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abraxaslogs2021-08-08 10:54 pm
abraxasmods) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-08-08 10:54 pm
Entry tags:
- !intro log,
- abigail hobbs; the hanged man,
- alina starkov; the hanged man,
- alucard; the hierophant,
- amos burton; the lovers,
- belle; strength,
- brad bakshi; the wheel of fortune,
- cirilla of cintra; the devil,
- coraline finch; the tower,
- emet-selch; the emperor,
- eponine thenardier; the hanged man,
- estinien wyrmblood; the hermit,
- geralt of rivia; the hanged man,
- gideon nav; strength,
- hector; the magician,
- himeka sui; the fool,
- homelander; judgement,
- jaskier; the sun,
- jolie ann harmony; justice,
- jon sims; the high priestess,
- julie lawry; the wheel of fortune,
- kiryu kazuma; the tower,
- link; strength,
- lloyd henreid; the lovers,
- louis; death,
- majima goro; the hanged man,
- martin blackwood; the empress,
- nadine cross; the world,
- nero (drakengard); the devil,
- peter parker (mcu); strength,
- phoenix wright; the lovers,
- roland deschain; death,
- sam wilson; justice,
- sasarai; judgement,
- some ovmennet; the empress,
- stephen strange; death,
- yennefer of vengerberg; the chariot,
- yuri lowell; the tower
INTRO LOG #2
Intro Log #2
It has been two months now since the initial group of summonings first took place. Castle Thorne, or at least the part above ground, is buzzing with a vibrant air of hope following the 'success' at the Singularity. Eager smiles and excited chattering are to be found in nearly every corner of the castle and surrounding town. The honored guests may find grateful looks turned their way more often than not. A new and brighter day seems to be dawning on the kingdom.
In the dungeons it's a different story entirely. The mood is somber and uneasy. The prisoner taken for trial has yet to return, and no word has come regarding her or her fate. There has been no mention of any further trials as of yet and guards seem to have little patience for unruly behavior or even conversation. Some seem to not even look at or acknowledge the prisoners at all.
[ Feel free to continue threads from the TDM here or start your own! As cell and room assignments will be short-lived due to this month's event, you're free to assume whichever cellmates and roommates you like instead of officially signing up as long as there are ICly no more than four people in a cell or room at once. ]
In the dungeons it's a different story entirely. The mood is somber and uneasy. The prisoner taken for trial has yet to return, and no word has come regarding her or her fate. There has been no mention of any further trials as of yet and guards seem to have little patience for unruly behavior or even conversation. Some seem to not even look at or acknowledge the prisoners at all.
[ Feel free to continue threads from the TDM here or start your own! As cell and room assignments will be short-lived due to this month's event, you're free to assume whichever cellmates and roommates you like instead of officially signing up as long as there are ICly no more than four people in a cell or room at once. ]
Ciri | The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt | The Devil
[ Ciri is no stranger to showing up suddenly in a strange world -- it's just that, usually, she meant to go there, at least a little bit. Sure, it's not like she can control it very well, and she's definitely ended up in plenty of places she didn't quite mean to end up in, but never like this.
Any attempts to use her powers to go home have been entirely fruitless. It was her first instinct, when she found herself in a strange place being hauled naked out of the abyss by strange hands, but even before her captors explained (somewhat) and kindly informed her they'd be dampening any magic power she had, Ciri found she couldn't go back. It was like the part of her she reached for to push through the barriers between worlds, despite all her training and hard work over the last few years, was simply... gone.
After coming to this realization, there was little Ciri could do. She'd put on the rough, ill-fitting clothes provided and allowed herself to be led to a cramped cell, if not quietly, then at least without violence.
Now, after several hours of pacing the small space and peering out past the bars up and down the hall, she sits on one of the lower bunks with a groan and a muttered curse. Elbows on her knees, Ciri lets her head sink into her hands. ]
Least they took the manacles off. Nice of 'em.
[ Perhaps some of her cell mates were already here when she arrived, perhaps waiting for her to settle down, or maybe someone new is brought in just then. Ciri looks up again, pushing her light hair out of her face and leaning her temple on the cold metal bar holding up the bunks. She's already bored. ]
...hi.
ii. yard work
[ On the one hand, being let out of the cell at all is more than Ciri was expecting. She's been a bit surprised, honestly, at the relatively decent accommodations as far as prisons are concerned. The rooms are not as filthy as they could be, nor the food as scarce or inedible. They're even allowed time outside.
And this, she plans to take full advantage of. Her powers may be inaccessible to her, but Ciri has rarely relied much on magic except when truly necessary. She has plenty of tricks up her sleeve that magic inhibitors can't touch. She'll only need the patience to find an opening. Eventually.
These are the vague plans going through her mind while Ciri examines the periphery of the courtyard, trying not to attract the attention of the guards while she walks around. She presses her hands to the wall a few times, or crouches down to look at its foundation. Maybe someone besides the guards notices...?
Or maybe she spots someone using some of the heavier-looking weights, or working out on one of the benches. Ciri approaches, waving. ]
Mind if I take a turn?
(( ooc: Open to plotting and wildcard! Hit me up via PM, on the CR Meme, or over at
for geralt.
The doorway is a bottleneck, and there's a decent-sized group of people in front of Ciri. She tries to push, earning a stern reprimand from one of the guards, and stops only because she doesn't want to be brought back to her cell now of all times. If it had been anything else, she might have snapped back; now, she shuts up and obeys, heart hammering in her throat, meek as a mouse until she's free and clear with a full view of the courtyard.
