spellbinders | Hijinks Mingle

Hijinks Mingle

Who: Everyone!
Where: Anywhere around the hub!
When: Days 103-105
Open/Closed: Open mingle!
Notes: See this post for details on the moon prompt and this one for the telepathy/dream/spirit prompts!

[A | Flower Gleam and Glow]
[The nearby moon is still passing close to the hub island, meaning the effects are still in play. Perhaps now is the time to stop and smell the large lit up sparkling moonflowers that have bloomed? Or be annoyed by the mosquito-like insects that came with them.

Alternatively, the deer seem to draw some sort of energy from the moon's light. Given their size, at least their sudden aggression and proximity to the base camp isn't the worst thing in the world but a kick would still break a rib or other bone so be careful! Possibly help each other deal with these cute but troublesome fauna.]

[B | Eavesdropping]
[For some reason, the telepathy will suddenly get rather wonky. Characters won't know why it's happening, though of course no doubt there will be ponderings, but it means characters won't be in control of their ability to broadcast — or more specifically, not broadcast — their thoughts. Time to find out secrets of an embarrassing nature. Or maybe something sadder is going on in your character's head.

If this wasn't bad enough, the area around the signet might experience burning or tingling. Just try to keep a lid on your brain for the day and distract yourself from any annoying pain.]

[C | Talking In Your Sleep]
[Or maybe your character just doesn't have the most interesting thoughts. Maybe they're busy thinking about pie instead of their upsetting childhood. That's fair. Pie is great.

But surely sometimes it haunts their dreams. With the telepathy running amuck, it's no wonder dreams and nightmares are leaking through, too. Of course, it doesn't have to be an accident. Feel free to grab a friend and share a fanciful dreamscape together on purpose! But for those nuts that are tougher to crack, accidents can and will happen.]

[D | Who You Gonna Call]
[Last but not least, as Friday rolls around, there seems to be something odd going on with the island. If your character is inclined towards the spiritual or supernatural, they'll no doubt notice the strange heavy thickness hanging around. There are whispers in the air and all of new energy just feels solemn. Might be good to give people a heads up and keep an eye on it.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[OOC NOTE FOR TELEPATHY PROMPTS: Please tell me what range of thought leakage you want to deal with throughout the thread. Dirk's thoughts range from (LEVEL ONE) the inane, stupid, absurd, and highly intellectual to (LEVEL TWO) serious, cynical, depressed, and emotionally responsive to (LEVEL THREE) the outright self-loathing and suicidal.

Basically, tell me the number range (1-2, 1 only, 1-3, 1 + 3, etc) you want to deal with so you don't have to deal with any thoughts you aren't comfortable with! You can ping me, include it in header information, or respond to this screened post. If there's anything else you want to avoid or really want to include, you can tell me that too! Feel free to plot with me by PM, screened post, or at

mobiusloops for anything further.]

a: he gardens

[The flowers are nice. Beautiful, even. It occurs to Dirk that certain green-loving jungle children might like them. Maybe he should get them?

Witness: the ocean child bending down, grabbing a flower by the stem, and yanking it up.
Observe: the flower is just sadly decapitated.
Mourn: this level of ignorance about plantlife.]

You need the roots,, don't you.

[Help.]

b: two words: robot smuppet

[The pain registers. It's categorized as annoying. Dirk moves on.

Find him today engaged in a variety of activities:
i) fishing by the waterfalls, casually chilling on a rock in swim trunks (which are orange with smuppets on them)
ii) sitting on a mansion rooftop sewing, his creations including a variety of plush toys and probably abdominal fashion decisions
iii) sitting in tree branches (???) with some computer parts, apparently trying to rework a salvaged chip
iv) in a forest clearing, going through practice motions with his katana.

Loose thoughts range from the inane to the melancholic. Time for oversharing!]

c: dirk watches moana sing about the call of the sea: 'can't relate'

The OCEAN goes on forever. You're high up: the sky is blue and the sea is deeper blue. Below you, there is an APARTMENT ROOFTOP, and around you, there is nothing but the sea, only the sea. You are the only thing anywhere, and you are alone.

