one shoulder, but Dante's foremost concern is still the buffet table, and he looks deeply crestfallen to see the lack of pizza on offer.] Okay, fine, do you have whiskey?

[The response is apparently a great big fat no.]

The hell kind of party doesn't have whiskey and pizza? [He steps away from the buffet table, shaking his head, clearly peeved about this development. But he slows to a stop as the music strikes up again, tapping his foot absently to the beat even as he looks around now, a more serious look on his face like he's clocking the exits, noting just who in the crowd might be carrying a dagger under all those fancy layers.

Then another orber passes by, and the serious, attentive look on his face immediately melts into a more playful grin.]

At least someone's enjoying the bash, but if you ask me, I've been to way better than this. [He bows to them in an exaggerated fashion, offering his hand.] What say we spice things up a notch with a dance?

[wild card]

[come up with a new scenario or hmu at mollymauktealeaf if you want to hash something out!]

hrhgnfh pizza father...,, (items)

[firstroar]

[Viveca's announcement about the supply drop was...concerning. enough so that Blue has come to investigate, pondering on that unfamiliar voice and the laughter which followed it with trepidation mounting in his heart. amidst that and the thrum of new minds buzzing about in their various shades of surprise, apprehension, and curiosity, Blue can be forgiven for not at all being prepared to step into that room and nearly getting blown back by the ferocity of gnarly riffs.

not even living around Peter and Newton can really protect his delicate ears from this amount of shredding up-close.]

Gah-!!

[he flinches, clasping his hands over his ears, as his pain ekes out in something that can be mistaken for feedback from a microphone - a shrill little note that spikes in-between licks of the guitar.]

ichigo kurosaki | bleach

[zangetsu]

deathberry waking;

（ he's sprawled out on the bed, face-down. one leg is inelegantly thrown off the bed entirely, the top of one bare foot resting on the floor. everything about him — the posture, the pose, the occasional loud snore — might as well scream teenager at an incomprehensible level of decibels.

if you get too close, or try to poke him to see if he's alive, or in any way invade his personal space bubble...? yeah, he is immediately going to jolt awake and try to deck you. male, female, doesn't matter. his survival instincts are keenly honed after a lifetime of living with his father — prone to friendly drop-kicks the moment ichigo looks like he's lowered his guard.

or

maybe you just... stare at him. deliberately. until he wakes up? in which case, the very first thing he's going to do is yell. loudly. upon seeing you. like he's just witnessed a biblically accurate angel. who are you!! why are you in his room! ... why is he not in his room! what the fuck is going on!! ）

sunlight room for the gals and ghouls;

（ maybe you're taking a nice little walk. maybe you're familiar with the sunlight room and all it entails. maybe you're a big fan of the open spaces and the faint scent of woods and grass and the distant babble of the little brook.

maybe you see? what looks? like a dead body leaning against a tree??? oh no, disaster?

yep, that's ichigo — or rather, his soulless body. if you have any ability to see or sense 'the dead' (any experience with ghosts? you're good) you may notice a teenager in a black kimono flat-out running back to the body and... throwing himself inside?

is that more or less weird than the fact the body yawns, straightens up and says, ）

Man, what a shitty place for a nap... don't let me do that again.

party party party rockin'

（ ichigo is dressed to the nines. a nice, dark suit in the local custom that manages not to clash with his hair, which has been brushed back and tamed beneath the heel of some impatient hairdresser. he feels a little like james bond (cool) and a little like a tenfold awkward version of himself (not cool) but nevertheless, he is bound and determined to make this work, so.

maybe you're the first person he sees, or maybe you're just fabulously unlucky, but ichigo marches his way up to you and holds out his hands. ）

We've gotta dance.

（ it's said flatly, without a hint of actual interest in the dancing itself. but it's a goal, and he's going to do it, by god. never stand between this man and the things he thinks are necessary. ）

（ wildcards welcome! PM if you'd like a custom starter. ）

[kimoyos]

[She'll consider herself fabulously unlucky. Not because she doesn't care to dance, and not because he looks unsuitable for dancing with. But because she's focused on something and he's just broken her concentration. There's a click of Shuri's tongue as she diverts her attention over toward him, eyebrows arching in thinly veiled amusement at his outstretched hands.]

So you think you can keep up with me?

[Shuri doesn't bother hiding her lopsided grin at that point.]

You must be very brave.

annie january | the boys

[ooak]

✨ 01.0 morning after

[ Annie’s been awake for a little while. Pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, with enough purpose and conviction of movement that it kind of seems like she’s trying to grind a path into the floor beneath her feet. ]

Hi.

[ It’s thrown out almost incidentally, pure thoughtless politeness, when she makes eye contact with her roommate. It takes her a minute to actually double back once she realises she has someone to actually talk to, at which point she stops dead, eyes on the only other person her, and then scrambles to collect her thoughts. ]

Oh my god. Good morning, I guess, I don’t know if it’s… Okay, whatever. [ She flaps a hand dismissively. ] So, are you new too?

✨ 08.0 random scenario — supply drop

[ Annie’s curiosity and practicality join hands to send her in the direction of the supply drop when she gets the message. She needs clothes, of course, but there’s also whatever the hell happened to the message in her ear. Could have just been something as simple as radio interference, but it could also have been something else, which is why she’s not exactly keeping her thoughts to herself as she sifts through the items. ]

So, did you hear that glitch too? The static, the knock, the… question.

[ She looks up from the pile, lips pursed, eyebrows raised expectantly. ]

Pretty ominous, right? Is that normal around here?

✨ 12.0 simulation room — high king's gala

[ At the parties back home, Annie always ends up with an aching jaw and sore feet – that’s what too much PR-friendly smiling and mingling with guests’ll getcha – but this is fun. It could be the historical flavour of the pageantry, which is so far removed from her own understanding of the word that it’s barely the same concept, or just the fact that she doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything like this before in her life, and she’s seen a lot. Always something, when you can surprise a supe.

She has a glass of something sweet and bubbly, though she’s going to have to put it down at some point. Her task, apparently, is to dance with three strangers, and maybe it’s the buoyancy that comes with genuine excitement or maybe she’s somehow kind of drunk (she feels kind of drunk, for the record), but Annie is almost certain that she would’ve wanted to dance with someone anyway, so it’s not even that much of a struggle.

Whether it’s someone she’s already met or someone she’s only seen here, she approaches with confidence, emptying her glass first before she says, ] Hey. Do you wanna dance?

✨ 00.0 wildcard

[ feel free to throw anything else at me, or hit me up at crowders if you want to chat ooc first. ]

8.0

[drawsblood]

[ Similarly, it's both curiosity and practicality that have brought Joric to this area too, though he stands back a little as the woman sorts through first. Once she takes note of his presence, however, he steps forward — a very tall, very out of place man who looks like he stepped out of the Middle Ages instead of a space station hallway. ]

I do not know what a glitch is. Or static for that matter.

[ His voice is a baritone that matches his bulky frame, but he gets down on his haunches beside her so he's no longer looming. ]

I have only just arrived and have no idea what is going on. Someone was interrupted; that much is clear. Whether on accident or by design, I cannot say.

joric | original character

[drawsblood]

PART I
2.0

[ He awakes in a hospital bed in the infirmary with a jolt. The dream had been so vivid, yet also strange. Was it the mountain goddess who spoke to him and offered him a chance to undo his worst mistake? Eyes open and take in unfamiliar territory. Immediately sitting up, Joric sets his bare feet on the floor, brow furrowing at whatever material it's made from. His things are here under the bed, but there is an unfamiliar item on the nightstand. Though before picking it up he shoves the privacy curtain aside since he doesn't like being in the small space. He's a big, burly man and takes up a lot of room as it is. Squinting at the sterile, white room, he notices he's not alone but he makes no effort to announce himself yet. There's a tight, prickling sensation behind his eyes and he takes a deep steadying breath before a voice in his ear startles him and he looks around wildly for the source. ]

The white bottle contains the medicine you require for your... malady. Take two pills with the water.

[ He picks up the bottle and shakes it, turning it all around like it's a safe with a combination lock. ]

How does it open?

[ He says it to the voice in his ear, but also to the room at large. Look, he can't help it that child proof locks don't exist where he's from. Or plastic bottles for that matter. Or pills. ]

PART II
4.0

[ Joric stares at the appliances in the kitchen with utter bewilderment. In his homeland they cook food over a fire or have a communal bread oven. One can pretty easily heat something through (or burn it, if they don't keep an eye on it) without having to be told how it works. But this seems impossible. He manages to enter the kitchen at a time when no one is actually cooking so he's left to wander around, heaving an annoyed sigh every so often until he manages to open yet another box to see food inside. ]

Fucking finally.

[ It's muttered lowly as he starts sorting through for something he can eat cold. Though he won't say no if someone wants to teach him how to use the appliances here. ]

5.0

[ When Joric enters the sunlight room he truly believes he's left this strange building behind. Being outdoors again feels good and he soaks up the sun before settling under a tree with his belongings. Taking out his greatsword, he sets about tending to it with a whetstone and cloth. From what he's been hearing, part of this deal to undo their regrets deals with retrieving an orb and sometimes there is fighting involved. This soldier knows what to do, and it starts with making sure his weapon is sharp. ]

PART III
9.0

[ Joric needs help. Here in this simulation he's been told he needs "fancy dress" for this event and was laughed at when he said he doesn't wear dresses. So what is he supposed to wear? He hasn't a clue. He stares at the racks in this simulated shop at an utter loss. He doesn't know what size he is (he really needs the Big & Tall shop), nor what garments he should be wearing. To anyone who has entered this simulation as well, he poses a question: ]

What the fuck does fancy dress mean?

{ wildcard }

[ Hit me up at fairandbright if you want to try out another prompt and want to toss around ideas!

2

[firstroar]

I can help you.