And that's when Ciri runs. She avoids the other prisoners deftly, ducking around anyone in her way who doesn't move fast enough, head turning from side to side as she searches. It probably was just in her head. After all, it wouldn't even make sense. It would hardly be a good thing, all considered. And yet--
For a moment, everything else falls away. Time slows to a stop. It doesn't matter where they are, or why; when she sees him again, Ciri can't bring herself to be unhappy in the slightest.
She gasps, loud and shocked and delighted. She dashes forward, arms outstretched. ]
Geralt!
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yard work
He had been jogging around the yard earlier, but his stamina has once against left him long before it should have. He feels dizzy, frail from lack of nourishment. It takes a lot of food to sustain a 6'8" elf, and recently he's been lucky to have the guards give him anything at all.
So, ultimately, he's had to sit down at the wall to rest prematurely. It's unspeakably frustrating. At the start of their imprisonment he had worked out as long as he could every day, in and outside of the cell... but bit by bit that vitality has been leaving him. Instead, he watches Ciri investigate their prison, wondering if he should spare her some time. At least one thing does come to mind, though, for such an enterprising soul.
"Before you get too far into that," he says to her, "there's something you might want to know."
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ii. yard work
But the new week brought new arrivals trickling into the castle and its dungeon. It brought curiosity out of him but nothing that he acted upon other than to observe. Of course, Majima never truly got what he wanted out of life. That wouldn't have been usual for his life.
So when he was working out in the yard, using some of the crappy equipment left for them, it wasn't much of a surprise when someone came over to him and spoke directly to him. The lean man was full of wiry muscle and every bit of it was on display as he bench pressed weights without his shirt on. Which made the intricate tattoo visible as well.
He placed the bar back on the stand and tilted his head to look at the person who spoke at him. His eyebrows raised as he noticed it was a woman but he deigned not to comment. Not his world, not his place.]
Ya wants it that bad, huh? [He made a huff of noise as he sat up and then craned his head to pop it. He stood. He was a little over six feet tall.] Fine. Have a go.
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cells
[Eponine had looked up when she initially heard the commotion, but had soon put her head down again. This is how she sits now, back to the cell bars, legs drawn up and her face hidden in her knees. Her skinny arms wrap around her whilst she sits and waits.
Waits for what is anyone's guess.
When Eponine speaks, her voice is cracked and harsh. There's no gaity, no humour, no emotion either. It's the voice of a ghost, of the dead, and Eponine's hollow cheeks and blank expression probably don't do much to dissuade Ciri that she's talking to a corpse.]
Look. [She holds her wrists out, bruised and sore from the manacles.]
They fasten 'em tight if you make trouble, Madame. Don't talk about the manacles.
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for alina.
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yard work
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Roland / Death arcana
[ Choose one of his prompts from the tdm, or feel free to start a thread assuming your character has already met Roland. You can hash things out with me on the plotting post or plurk if you like! ]
001 - Weapons Practice
[ In one of the castle courtyards used for weapons practice and training, there's the sound of gunshots. If you follow them, or if you're already there doing your own training, you'll find Roland with two old fashioned pistols. They're nothing special, and his expression as he sights with them is fairly disdainful.
Not that he's missed a single shot he's taken. In fact, the center of target he's aiming for has been all but destroyed.
He won't bother anyone else nearby who seems to be practicing in earnest, but if others are taking a break from their own weapon or martial endeavours, he'll ask-- ] You're a fair hand at that, Sai. Been at it long?
[ And later, as he sits and takes apart the guns (using strips torn from the hem of his silken white robes to clean the parts) he'll call to someone walking past-- ] Cry your pardon, but would it do you to pass me that can just by your feet, Sai?
[ It's a small can of gun oil, and he may or may not deliberately have left it there in order to get people into conversation with him. There's precious few ways to find things out from those native to this land, so talking to the others who've been fished out of Ambrose's porcelain bowl has to be how it's done. ]
002 - In the Dungeons
[ Roland has been a frequent visitor of the dungeons (of some parts of them. There's some prisoners he'd rather avoid...) and today is no exception. He makes sure he brings food down with him, having noticed how the guards have taken a grimmer tone with the inmates.
Not that he minds, it means some of them will be more receptive to people bringing them things. And given the mood in the air and the length of time some of these people have been locked up with no trial in sight (and one woman taken, he hears?) Roland would like to make sure he keeps abreast of what's happening.
He has an apple to hand as he walks, shiny and red. There's more in the gunna slung over his shoulder, along with a few cakes and pies he's taken from the tables upstairs. Stopping at the bars, he pauses a moment to chew on his cigarette, holds up the apple and-- ] In the mood for a palaver, Sai?
[ Depending on what response he might have received from the inmate previously, the subtext of I'll give you food if you tell me what I want to know is more or less obvious. He doesn't think he has any need to hide his intentions. ]
for Susan
[ He feels again the raging torrent of emotion that he'd felt at fourteen.
No, not feels again-- feels still that love for this girl-woman. She may be able to hold her tears back, but Roland cannot. It's been only a few days for him since he'd sat on the turnpike with his new ka-tet (those three people and a Billy-Bumbler that he had not wanted but had been given all the same). Only a few days since he had delved deep into his past and brought the face of the woman at the window to his mind's eye and shared the tale of his first quest as a gunslinger. His first love. His first steps on the road towards the Dark Tower.
