(no subject)

[oblivium]

INHUMAN COURTESY

I. PUSHING UP DAISIES

---

cw: depiction of hanahaki, mention of blood, mild body horror

The Frightful Harvest ended on a bloody, eerie note, but the Respite's most welcome interlude has proven exceptionally fruitful. The sky's darkened again, moons struggling to glow through turbulent clouds, but crops all over Stygia have grown dense and healthy, herbs and plants and flowers aplenty. Normally, it'd be a time to rejoice, even as sleet pours and winds grow bitterly cold -- and it might have been, had greens and stems and petals NOT elected to blossom inside you. Your lungs, specifically.

It's an uncommon side effect of the Harvest, affecting those who foster affection or attraction towards another, triggered only by a stray thought. Almost as if punished by Oblivium for harboring any kind of positive feelings. The worst part is that the object of your desire doesn't even have to be in the Netherworld for you to be afflicted. Over the span of three months, you'll gradually experience various degrees of the "harvest's curse", depending on the source of your feelings:

► PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ATTRACTION & REQUITED LOVE
It starts with an itch. Your throat tickles, an odd sensation in your lungs, slightly constricted. Allergies? Not quite. It worsens overtime, and days pass by, perhaps weeks. You cough, a little more every day, a little deeper, and then it happens: petals, stuck to your lips as you wheeze and try to empty your chest. Marigold, carnations, daisies, peonies... Thankfully, for you, it's more of an annoyance, sporadic at best and leaving you exhausted at times, but you're in no immediate danger. Unfortunately, not all Restless share the same luck.

► UNREQUITED LOVE
It doesn't matter whether it is truly unrequited; as long as you think it is, whether you're fully convinced or distantly resigned, you get the whole package. It starts the same way the lesser variation does, gradual, and with unsavory (!) additions: lilies and dark red roses. The first slowly spreads its poison in your body, inducing fevers, skin rashes, blistering in your mouth and stomach aches. The second pricks your throat bloody, making speech difficult and breathing even more so. It spreads throughout Stygia, and if most wound up meeting their end in the past, some speak of a highly hypothetical cure. It's believed that if the object of your affection confesses equally strong feelings for you, the curse should rapidly subside. If this option isn't viable, Doran promises that all Healers in Hale are working extremely hard to find a solution. In the meantime, symptoms can be partially soothed with poultices and spells that you can find in the Marketplace or in Serene. Some merchants might even take pity on you and offer them for free.

if your character has heard of similar diseases in their home world, they're absolutely welcome to share their insight on the netherwork or anywhere else
the evolution of the disease can be as gradual, as fast or as severe as you wish it to be
a mini quest to retrieve ingredients for a cure will be available in december or january
by february, all characters should be cured

II. DO NOT PASS GO

---

cw: mention of blood, torture, branding, violence, forced captivity

Full-swing investigations concerning the Harvest's murders have begun, though the mysterious rider has yet to resurface. The day is young still, but no matter; the Hierarchy firmly believes that the creature was summoned by a group of renegades, fully intent on finding and dismembering the organization. Perhaps even literally.

If you've spilled blood not your own in the previous event, the Hierarchy finds you. Do they know? It doesn't really matter; they've targeted you for reasons they won't divulge, persuaded of your involvement -- and off to the Gallows you go. Each of you receives the same greeting when you arrive, held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with the letter F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’, and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the Hierarchy's hospitality. Writhe and scream and glower as much as you want; next thing you know, something heavy hits you across the head, and you collapse.

When your vision slowly creeps back, your eyes adjust to a dimly lit stone cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain, and you lie in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. It's dark; the air is bloated and filled with agonizing shrieks. Dead vines scrap the walls of half-crumbled buildings, weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by withered clumps of grass. You may converse with your cellmates: the guards patrolling the Gallows couldn't care less, convinced that no one could possibly escape anyway.