[Blue's not far from eyeshot - just a fair few steps away from the privacy screen. coming here is sort of old habit, but picking up a few things he'd often left here for his long-term stays was the real reason he was here at all right now.

he can pivot focus easily to someone else, though. someone new.]

If you'll allow me to see what you have?

Shuri | mcu

[kimoyos]

Morning After - Infirmary

You should know better than to try moving.

[Shuri playfully scolds the patient in the infirmary that she's looking after. There's others here that have been here longer, ones that are capable of being doctors. But she has a need to make herself useful, and her arrival hadn't been as disorienting as it could have been. It's after the woman's voice comes through the earpiece and she's left with a map that she easily finds her way to the infirmary.

For better or worse, she's taken up residence there for the time being. And you're her lucky patient, one that she takes no issue fussing over with plenty of sass. ]

Does it look like I have the patience to play babysitter right now?

[Despite how seriously annoyed she may sound, she's just making teasing snipes. It will help everyone feel more at ease if they just don't take this whole thing too seriously.]

Sunlight Room

[Baba always told her that the sunrises and sunsets in Wakanda were the most beautiful in the whole world. And Shuri knows this to be true. But there's something captivating about the illusion of autumn that's projected in the sunlight room here. The colors of the leaves are truly beautiful, and so she spends time fiddling with her kimoyo beads sitting out amongst the foliage. She's deep in thought, but is observant enough to hear the sound of footsteps approaching.

Pausing in her work, her head sharply turns toward the sound.]

Oh, so you are sneaking up on me?

[Maybe she has a volunteer to help her with her current project.]

The Lab

Hand me that.

[Shuri absently instructs whoever happens to be nearby where she's set up a station in the lab. She's tinkering on weapons and working on making a new pair of gauntlets. The ones that came from the armory work well enough, but there's always room to innovate and make improvements.

She typically doesn't have an assistant or anyone else in her lab space, but this is an area that has to be shared. So she's playing nice, even though she desperately misses her lab in Wakanda. It was her domain. Here, she's just another cog in the machine.

It's no matter, though. She's found someone to grab what he needs.

Maybe. They don't seem to be grabbing the right tool. So of course, she sighs.]

Not that one, genius. [She sets her gauntlet aside and strides over to pick up what she means, holding the tool up in the air with a slight grin.] This one. It is small enough for the delicate work this project requires.

Let's Dance

Dance with me.

[It's phrased as less of a question, and more of a simple demand. Shuri's dressed the part in clothes she's not particularly fond of, and is grateful everything here is just a simulation. A way to practice for a real mission. There's the major objective at hand with the king, but she's been given a personal goal too.

Dance with three people.

It seems simple enough. Anyone could do it, apart from maybe Brother. He would trip over his own feet and stumble over his words too easily. He'd freeze and choke, and she would be there to laugh as he did. But T'Challa isn't here. Neither is her mother, or the Dora Milaje. It's just Shuri, and here she doesn't have to worry about being the Princess of Wakanda. There's no one to lecture her for being too blunt or rude. No having to say sorry, Mother if she makes a mistake.

Which she's doing right now, by looking so out of her element here even as she exudes confidence. This type of party isn't really her thing, and the ones she grew up going to in Wakanda were nothing like this.]

I'm sure you'll do your best to keep up.

Sunlight

[gusurules]

[His steps paused and he looked at the woman, finding her appearance, as with majority of this place, to be most strange and foreign to him. When she turns to question him, he blinks, his expression remaining otherwise flat and neutral].

No.

[It is said simply, but now that he's drawn her attention, he does turn to face her fully and take a step forward off the path towards her. He brings his hands to cup them in front of himself and bow to her.]

This Wangji apologizes for the interruption.

jyn erso ✧ rogue one

[realists]

𝟸.𝟶 𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 ✧

[ she can still feel the sand stinging against her bare arms, the heat growing oppressive, the white glow of the horizon damn near blinding as the waves of scarif grew bigger and bigger until there was nothing left.

except, of course, jyn wakes up in the medbay with a startled, garbled shout of cassian's name before she collapses back into her bed with a groan of pain. there's no adrenaline now to keep her upright, to keep one foot in front of the other as she half carried cassian to the shore. now it is just the pain of her shoulder, the burn of blaster wounds, the twinge of her twisted ankle, the ache down to her very bones.

still, stubborn to her core, jyn forces herself to sit up, wills her head to stop spinning, tries very hard not to cry out when her legs give out on the cold floor and she stops herself from falling by bracing herself on the bed with her fucked up shoulder. she doesn't fall though, so it's worth the pain until her legs seem to work again and she slowly manoeuvres herself to standing. ]

Where the hell are my pants.

𝟺.𝟶 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚔 ✧

[ turns out dying really makes a girl hungry. admittedly she's had nothing more than protein bars and imperial tears to tide her over the last few days and before that it was the ever appetizing two protein cubes a day so she'd have just enough energy to work all day in the prison mines but not enough energy to revolt. once she's let out of the infirmary, food is the only thing on her mind.

real food, food food, is something different altogether and jyn is single-minded in her efforts to consume all the food. her hands have been heretofore wasted on every endeavor when she could have been shoveling hot, delicious, cooked food down her throat. she's clearly rectifying that oversight now. perhaps you find her like that, a small urchin curled protectively around her plate as she damn near licks it clean before she starts in on seconds. should she eat this much after six months of protein cubes? absolutely not. attempting to pry her away from the food, or even coming too close to what she deems her personal space, will be met with a fork slammed into the counter. ]

This isn't yours. [ the fork sways menacingly where it is embedded in the formica. ]

𝟼.𝟶 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚙 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 ✧

[ food secure, belly full, jyn doesn't venture back to the crew housing. she hates ships and stations generally, not a person meant for recycled air and limited free space. sure, being planet-bound has its own limitations, but it's better than canned air and sonic showers in jyn's opinion. you can only explore so much before you've seen everything, planets at least usually have more curiosities.

already jyn has found most of the common areas and more than a few personal bunks because the doors weren't locked — she said sorry! (she did not, she said "don't leave your door unlocked then," but that is basically the same thing!) — and now she's found the lab. she's never been as scientifically minded as her parents, but she spent most of her childhood on coruscant in her father's lab and she finds herself lulled into comfort by the gleaming white tables and the shimmering chemicals.

lulled into comfort and right to sleep, head tucked into her arms resting on a lab table, puff of her small, disheveled bun poking over the partitions. she's exhausted but she still jerks awake when the door opens and closes, blinking blearily at her new companion. ]

Hey.

𝟶.𝟶 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍 ✧

( go where your heart takes you )

𝟺.𝟶 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚔 ✧

[deaddrop]

[Natasha isn't planning on trying to pry food out of anyone's hands. She can think of several reasons that seems like a bad idea, but the biggest one at the moment is that it's more trouble than it's worth.

Would be even if Jyn didn't seem willing to draw blood over it.]

Easy there.

[Natasha raises both hands in a pantomime of surrender, undermined by the coffee mug in her left hand.]

I was just on my way to get more to drink. That's all you.

hermann gottlieb | pacific rim (uprising)

[bijective]

||| part i. morning after

o1. the man who fell through time (cw: vomit, mentions of asphyxiation/choking and death)

[ I’m sorry, Hermann… They’re in my head.

Hermann wakes in a cold sweat. A hand reaches over his neck, tracing the lines around which a dear friend had wrapped his fingers over. Those words continue to play in the back of Hermann’s head like some phantasmal loop. He doesn’t even acknowledge waking in a bed that isn’t his own.

But the initial thrust of fear soon melts into confusion. The room doesn’t bear any resemblance to any rooms around the PPDC. Had Shao Industries taken him in? He looks to his side and notices another bed on the side. A bedroom? He ponders.

More confusion and dread stack on top of another as he listens to a voice speaks inside his earpiece. The thought of being plucked out at a crucial time when the PPDC had been under attack by Newton…

…The Precursors.

All the uneasiness Hermann feels in his stomach finally takes its toll. He rushes out of bed, sticks his head in the closest rubbish bin, and vomits whatever remnants of food and water he had that morning. ]

|| part ii. random scenario

o6. lab

[ Where does one even begin? That was at the top of Hermann’s head. Overwhelmed by all the gadgetry and brilliance etched around every inch of the room.

He looks around to see the other workstations. Some are minimally decorated, while others are filled to the brim with various bits and bobs. And then there were some workstations that were empty. The desks were thoroughly cleaned without a speck of dust laying on top. Hermann couldn’t help but get the vague impression that someone had once sat there. ]

This — [ He mutters out loud. ] This is extraordinary…

o7. music room

[ When was the last time Hermann had time to play the piano? It’s probably been several years. But he sits there in front of a piano, his fingers slowly recalling a melody he once practised back in his university days.

The notes are soft yet disjointed. As if he were picking up the pieces from the past, one shard at a time.

He hadn’t noticed someone else being in the room with him. ]

I apologize. I haven’t played in quite some time.

||| wildcard.

[ Feel free to drop your own thing! Just as a small note, if you had previous CR with Hermann, he will not have any memories from his time here in Ximilia. ]

somewhere in the halls

[groupiedrifter]

[Newt had been a very busy bee — mostly to make up for all the complicated emotions that seeing friends vanish from the crew had given him. It wouldn't be the first time they'd parted ways with someone... Sans and Ratchet, Shinjiro and Kirk... Hermann. People just tend to travel uncontrolled, like streams without dams. Or whatever. But the people who'd left recently, it was a real shot to the heart.

Anyway! Busy busy. He stumbles out of bed late, leather jacket dragged on haphazardly to stave off the slight chill the station sometimes develops, and makes himself some coffee. Then starts walking blindly toward the labs to pen some stuff down, especially about bestiaries—

Distantly, he thinks he hears the thump-thump-thumping of a cane? Ah, yeah, a cane. Pretty sure. Which he starts to trail after, almost automatonlike. He's not even sure what he's thinking or hearing or hoping, at this point. Maybe he's sleepwalking and he's too stupid-smart to know it.]