And to have her here, now, flesh and blood and a warm face pressed to his cheek as he never thought he'd feel again-- how can he keep back his tears? To hold them back would be worse.
He closes his eyes, the better to keep from looking at her like he is. She's right, of course. Susan had made her choices, he had made his. Ka had blown where it willed. All things had served the beam. He nods his head, gently, and opens his eyes again. ]
Cry thy pardon, Susan.
[ And there's something like joy there, hidden deep in his eyes inamongst the tears; hidden deep enough that he doesn't entirely know he's feeling it yet. ]
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for Lloyd
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001
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dungeons
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001
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000
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ii. fun in the sun
iii. wildcard
ii
Oh.
"Oh," he gasps, turning to see him with his own eyes, hand still covering his mouth. Hastily, he closes all of the extra eyes so they only look like the scars they used to be, and before he's decided if this is a good idea or not, he's heading for him, barely able to not break into a run.
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iii
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1
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i.
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yennefer of vengerberg { the witcher } chariot
{ geralt.
[ there is no reason, yet, for her to be concerned with her answer. the last image she has before coming through that well had been of the dark stretch of countryside, of fire, burning through suits of armor. of the screams, her own and those of others. the memory of the feeling just nearly has her shaking again, the pure chaos of it, the fire itself. but she is still watching him, as she answers, which means that she sees the barest hint of reaction cross over his golden eyes. she can't quite read what it is, can't quite understand what geralt is hiding, but it's odd. perhaps misplaced.
except that it is then that geralt turns his eyes away, and the furrow in her brow deepens. his answer does nothing to help clear the expression - if anything, she feels herself become more confused by it. cintra? he'd been at cintra? making his way to sodden? smoke? her eyes widen a bit as the implications settle, thinking back to just minutes before, nine weeks. ]
No, that's not possible. [ a simple statement, though she knows it to be wrong even as she says it. not possible. who is she to say what isn't possible? she's spent so much of her recent life fighting that very concept, hasn't she? ] Sodden did not burn before. And if you have been here weeks... [ before the battle. it was the last stronghold, it was their attempt to cut nilfgaard's forces before they continue inward. her mind is spinning, now, with the ideas of it. geralt, who has been in this bloody prison for nine weeks but who had asked about her, who had been concerned, because of the state of the north. because nilfgaard was marching. nine weeks ago she had been considering istredd. she'd been on an entirely different path. nine weeks prior...
she steps more in front of him, now, knowing that he is avoiding looking at her, but deciding that she doesn't care. she can't bring herself to his eye level, not with his height, but she steps in to close the distance between them again, the pull between them returning. ] What aren't you saying, Geralt?
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{ some.
Re: { some.
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{ zelda.
{ alucard.
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wildcard babeyyy
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{ wildcard-ish, a visitor!
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YEARS LATER I AM SO SORRY
...
Some | OC | The Empress | Welcome
Nocturnal
It's very late when Some's actually free to move about the castle. So many windows make it a dangerous place for him by daylight. Even after dark, torchlight is a constant risk, but glass-shielded lanterns, he learn, do no more than make his skin itch and eyes sting. So he's wrapped himself in the blanket from his bed to go exploring.
He checks out the dining hall, wrinkling his nose against all of the powerful, conflicting scents there as he looks to see if there is anything at all he can eat.
He pokes his nose into every empty room he can find, because he literally has never seen a building before this one, and wants to know why so many tunnels dead-end like that.
He takes to the roofs at one point, sinuous and lanky as he climbs in and out windows, up sheer walls, down the vines growing in courtyards. In the heights, he's a black shadow against dark shale, but his eyes catch the light, reflecting as eight green disks.
Clean
And then he finds the baths, the shaped pools filled by, he assumes, a thermal spring somewhere out of his sight. Though they don't smell right for that. Still, the wafting steam and heavy, humid air lure him in. They feel almost like home, like the springs just two chimneys away from where his tribe lives. He doesn't even bother to shed his guest's tunic as he climbs into one, sinking below the surface for a moment to come up shaking warm water from his fur.
Abigail Hobbs | Hannibal | The Hanged Man
She tries to sit in the corner where possible, whether it's in her cell or out in the courtyard, so that no one can come up from behind her, legs bunched up against her chest with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her fingers dig into the back of her hands, and when she has to raise a hand to eat, or to tuck her hair behind her ear, it's obvious that she's shaking with her nerves. She's polite, her smile tight and trying to give away as little as possible. She stares too much, though, especially at the images embroidered on the back of the prisoners tunics, vaguely recognising the tarot cards but not knowing anything about them - and she's a little afraid of finding out what symbol she bears on her own back.
At mealtimes she scarfs down her food as quickly as possible, afraid it's going to be taken from her. At night she's reluctant to sleep, instead just curling up on her side on her mattress and willing the night hours to pass as quickly as possible, as it's then that she finds the memories of her own world and her haunting guilt impossible to avoid.
[ I'm happy to write either prose or brackets. My test drive prompts are here, or hit me up on the CR meme or at
out in the yard
However, if there's one thing that can catch and hold his attention for more than two seconds it's a person in distress more than himself. At first his curiosity just has him watch from afar. But after a day or two, he realizes that the girl isn't getting much better, she isn't adjusting to the new situation all that well. Not that he can blame her. Most people don't expect to get kidnapped out of the blue one day much less end up in a jail on a completely different planet from where they originated. It didn't help that some people were pulled right out of distress from their own world and life back home. For all he knew, she was still in shock from something completely unrelated.