Or maybe not! What's this? It's ~~the puppet God made to punish us for making works in his image~~ A FRIEND! When did he show up behind you? He wasn't there just a moment ago. But he's holding out his fist for a bump!

What will you do?

> Don't leave the C-Man hanging
> Attempt to destroy the Hell Puppet
> Leave. Quickly.
> Refuse this joke and demand a thread in normal DWRP threading style
>

wildcard!

[Other! Anything else! Plot with me!]

Edited 2017-10-18 02:57 (UTC)

[> reflexively try to punch the puppet off the roof]

What in the world--?!

You attempt to punch THE RAD AND EXCELLENT C-MAN.

Fortunately, Lil Cal temporarily turns into a blur and is suddenly a foot to the side of where you attempted to punch. He is still smiling, and also staring. Many SEAGULLS fly around the apartment. One decides to land beside you.

Wind skims over the waters and around the metal beams on which the apartment stands. A familiar note is produced. It's the one Desolation plays to keep its instrument in tune.

>

[he's not staying here with a potentially haunted doll. sorry for rejecting your love, Dirk

sidles directly into the ocean, giving Lil Cal the sideeye with every step]

Congratulations! You have successfully completed your ABSCOND.

Of course, your ABSCOND was into the goddamned ocean after an approximately 107 foot drop. Fortunately, this is a dream, and also you're a weird magic water creature, so you don't pay for your HEINOUS DISREGARD FOR VELOCITY DUE TO GRAVITY.

Yet.

Everything is quiet under the water. The supporting beams of the high rise seem to go deeper and deeper still into the depths. If you look closely around you, you will see that the ocean floor is covered in the RUINS of an ANCIENT CITY. Many similar apartment buildings to the one you were in have totally collapsed. A statue of a NOBLE STEED and his directionally challenged rider points to nothing but the seaweed strewn dirt.

A | where's the OFF!

[ ~~this is my short prompt~~ Stop and smell the roses, hm? The saying had survived, even into his future. For two years, he hasn't stopped. Before -- one of the few things he actually looked forward to, when taking time from work and visiting home (generally a tedious affair): flowers.

No, Gjallarhorn spaceships did not keep flowers, fresh or otherwise.

This much lingers, past death: on seeing the bloom lit in moonlight and dazzling, simply dazzling, he does have to stop. What else but to smell?

Too bad: a swarm, an actual cloud of mosquitos rush him.

Pity the purple giant, covered in mosquitos, staggering back with helpless windmilling swatting. ]

B | in your heaaaad

[ Prodding the signet does little to abate the burning, yet no one rushes to inquire or make a fuss. Without a public broadcast, he assumes for the moment that this happens. He hasn't been around long enough to know otherwise.

Hence, he continues, and might be found:

- butt crack of dawn, stretching and moving through various exercises in a nearby field of (less mosquito thick) flowers;
- mid-morning, eating some of those meat-flavored "grapes" by the cooling bonfire. It's not obvious, but he's using his illusion ability to make them taste like proper grapes.
- gathering strawberries or practicing fishing with the makeshift rod Noctis helped him with (where did he get the shoelace? from the doublet in his knapsack).
- chilling on some lower mountain outcropping as the sunsets and stars spot, practicing more external illusions.

WARNING: State of his mind!!! ALL FAIR GAME. You might want to indicate, here or in a comment there or ping or

scuttles or whatever???? ]

C | frivolity in spaaaaaaaaaaace!

Oh, good. Thanks, thanks, I've got it!

[ Waving off the Second Lieutenant, Gaelio Bauduin grips the tea tray in one hand and pivots toward the other individual in this dream, perhaps [you]. A face at once familiar and not at all -- the features similar, on a tall build, and violet hair, but different. Different. From the carefully styled curl to the easy stretch of his smile, uninterrupted by a smothering scar, this is a younger man, radiant and carefree.

And, yes, holding a tray with two tea cups, a tea pot, and a tray of chocolate wafers.

In a centered, glass walled work room.

On a spaceship. It's just known, felt, from the sterile interior, sleek metals, to the press of black space and far stars against father walls. You're in space. Roll with it. ]

Geeze, your subordinates looked like they were about to die. If they're made to work at your pace, their bodies can't keep up. Having a too excellent a senior officer means a lot of trouble.