Lan Wangji | The Untamed

[gusurules]

Part 1: Morning After: 1.0
To undo what he regrets. That was the offer. He didn't think it real when found himself half-aware of the dream he'd been in. A forlorn hope in a heart that had never quite been able to move past the what-ifs of that night. He lived on, of course. He was not unable to live with himself, but unlike other, smaller, regrets, that one... that one lingered.

Waking to find himself in a strange white-walled room, on a bed softer than he was used to, brought him to full awareness rather quickly. He sat up, alert, eyes scanning his surroundings. Of the beds, only two were currently taken. His own, and the one across from him where someone sat with their back to him. It was to this person that he gave his full attention and sought to draw theirs by asking, "The offer. Was it yours?"

Part 2: Random Scenario: 5.0
The Sunlight Room. The only room in the strange place he'd been brought that seemed to have access to the outdoors. An illusion, he was told. And one that, after he explored it with his physical senses, he found to be very compelling. But when he attempted to sense it with his qi, to draw in threads of spiritual energy such life should have been radiating, he could sense nothing inherent in the grass or trees or even the light of the sun shining down. An illusion of the senses, nothing more.

He supposed it was comfort all the same. And it was peaceful enough to allow him to fall into meditation. Undisturbed for a time until he sensed another's approach.


Part 2: Random Scenario: 7.0
Like most places he'd wandered through so far, the music room was strange to him. It's purpose was mostly clear. There were instruments both familiar and not and obviously it was made to allow those who were so inclined to train and practice. He felt confident in assuming that was what is was for, but would not voice the opinion as such until confirmed by another. If perhaps, the room was not for practice, and rather for entertainment. Though how it would be with the seating arrangement as it was, he was uncertain.

Wangji wandered through the instruments, reaching out to pluck a string here and there on ones he did not recognize to try and gain some understanding of what their sound would be before he sat himself down behind the guqin. He flicked his sleeves to the side, posture perfect, and laid his hands against the strings. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes and began to play. Just scales for now. To get a feel for the instrument.

Part 3: Rate That Ass(assin): 11.0 A
He did not truly understand how the task he'd been given would help him in changing his regret, but Wei Ying loved to drink and perhaps that was answer enough. And so he steeled himself and, when offered a small - very small - cup of wine, he took it and threw it back in one gulp.

Not more than three breaths later, the cup fell from his fingers and he proceeded to collapse to the floor. Out cold in 10 seconds flat.

His sudden collapse caused there to be voices raised in concern over his health and the potential of poisoned wine started drawing more attention.

3

[dr_unconscious]

Sounds of alarm snap Clayton's attention away from the otherwise blandly pleasant conversation he'd been having with one of the simulated partygoers. His first assumption is that the mission's assassin has made their move somehow, which is concerning in its own right. The muffled shouts from the source claiming some kind of poison redoubles it. Part of him suspected that he wouldn't have the skills to stop an assassin making their attempt on someone's life, but Clayton is confident that he can competently try and stop that attempt from succeeding.

He finds his way to Wangji quickly, following the breaks in the crowd and whispered inquiries into the rapidly-spreading rumor mill. The victim, to his surprise, isn't the High King, but rather some random man that had a single glass of wine. Clayton sweeps into a crouch next to him; his brain is already cycling through possible root causes and treatments, but he pushes them aside for the moment until he can get a first-responder's assessment of Wangji's condition.

Responsiveness is the first item on his list. Clayton reaches out to give Wangji's shoulder a gentle shake. "Hey," he says, voice quiet but with a healthy undertone of urgency and concern. "Can you hear me?"

mavis (original character)

[telepathy]

01. awakening to (re)gret

[ there are four beds in the room where mavis wakes. she knows beds secondhand, the sort of thing traders had mentioned as they wandered through the soundless wilds, the sort of thing she'd never seen because the kuruko slept on mats so they could move on quickly when the water dried up.

so she cannot possibly be in the soundless wilds. so she must be in kossos.

that motherfucker.

she propels herself out of bed and ignores her presumed fellow captives as she bolts into the hallway, barefoot and snarling only to find an empty labyrinth of cold steel. she had heard that the empire was unfeeling, but she had not known it was like this. it's repulsive.

she turns back to the room to pick through the drawers in search of something she can use as a weapon — with no eye to whether or not that drawer is on 'her' side or not. if the rustling and fumbling doesn't wake her new roommates, then surely her shout will when suddenly something in her ear is speaking with a woman's voice. she yelps, barreling back into the wall, ripping out the earpiece and flinging it to the ground. ]

b. [ later, when she is better oriented, she can be found in one of two places:

in the armory, she smacks the screen of the fabricator in frustration as she fails yet again to get it to construct a serviceable knife.

in the kitchen, she holds an apple between her teeth as she stuffs shelf-stable foods like bread and cheese into her pockets like she's preparing for a two-week sea voyage. ]

02. dance dance revo assassination

[ mavis stands like she's never worn a dress before. legs apart, shoulders slightly forward like she's ready to lunge. her hair is messy and loose around her chin in an unflattering way, and she wears no makeup. the knife she wears is hidden under her short skirt, but she keeps rubbing at the hem in a way that exposes the edge of its sheathe because the material is itchy and unpleasant and it keeps shifting.

but she's here. she's here because she was told that someone would be murdering the king here, and if she can stop it, then somehow, maybe, that will mean she can get her clan back.

a drunk stumbles into her — maybe it's you — and she shoves them aside so hard that they spill into the middle of a group of revelers dancing. they stop before they do too much damage. it's the closest that this ball has felt to something familiar to her, she realizes, as others nearby find sport in the shoving. there's something cathartic in violence for violence's sake and she thinks, maybe, just maybe, there's something human in these people after all.

hopefully it doesn't give the king's would-be assassin a window to slip in while everyone's distracted. ]

03. wildcard

[ hit me up at protects for anything specific. ]

02 - let the chaos begin!!

[somatosensory]

Making a scene already? ( a smooth voice, pitched low like they're sharing a secret.

he'd clocked her immediately, of course. even without the fracas she'd caused, he could sense her like a second heartbeat. a pulsing knot of irritation in the crowd.

not that he could really blame her. these outfits are insane. )

Ah — ( as soon as she reaches for the knife, he's there, long fingers cuffing her wrist.

over her shoulder, he offers a brief smile to anyone that might pass. that might decide to take issue. it's warm, genuine. it says nothing to see here when what it really means is try me, i fucking dare you. ) — you know better.

Clayton Epps | Original Character

[dr_unconscious]

1. Waking Up

This is more than a dream.

Clayton's eyes flicker open to stare at the ceiling, his expression as blank as the glossy white panels above. Perhaps he should be more surprised than he is; it'd be a lie to say that he isn't, at least a little bit. Who wouldn't be? But Clayton knows dreams, and more importantly, he knows when his dreams have been manipulated. The fading embers of the extremely coherent conversation he had in the last one do a lot to prime him for his current situation.

What surprises him more is the fact that he remembers agreeing to do this at all.

No use fixating on that, though - an agreement has been struck and now he's here. Where is 'here,' exactly? Unmoving, Clayton glances out of the corner of his eye to take in the room. Basic furnishings, some storage, other beds...another person on one of those beds? Quickly his gaze diverts and he snaps his eyes shut. Are they alive? Hurt? Going through the same dream he just went through, about to make the same pact?

Curiosity as much as concern drives Clayton to investigate. He lets his soul wander, just a step away from his mind, to gently brush against the mind of whoever else is in the room with him and see if they're conscious. Someone without telepathic training or sensitivity probably won't feel anything, but the awakened or otherwise soul-attuned will probably notice the little, tentative touch, like someone hovering their hand too close over the back of their neck.

Then, just as suddenly, Clayton pulls his soul away and abruptly sits upright with a small gasp. You know, like he's woken up from a bad dream. Totally what's going on here.

"--Ah! What? Where--?" The man's head whips around, shaggy black hair flopping over his face. "H-Hey! Hello? You awake?"

2. Infirmiry

All things considered, Clayton settles into his usual wheelhouse pretty quickly and without too much complaint. He is aware of the situation and has even gotten a better bead on it thanks to this...kind of ironically invasive earpiece. The organizers of this mission seem willing to work with him as long as he cooperates. Not much different from the arrangement he was in back home, frankly. Now he's just under new management.

It doesn't take long for Clayton to find the Infirmary and recognize it for what it is. Little alarm bells go off in his head when he notices that there are patients here - patients that haven't been tended to yet. Or at least, Clayton can't assume that they have been, as his instinct to help easily overrides any doubts to the contrary. So he hurries in, brow crinkled in concern as he looks around to get a more accurate assessment. A quick look says that no one's in immediately life-threatening condition, which means that he has a little time to properly sterilize, put on some gloves.

Then he's at the nearest bunk, glancing over whoever just woke up there with creased eyes. "Hey, take it slow," Clayton murmurs. "I'm a doctor, you're in an infirmary. You're gonna be alright."

He has no idea if they're going to be alright.

5. Sunlight Room

Clayton decides to spend a good chunk of time in the Sunlight Room, for a couple of reasons.

It's a peaceful change of pace from the bleak white walls of the rest of the station, for one. As someone that's never left his home planet before, knowing that there's a space dedicated towards emulating some kind of Earth normal is comforting, in a way. Makes him feel like his employers care a little.

More importantly, it's a quiet place for meditating. Clayton is doing so presently, sitting neutral on a bench with a slight hunch forward. His eyes are closed and twitching a bit. Most people would look at this man and assume he's fallen asleep sitting up.

For anyone that can sense spirits or is telepathically inclined, on the other hand, the story is quite different: Clayton's soul has gone for a walk. The vaguely human-shaped astral form wanders the space between minds, waiting for the disturbance of another person entering the simulation, or someone else with similar abilities to make contact first. He never travels far, though; this Astral is unfamiliar, and the tether holding his soul to his mind is, consequently, quite weak. It will take a lot of sessions like this one to get it back to a comfortable strength.