Either way, he felt a tug towards her. Helping someone else was always a damned weakness of his that he couldn't quite shake. And women and children that weren't used to such bad scenarios particularly pulled at his heartstrings.
So one day as she sat curled up in the courtyard, watching everyone else move about like a mouse ready to get gobbled up by something larger, Majima made his way over towards the same wall as her. He kept a comfortable amount of space between them but soon he was sprawled out on the ground in a similar manner with his back against the wall but one leg stretched out and the other only half bent just so he could rest an arm there. He didn't look at her when he spoke, instead keeping his one good eye out on the crowd (though he did specifically sit on her left side so he could see her out of the corner of his eye). It was obvious he wasn't talking to anyone else though, and (hopefully) not just to himself.
"First time in a dungeon I take it," he said casually as if it wasn't his first (spoiler: it actually wasn't). "It's kinda hard, huh. Trust me though it could always be worse. You're doin' a fine job keeping yer head down and not drawin' too much attention to the guards at least so that's good." He cocked his head to one side, still not quite looking at her. "Maybe not so much the prisoners though. A little too hopeless lookin' there. You gonna be all right, little missy?"
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The cells
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c/w for execution method discussions
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the cells (vaguely tdm-continuation?)
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Phoenix Wright | Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney | The Lovers
Phoenix is... not really dealing with the whole Horizon thing well. After waking back up in the 'real world' and remembering everything he forgot, it was hard not to think of the fact that this world seemed to be able to take his memories on a whim. It was also hard to not think of the fact that... well. He's been gone for two months. Two months his daughter is wondering where he's gone. And he's not any closer to coming home. Maybe he'll never be.
He's managed to maintain his sobriety, which is a herculean feat itself, but he's broken down on tobacco. He's somehow rustled up a pack of cigarettes from the servants, something all the way from the 'Free Cities', wherever that is.
So now he stands outside of the castle in some isolated spot overlooking the rest of the town, smoking with a grim expression on his face. An ash tray sits by him, perched on top of a stone fence, and it's clear he's already gone through most of the pack. It's just taking the edge off, he tells himself. He wishes he had somewhere to truly be private, somewhere he didn't feel so exposed.
Bird break
Phoenix is minding his own damn business, trying to read through these legal books and write up notes on them, when he just imagines idly how nice it'd be to be a bird without a care. And then with little in the way of transition, he's a blue jay.
He's a fucking blue jay.
He has no idea how to turn back, so he panics, and now there is a screeching bright blue bird flying through the castle, looking a little drunk because it clearly doesn't know how to fly. Don't mind it while it continually screeches and slams into walls and people's faces.
Cell Visit
Phoenix has had a weird day, but it's time to visit the new... clients, he guesses? More innocent people in the dungeon means more people he is going to try to get out of there.
So he comes down with a basket full of treats from upstairs, going from cell to cell to get to know everyone there. As he comes to this one, he smiles and waves. "Hey. I'm Phoenix Wright." He offers his basket, which smells pretty darn good. "Are you hungry?"
Birb!
But he's pretty sure it's going to hurt itself if it continues like that, or... or actually, maybe it already has, from the way it flies. Dropping to the floor again, he follows the bird, and when he's close, tries to carefully net it with his ridiculous spread of hands.
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Cell visit
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Alucard | Castlevania | Imprisoned
[It has not escaped Alucard's notice that the mood of the guards has shifted. Whereas some of them could be counted on to be a bit lazier, or perhaps more overzealous, there is a greater uniformity. No patience exists if two people raise voices at each other. Others look at them only when required.
To call it concerning is an understatement, and with nothing else to do but observe, that's precisely what Alucard does. He's no paper or pen with him, but that's fine. He's seated himself in the same corner of the yard over the past few days, and he makes little notations in the dirt that are easily brushed away.]
That one's more ornery-- [he murmurs, seeming to draw idly. He's using one of the scripts used mostly for magic in his father's library.] The one next to him was meeting our eyes yesterday, that's changed.
[It's important work, if there's to be any chance at escaping here.]
Old Horizons
[Since that first trip to the Horizon, Alucard has ached to go back. To find the little Domain he set up for himself, making it easier to shut out the world.
Geralt's showed him the rough ropes of meditation. He's struggled. Found it impossible a few times, mind unable to not pull in every direction at once. He's paranoid, he's grieving, he wants nothing more than to tear this entire castle down. Every emotion swells and crashes like a wave, one after another and--
--and one day he manages it.
He's in his horrid little depression hut. Which means that he can bundle himself up in warm furs and blankets and sit, or else amuse himself going for a walk. Regardless, should someone find their way to his door or run into him upon one of those walks, they'll be met with the same reaction: a glare and a simple question.]
What about this place makes you think it welcomes company?
Wildcard
PM me and we can figure something out
Closed to Hector; Horizon
His feet lead him elsewhere anyway. There's an unseen path beneath his feet, and it leads him--
--well, wherever here is. Whoever this place belongs to, a cabin in a far more welcoming place than his own creepy fuck off woods. Alucard doesn't know how he keeps crossing borders like this, but he knows he ought to leave.
Except when he turns to go the way he came, the domain expands.
Ugh.
So Alucard walks towards the cabin. If he passes it, then he'll likely be able to walk beyond it and cross the border to elsewhere and further away.