[ Sidling closer, he sets the tray with Much Ceremony right onto tablet briefly set onto the table. Then, pouring the tea into one cup, he straights before promptly leaning against the occupied chair, propping his elbow beside the headrest. This basically shoves the teacup right beside [your] ear. ]

But, even too excellent officers need to take a break. Come on, or I'll eat all the chocolate. That's bad for me, you know? I'm looking after you, but you should take care of me, too.

[ He might just be using his other hand to waft the tea's smoke toward [your] face. And, sure, he might get a bit confused when you don't turn out to be the right guy, but the mood's light. He'll roll with it. And, in the meantime? Tea, chocolate, and space! ]

Edited 2017-10-18 03:35 (UTC)

[ > you learned this one recently enough - fistbump that bro despite your current misgivings.]

[she feeds cake to the physical manifestations of a person's most negative thoughts for a living, surely this is nothing too weird for her. maybe. it's hard to say.]

[what's a horrifying drop when there are ruins at the bottom, you've played Zestiria you know this is how it just goes sometimes in canon--

takes a moment to gather himself again (easier in dreams, where you don't always necessarily need to worry about things like oxygen), glances up toward the surface to make sure Lil Cal didn't horrifyingly follow him down, glances around at the ruins with something like wonder, and finally swims his way down to check out ye olde statue.]

A
[Despite being able to control animals, Nazuna always tries to keep a healthy distance away from anything too big. Unfortunately for him, the deer that have been invading the camp have other ideas.

He was minding his own business until one decided to rush at him. Frantic, he'd run into the forest and climbed up the first tree he could find. Which is why he's now sitting in a tree with a deer circling it, occasionally throwing him dirty looks. He tried to use his magic a couple times to send it away but he's not sure if it's because he's upset or because he's not strong enough because it doesn't work. At the end of his rope, Nazuna resorts to pleading at it.]

Pleash, shtay away... leabme alone...

B (over the network)
[It's early in the morning so maybe you're awake or you're still asleep but without warning, there's singing in your head. Probably not the wake up call you were asking for but Nazuna doesn't know he's accidentally projecting over the network so... enjoy?]

C
[There's a performance going on.

All the members of the audience are quiet, staring stone-face at the stage. Upon closer inspection, it'll be discovered that they're merely dolls. Their glassy eyes keep watch as a boy performs on stage. Strings connected to the boy's limbs control his motions, giving him the appearance of a puppet and despite the lack of accompanying music, he's singing. His voice wavers in places and cracks in others making it sound as if it's being played from an old tape recording.

Even though his hair is longer and he's lost his constant smile, it's easy to see that this boy is Nazuna.]

And though not a single trace of its former self remains
A nostalgic voice
Sings of all its feelings
And resonates through the silence

[ooc: if you tag c, I'll tag back using

silentlytuned!]

a/b - (clear views.)

[Geir's rarely secretive at the best of times, but if you want to hear his unfiltered thoughts on this unusually clear night, it's easy enough to find him. he's draped along a rocky crag, right against the edge of the world, talons hooked securely into the stone so he can peer out as far into the starry sky as possible. it's easy to see what he's looking at -- the moon that's drifted too-close to the Hub island is beautiful from here. it's just as easy to see that if he leans any further out, he's going to fall off into space.

join a dragon for some astronomy?]

c - (gotterdammerung.)

[the first thing you can sense around you is the darkness. you might have thought up till now that darkness was just an absence of light, a thin sharp thing of air and stitched-together shadows, but this is a physical and grinding weight. you can feel the burn in your chest and arms as you strain against it to stand, see how it slides from your skin and clutches to drag your fingertips down. you can almost imagine it makes a noise against the ground as you shake it off, except the second thing you notice is the silence of this place; at odds with the shaking underfoot, the muted seen-but-not-heard roaring of the mountains you see falling in the distance. it's the hush that comes when the clash and clatter that assaults your ears is so loud that everything tunes out into unregistered white noise.

you're standing on a beach. the mountains are falling into the sea. the water is torn with lightning and poison, little ashen flakes of acid washing up against the sand. fire rages through the sky as a wind that smells like blood howls along the ground; the darkness presses you down against the earth like a heavy hand. far away, a horn is sounding. far away, out across the cresting wave and the lightning and the fury of the storm, a malevolent red eye opens like some hellish sun... and looks directly at you.

it sees you for only an instant. then the wave is on you, and it's far too late to do anything as the ocean overtakes the land.