12. Sharing a Drink CW: Probably lots of alcohol

To call the Sunlight Room simulation 'immersive' would be an understatement. But when Clayton takes to the mission simulation next, he decides that he needs to adjust his expectations.

He's not sure how much time has passed when he makes it to the revelry of the main ballroom and the party happening there. Has it actually been two days? Surely not. He barely spares a second thought about eating what must be simulated foodstuffs, what clothes he's actually wearing under the prim, light blue tuxedo with white frilly garnishes, the one the tailor confidently said matched his eyes. Clayton could lose himself here. He very nearly does.

The only thing that brings him back is when he remembers, every so often, that he has a mission to do. And damn is it a weird one. Make a drunken distraction? Why not just a regular distraction? Are all of the missions going to be so oddly specific?

At least Clayton isn't a stranger to drunken excess. Doing so alone, however, is strictly off the table for him, so he goes looking for someone to get nice and shitfaced with. Preferably someone that also looks like they're trying to have a good time? Clayton swaggers up to them, all confidence and exaggerated bravado, bows and holds out a dainty glass cup of what is probably liquor.

"Save you a trip to the bar?"

waking up

[hannyas]

The other person in the room, Clayton may find, is — well, a strange sight to say the least: eight-foot-eight, reddish orange horns on their head, long white hair ending in turquoise tips.

And, as Clayton prods their mind gently, despite not knowing anything about telepathy... the touch is enough for Yamato's observation haki, something that notes even the things one's eyes can't see, and their eyes snap open.

"Yes, hello, good morning!" Yamato, sitting upright, beams at Clayton before tilting their head. "Wait... who are you again?"

Are they at all aware the man on the other bed is a newcomer? Ah — probably not.

michiru kaioh / sailor neptune | sailor moon crystal

[deepreflection]

morning after.

01.
Michiru slowly sits up and chases the fogginess out from her mind as she looks around. Just her and one other empty bed in the cold room. She shivers and scoots to the edge of her own bed and slips out of it. There's a sigh of relief when she sees that she's still clothed.

Immediately, her thoughts turn to her family.

Hotaru. Haruka. Setsuna.

She sets her mouth into a thin line and makes her way toward the door to peer out into the hallway. Dark blue eyes look up and down before picking a direction to walk in.

There's a weight in her ear that stops her for a moment. A voice that narrates the lay of the situation she's in. She frowns deeply. Hotaru had just recreated the Big Bang the other night. The girl might be frightened, alone.

If they're there, she'll find them. She's found Haruka before. She'll find her again.


random scenario.
After a bout of wandering, Michiru finds herslef in the armory. She watches others carefully as they create weapons using some sort of machine. Once they leave, seemingly without noticing her, she steps up to it, marvelling at it and trying to determine what other weapons it could make.

An errant thought floats through her mind.

Could it replicate the Aqua Mirror she'd given to Small Lady?

She crosses her arms and looks over the instructions again.

1

[dr_unconscious]

Clayton catches sight of Michiru as he ambles casually around the corner of the hallway, hands tucked in the pockets of his sweatpants. He's not surprised to see someone else here, but he is curious, which grows more intense and flickers briefly to concern when she doesn't move. She looks like she's listening to something and she's not happy about it. Probably getting the welcome wagon message on her earpiece, Clayton figures.

Well, he doesn't want to interrupt her call, but that doesn't mean he can't try to be friendly. Clayton slows as he approaches to pass Michiru, flashes her a sympathetic smile and a wave.

cassian andor | rogue one

[evasives]

2.0 // INFIRMARY

[ cassian comes to slowly, which is unexpected, but the waking in itself is a surprise. his mouth is dry but not sandy, there is no aching pain crawling up his spine. it takes him a few seconds but then he jerks upright, frowning deeply and nearly knocking over the medicines at his bedside table. ]

[ this is not an alliance medbay, but nor is it imperial. it's familiar enough in a lot of ways, alongside the low melodic hum of a starship. ]

[ he throws his legs over the side of the bed without thinking, bracing for a pain that never comes. idly patting at his back, he stands and just marvels for a moment that he is indeed standing. alone. ]

[ there's movement from outside the curtain and he grabs one of the bottles to use as a bludgeon if need be before he yanks the curtain aside to stare down whoever's out there. the bottle is very threatening, clearly. ]

3.0 // ARMORY

[ after securing actual clothes and getting the lowdown from viveca, cassian explores his new apparent residence. he slips through the halls quietly and makes his first stop the armory. a medicine bottle is in fact a piss-poor weapon. ]

[ he mulls over the collection that's already there and pockets a knife or two, but the printing machine draws his attention quickly. it doesn't take him that long to figure out and he makes himself a decent enough copy of a blaster, small enough to conceal. there's a pause when he notices someone else walking in, but he doesn't move from the machine, playing around with it to continue getting a better feel. ]

What kind of weaponry is usually needed on these mission?

6.0 // LAB

[ it's a small ship but there still seems like a lot to see, especially if he wants to get a full understanding of it all. the locked area is annoying, but that'll be a problem for tomorrow cassian, and he makes a note to try and speak to someone about it. so: next step is the lab, just to get a sense of the technological abilities of the station itself and perhaps the people on board. ]

[ instead what he finds is a disaster. ]

This is not organized. [ he is mumbling to himself, but he sounds high-key agitated by it. ] How is anyone supposed to build anything?

11.0 // ASSASSINATION

[ this is... easy, all things considered. a mission to track some assassins, rather than be the assassin? dare he say it's almost welcome? ]

[ cassian is used to donning the part, so he's dressed easily to match the styles and after a few hours he figures out the local mannerisms too, regardless of their fictitious level. he fits in seamlessly with the crowds at the gala, bouncing between skulking along the sidelines and occasionally throwing himself at the dancing. if this is a test, he's pretty sure he passed. ]

[ but teamwork has been stressed as a key point to ximilia, so he finds the nearest familiar face, even if it's someone he merely passed outside the simulation, and falls into step with whatever their doing - be it dancing, eating, drinking, et all - he slots in like it's nothing. ]

I found one. [ an assassin, he means. like calls to like or something. ]

0.0 // WILDCARD

[ idk go where your heart takes you or find me at communism ! ]

infirmary

[realists]

[ jyn has found trousers and a shirt and she is pulling a raggedy blue sweater over a halo of disheveled hair when the curtain is unceremoniously yanked back. wide green eyes peer out the neck of the pullover, hands dropping to her sides immediately when she realizes who is brandishing a bottle at her, the sweater falling awkward over her chest, caught under her armpit.

she doesn't care; she jerks toward him without thinking, body moving of its own accord like an awkward newborn colt until her arms circle his torso and suddenly she is hugging him.

again. ]

Cassian.

[ she barely knows him, there hadn't been any time, but he still feels like coming home. ]

jiang yanli | the untamed (cql)

[souperjie]

Morning after
The words echo in her mind as she slowly makes her way back to consciousness. Jiang Yanli sits up, rubbing her eyes, before realizing her surroundings and gasping. This isn't--this isn't--

There's no bodies. The sick smell of blood and injuries is nowhere to be found. Her eyes widen and her breath quickens. Oh no. Oh no, what is this place? She has to return immediately. A-Cheng had just left to go find a-Xian. He would be worried if he returns and she isn't there.

She throws the blanket off of herself and quickly leaves her room when a voice in her ear stops her. Her mind whirls at what it says. She looks around to see if she could find somebody, anyone. Why is it that she could hear the voice in her ear but not actually aloud?

Random scenario
Jiang Yanli makes her way toward the kitchens - something that at least would seem and feel familiar. Her gaze sweeps over the ingredients, the tools that are laid out. Most of it seem so foreign.

Upon closer inspection, she finds something that looks and smells like a batch of lotus roots. Spotting something that looks like the pots she had back home, she resolves to gather more ingredients to make some kind of semblance of lotus root soup.

It would be a familiar scent and taste - make her worry about a-Cheng and a-Xian less, perhaps. She has to believe that they are all right. She believes in her young brother. She knows that a-Cheng wouldn't rest before finding a-Xian.

As she waits for the water to bubble up, she cleans and chops the ingredients. Her movements are well practiced and skilled.

Awakening

[gusurules]

[As Yanli spun around looking for the voice, the door opened and Wangji entered. His eyes were downcast as he stepped through, robes pristine. He waited until the door had closed behind him before turning to look at the newest roomate when he did get a good look at her, he froze. The shock of seeing her, when he'd witnessed her death a little over 16 years prior on the worst day of his life, was enough to hold him in place. Make him uncertain of his own eyes, leading to a very long pause before he spoke. Was she real or simply a vision conjured by the station?]

Jiang-gunaing?

[OOC: Wangji is canon point between episode 1 & 2, just after Mo Village and before the Night Hunt on Dafan Mountain. So he's clearly in his 30s appearance wise]

percy jackson. — pjo

[dyslexics]

morning after.

( the list of things that percy jackson does gracefully is, woefully, very short. this includes both sleeping ( drooling aggressively on a pillow, snoring, kicking a little like a dog chasing a dreamy rabbit ) and the action of waking up ( snuffling, smacking his lips together, rolling a bit too close to the side of a bed whose dimensions are entirely unfamiliar to one careless teen — ).

which is how he ends up shouting, in a pile of gangly limbs and knotted sheets around his legs, sporting a bruise on the top of what might be the cleverest noggin in all of camp half-blood ( save for annabeth chase. obviously ). not screaming from new surroundings and an odd room — but from his own talent for being as non-discreet as (half)humanly possible. )

Haa—rum?