His shadow is long. Enough that it might pass through a window.]
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Yard
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Old Horizons
Re: Old Horizons
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Sasarai | Suikoden | Welcomed ♗ Judgement Arcana
[The first thing Sasarai had done when arriving in Thorne was scream directly in Ambrose's face. How many ways were there to react to falling asleep in a nice warm bed only to moments later be dragged naked from the black depths of a well by a complete stranger? Or, well, it had felt like moments.
Since then he's been trying to communicate with his True Rune but has seen only glimmers of light in the corner of his vision as signs that it could still hear him. Whatever magic it is that governs Thorne, it's powerful enough to silence the True Earth Rune. That's disconcerting, even if the mages have tried to reassure him that his power will return soon.
It's been hard for him to sleep so he's wandering the castle, peering out the windows. When he sees someone approach he squares his shoulders, lifts his chin and greets them with a smile, trying not to show any of the worry he's actually feeling.]
Hey.
Can't sleep either, huh?
ii. dungeons
[It's not long before Sasarai becomes restless for more answers. There must be people who know things the mages are not telling him.
He knows political propaganda when he sees it. He's taken part in enough of it himself over the years.
Eventually, he decides to venture into the dungeons. If there are prisoners here who were dragged into this world against their will like he was then maybe they can offer a different perspective on things.
He walks along the cells until he finds someone who looks like they'd be willing to have a chat.]
Dare I ask what you're here for?
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Louis | Beastars | Death
[For continuing TDM threads or making new threads based on their prompts here There's a prompt for roommates and the dungeons.]
Library
Louie of course decides to learn magic as quickly as possible. He's in a dangerous place with too many unknown threats, and he doesn't have a gun. So learning how to throw fireballs it is.
So there is a one-legged deer sitting back at a desk with a book on simple magic open and a notebook out covered in neat printed notes. He's practicing his fireball spell continuously, frowning at it every time it doesn't come out quite right before looking back at the book.
Unfortunately, someone steps in the space he's firing in, and nearly gets singed.
"You should really avoid stepping into the line of fire," he says dryly instead of apologizing or telling them to look out.
The Town
Learning about the area around this castle can only serve him well, and he refuses to sit around and potentially look like he feels sorry for himself, so he goes outside. It's a bit of a task with the crutch, but he manages to make it look graceful through sheer pride alone.
Outside, the people greet him enthusiastically, and he responds graciously in kind. A woman offers a free sample of her jam tartlets, eager to see what a deer man thinks of them. Of course he says that they're delicious, even if honestly tartlets are too rich for him. A man offers him a silk scarf from his store, saying that the colors were inspired by the woods and he'd like to gift it to an honored guest. Louis wears it, of course, and thanks the man for his generosity.
When Louis sits on a bench in the town square to rest, children run up, eager to ask questions. A little girl shyly says she made a flower crown for him, and may she please put it around his antlers?
"You asked so politely, of course you may," Louis says, bowing his head so her little hands can reach his antlers. "I'd be honored to wear it."
Some of the parents surge forward to pull their children back, sputtering apologies, but Louis waves them off. No, no, he didn't become a Beastar candidate by being bad with kids. Besides, it's teaching him a lot about the area and giving him a lot of easy social capital to be seen being good to the kids.
Of course, the children that sit near him ask curiously about what happened to his leg, and he gives all of them different answers.
"I let a friend borrow it." "I decided I was bored with two legs." "I was too good at skip rope, so my friends said I could only do it with one leg." "I lost it under my bed." "I forgot it in my other jacket."
Every answer is delivered in the same polite deadpan. He smiles fondly at the children as the younger ones completely believe him and the older ones burst into fits of giggles, distracted from their curiosity by the deer man's silly answers.
Library
All of this is new to him. They've all been through it, she knows firsthand how confusing all of this is. "You must be another new arrival. I don't blame you for jumping right in, I did that myself when I was first getting used to this place." Although she had been more interested in research than magic, especially when she was just getting started.
"I'm Belle."
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Jolie Harmony | Odd Thomas | Justice
Jolie is still in jail. She's still really, really hungry. She's still really, really mad, though the anger is getting harder to sustain the longer she has to subsist on one stupid meal a day. So she spends her time singing ("This is the song that never ends! Yes, it goes on and on, my friends!"), telling what she can remember out of various books ("And so the four hobbits left the shire, looking for the inn Gandalf told them about."), clinging like a teenaged monkey to her cell door, and getting used to the fact that she has tentacles now.
She's actually kind of creeped out by the weird coiled shadows she has on her back, now. They don't seem to do much, just curl and wave and keep making her jerk when she sees them out of the corner of her eye.
But she keeps trying to practice with them. Spot her trying to wrap one around the leg of the bed or as an additional limb to hang onto the cell door with, or waving around as she tells whatever story she's on today.
II. Horizon Is Slightly Less Awful
At least when she's properly zoned out and imagines the peaceful beach and its cliff, she can be there. She's only about half-sure she's really there, half-sure she's gone from daydreaming into full-on hallucinating, but it's a nice escape for an hour or two at a time. Sometimes she swims, sometimes she lays in the sun.
Sometimes she wanders, looking for something else in the expanse of nothing. Someone else, maybe to prove this is or isn't a hallucination. At least she remembers who she is, this time. "Hi," she says the next person she meets. "Are you real?"
1
But today, while he's wandering past a cell while the guards studiously ignore their charges, he sees something odd.]
Neat trick.