...

when the dream shifts next (or is it shifting?), you're wet, sticky, your skin screaming with pain. the air isn't coming to your lungs right. your eyes aren't working immediately. your head aches. something is gnawing persistently on your arm and muttering to itself in a tiny panicked voice. weirdly, that's the least alarming thing to happen so far.]

Wake up wake up wake up...

[> Have no idea what a fist bump is.
> Have a staring contest with the hell doll instead.

> s t a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a r e]

[ ooc note: regarding any verbal telepathy leakage, Homura's thoughts tend toward relatively even keel, if cynical or utilitarian. for the most part they're likely to be methodical and distant like she herself kind of is, like a to-do list in monotone, with possible judging and first impressions of others-- she's less self-censured in her own head. there is a chance, however, that something will come up that prompts her self-loathing and recurrent feelings of failure and uselessness and being a selfish person to rear their heads. and she has also been through. well. a lot of magical girls dying in creative manner, and repressed/internalized most of it, so if you want me to steer clear of heavier stuff just lemme know!

actually if i steal Dirk-mun's system I guess this'll be 1: the relatively harmless to-do list and mental impressionesque stuff but also the surprisingly light/idealistic minded, silly one off thoughts, and protecting the world I made a promise type things that may or may not seem incongruous with the way Homura otherwise comes off, 2: the more cynical and/or depressing parts of her thoughts like the world being a place full of suffering and hatred that isn't worth the effort they make to protect it anyway, and 3: the probable PTSD, suffering magical girls, self-loathing, all those fun internalized things. ]

B. genuinely, immensely, steadily with all my heart; i'll be strong and all will be fine

[ there is burning at her throat, and neither massaging it nor the area around it alleviates it any. fine. that's fine. she's had worse, she can deal. she has things to do anyway, now that she's slightly more settled in.

("Your name isn't weird at all! It means 'flame', so it's like you're meant to flare up passionately or something! I think it's cool!")

therefore, you can probably find her throughout the day engaged in various different things.

i: legging it through the woods carrying around a saber like it's a fancy machete or something, looking for younger looking growth with springier seeming branches. she'll pull some of them to test the flexibility of the wood, every so often. if she finds something she deems suitable (it may not actually be suitable, but she doesn't have Google right now or any actual experience with making bows), she'll probably try to hack it down to add it to whatever small bundle of branches she's dragging around.

ii: in some open area near the coven base camp, trying to figure out how to properly carve the wood she's gathered. into either a bow proper or arrows for such, really.

iii: attempting to locate something to string said hypothetial bow with, anywhere from the residential areas, to the mansion, the abandoned house, and otherwise (perhaps there is something to be found in the woods?), because she does not quite think Madoka's ribbons will quite suffice here. like, in an emergency, sure, maybe, but.

iv: engaging in actual downtime around mealtime. shocking, I know.

thoughts can range from task-focused to possibly melancholic or even nostalgic. ]

i. i dreamed a beautiful dream, you were there as well as i;

harsh, strained breathing, a fluttering heartbeat threatening to give out, too strong, too weak, weak, useless, good for nothing — and stop and reset

the clocks keep ticking and the pendulum swings — they stutter their time in reverse and fast forward. down a hallway lined with bars above a nighttime city skyline, hello please treat me well hello a pleasure to meet you hello hello hello let's do our best, braids and cracked glasses and unraveling ribbons. falling, falling, always falling, through clockwork gears and threads of fate and karma like intravenous drips. they all fall together, and so falling becomes something like flight, if only one can control their direction.

a distant laughter throughout playing like a broken record, reverberating off cabinets made of glass, safeguarding the dolls inside from red eyes and white rats that would otherwise gnaw and gnaw and gnaw. falling past windows, falling into windows. a girl loses her head—