► Ironically, a magical barrier around the Gallows prevents magical/spiritual abilities from functioning. However, characters who roam free still can absolutely sneak in! Be careful not to get caught, though!
► Loud disagreements might attract unwanted attention. A single guard will come, and if he finds nothing else amiss, will threaten them to be quiet. A second violation earns the offender a rap on their bare feet with a club. A third violation will cause the offender to be gagged. Note that in order to beat or gag the offender, the guard must first open the cell.
► If you share affinities with Gargoyles, incapacitating a guard in any way will draw the attention of one. It'll show you to the gates where you'll be able to escape, taking care of sentries on your way. You should probably keep a low-profile from then on, and avoid showing-off your brand.
► A secret passage may be found through a mausoleum nearby; an arrow of flaking red paint marks the entrance. Or is it blood? Inside, it's nearly pitch-black. Perhaps, if you're lucky, your vision extends as far as 30 feet in front of you, but occasionally, the darkness is broken by clinging phosphorescent fungi or crawling luminescent creatures, and from out of the silence echo sounds of dripping water. You're underground, and Abysmals can be encountered here if you're too loud. You should also watch out for cave-ins, but as you get farther away from the general region of the Gallows, your magical abilities gradually come back.
► Eventually, a long, broken staircase will lead you to Hale. If you're injured, you'll be sent to the main infirmary; characters with healing abilities or knowledge are super welcome to help!

Luckily for you, there are so many prisoners it's a difficult task for the Hierarchy to always keep track of all of them. Your brand, however, is a dead giveaway, so you might as well try and find a way to get rid of it; you might hear through the grapevines that the dead skin of Badaliscus can be used as bandages, and overtime, the brand will fully heal and disappear.


III. TO THE RESCUE

---

As you attempt to escape, or perhaps once you’ve successfully snuck in, you come across a terrifying spectacle: in front of you, impaled through the shoulder by a spear, a weary humanoid figure covered in blood. The body is being restrained by additional shackles on each arm and leg, which are linked to chains anchored within the walls. There's a guard nearby, armed to the teeth… and still you decide to free them.

The guard’s magic is just as useless as yours, and while impressive in size, dexterity definitely isn’t his main strength. He hits hard — with brass knuckles, a chain mace, and a sturdy shield — and his stamina almost seems endless, but it’s not. Keep evading, and he’ll eventually tire enough to topple over. It’s also possible to have him chase you around if you don’t go too far, which would allow someone else to grab the spear. Once he’s too exhausted to go on, you can either kill him or chain him to the wall. The keys are in his boots, and you’ll find a bottle of water as well as a small vial of ointment in a satchel on the ground, where he previously stood.

The prisoner is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s. Once freed from his shackles, he immediately keels over, though he’s not unconscious. He thanks you with a deep and raw voice, begging for water. You can tend to his wounds if you’re able—the ointment quickly soothes—and when he finally stands again, he asks you a question: “I’m a stranger to you, and you could have died. Yet, you chose to free me, unaware of my past. Of my crimes. Of my virtues. Why?”

Regardless of your answer, he smiles, a private understanding that turns the stretch of his lips enigmatic. There’s a bubbling chuckle in his throat, very hoarse, and then he hisses, touching where you’ve helped him apply the ointment on his body. “You know what they say. If it stings...” He looks at you, deliberately pausing there and staring bold into your eyes. “... then it must be working.”

It might feel like there’s more to what he’s trying to say, though it’s pointless to ask: he bows, and then he slowly inches away from you. “Until we meet again.” White and thick tendrils of smoke envelop him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and then just like that, he’s gone.

so you’ve chosen to free him, which in turn has generated a future plot point that’ll occur some time in february. some of you WILL see him again.
what he says to you is a clue.
you can answer his question OOCly right here. it’ll have some bearing on the way your character will be approached re: future plot point.
if you've voted no and would still like to participate, you could always allow your character to be convinced or reluctantly dragged by another!

ooc note

► As always, check out the Notice Board if you'd like additional prompts! Older quests from previous months are always available as well. You'll also find the Calendar right here.
► You'll find already answered questions just here, and if you'd like to ask new ones, ask them here!
► For fun's sake and similarly to the puck adventure, you may play it out in different groups or on your own, and still obtain the same results as everyone else whether your characters threaded together!