( he stands abruptly, wrangling a hand through his hair ( tousled ) and sorting out his sleep shorts ( blue ) and sliding both hands down his wrinkled shirt ( also blue ). he goes from drowsy to alert in the blink of an eye, taking in the very occupied room with first a look of doomsday, and then a look of acceptance. it can't be expected that anyone would ever miss a perfectly acceptable reason to make fun of him — that would be asking far too much. )

Hey, so. ( he clears his throat, rubbing a finger over his mouth, stepping out of his tangled sheets as effortlessly as he can — which is to say, not at all. ) Quick question. This, uh, ( he gestures to his now freshly unoccupied bed, in explanation. this. ) this happen often? Really not sure what answer I'm hoping for.

kitchens.

( it's an interesting sight to see a teen boy sat in a kitchen full of perfectly edible food, looking just a bit morose. you might think boys have only a couple of things on their mind at any given time, one of the Big Ones being their next meal, but this boy in particular seems uniquely equipped towards sorrow. at least, that's the energy he gives off.

or maybe it's just the batch of oddly blue chocolate chip cookies on a plate in front of him. somberly, percy bites into one — of course it's delicious. it's a family recipe.

he manages to cheer up when he notices someone else though, lips curving into a friendly grin as he pushes the plate towards them. )

Want one? It's a Sally Jackson classic. ( he sighs, dreamily. ) Blue spaghetti tonight, I think. Yep.

wildcard.

( anything else! im over at trashmouth for any questions. )

💪

[areou]

( she shouldn't be surprised to see percy here — at this point, really, she should be more surprised not to. is she happy to see him? weirdly, kind of yes. family is family, she supposes, and any piece of home is comforting enough, even if that piece of home happens to be percy jackson and his weird obsession with blue food.

she stares at him like he's grown two heads, making a mildly disgusted face at thought of blue spaghetti. )

Absolutely not, Jackson. ( does she know where they stand considering how everything went down? no. (hell, she doesn't even know if they won.) but she wouldn't be here if she hadn't fucked up, and neither would he. so at least they have their guilt in common. maybe together it'll be easier to ignore. ) Did you murder a Smurf to make these?

dorothea arnault | fire emblem: three houses

[ornamentation]

  ii. random scenario

4.0 — [ now if this were back in fodlan, any one of dorothea's housemates would probably try to usher her out of the kitchen, or at the very least give any sorry chump who'd want to try her food a proper warning. as it is, no such samaritan is around to stay her hand from adding in ingredient after ingredient into a simmering pot, from which wafts a... questionable aroma. laid out in front of her is a variety of items, ranging from things she recognizes — produce like fruits and vegetables — to things that she doesn't but is intrigued by anyway — twinkies, licorice twists, and someone's leftover lasagna. she's humming a faint tune to herself as she starts breaking off chunks of celery to toss into the pot, pausing only when she notices someone approach. ]

Oh, hi! Did you want the stove? I should be done soon.


7.0 — [ of course the songstress is drawn to the ximusic room. it practically calls to her during her idle exploration of the station, and with so much of ximilia overwhelmingly unfamiliar to her, it's no surprise at all that she would gravitate towards something she's always found comfort in.

that being said, so much of what she finds in the music room is also very unfamiliar. most instruments she doesn't recognize, and the few she does are ones she's never had much of a talent for. she tries a few of the unknown ones out, but makes more of a racket than anything else, so eventually she finds her way over to the stereo to fiddle with the buttons. a song starts blasting through the speakers, startling dorothea enough that she jumps back and knocks into the nearby drum set. ]

This is... music?

  iii. rate that ass(assin)

9.0 — [ there are few joys in life than having the opportunity to spoil oneself, so the second dorothea was informed their attire for the gala would be taken care of by none other than the king himself? well, who is she to refuse? sure, they've got a job to do, and though she isn't one to shirk her responsibilities, she is also keenly aware that this is just a simulation, and thus the stakes are a little lower for her. besides, in this instance dressing up is actually part of the job. who can complain about that?

you can, apparently. or maybe you're not grumbling, but instead looking dismayed or uninterested or bored or maybe you're literally just standing there minding your own business, not at all prepared for the decked out young woman who suddenly approaches you. ]

That's not what you're planning to wear, is it? [ oh, she's already slipping her arm through yours to begin dragging you through the shop, okay sure. ] Come on — we're on the King's coin, you know. We might as well make the most of it, don't you think? Now what are your thoughts on feathers?


11.0 — [ the opulence of the gala doesn't surprise dorothea, but it doesn't exactly make it any easier to stomach. sure, she'd been all too happy spending that coin herself, but to see the extent to which the high king himself so frivolously spends it all in the name of himself is... something. something that makes her stomach churn in what feels an awful lot like disgust. but maybe it's guilt, too. after all, there are still times she finds herself yearning for that kind of luxury...

but none of that matters right now. right now, she's meant to fulfill a goal. a rather fun goal, if she has to be honest. and with the gloom of the war far behind her right now, she's possibly a little desperate to indulge in a little fun.

there's a mischievous little glint in her eye as she turns to you — yes you. ]

There's something I've always wanted to try. Will you humor me?

  etc.

( none of the prompts sparking joy? feel free to toss me a starter or ask for a custom one via pm! )

7.0

[azurelion]

[Dimitri, trying to acclimate himself to this strange new place, had been wondering the ship, trying to find something to do, feeling completely out of place, specially with his armour.

When he's walking by what he thinks is the music room, he hears a loud banging, and being who he is, he enters and looks around.

Of course, his face is full of surprise when he notices who's the one that made the noise.]

Dorothea?

shinya kogami | psycho pass

[psychofailed]

i. morning after

[Kogami has not had an easy time with sleep in years. Wildly vivid dreams and nightmares plague him; a voice asking if he'd take back his regrets is far from unusual. The only difference is, this time he wakes up somewhere else.

A small spartan room with a single bed ... for a moment, he wonders if he was recaptured by the MWPSB, if somehow -- somehow the others appealed for him not to be executed on the spot. But when he ventures out, the view from windows is not the cityscape of Japan but only an endless expanse of black, interrupted only by a few pinpricks of light in between. It feels oddly symbolic. Digging in a pocket finds his lighter ... and the last of the cigarettes in a nearly empty carton. That feels oddly appropriate, too.

It wasn't just a dream. Undoing the past has never before been possible, squaring his regrets meant moving only forward with what felt right. Even if it meant he could never go home again. So what does it mean for him now, to go back? He cannot unlive these last few years, cannot be the man he used to be, but ... he could save the others, maybe. Kagari. Masaoka. Yuki Funahara. Sasayama. So many more whose names he doesn't even know. It could be worth it. He no longer has anything to lose, after all.

He's lost in these thoughts when he happens to blow smoke in the face of an unfortunate passerby, and the following cough wrenches him back to the present.]

...Excuse me. [A beat passes, and flaking off the rust on social skills he hasn't needed in years, he adds:] Have you also been recruited to resolve your regrets?

[#nailed it]

i. random scenario: training

[Once he gets settled aboard the Ximilia, the place he's most often found is in the training room. Shooting at stationary targets is unsatisfying at best, so he typically prefers to work out his energy with the punching bag when he's not in the mood for a simulation.

For the most part, he doesn't acknowledge others as they come into the room, leaving them to their own devices, but at one point he accidentally hits the bag far too hard and it, ah. Swings. Really hard. Right at someone.]

--Shit, watch out!

i. personal goal: (a)

[This is, admittedly, inconvenient. Making a huge scene as a distraction means he definitely won't be able to get close to the types of people who might have the most information about these assassins, but he supposes he might as well get used to this kind of thing now. Scanning through the crowd, he spots the nearest Orber, sends them a brief mental message through the network of sorry about this before shouting at them--]

Did you have something to say? I didn't quite hear you. [a wine flute is dramatically smashed on the ground, here] Go on, say it again!

[time to put on a show, let's w r a s s l e]

personal goal | whoooo boy

[dr_unconscious]

[Well, at least Kogami's picked someone that has the same mission as he does. Clayton puts together those pieces moments after his message flashes across his vision, soon after his back is yelled at and he hears something break.]

[Clayton gingerly turns towards the circle of elaborately-dressed women he's been conversing with.]

My apologies - I gotta attend to somethin'.

[The dainty rocks glass full of interesting simulated liquor is downed in a single, dramatic gulp. Clayton had been pacing himself so far in order to wait for an adequate partner to get nice and drunk with. Seems that partner has come to him, so it's time to gather some momentum.]

[Without looking, Clayton hands off his now empty glass to a slack-jawed onlooker, brushes off his light blue frilly tuxedo as he makes a show of sizing Kogami up. Clayton himself is a stocky fellow, tall-ish, with a bulk under his suit that suggests some muscle - enough to make him confident, anyway.]

Ain't gotta repeat nothin' for you, buddy. [His gray-blue eyes are narrowed with contempt, but the message sent through the network to Kogami is a much more meek, Please don't take this personally.] Go find it at the bottom of your next glass, you fuckin' lush!

steve harrington | stranger things

[spikedbats]

1. ★ morning after ★

[ Steve wakes up with a start, gasping for air. In all honesty, it's not much different from how he normally wakes up lately, but the surroundings are definitely new. He doesn't recognize this as his room, or any of the many places he has had to crash in lately.

He also notices that he is very much not alone, but cannot get a glimpse of the other person in here with him. At first he's paralyzed with fear -- is this Vecna? Has he finally lost it? But he sees no dark particles, has had no nosebleeds (the headache's a different story, but he's been hit in the head enough times that they just keep cropping up lately). ]

What the fuck? [ He keeps his voice quiet, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles and tries to compose himself. Well, might as well try to get the lay of the land, and see if there is anything in here that he can use as an improvised weapon. It's pretty bare bones in here, though, and before he can get a closer look, a sudden itch in his ear gives way to the earpiece that has apparently been there the whole time and he's only just noticed it.

Creepy.

Well, if he's being given a map to the station, there's no reason he shouldn't explore, right? If he doesn't spook the other person in the room awake first, maybe he can sneak out of the room and off to somewhere interesting, gather some clues as to how the fuck he ended up here.