[It isn't like any magic he's ever seen—no casting circle, no incantation. Actually, they seem more like a part of her, and Yuri's not sure what to make of that.]
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amos burton | the expanse | lovers arcana
(cw for some light suicidal ideation)
[ The dungeons feel like poison.
It's a combination of things: having his agency once again stripped away, at the whims of someone — doesn't matter who — with more power; the Horizon and his own subconscious' reminding him of what he's lost by being here, of what it felt like to be back home, on the Roci, with people he trusts. There are some people he likes here, sure, but they aren't his people. He has nobody to follow. That usually results in something bad happening, but it's also getting to the point where he's about to stop caring, lump in his throat not abiding, muscles tensed, silent and looking like he's about ready to murder anyone who looks at him the wrong way because, well, he is.
There's nobody around to tell him not to, just bars and powerful magic he doesn't understand to dissuade him, but this is a man very close to a breaking point, and his breaking points have never been pretty.
For the most part anybody in, around, or approaching his cell will find a man sitting on his bunk, eerily still like he's not really there, body tensed, just waiting for a chance to do. Who knows what, really, but he wouldn't be surprised if it ended with his dead body. As long as he can take out others on his way there, he's fine with that. ]
> rec yard
[ The novelty of fresh air means nothing to him now — probably both a sign of how long he's been grounded, as well as how little he cares, given his current circumstances.
Said circumstances have given him at least some direction, though: sometimes it's laps along the wall encasing them; most of the time he's at the weights, rhythmically lifting them. They aren't heavy enough for him anymore, he finds — too accustomed to 1 g again, too accustomed to working with the limited set day in, day out for months. But still, he keeps at them. He can't build, but at least he can maintain, and Amos has no intention of getting sloppy with his physicality now. Not when he can tell something in him's about to break.
At some point, though, he does have to take a break, sitting on the crude bench, staring out at the rest of the yard with unseeing eyes, too in his own head before he gets back at it again. ]
> wildcard
[ If we've already got CR going, feel free to hit me with whatever; he'll be receptive, just give him a minute or two. If not, arii#6412 or
Rec yard
[Eponine shifts herself slowly up from the wall where she’s been slumped, bored. She’s been watching Amos, it’s true. In fairness, she’s been watching everybody. But he’s the one with the wild look in his eyes, that look that says anything could happen. It’s dangerous and thrilling and oddly comfortingly desperate. It’s a look she’s seen in Montparnasse, in Claquesous and her Pa. it draws her more than kindness and pity. She doesn’t care either, if he tells her to go, because her ears are deaf to it. She comes to sit on the bench next to him.]
Why do you do it, over and over? Hold the - the…? The things? Are you not bored? Are you not sick of this, Sir?
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jebus where did this notif go
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dungeons;
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Julie Lawry | The Stand | The Wheel of Fortune
[ Feel free to use anything from here. ]
01 | Moving Forward
[ It's been a few days, and Julie is just as miserable now as when she was first thrown in this cell. She spends most of her time sitting on her bed, pouting, since they don't even think to provide basics like reading material to pass the time. She's heard about someone getting a trial, but based on the mood in the dungeon, it didn't go well.
She doesn't ask any other questions about it.
Meals get delivered and she has no issue shoving others out of the way to get her meager plate, accompanying each push with a brisk Get outta the way.
Her only real relief comes from visits with the handful of people she made contact with upstairs, and mostly from one overwrought man who she orders around from behind bars as if she's the free one.
Love ya, Lloyd. ]
02 | Stuck in Place
[ The absolute worst part of being forcibly resurrected, dragged to a new world, then jailed is the boredom. Julie has never been so goddamned bored in her entire life, and she spent most of her life in a rural Midwestern town barely big enough to support a Wal-Mart.
At this point, she's willing to do anything to relieve the sheer tedium.
In the rec yard, she grabs one of the balls made available and begins bouncing it off the wall, eventually sinking to the ground to sit cross-legged as she plays. If you come near enough, she'll look over at you before calling out and gesturing for you to sit across from her. ]
C'mon, this fuckin' place is dull as dirt. Come catch this ball with me.
03 | Wildcard
[ Anything you want, or contact me at
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[ His smile is easy in response. ]
You offer them salvation. Maybe you can toss a couple bucks their way, if they do this one thing for you. Whether you actually give it to them or not doesn't matter. Just the hope is enough to keep people going. What other choice do they have?
[ Spoken like someone not at all familiar with having a handgun waved around in his presence. Distance from your target is a truly beautiful thing. ]
Yeah. No electricity, but who needs that if you can conjure fire in your hand or whatever. [ He frowns as though something's just occurring to him. ] Probably better for the environment too, actually.
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yuri lowell | tales of vesperia | tower
[Feel free to use one of these, continue a thread here, or just assume Yuri has met your character to jump past the introductions! You can also hit me up at
dungeons
[Over the past few days, he's been a common sight in the dungeons. Whatever suspicions that raises aren't anything he cares about—he's used to being viewed as a criminal, and truth be told, it feels more normal than the glowing reactions he gets up at the castle proper.
It doesn't take a genius to see that things are getting worse down here. In some ways, that makes things simpler. Some of the guards seem determined to pretend the prisoners don't even exist, and that seems to extend to Yuri visiting them, too. Still, he tries to stay subtle when he brings down food, and keeps his voice quiet. He hasn't spoken to every prisoner yet, and there are certainly a few he's made a point to speak to more than once, but he seems to be trying to keep an eye on the situation in general.