("Tomoe-san!" a cry of horror, a monster of a snake devouring the body whole while the doll it emerged from sits innocuously on a high chair)

the window closes. a ruined cityscape, flooded in violet rain. a body to cry over, I wish no that's wrong

("Hey... what if we became monsters together? What if we turned this world upside down...? We'll tear it all down until there's no more evil, no more sadness, until there's nothing left. We'll break and smash and pound it into dust. What if we did that? Wouldn't... that be great?")

a crackle, a radio snapping into tune. a gun, the muzzle flashes between two fallen figures— the window closes. shut. shut. shut. shut.

a surreal concert, orchestra, stage and more; a yearning mermaid who's decided to hear no more. pink in its gauntleted hand, a flare of light and fire and gone— the window closes. the mermaid again, blurry through tears in greyscale, flares of explosions and then shattering, glass hitting concrete— the window closes.

and far above it all flirts a soft light, tinted precious pink and flanked by wings. it illuminates the entire space, harsh shadows cast below in contrasting relief. the wings curl in and guard that light, closing it away from any harm with their brilliance— and she falls ever further away, helpless without her own.

she falls as she dreams, her hair like wings, and she has been dreaming so long.

It may be happening right in front of you, immediacy in the shared dreamscape; it may be happening distantly, like a film reel depiction of someone else, someone yet further removed. You may not be falling at all, instead trapped in one short span of time or memory as depicted in any of the various windows with whichever Homura it was who experienced it. Homura vacillates between being a participant in her own life and an observer of it — it, or the tried and repeated patterns that she has come to be familiar with, that taken altogether manage to sketch out what's passed as her life for the last ~~twelve years~~ few weeks.

(Perhaps the girl you try to approach will be very different from the one you may have seen in passing, or even have become familiar with.)

ii. it doesn't seem like a dream, even if it's over;

if you're looking for something less over the top madoka surrealist because damn that witch aesthetic then you can stumble onto this instead:

A white room stretching out to nowhere. The pendulum still swings ominously overhead, tick tick forth and back. The windows are now screens floating in a blank ether, and a note lies on the table, written in harsh, striking script:

Be careful. Do not fall. Do not become lost.

The girl in the dream may or may not be there, at present. If one investigates the windows, it may be all too easy to be drawn in... or perhaps, they only overtake the whiteness with their tableau. It's not all bad. There are happier scenes in the windows, too, even if strange (clotheslines in the sky?).

Or perhaps you're not interested in looking through someone's dream, and just want to try to find the way out that doesn't exist. If you head straight in one direction through the whiteness, you'll eventually appear again coming from the other side to approach the same scene.

E. aaand wildcard option!

the anything else option! plot with me, or just ask me for a more personalized starter if none of these jive. both C prompts are designed to try to be as flexible as possible for seeing as much or as little as you want your character to so it's not overwhelming despite the wall of text, and I'll be trying to make it so everyone gets something different out of it myself, but if you had something different/specific in mind, you can pm or ping me at ellipsesinaction!

Edited 2017-10-18 18:48 (UTC)

[ I'M STEALING FARRAH'S SYSTEM BUT. Telepathy prompts can range from 1) hopeful, ambitious, let's talk about building a new kingdom nonsense, silly, intellectual, contemplative and petty 2) serious, doubtful, cynical, somewhat dismal, more subtly pertaining to matters like death (what is the afterlife like?) and etc. 3) Let's Talk About Childhood Trauma and PTSD, Everyone.

signify which number you want! C is already at 2 by default. ]

A)

[ percival maintains a distance from the flowers, having been victim to his fair share of mosquito bites. instead, he can be found gently stroking a deer's head, fingers carding through its fur. it seems to like him quite a bit in turn.

...but the second he sees you, he turns away, clearly somewhat flustered. ]

So long as you make your intentions known, [ percival starts, like this was one big informative stunt enacted for your sake. sure. okay. ] they won't harm you.