The obvious things are not what people observe...or was it don't observe? ]

2. ★ sunlight room ★

[ The moment Steve steps into the room, his mouth drops open in surprise. By now he has realized that he is definitely not in Hawkins anymore. He's not even sure he's anywhere near Earth, which seems impossible. But then again, the Upside Down would have sounded impossible several years ago, so he's keeping an open mind.

His eyes are trained on the illusion, paying little heed to anyone else here. It's enough to make his heart yearn for home, when he used to be able to lay out on a lounge chair by his pool and just enjoy a crisp autumn breeze. Now, though, the thought just makes him think of Barb, and so with a soured expression, he presses on until he reaches the babbling brook.

It feels so real, Steve almost feels compelled to stay here. He leans over the edge of the bridge to get a closer look and tries not to compare it to the quarry, tries not to think about the time the state police pulled a fake body out of the water and tried to cover up for their heinous deeds. ]

It's not real. [ He never appreciated nature before. Never took a girl on a date by hiking through the woods. So why is it that he's suddenly missing it now, when he spent so many days thinking about running away? ] It's not real but I kind of wish it were.

3. ★ ximusic room ★

[ There isn't a chance in hell Steve is going to touch any of the musical instruments, but he is going to listen. He can't help but think of Robin and her damn trumpet playing, and wonder what Eddie would think of this place. He hasn't even been here that long and he's missing Eddie?

This must be what going mad feels like.

The microphone, though? Okay, so he's only really messed around with a karaoke machine once in his life when Carol Perkins had rented one for her sixteenth birthday party, back when Steve was still friends with her. ]

You don't happen to know any Tears for Fears, do you? [ It's a shot in the dark. The other person in here might not even come from a place that has the same musical artists as him, but dammit if it means possibly bonding with someone he's going to try. ]

4. ★ rate that ass(assin) ★

[ Well, this is...weird. Which has been a running theme lately, so maybe Steve should start getting used to it? Still, he never expected this to be where he dresses in fancy getup instead of prom. Or to his own future wedding, because of course that's something he has considering even though he has been striking out with everyone he has flirted with lately.

Right. Focus.

He feels like a real James Bond dressed up the way he does, and ends up at the theater because it's where he feels the most at ease for some reason. Maybe because he doesn't have to do much, just sit back and watch. Observe. There isn't much he's great at, but he did once identify a Russian recording as being from the Starcourt Mall based on Daisy Bell playing in the goddamn background, so maybe this really is his calling. ]

Are you understanding any of this? [ His voice is a whisper, because he's not about to make himself known when he's supposed to be keeping an eye out for anything unusual. Look he doesn't need to understand what's going on to accomplish this job, right? Cut him some slack! ]

5. ★ wildcard ★

[ or hit me with something else! feel free to reach out at aoneknifestand to discuss something or request a custom starter ]

2

[savingthrows]

[ For a while, she simply stands there. Observes. The sight is... jarring. Eleven has been on the station near a year now, and she's never seen any of hers here. Not until now, and it is so beyond how things have gone for her this past year that she can't quite make heads nor tails of the sight in front of her for a good long while. So she just stands rooted to the spot. Stares at Steve while he moves around.

There's a childish part of her, the part that never grew up to develop normal responses, that finds it unfair he's not Mike or Hopper. But that part always sounds a little like Papa, so she tends to push that voice down far below unless she's very upset or angry or hurt. She's none of those, now.

And still her eyes feel wet. Still she feels like crying. Because that's a piece of home right there, and she misses home so, so very much. That right there reminds her of the mall and ice cream and Max. And so her voice is perhaps a little wet, too, when she finally makes her presence known, steps closer: ]

Steve.

[ She's a little older. Her hair's grown out from the unruly chin-length mess she'd sported in the mall, not long before coming here. But then, of course, that's not the last version of her Steve would remember. That will be a fun conversation to sort through. For now... she hastily wipes at her eyes, draws a shaky breath. ]

Steve. Hi.

castiel | supernatural

[foolintherain]

• morning after
  
  [ Castiel is walking at a quick gait, seemingly in a hurry to be somewhere important, only to stop directly in front of you, while still looking the other way. ]
  
  Where are the orbs being kept?
  
  [ That's how everyone says hello, right? At least Castiel has the decency to look over at the person he's asked the question of, after the fact, and find out who he's speaking to. ]




• random scenario
  
  [ For as determinedly as Castiel has been stalking about the station with an omnipresent frown, his steps begin to slow as his boots transition from hard metal to soft, yellowing grass. As he walks deeper into the sunlight room, he looks up and around, mouth dropped slightly open and blue eyes gone wide, not with surprise so much as... wonder. There are birds chirping, and a crisp autumn breeze.
  
  He walks deeper in, eventually coming to pause on the bridge that overlooks a stream, spitting up a light spray of water. Castiel rests a hand on the bridge's railing, and it feels oddly like wood under his fingertips. Without realizing anyone else is in the room, he says, seemingly to himself. ]
  
  This is very impressive.
  




• rate that ass(butt)
  
  [ Speaking of impressive, this simulated mission is very thorough. There's a line of clothing boutiques on either side of the cobbled street Castiel is standing nearly in the middle of, and he's looking over at one of them with eyes narrowed. ]
  
  I don't understand. Our mission is to investigate the guests, kill the assassins and reveal personal truths to one another. Why are we buying new clothing?
  
  [ Castiel is already wearing his trenchcoat and tie, which happens to be his investigation outfit, and also his killing outfit, and also the only outfit he owns. Why get another? This is a waste of (simulation) time. ]




• wildcard
  
  [ want to thread a different scenario? go for it! or if you're not sure, drop me a PM! ]

sunliiiight

[ruinously]

[ Dean spends a fair amount of him time in the sunlight room - provided there isn't anyone else inside. Not normally a loner by any rights, these days Dean tries to keep to himself, doing what's necessary for missions but ultimately keeping people at arms length, because why bother otherwise? They leave.

Everyone always leaves.

He's tried to make connections, to put himself out there, to be more than just a grunt and a tool with a purpose, but ultimately it always falls back to that, doesn't it? The only reason he's even here is to undo all his fuckups, to stop himself breaking that first seal, to damn himself right back to hell, regardless of what anyone else thinks. Branched timelines are bullshit, Viv's attempts at comfort Castiel will come, because he doesn't know you won't break. None of them do, it's all bullshit. He knows better. He knows - his whole purpose was to break that fucking seal, and the minute he did it, the angels had to have known. Someone had to have known.

It's fine. He's made his peace with it. It's not like it matters; once they're done and he's back on the rack or torturing, none of this will matter. As long as Sam's safe, that's all that really counts.

He's not really paying attention to anything, lost in his own world, but he hears footsteps on the bridge, not hard when you're parked on the grass, not quite underneath, but not openly visible, either. He won't draw attention to himself, whoever it is can keep going on their merry way, he doesn't want to talk to anyone, it's--

Wait a minute.

The voice is so painfully familiar it has Dean scrambling to his feet, eyes wide because this isn't possible, is it? Dean Winchester doesn't get favors, he doesn't deserve good things, doesn't deserve Lisa or Ben or the stupid, boring life he's been handed back home, the one he's working so hard to destroy and give up.

But he'd know that voice anyway, and he practically vaults over the railings of the bridge, landing with a thud, gripping the wood so tightly it creaks a fraction. ]

Cas?!

Owen Harper | Torchwood

[halfdecay]

• Part I. Morning After

||| 1.0 — Dead Man Walking

[ Doctor Owen Harper is a dead man.

…Well, used to be a dead man. Not in the sense that he was buried six feet under. More like having no vital signs that are crucial to surviving. But he still walked among the living. His lungs, heart, and nervous system — All shot. He couldn’t eat, sleep or have a proper piss if he tried.

But now Owen finds himself at an infirmary. In outer space. With a pair of lungs that can suck in oxygen and breath out carbon dioxide. He’s found a pair of joggers to wear but nothing to cover his torso.

He tries to listen to the message that Viveca has left — but her voice is drowned out by the sound of him eating half of a granola bar in one bite. Bits of crumbs are on the side of his lips with even more falling onto his chest.

And so there’s a bare-chested, barefooted young man who is eating a granola bar like an absolute goblin. ]

• Part II. Random Scenario

||| 3.0 — Boys and their Toys

[ Like a small child being drawn to a sweets shop, Owen had to poke his head inside the armoury. Most of the weaponry there looked standard: a variety of pistols, swords, bows & arrows, an electric staff. The works. There were a few designs that looked completely new to him. His eyes are drawn to one weapon that’s designed like a prickly ball. But knowing how…odd alien armoury can be, he opts not to pick it up with his own hand.

Instead, he picks up a laser pistol that’s designed with blue-green plasma lighting. He aims it at the wall with his fingers off the trigger. ]

Oi! Do we’ve any more laser ones like this one? Something with a little more pulse to it, so I’m not having anyone writhing on the ground?

||| 4.0 — Sticky Notes

[ More food? More food.

But Owen behaves himself this time. He fixes himself a ham & cheese sandwich. But before he settles down for his meal, he scribbles a brief note on the fridge whiteboard: ]

Jack Harkness is a twat.

||| 6.0 — Hayloft

[ The science lab? Being used for science? #PressXToDoubt

There is a young man in his late 20s/early 30s, wearing a lab coat with decorated lapels on them, playing basketball with the nanny bots. He nicked the ball from the supply drop area and figured it’ll be a waste to have it collecting dust. And now he’s faking out the tiny cleaning bots to shoot hoops using the rubbish bin.

If you are walking in his general direction, don’t worry, the young chap is rather quick on his feet. He might even shoot a 3-pointer in front of you and do a silly fist pump.