Does he have a plan for what to do if things really go sideways? Nope. He'll cross that bridge when he comes to it.]
Is it just me, or are they trying to make it more grim in here?
[He says it casually, whether he's met the inmate he's speaking to or not. Introductions are for nerds.]
wandering
[Yuri didn't expect he'd just settle in, but the ridiculous contrast between the moods in the dungeon versus the town and castle have left him more on edge than he expected. He doesn't trust any of this, obviously—not that he trusts much, new world or not—but the utterly unearned hero worship these people are heaping on their guests makes his skin crawl. Even back home, where he'd actually accomplished a few things, he preferred to slip under the radar. This is a nightmare.
He tries to mitigate it by rarely staying in one place long. He visits the dungeons regularly, sure, but in the castle he can mostly be found in one of the courtyards, training with whatever weapons he can scrounge up, or wandering the hallways (and absolutely not eavesdropping).
He goes to the town mostly at night, in an attempt to stay unnoticed, although that doesn't often work. And, maybe most offensive of all to their hosts, sometimes he doesn't even sleep in his room, slipping outside instead.]
wandering
It's how he recognises the newcomer stepping out into the courtyard in search of somewhere quiet to train just as Stephen sends a heavy blast of air sheeting toward the adjacent wall. He cuts the spell dead before dust and leaves and lifted-up bits of the daily debris of castle life can get in the almost-stranger's eyes, holding one hand up in apology as the shifting, glowing mandala wrapped around his other wrist fades then disappears entirely. ]
Sorry. I didn't hear you coming.
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wandering
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peter parker | mcu | strength
I. parkour! wildcard
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except it seems he isn't exactly alone out on this balcony ]
Hile, Peter Parker.
[ he's surprised. very surprised in fact, to find the odds noises he's been hearing below the balcony are the boy he'd met earlier climbing up the wall with only his two hands for support. but keeping his cool and presenting his poker face is something Roland is very practiced at. so he simply blows out a stream of smoke and nods at the boy like it's a perfectly normal thing. ]
A pleasant evening to explore the castle, isn't it?
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PARKOUR
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wildcard - a visit.
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continued. c:
oh no,,,
my heart is ACHING
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Parkour!
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Wildcard - I'm so sorry. Please let me know if that works!!
omg this works so great this can only end well
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i.
sorry for the delay!!
no worries! I'm always pretty slow ;;
Link | LoZ: Breath of the Wild | Strength
OOC Intro
hmu @
I. Castle Life
II. Buffet 🍖
III. The Dungeons
ii
Initially, Nero decided to call Link by this moniker as a means to both force a bond between the two of them and also mildly antagonize. But he has come to honestly enjoy and even prefer to call him by his title. It may be because Link, himself, is a rather easy-to-deal-with elf.
Nero really doesn't care to manipulate him. He also really doesn't even care to use him save to ensure that the little elfling doesn't use his magic anywhere near him. There's no telling if his body will end up ripped to shreds or not, and he'd like to not test his chances.
"Up for a morning snack, huh?" He continues with his greeting.
Is it even morning? Eh, probably not.
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Majima Goro | Yakuza / Ryu Ga Gotoku | The Hanged Man / Imprisoned
(He was entirely prone to brooding but no one else needed to know that. So he kept up the lively demeanor. Besides, he did get awfully bored being stuck in prison. He would have never survived if he had gone with his kyoudai, probably. But that was a thought for another time.)
But these days he kept to himself, eye averted and mouth shut. He didn't appear to keep track of the guards or the random visitors or anything else for that matter. He mostly stayed off to the side of the cell, sitting with his back against the wall, lost in his own thoughts. His time in the Horizon had left him with plenty to contemplate. Notably, he did not return to the Horizon at any time and anyone that asked him if he wanted to go there would be met with a swift refusal.
Getting his attention would take more than one attempt but it was possible.]
no subject
He's had a lot on his mind the last few days, after all. And he's not sure how much he wants to burden anyone else with it. Majima, of course, is the exception and he's down there to do the even more important thing: check on him. ]
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Emet-Selch | Final Fantasy XIV | Welcomed (Emperor)
tdm prompts!
ii
[Eventually, Emet-Selch manages to find his way to the library, and while he doesn't precisely make himself at home, or not yet, anyway, he does still take his time making his way through the various shelves. Largely as a way to familiarize himself with what sorts of titles there are, admittedly, and to get a sense for what, if any sort of organization might be involved, but every now and again he stops and makes a sort of quiet humming noise to himself.]
...Fascinating.
[Later in the evening (he has only sometimes remembered to keep to a mortal sleep schedule, the past several decades) he can also be found getting as near to the top of castle as he can; regardless of how close he can manage he eventually ends up simply looking out at the stars. He doesn't expect them to be similar to the ones he knows, not on a world that is at least supposed to be so far from his own, but perhaps - just perhaps - there is something that can be learned from these stars.
To an outside observer, however, it likely looks like nothing more than a recent arrival spending a moment lost in thought while he stares up at the sky.]
> Estinien
[Though he has not, in fact, heard of any of the things that Estinien mentions, neither comes as much of a surprise. He had hardly built the Empire for stability, and it's hardly his fault if his successor lacked the ability to avoid any would-be assassins.]
I would assume you mean Varis?