Comments

QUESTIONS

[oblivium]

Re: QUESTIONS

[ulfrkysst]

Hi, mods! I had a quick question and a suggestion:

Did you mean to make this post friends only locked....... LMAO it's fine if you did jw

Could you possibly pin event log posts? A lot of the player base seems to be doing catch-all logs, which is totally valid, but I worry the base post will get lost. (I had to scroll a lot to find it.)

Thank you!

ANSWER THE PRISONER'S QUESTION HERE [oocly]

[oblivium]

[orobashi]

Kokomi would say very simply that the life of every creature matters (even if they are already "dead"), and that she always tries to save as many lives as she can while planning her strategies, no matter which side of the battlefield they might be on. Also probably something about going over the potential outcomes in her head, the outrageous number of them (in the hundreds) and deciding that the risk was worth it.

kaito nagano | original

[nagano]

(( I absolutely LIED on plurk, here comes a top-level ))

A) DO NOT PASS GO.

[ It's chaos, and for once Kaito's Shadow has no room to complain. After getting word from Hibiki that she's been captured, he's been on an absolute tear.

First, information collecting through her eyes to get a lay of some of the gaol.

Second, infiltration.

Third, a lot of broken guards' noses. Wearing a black rag to conceal his face, Kaito's been darting from shadow to shadow within the prison, only engaging with guards when their backs are turned and he can guarantee a (relatively) quiet takedown. It's so akin to the stealth games his brother sucked at that he's not sure if he should laugh.

Eventually, it's someone else who initiates the chaos of a prison break, and Kaito is no longer beholden to playing Metal Gear Liquid. It's a straight shot to Hibiki, and once they've taken care of surrounding guards, they decide that the most sensible thing to do is to continue to press their luck and try to free other inmates.

And so, around the corner during a squabble, Kaito's dancing around a pair of armed guards. He's got one of their swords and is all but taunting them with acrobatics and the occasional swipe at the straps of their rapidly loosening armor. He catches the prisoner's glance, gestures one way with a shrug, then proceeds to advance on the guards and send them backpedaling in the opposite direction.

If it isn't obvious, he's creating an out for them. Whatcha gonna do, Restless? ]

B) WILDCARD.

(( I am being Boring and not having Kaito partake in the flower-coughing disease, but if you had any other ideas you wanted to play out, post here or PM me or whatever! I'm game if you are. ))

Do Not Pass go

[sonofrome]

Minutes click by in the Roman Centurion's cell until he hears noises. Ones of an escape. Now is his chance. Marius quickly smirks, taking on the guise of Damocles (as much as he can now.) He took some blood and rubbed it on his face and grabbed what he could of the guard's loosened armor and swords and the Centurion quickly acknowledged Kaito. With the new armor and sword, he could slip out without too much harm.

"Thank you."

Marius or should I say "Damocles" is already gone.

Itadori Yuuji — Jujutsu Kaisen

[notpicky]

Adventures in Shadowland
( During his time exiting the undeniably way-too-spooky halls and caverns of Hale, Yuuji had managed to find out something interesting—and potentially really helpful, not just for himself, but for anyone who might end up with gnarly injuries. And if the whole thing with that headless guy is any indication, those kinds of injuries might be more common than he expected, even in quiet little places like Serene. Still, for now, his priority is as his friend (and, like, everyone else he'd heard whispering about it) suggested, which is to do anything and everything to get rid of this mark on his arm.

It's not that he doesn't think he deserves the scar. On the contrary, while he has little idea of the nuance of its distinction—that the idea is to brand violence done within Stygia and surrounding lands—the moment he'd been told it was for shedding blood he knew, beyond a doubt, that if anyone deserved such a mark it was him. The idea that he might have been suspected and punished in error never occurs to him after that. And his Shadow, naturally, agrees, recollecting alongside him all the times his hands have shed innocent blood and taken innocent lives as Yuuji makes the long, lonesome trek out to the Shadowlands in search of those weird crocodiles he'd seen skulking around when he arrived.

But, before seeking them out, he makes a pitstop to his Door, emerging with a black trash bag which he balls up into his pocket. It's noisier than he would like, but he also figures that he's likely to smell the things before they get close enough to attack, even if the noise of the plastic draws them in. And anyway, it's probably not nearly as distracting as the persistent hiccuping and coughing he's been doing lately, which is sure to draw attention from much more than just the crocodiles.