OR

You both run into each other. Hopefully, you don’t have any important science-related materials on your person. ]

• Part IV. Otherworldly

||| 13.0 — Brass Devil {cw: blood, gun violence, gun-related injuries}

[ Braccia is an enormous city. Almost too big to explore in one go. But the simulation already thrusts Owen and his potential partner into the thick of it. A huge big brawl with two of the families going at each other in one of the alleyways.

A member of the Lionetta family had been shot. A bullet straight through the shoulder. Owen is quick enough to drag them over behind one of the parked vehicles.

If you’ve been following him, he will probably ask demand — ]

Tear off your sleeve!

1.0

[fluffernutters]

[The figure in the doorway is hardly large enough to cast a shadow, but the disdain he aims at Owen could fill up the whole infirmary. This place really has gone to shit in the weeks (?) he's been gone.]

I give it about thirty seconds 'til you puke that back up.

[It's plainly derisive, but here's the thing: Five knows desperation when he sees it. He knows the frantic scrabble to shove every crumb into your mouth as quickly as possible, and he knows exactly what happens once it hits your empty stomach.

For all his condescension, though, Five looks just as much of a mess. Pale and clammy in two thirds of a three-piece suit, he's somewhere between still being drunk and having the worst hangover of his adult life. It's not a great look.]

suzaku kururugi | code geass

[knightof]

i. morning after

[ Life in the military comes with certain expectations.

Loyalty, obedience, and so on. A lesser known but equally important one is the ability to go from sleep to waking in a single moment, prepared and ready for whatever may be waiting. In this area, Suzaku has always excelled. So, it’s strange to find himself dozing in and out before the sight of an unfamiliar room breaks through the heavy, half-awake stupor. ]

Wh—

[ The exclamation is cut off as his brain catches up with his eyes. Specifically, when the rest of the surroundings — including a second bed and its occupant — register. Out of sorts from a partially forgotten dream, and still clad in only the boxers he’d slept in, he’s far from his best. That doesn’t stop him from straightening up into the posture of a soldier, a knight, and directing a question towards the stranger. ]

This isn’t Britannia, is it? [ A resigned, almost rhetorical question. He knew the answer before it left his mouth. ] No, nevermind that. Do you recall anything from before you woke up?

[ Because what he's starting to remember isn't promising. ]

ii. random scenario (kitchen)

[ If you’re around the kitchen on this particular day, you may catch a whiff of something tasty. Familiar even, if you’re a fan of Eleven Japanese cuisine. Suzaku’s left most of his cultural ties behind, but he’s always had a weakness for miso soup. And not only because it's one of the few recipes he knows from scratch.

When he catches someone’s eye, stranger or otherwise, he gives a polite nod.]

Oh, hey. Would you like any? I may have made too much.

iii. rate that ass(assin)

[ Guard duty itself is a familiar role. What’s less so is… Well. Just about everything else about the simulation. Between the excess of the festivities and the specific events like jousting and pageantry, it bears a faint similarity to the Arthurian tales Britannia has such a fondness for. There’s a boyish part of Suzaku caught up in the magic of it all, even as the rest of him recognizes the cruelty and indulgence that lies behind.

All of that is put aside for the mission when the party finally arrives.

He stays to the sidelines and watches for anything that seems amiss. A task made more difficult by the sheer expanse of revelers, and the alcohol generously provided for them. It’s slow, dull work, but that’s never bothered him before. And eventually it pays off with the barest glimpse of an individual who’s observation of the ballroom is a little too thorough, before they start to slip away into a side corridor.

The urge to follow after them is a strong one, but it’s an unnecessary risk to take alone. Especially when there’s a whole team here for the same reason. Instead, he takes stock of who’s immediately familiar and approaches the first person he sees from the station. ]

Are you a combatant? I’ve got reason to believe there’s at least one hostile exiting through the hallway to our left. He could be meeting with other conspirators.

[ Assuming his intuition is correct and it isn’t just some poor fellow on his way to the washroom or a secret tryst. Wouldn’t that be awkward? ]

iv. wildcard!

( Feel free to hit me with a different starter or reach out if you’d like me to set something up. I can be contacted via PM or at solarias. )

03

[bindsthedead]

I know how to fight.

[Sabriel's currently in a somewhat ridiculous getup of black velvet embroidered with copious amounts of silver- but she can move relatively easily in it, and there's a knife with so much ornamentation on the sheath that it looks like part of her costume at her hip.

She falls into step beside him, switching to communication over the earpiece.]

Concealment spells aren't my strength, but I should be able to silence our footsteps.

[After all, they need to get evidence- information about when the assassination is meant to take place, and with what means.]

Perceptor | Transformers (IDW)

[nodepth]

I. WAKE ME UP BEFORE YOU GO GO
[… What are you willing to do to erase your regret from existence?

A serious question no doubt. Because the answer should both be "Anything" and "Nothing" for he has already crossed many boundaries, of science and ethics, more than once in his long existence. Nothing should be beyond his willingness to undo some of the wrongs he's done. But because of this he knows exactly what can be expected, what can be forced, what can be pushed.

Recognizing his own willingness makes it all the more disturbing. And yet he cannot reject it. It's too late, and he is not sure he would. Everything is...

...It's been a long time since the Unusual was Normal and thus waking up in a room he does not recognize. He doesn't scream, more cautious than that, but he does take his time. His optics say shuttered while his tube and lens subtly shifts and surveys what he can. A mirror on the other wall works to his advantage. He can see most of the room--including the other bed in it. He cannot move much without giving himself away.

After a moment, he decides there is little point in the subterfuge and sits up. He brings up a hand to touch the device attached his to audial. Strange. A communication device? Sorry to whoever is rooming with him, he's barely paying you any attention. Science happened--magic is only science someone doesn't understand and he will not accept that for anything else--and he needs to learn the mystery of it somehow.]

It would seem, I should have paid more attention to the finer details of that query.


II. RANDOM ENTRY.
[He is taking time to learn the layout of the station. He may be found wandering the station head down, focused intensely on writing on the datapad he pulled form his subspace. To the point he is likely going to run into someone and being around nine feet tall, not notice until it's far too late. Be glad if you're not tall enough to be accidentally bludgeoned with the side of a microscope tube.

Does not deter Perceptor, oh no. Instead he'll be more targeted in his investigations. He will follow the map to the letter, traveling from one side of the permitted areas to the other. He will inspect the illusions of the sunlight room, which are no doubt fascinating in their manipulation of the senses. The focus on the organic life is also curious. He attempts to collect some of the leaves and sample the water...which of course does not work. The items disappear and he's left with more data. Apologies if you were attempting to have a peaceful time and he just trampled all over your zen state.

Then he visits the armory, just to see what kind of weapons can be produced. He doesn't stay long but he does try his hand at the customization feature and wonders if he could adjust it. It's not terrible by far, but improvements can always be made...

It is in the lab though, as usual, where Perceptor knows he's found his place. And his horror. Boxes and boxes and boxes and nothing is properly organized or sorted or in sterilized containment units as needed. It's just boxes. He feels his plating itching, his fingers twitching, and his right eye zooming in as it engages with the disorder. This can't stand. How does anyone possibly work in this situation? Is this an accumulation of months or years of mess, or a recurring tragedy when organization is destroyed time and again? Either way, he cannot let this stand.]

Clearly shelves and storage units need to be built to properly contain all of these experiments and technology. Where do we acquire supplies? Is there excess metal stored somewhere for the sake of repairs? I will built the units myself.

[He's rapid-fire speaking to whoever may be nearby and if he doesn't get the answers he wants quickly enough, he might just move on to search them out on his own.]


III. MAKE AN ASS OUT OF ME FOR U
[He had thought the simulation room would be a simple test run. To understand the nature of it. He had somehow put himself in the center of a rather detailed engagement where he was expected to collect an orb by stopping an assassination? It was complicated and yet simple.

It had been years since he used a sniper rifle for anything beyond target practice, but he had kept up that practice. For all that things were different now, that anxiety--the fear and knowing of what could happen if he let his guard down too far--would never let his skills become too rusty. So he spends the first to days up on the roofs, watching and keeping his lens on the festivities, looking for potential insurgents. Skilled people may notice the sun gleaming off his plating or the reflective shine of his lens at points, but he is a lot more adept at staying out of sight than one might think for a mostly bright red robotic lifeform.

One thing he had let become rusty and outdated? His holomatter form--the hard light disguise that allowed them to blend in with other sentient species. He hadn't had need of it in more time than he bothered to consider. To the point where he needed to recalibrate it one his first attempt. To buy himself extra time.

So he made use of himself as a spectacle. Who wouldn't be interested in testing the latest in advanced technology on the night of the High King's Gala? Perhaps it would be considered unbecoming, to use his alt-mode that way, even demeaning. But it wasn't a real situation, only a simulation, was it not? Why not use what he had at his disposal for the sake of the "mission"? So it would be hard for most to not notice a human-sized microscope set strategically in a place that provide sightlines for much of the room. A quirky bit of fun with something that most might assume was an extravagant waste of funds due to its size alone. You may even be curious enough to step up to it and look through the eyepiece at various slides provided--both large and small. (This is an extremely powerful microscope after all.) It makes it a lot easier for him to scan anyone who comes near for potentially dangerous chemicals or weapons. It's also a good way for any member of his team to relay information while "getting a peek."

And when someone finally insisted on speaking to the one in charge of said microscope?

An average height young man with glasses will then be found walking sedately into the room from some hallway. He's good at staying out of the way, and may look a bit stoic, but also engaged when he finally reaches the platform.]

Yes, hello. You had questions?

[Straight to the point, maybe a bit blunt. But get him involved in a conversation about science or exploration and you will find him both spirited and down right chatty--if a bit argumentative. Not that it stops him from keeping his attention out on potential threats to the High King...mostly. The body movements and expressions become more fluid as the time goes on, as if he's more comfortable with his surroundings...and not that the technology was done with its internal upgrades.