[His death is not anything anyone would call recent, after all. More relevantly, perhaps, is the fact that he appears to be either shockingly casual with the recently-deceased Emperor's name or simply doesn't have much respect for him. Certainly not as much as would typically be the case, even for a Garlean defector.]
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> Himeka
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Stargazing
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ii, library
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Coraline Finch | Changeling: The Lost | Tower/"""Honoured Guest"""
Prison
Wildcard
horizon
It most often happens at night, however, when he would otherwise be sleeping. It's become a practiced thing, by now. He slips into the right mental state more easily each time.
He usually arrives, and leaves, from within his valley, but he's been becoming more and more adventurous. After all, he's learned that he has little to fear here. He survived death, after all, and the Horizon is emptier now than it was before, with fewer people buzzing around. Their creations are still there, and he hasn't much interest in interfering with them, but with the context of life in the real world, he's much more fascinated with what people chose to make.
Though, he remembers himself also being fascinated with the choices of a certain wood nymph he met in her horrid forest. He finds himself arriving there again, but instead of a dragon this time, he's just an elf. He journeys primarily on foot, traveling with great leaps instead of on wing. This time, he arrives at the forest's border instead of plunging straight into it.
It seems calmer now. Has its keeper returned? He enters carefully, watching for signs of the disorientating effect it had on him before.
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Nadine Cross | The Stand | The World
[Since returning from the Horizon, Nadine has been subdued. Not that she'd ever been the most social of butterflies in the first place, but she'd make an effort to strike up conversations and check in on certain people regularly.
Now she spends a great deal of time in her room with an open book that sometimes she can pay attention to and sometimes she can't. Practicing her magic is one of the only things she finds herself able to focus on.
But she has to eat and bathe, so she can be found in the dining hall or the communal baths - usually late at night - when she isn't in her room or in the dungeons. Oftentimes outside of her room she'll be found wearing a wide brimmed white hat pulled down snugly low on her head. In her room, head bare, the two little pearlescent curved horns now sprouting from her head are clearly visible.]
2 - Dungeons
[Nadine's visits to the dungeon aren't any new development, but rather than making the rounds and bringing little treats to various prisoners, she spends a good deal of time just sitting outside the cell of her husband Randall Flagg. She'll have a book on magic with her.
But she hasn't abandoned her good will trips entirely. While not as frequently, she will come around with her basket of cakes and cookies, offering them to the prisoners held down here. Whether she knows them already or not.]
3 - For Homelander
[Rarely, Nadine ventures to the library. She can't read the same book over and over again. And maybe there's something in one of them to answer any of her myriad questions. She only has more by now.
It catches up to her all at once. The Horizon, the return, everything since then...gritting her teeth, Nadine leans back against a bookshelf in a sheltered corner of the library and presses her hands against her face to try and hold back the scream of frustration and confusion that threatens to escape.]
i
He loves it! He loves it so much, because the people wandering the hallways -- the pretty nobles, the pretty maids, the pretty servants -- don't seem to notice just what is building under their feet.
You're gonna die screaming. He thinks as he passes one of the people, giving them a happy little smile in greeting.
And then, he halts. ]
Oh, what a cutie!
[ He skids to a stop as he sees quite a lovely beauty walking the halls of the castle. Her hat doesn't hide her gorgeous looks which means he is soon skipping on after her. ]
My, my, my. I don't think we've met.
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3 - Homelander
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Eponine Thenardier- Les Mis - Hanged Man - Imprisoned
[For the first day after being thrown into solitary again after brawling with Julie, Eponine drifts in and out of consciousness. She'd taken a beating from the woman: her nose is broken, her face battered and bruised, and the back of her head is cut from where Julie bashed it on the floor. Her whole body aches, and Eponine is glad when the darkness consumes her to take some of her pain away.
When she is conscious though, she focuses on the Horizon. Everything's better there.
It takes her a while to concentrate enough to escape into the Horizon, but once there, she breathes a deep sigh of relief. Nothing aches. Her nose isn't bent out of shape. There isn't blood everywhere.
Without waiting around or even stopping to go into the house she created, she sets off to look for some of her friends' domains. She can't be alone right now.]
Back in the cell
[Four long, boring days pass in that solitary cell. When she can concentrate, Eponine escapes to the Horizon, but it becomes less and less frequent as the days drag on. Her aches and pains are dulling into a throb that consumes her body. Coupled with ever present lights, the lack of mattress and the lack of food, Eponine cannot concentrate and so has to wait in the cell by herself.
She hasn't screamed this time. What's the point, when nobody lets her out anyway?
By the time she's led back to her cell, Eponine's a mess. Her body shakes and she shuffles along as if she's an old lady. Her blood, and Julie's, dried now to a crusty rusty red colour, still stains her face, her arms, her prison uniform. Her hair, unkept as always, is matted with her own blood. In the cell, she slides painfully down the bars nearest to the door. She glowers at those staring at her.]
What? You have something to say with me? You have never seen a woman in a fight before?
back in the cell;
[ Nero crouches down so that the two of them are as close to being face-to-face as they can be. ]
But it looks like you lost yours.
[ His lips twist into a bright, pleased smile. He breathes in deep through his nose, like he's attempting to draw in the smell of blood that's on the pretty little girlie. Sure, her hair's matted and she looks a mess, but beneath all that grime, he sees quite a pretty one.
And he just can't resist a pretty face. ]
Wanna talk about it? [ He reaches into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief to hold out to her. ] I promise I don't bite.
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Back in the cell
Re: Back in the cell
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