Whether you find him carefully pulling his door shut behind him, or out and about in the wastes, Yuuji will be wearing the same grim yet determined expression. He'll also look a little worse for the wear, with his sleeves pulled determinedly over his arms and clamped to his palms by his fingers, along with the occasional pink petal or red stamen stuck to his lips, or scattered every few feet behind him. )


network

text; un: itadori

has anyone taken any of the classes at the library?
I was thinking of checking out the gardening class

for...reasons

ooc

( Yuuji ultimately will not be attempting to rescue the prisoner, despite being wrongly accused and branded himself. Also very open to gaining a Soulmate or two, intentionally or deliberately, since he'll be out in the Shadowlands harvesting skin! (In the least creepy way possible.) Yuuji's Door leads to a hospital room, dead end corridor with a couple of other rooms, and a nurse's station (floor plan forthcoming). Happy to write a starter for that upon request, or receive a random one!

Yuuji also has a catch-all for notice board quests or general world exploration/cr-building here in case none of this tickles your fancy. )

closed to shadowier

[notpicky]

( By now the ache of his arm is little more than background noise, a warm pulse of pain like a headache that Yuuji is keen to but can't quite ignore. It isn't enough to complain about, not yet, but if Megumi chances to look at his face in the dim, ambient light of the corridor he'll notice not just a clenched jaw but a sheen of sweat that isn't all nerves. They could be swept up by a guard at any moment, and Yuuji does his best to grit through not just the tenderness of his arm or the rawness around his ankles as they steal away, as quickly and as discreetly as possible in what Yuuji can only hope is the right direction.

When they come upon ancient-looking stone doors, he pauses, glancing at his friend with uncertainty and maybe just a hint of fear. It abates only for a moment when Megumi, sharp-eyed as ever, ducks to dig through a large, wide bin tucked into an alcove by the doorway. He emerges with two...squares? )

Ah!

( The realization leaves his lips before he can stop it when Megumi turns on the flashlight of his phone, tossing the other to Yuuji. He catches it with a fumble, thanks only to his instincts and not at all to his attentiveness. And so, as well-equipped as they might hope to be without actually trying to take out a guard, they lean together into one of those stone doors until it grates open just enough for them to slip inside. Into a darkness so thick they can almost taste it, and which the pinpoints of their flashlights, for all they'd hoped, can barely cut through. )

Kinda feels familiar in a way, huh?

( If they can't brighten the tunnel, Yuuji might as well try to brighten the mood. Even if his own comment sends a different sort of pang through him, a clenching, sad emptiness as he misses their other classmate and remembers, vividly, the last time he saw her. )

jugram haschwalth ➣ BLEACH

[gleichgewicht]

[ some open and some closed starters to come below! plotting post here if you want to request something! ]

CLOSED ➣ for ichigo

[gleichgewicht]

[ Jugram's head pounds before he's even opened his eyes. The ground is hard and cool against his cheek, his curled fingers. He lets out a quiet groan in the split second before he remembers himself, who he is, who he's supposed to be, even here, a primitive response to the throbbing pain before any higher functioning has the time to take over. Ice blue eyes crack open and squint at the blurred image directly ahead of him as their lenses struggle to flex into focus: someone's hand, also limp on the floor a few feet away from his face.

Behind that, bars.

That's right. The prison. Someone must have hit him across the back of the head on the way here. There's a hard, cold weight on both of his ankles: even without looking he knows they must be in shackles, and furthermore, he can't sense any reiatsu, at all—something about either this place or the cuffs themselves must have put a damper on his innate abilities as a quincy. Lovely.

Jugram pushes himself up with both hands, pain hammering at his temples, hair thoroughly disheveled—and, once he's upright, the full figure of the prisoner face-down beside him comes into view: carrot red hair. That and the prisoner's general build are to enough to identify his cellmate, without a shred of doubt, as Ichigo Kurosaki. Of all of the prisoners.