B)

[ fire. something he knows all too well — a flame flickers in his head as though he were being hit with a flash of the very fire he's scorched countless men with.

he's not especially happy, no. percival can be found distracting himself in every which way. this may include

1) healing the aforementioned dead trees, many of which have recovered for the most part
2) crouching on a grassy knoll as he herds a group of affectionate boars
3) sparring with...himself, mostly
4) picking strawberries, only to stop and gaze at the sky for an inappropriate amount of time

C)

[ in a kingdom that floats amidst the vast, blue sky, there is a small forest — alongside a castle that towers over it from afar. a boy can be seen with a batch of ruby red strawberries in his arms...more importantly, he appears to be struggling, and the look in his eyes is nothing short of unfocused as he circles around the same area time and time again.

when he sees you, he'll gasp a bit before rushing behind the bushes. a few strawberries fall out of his grasp and create a trail that leads right towards him. oh, kids...

the young boy knows when he's been caught red handed, however. bashfully, he emerges from the bushes, cheeks puffed as he attempts to look up towards you.

...it's not difficult to see that his lip is quivering. ]

I—I can't...I can't find my mother. If you help me, I'll give you some of my strawberries!

[ his gaze flickers to the side, and he something begins to oh-so-subtly well in his eyes. ]

I don't...I don't know where she went — please!

WILDCARD

[ hit me up with anything at

diakurosawa ]

Edited 2017-10-18 06:51 (UTC)

[Velvet is stalking around, as she does, her path also set to avoid the flowers by and large. This leads her to encounter Percival, and when she spots him alongside the deer, she slows to halt. Apparently the Coven has its own certified deer whisperer.

She finds his reaction to being discovered pretty amusing, but it doesn't show on her face.]

I don't play with my food.

[Not that she's after his deer friend in particular.]

Sorry to interrupt.

[C-1]

[Welcome to prison. The cell is cylindrical and tall; the stone walls are chipped and gray. The floor is cold. Dim torchlight flickers in from a small grate high above.

Velvet sits rather calmly at the center of the cell. Her outfit is even more ragged and tattered than usual: the brown top is hanging on her by a few threads, and her black tights are worn down to practically nothing. She glances up, both surprised and intrigued.]

Why are you down here? You're… not a daemon. Did he…?

[Her voice trails off. The look in her eye grows more intense, almost pleading.]

Dammit. I haven't talked to anyone in so long.

[C-2]

[The same cell, but time has passed. There are gashes like claw marks in the stone. The smell has grown rancid. There are many splatters and patches of dried blood, though difficult to see in the limited light.

Velvet stands slowly. Her expression has a desperate, hungry quality. Her cursed hand appears as she advances.]

… That's right. I knew it was about time. Come here.

(ooc: Note that in the second prompt, Velvet will attack and attempt to kill your character – though of course it is in a dream, so no true danger. Your character's experience can be lucid or not. Velvet herself won't realize she's dreaming until she wakes up, but afterwards, she will remember everything that happened. The first prompt will stay non-violent.)

> Shake this ugly doll's hand. This is a dream, what's the worst that it could do?

You. Where am I?

Edited 2017-10-18 14:47 (UTC)

[curls up around himself and whatever thing is chewing on his arm, shuddering and coughing, tears dragging acid-feeling furrows down his cheeks; not immediately interested in trying to get up and take a look around, thanks]

Nnghk--

b.

[your thoughts are suddenly intruded upon by what sounds like someone musing to themselves about cooking. it's hardly a fascinating subject or topic. not worth a second listen, right?

or is it? what ought to be a dull train of thought ends up downright horrifying.]

...with pork. If pork brownies are feasible then maybe pork cupcakes would work? Or a pork cake? Most cakes call for some vanilla so I'd probably have to increase the amount from a teaspoon to a tablespoon's worth to balance the flavor. Or a cup of it? Yeah, a cup just to be safe. Maybe I should add something else to give it a proper kick... Some gravy mixed in with the frosting, perhaps? Or even curry? A strawberry-curry frosting...

[the worst part about this illogical cooking train of thought? it sounds dead serious.]

c.

[the landscape is that of a desert oasis at night. a soft, if warm breeze blows as fireworks go off in the background. everyone in the town looks to be celebrating a liberation from a tyrant knight captain. what a happy atmosphere!

not everyone indulges in the festivities. sitting alone at the edge of a lake in the center of town is flynn, staring up the sky. his expression is more forlorn than usual. whoever comes by receives a brief glance before he turns back toward the sky.]