That is until he has to complete his personal task. He barely knows any of these people, yet he's expected to reveal something embarrassing about his past? He'd rather do anything else.]


IV. WILDCARD'S DRAW
{OOC: If I didn't write a prompt to your liking, you can make one up on the fly and I'll run with it! Or you can hit me up at chocolateisbrainfood to talk with me about it.}

lab

[aurable]

[ The labs weren't Drift's usual spot to haunt when he had downtime. Ordinarily, he would help move supplies between the labs and the med bay. Only the residents who so often needed his help or were gracious enough to give him the busywork were sadly absent. A combination of habit and curiosity brought him this way — the former because he had nothing better to do and the latter. After all, he knew there was a recent uptick in new arrivals, and the labs were somehow a popular spot to go rubbernecking for newcomers.

The disorder in the lab wasn't a new or unusual sight. However, seeing a familiar mech fretting about and running his mouth, triggered solely by the sound of the door opening and the need to hear his own voice — was. ]

Percy?!

geralt | the witcher

[wolvenhour]

2.0 — the infirmary

[ Geralt by now has leveled out from the initial shock of waking up on the station. Thanks partly to Avallac'h, the concept of other worlds wasn't a distant theory to be debated but something tangible he's already experienced. That said, "other worlds" logically implied actual, solid ground — not floating among the stars. Geralt was still refusing to look outside the portholes, stubbornly clinging to the superstition that he wouldn't have to think about it if he didn't look.

There were more immediate concerns, like the nasty swipe a cockatrice took at his flank in the Sansretour valley before that disturbing dream about regrets. The infirmary was easy to find, and while he assumed others thought him to be a simple-minded bumpkin jumping at shadows, it was nice to know bandage rolls were the same in any universe.

Geralt was standing near a bed, naked from the waist up. Clean bandages were now wrapped around his midsection. Grunting as he fished out something from the jerkin draped over the bedside. He held a glass vial with a rusty red, slightly viscous liquid to his lips when he turned at the sound of someone approaching. Quickly downing the concoction, the change was almost immediate. Angry red tendrils of neck veins pushed out against his deathly white skin, and his eyes' slitted yellow pupils seemed to grow brighter. The red slashed of blood seeping through his bandages darkened, and the flow stopped almost entirely as if fresh wounds healed and aged days in a matter of seconds.

Shaking his head like a wet down, Geralt made a retching sound before tossing the vial on the bed. ] Never liked that stuff.

11.0 — the gala

[ If Geralt didn't know any better, he would have assumed Vivica was a talented sorceress with a penchant for illusionary magic and a cheap sense of humor. While he had gotten his bearings quickly on entering the Simulation Room (read: illusions but make it sound more academic), he didn't appreciate the theme.

Supporting the wall at one end of the ballroom, Geralt stood stiffly in a tight-fitting turquoise doublet with a dour expression. He was operating under the assumption that if he stood perfectly still the entire night, no one would bother him or be too put off to ask him for a dance. So far his plan was going off without a hitch, but the knowledge he had been given a task started to gnaw at him.

If another orber doesn't ask him for a dance then when they stand nearby, Geralt, out of blessed nowhere, swallows a mouthful of wine with his pride and starts in on a little story: ] Once my fellow witchers and I broke into Yennefer's room to wear her clothes and try and summon other sorceresses on the off chance they'd risk discovery to visit. We were blind drunk at the time.

0.0 — wildcard

( please feel free to use any other prompt or request one from me via dm or at bretons )

gala time;

[choicely]

[ The simulation room is certainly on par with some of the most skilled sorcerers' abilities — Yennefer has become more accustomed to the degree of illusion present within it, but there are times it is still unnerving, the realism enough to fool many of her own senses. This encounter, in particular, seems more designed to her own proficiencies, which doesn't make it feel less immersive by extension, but she's hardly anticipating the sight of anything, or anyone, more recognizable beyond the familiarity of the environment.

Spinning pairs on the dancefloor part as the band concludes their current song and prepares to begin another, and the shock of white hair on a man posed along one of the far walls of the hall directs her gaze not just to pause but to halt altogether.

It's only once she finally nears, at least getting within earshot if not allowing herself to step within his eyeliner, that she overhears the sound of her own name, and she half-considers the possibility that the thudding of her own heart will alert him to her presence before the other distinct aspects he's become capable of recognizing — her scent, chief among them. ]

I imagine you were soon discovered. [ The response is calmer than she feels, her pulse quickened now, her fingers curling in along her sides where the fall of her dress hides their betraying clench. ]

daemon targaryen / hotd

[kyvanon]

part i. 1.0 / part ii 3.0

( daemon does not regret much. perhaps very little or nothing at all. what boots to wear, how much wine to drink, the way in which he had stabbed someone on the battlefield. all minor and nothing important, though he briefly thinks of rhaenyra as he sits quietly on the edge of the strange bed in an equally strange place. too much white, no stone or familiar surroundings. there are a few other beds in the room, all of them occupied, and for a moment, he simply looks on like there's nothing wrong. 

he considers, briefly, killing these strangers in their sleep, but it's the touch of his fingers against his ear that stills him.

the voice that follows is met with scrutiny and skepticism, barely acknowledged aside from the fact he now has a map at his disposal. when he leaves, maybe someone stops him. otherwise, he continues on until he finds the armory.

inside, it's just as the other room had been—clean, almost sterile. empty of the weapons he would have assumed to be there, but the contraption there begs to be pressed everywhere until it produces something he can use. the look on daemon's face isn't one of pleasure, confusion overtaking most of his features as he takes the item and places his finger on the trigger. it's not a sword, but there's only one way to test exactly what it can do, turning at the sound of someone else at the door. )

Name yourself. ( and he'll decide whether to shoot or not. )

part iii. 10.0 / 11.0

( this feels more of home. the festivities, the drinking, the violence.

even if it's a simulation, it's real enough.

daemon can be found in various places once he's settled into his role and what needs to be done. on the first day, he wanders the crowded streets and idly browsing, a hood thrown over his head to better blend in with the people swarming around him. there is nothing new about this aside from the landscape and the layout of the roads. and it's possible he could be found near the theater, standing quietly and watching. on the evening of the second night, daemon visits the lowlight district in hopes of finding particular company for the evening. 

to ease the nerves. perhaps settle his plans. 

because on the third day, he appears at the gala as if he has no care in the world, drunk to many looking on from afar but clearly sober if anyone happens to get close enough. daemon takes the hand of a person nearby and leads them out onto the dancefloor without a word. )

wildcard.

( i am also open to various meetings on the three days of celebration that involve jousting ( he'll be unrepentant about trying to win, sorry ) or even anything in part iv if anyone is interested. training/sparring and anything else is also on the table if you want to get sweaty with a targaryen prince. pm for questions or to plot something out! will match style as well! )

Armory

[morethan084]

[Daisy’s running out of ammo on one of her guns, so she’s just coming in here to make more. Coming to a stop in the doorway when she notices the gun aimed at her, she raises a hand out of instinct. Ready to knock whoever it is back with her power, until she notices their face.

Confusion sets in and she lowers her hand, just a little.]

What did you do to your hair?

[She’s thinking this is the Doctor, and despite his reaction, she doesn’t actually see him as a threat. Yet.]

Also, you wanna put the gun down? Never thought of you as the trigger happy type.

[Actually, she’s pretty sure she’s never even seen him hold a gun.]

Dongfang Qingcang | Cang Lan Jue/Love Between Fairy and Devil

[yuezun]

Arrival: The Bed Situation
The dream was not his - not originally. It seemed that the heart curse that forced him to experience the emotions and physical pains of the weak fairy was strong enough to pull him into her dream when she was contacted by an outside force. When he'd recognized it as something preying on her mind, he'd been ready to defend her. After all, defending her was defending himself. But the vision and the implications of the vision was enough to give him pause and then accept. Whether the fairy did or not did not matter. He has accepted on both their behalves. He couldn't keep her safe - and himself safe - if she did not come with, and the heart curse was certainly strong enough to affect him across worlds.

As such, when he opened his eyes and sat up, he was expecting to see her next to him.

What he was saw was a very white and unappealing room with two beds. The one he was on and the one....

Random Scenario: The Kitchen
He did not attend the kitchen because he truly needed to eat - he was immortal and could exist without sustenance if he wished - but because the weak fairy was often hungry and he felt her hunger as his own. Knowing where he could go to sate it was simply the next logical step. The fact that he rummaged through the cabinets and storage like a man possessed (which, technically...) in search of a specific snack cake that he couldn't stop craving was just another thing to blame on the fairy.

"Where are they?" he snapped, slamming the door he'd had open and turning his glare on the next.

Random Scenario: Earpiece
[The voice in his ear draws his attention to it's existence. It hadn't felt it at all before, which he was going to blame on his (justified!) preoccupation with blaming the fairy for most everything he'd experienced thus far. And he was going to continue to mentally blame her for distracting him and preventing his awareness of the thing. Once the strange... whatever that was with the unfamiliar woman's voice... another filled his head and began explaining how to use the thing.]

I see. Then I will announce myself.

[The translation of the personal 'I' is slightly jumbled, as if the device is trying to translate it as several different words at once, though it comes out just clear enough to be understandable.]

I am Dongfang Qingcang. If any of you meet a woman fairy of weak constitution and no small measure of annoying laziness, and she answers to Little Orchid Flower, order-

-tell her that she is to contact me immediately.

Earpiece

[orchidfairy]

[There's a bit of a squeak in his earpiece. A familiar one at that. Even if he can't see it, he can probably sense the fairy's displeasure at being called out so publically! She's not sure how this earpiece works, but she assumed it broadcasts through the entire area]

Hey!

[She's mad at him. Probably standing with her arms crossed and a pretty pout forming on those soft lips.

Did he make up any lies about her? Of course not. Everything he said was true in one form or another. He just didn't have to announce it like that! She knows who he is now, being from the same time period]

I'm not lazy!