He considers waking the kid up, but decides against it—there will be racket from the moment he does, undoubtedly, and he'd like a few minutes to examine his confines without distraction. He moves carefully, to avoid the drag of the chain between his ankles from bringing Kurosaki back into consciousness, and considers the bars, the way the lock seems to work—a basic, mechanical key and slot, it would seem—how many guards and where they're posted. People are screaming down the hall—there's a torture chamber somewhere close, it would seem.

The drag of chains against the floor alerts him to the movement of Kurosaki's legs as he wakes; Jugram looks down at him from where he stands before the door to their enclosure and frowns. ]

You're awake.

callisto regulus / villains are destined to die

[uncourteous]

PUSHING UP DAISIES.

[ the concept of having any real emotional ties is not one he avidly likes to admit. while he doesn’t necessarily care whether his prior reputation holds any weight here— the crown prince of iron and blood did rather dramatic after all, hadn’t it? — he does care about displaying weakness. maybe it’s a bad habit, or something he’ll never truly become accustomed to. which is why as of now... he’s done his best to ignore whatever feelings he’s had thus far. choosing to focus on the present.

… and conveniently ignore whatever itch in his throat or the heat that burns between his temples. if anything, it was a lot easier to carry on in this state than it was to attend formal events while poisoned. so there was that? hence, it's in the beginning stages of this sickness that he does his best to remain focused on others. though, it isn’t as much in charity as it is a distraction.

thankfully, there was no end to easy diversions in this place. ]

a. [ hence, (unfortunately) this means someone needs to be the object of his latest obsession in finding random cures. whether you intended to receive his help or not, he will be there… ] You there. [ literally stepping into their path. ]

Be grateful, it’s not everyday you can say you’ve been personally looked after by me. [ there’s a brief touch of a smirk that slips across his lips. ] Let me take your temperature. [ just by hand, that is. ]

b. [ so, there comes a point in every man’s life where maybe they’re not at their best. denial could only get a person so far. he’s not sure what sprung this on, but it’s not a lie to state that uncharacteristic to himself, he hasn’t been feeling too well and it’s become increasingly difficult to hide it. but, it’s in this that he … has heard some peculiar rumors.

they seem to believe this disease was something of a lovesickness. a feelings sickness…? he isn’t quite sure what would fit adequately to what he feels, if just for lacking awareness or desire to delve into his own more intimate feelings. so as always, instead of legitimately explaining himself, he decisively opts to conduct himself in his usual straightforward and questionable manner.

he bites bites down a cough that he threatens to spill before smoothly asking: ] If you’re going to stare, the least you can do is allow me a bit of relief with that mouth of yours. [ this probably sounds very misleading, but he means… let’s talk, maybe? ]

TO THE RESCUE.

[ despite his own experience in the heat of battle, a rescue mission is obviously quite different. also unlike the terrain he knew so well at home, he completely comprehends the fact that he is mostly blind here, but that doesn’t really bother him much. he was used to a certain level of recklessness and he doubts he would have survived without that impulse.

that said, he peeks across the hall. there’s an obvious guard or two posted at the door. he seems to ponder on this momentarily, before focusing his gaze on nearest person— maybe sharing the same hiding space— ] Do you have a plan? Or are we simply meant to shed blood without a second thought?

[ someone please stop him, or join in!? ]

WILDCARDS & STARTERS!

[ feel free to wildcard me, or request a custom starter and i can def. make things work!! ]

🫧 kokomi.

[uncourteous]

[ to be honest, in the midst of coughing, he didn't expect to see someone familair. almost too familiar if the nature in how they met was telling of anything. then again, it isn't like callisto would bring attention back to that. despite how lacking in delicacy he was, it wasn't like he'd shame someone who obviously displayed a certain level of goodwill towards him. acquaintances she called them, didn't she?

a fact he isn't completely sure he understands even now.

that said, while their eyes met. he was actually going to simply walk in the other direction, perhaps to avoid this whole awkward display. especially as he doesn't necessarily have any expectations for others to give a shit about his own circumstances. no, it was never quite like that. at least not without that extra layer of wanting something from him, or... beyond that wanting him dead. as much as he tries to shut those thoughts out, sometimes it feels even harder here where no one seemed to follow the same conventions callisto was accustomed to. that said, when he's just about to step aside and make his way in the other direction, he just barely holds back another coughing fit.