What do you do if you fail the people care about? What if the people you care about fail you? What if someone you respected betrays your trust? What if you're the one who ends up betraying others' trust?

[he breathes a heavy sigh before speaking once more.]

What if all of those apply to you? What do you do then?

[swordtraining was on flynn's to-do list today. nothing too flashy, just enough to get in a good workout. what ended up happening instead is him narrowly avoiding several deer attacks. one came close to landing a direct hit on his shoulder, but dodging in the nick of time helped prevent a broken bones. their aggressiveness takes flynn by surprise. none of the deer he'd encountered before attacked like this and especially when not provoked.

escaping the attacking deer leads to flynn stumbling upon someone stroking the head of another? what a tame deer, a far cry from the ones hellbent on skewering him. maybe he was just unlucky in running int-- wait, make your intentions known?]

As in, tell them what we plan on doing?

[his tone of voice isn't skeptical but rather surprised. is that really all it takes?]

[ i, too, am ripping off farrah's method: jade's thoughts are usually benign, but can ramp up to worrying about how normal she is, or thinking intensely about, like, death 'n stuff. so to make it easy on us all: 1) barking. i'm serious. jade barks in her thoughts, she thinks about complex math problems and is a touch more sarcastic in her thoughts than you'd think she is. 2) self-deprecation, mostly, worrying about her actions being "normal" or not, over thinking situations and assuming that she's the Problem, 3) death 'n stuff. you might find out jade grew up knowing when she'd die, or that her grandfather died and left her to be cared for by his dog. you might also find out said dog moves his stuffed corpse around to make her think he is, like, kiiiiiind of alive? who knows.

as for the dreamscape: jade's is a nightmare, and, if you'd like to opt into it, can delve into her insecurities about his death, blaming herself for it, and believing he chose to leave her on her own. please let me know if you want this, because i will avoid it and just give ya some spooky times otherwise. you can hit me up through pm or plurk @

walpurgisnacht! THANK YOU!! ]

a; bugs (remastered)

[ jade likes the flowers, but there's weird bugs here. bugs she has never seen before, and for a young girl who gardens a lot, that's a stretch. she supposes that it's not impossible, though, since this is a totally new situation and...

honestly, she kind of wants to see it up close, so, uh.

see jade run. see jade hop. see jade clap her hands together haphazardly, trying to catch the mosquito like creature. hear jade growl like a dog.

she's having a good time, honest! ]

b; to the tune of the hustle

[ life is going relatively swell, we'll say. it's quiet, peaceful, the breeze is pleasant. there's nothing here to suggest that there's anything wrong; there is, of course, the problem with telepathy, but it's near the end of the day, so there will more than likely be a slow stop to all the voices. probably. honestly, it's looking up--

oh god no what's that noise.

who is thinking this.

it can't be the resident furaffinity addict... can it? ]

c; soakin' wet fever in my brain

[ it's storming, and the room is almost pitch black. it's not completely covered, allowing you to see this is someone's bedroom. it is not a perfect rendition, because the words on the posters that litter the wall are blurred, difficult to decipher and hard to follow, as if jade's already forgotten what they said. a quick look around the room reveals that it is surprisingly messy, with dolls left on the floor, plushes piled up in a corner and some soil forgotten on the ground. someone needs to vacuum, and that person isn't going to be jade, it seems. on the wall next to her bed is a pile of rifles, and a pistol, in addition to some gadgetry.

lightning strikes. 1, 2, 3, 4... thunder crashes. a door creaks, but it's hard to tell which one it is, because the door leading into the hallway is open, as well as the door to the wardrobe. hm.

you've got a few options.

> Investigate the hallway.
> Investigate the wardrobe.
> Check under the bed.
> Grab a rifle and marvel at how cool it is.
> Other

you might get the sense you're not alone, so time may be of the essence here. ]

wildcard;

[ if nothing pings you here, let me know and i'll write you a personalize starter! hit me with your own if you prefer! i can be contacted through plurk or pm for plotting. so... hit me with your best shot. fire awaaaaaaay ]

[what a dreary place. given the high walls and lack of an easily accessible exit, it's meant to keep someone in. a prison? flynn furrows his brow as he looks up. would anyone go through such excessive lengths to imprison another?

gazing around further leads him to spot someone on the floor. a woman with clothes are tattered beyond belief. she spots him at the same time as he does her and ends up the one who speaks first. her words elicit a frown from flynn. they raise so many questions. who is she? where is here? what is a daemon? after a moment of mulling the possible choices over, he finally settles the simplest one.]

How long have you been down here?

[his tone of voice is gentle, if curious. might as well start from there and see what he can uncover.]

[ jade is here! jade looks like she's been running around a lot. jade has been chasing bugs.

jade still wants to see the bug, but there's another thing she wants to see here. namely, dirk. ]

...Not necessarily?

[ ideally, though, yes, you need the roots. jade pops a squat to look at the damage, inspecting the stem. ]

The flower itself is not of much help now but the stem is fresh, we could probably prep it and re-pot it. We would probably need a growth hormone to encourage it, but it is not impossible. [ mind you there's probably other flowers around here they could just. pull out.

but dirk deserves to know it's not a total mistake? she won't tell him that as far as she knows this method is only for roses, also, BUT ]

i. dreamscape; ota

[You find yourself on a pristine white BEACH, waves lapping gently at the shore. The calm sea in front of you stretches out as far as the eye can see; the only sound is the ebb and flow of the tides. Your attention, however, may be caught by the fact that the sky seems oddly closed. How is this possible?

There are exits (if you look back) to the NORTHEAST and NORTHWEST, sand fading into grassy hilltops above, and a huge metallic tower extending into the closed-off sky. You may, however, be more interested in the ODDLY-DRESSED BOY (Jay, it's Jay) sitting cross-legged on the beach, looking out into the waves. He seems oddly melancholic, lost in thought.]

ii. dreamscape the sequel; closed to cr

[Just another ordinary day in the coven! Genette is standing next to the gleaming white caravan near base camp, handing out knapsacks of shrimp and basic goods to unfamiliar faces. Looks like Qri's brought some newcomers here again. Your eye may be caught by the SEVERE-LOOKING MAN in a long coat; his expression STUTTERS for a moment, as though he was expecting to see something else where you are, but then he steps out of the crowd to greet you, giving you a shark-like smile.]

Hello. Do you mind giving me a hand with something? I'm afraid I'm lost.

((Jay will remember details of both dreams (the second may be one of those nightmares where you're invisible and intangible). I'll also steal a version of Farrah's scale:

1 - day to day thoughts; coven organizing, Qri suspicion, cynicism and sarcastic commentary
2 - guilt, melancholy, homesickness, nagging despair; thoughts about Tales traitoring and feelings of fear and futility.
3 - abuse, trauma, worthlessness and inhuman nonperson issues. Jay was physically and emotionally abused for a number of years by the man in dreamscape ii., so expect to go into those issues if you choose that route, although I can keep it vagueish if need be.

Let me know what you are and aren't okay with! I can be reached by PM or at

prospit if you'd rather keep things private.))

[ this is. by far the best part of today? everything else has been all shades of awkward and invasive but this? he can sort of get down with this. this is pretty damn cool. even if anyone else might find it annoying? odd? persistent? no, this is just what this day needs. ]

Music to my ears.

[ akira don't? please? ]

[ well this is familiar. perhaps not this cell, and not this set of circumstances exactly, but it's extremely reminiscent of the time velvet went rogue and set the prisoners free. it was how they met, after all, and despite the weirdness surrounding it, it still holds a spot in magilou's memories. it's not a fondness, because she's not really fond of much of anything, but she'll allow the weird nostalgia as it hits her to see the familiar girl looking so roughed up. ]

Velvet, Velvet, Velvet. [ despite the almost condescending repetition of her words, she leans down, trying to make direct eye contact with the other girl. ]

Kind of risqué choice of outfit, even for you.

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Hijinks Mingle

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c; 1-3 ok if it comes up

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c, 1-2 is fine

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c (1-3)

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A

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2-3 wa wink; C

c

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a

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c-1

a (combo breaker)

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b because shitposters need to meet

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