ah, so much for appearing flawless.

he supposes he didn't have much of a choice but to acknowledge it now. hence, he looks up at her, doing his best to brush off the bit of the blood on the corner of his lip. ] Greetings, my lady. Have you changed your opinion of me yet?

zagreus / hades

[dodgeouttahell]

[OOC: For the tl's hanahaki curse, I decided to keep it as vague as possible to make people comfortable when reading it, but fair warning that the Stage 2 and Stage 3 prompts tend to be a little more aggressive, especially as threads go on. I'm very happy to handwave it all for sol shenanigans; just give me a 👋 on the subject line and I'll transform it into mere shadow antics or something. There are no planned group efforts for jailbreak, so go ahead and insert your character there either as a partner or the fugitive. Zag knows a thing or two about getting out of fortresses. (He will want to save the prisoner, by the way.)]

A. Sing, Calliope, of blood and unrequited love. Pretty please with a cherry on top, I feel like people keep ordering you around. (CW: hints of hanahaki, blood, and slight body horror)

Stage one — Notice board:

[He kneels at the bank, cups his hands together to gather water in the hollow of his palms. Brings it to his face, letting its coolness spread across his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids. He lets it trickle down his neck and sighs for a moment before wiping the dampness off, shaking his fingers. He doesn’t drink it for fear of its properties (the Lethe whisks away memories, and the Styx meant divine torture), but he’s been relying on the spray a lot, on the cold bite against his flushed skin.

He gets up, wiping his hands again on his leggings, and heads toward the person who he had asked for a minute to ‘freshen up’ after arranging with them to tackle one of the tasks on the notice board (or maybe they’d just arranged to hang out). Clears his throat.]

Right! Are you ready?

Stage two — Errands:

[He’s fast, and if the scorch marks striating from the pier and the docks and out into the several districts of the town are anything to go by, he’s been busy. Bringing meals to fishermen (he’s so fast that he’s discarded the rather large and awkwardly square bag to strap onto his shoulders that he was offered once), deliveries to a seedier part of town because some merchants provide the establishments there but would rather avoid the area. It all started when the lady next door called on him from a window and beckoned him closer. Asked him to take a bundle that warmed his arms as she placed it there, ’a strapping young man such as yourself will make sure it’s still warm when it arrives, won’t you?’, with the promise of a warm loaf waiting for him when he gets back. Word spread like wildfire, and Zagreus was suddenly with his hands full, his phone vibrating every now and then with requests. Maybe he’s on his way with your errand now as you read this.

Zag feels like his cousin would be proud, albeit he’s sure he’d do better (and faster) work. He hopes somehow, somewhere, he feels it as an homage for all the times he’s helped him as well.

(He wonders how’s his turtle doing.)

The world, however, tilts at one point. Making his way back, he stumbles. In a mid-dash, his stumbling leads to him bracing himself on a surface with a loud clatter, fingertips snagging at the walls of the library in Serene (someone needed to return their books and was unable to).

He (thinks he) hears a simple ‘Tsch’; feels the nervous thrum of a rattlesnake in the distance, like two people who had been interrupted in their gossiping at the corner of the street. When he looks at the source, he only sees two Restless sitting at the table of an establishment nearby, sipping at their tea, unconcerned and unaware.

He’d feel disappointed at the lack of green and blue if his throat didn’t clog suddenly, and he covers his mouth to muffle the following coughing fit.

When he withdraws his hand, he sees petals, white and red, damp and rubbery in texture, as he feels them between his thumb and forefinger. He sighs, voice croaking and frowning.]

Blast, not again.

Stage three — Is there no escape?

[Flittering through his mind, he hears a chiding tone, one that tends to hide fondness with irritation, alerting him to pay attention to himself, to stop and think for once.

Zagreus almost wishes to see a frustrated burst of light, a tinge of green. The silence that follows it and the way the world seems to grow around the sudden emptiness of the absence of the voice's owner.

He holds onto his chiton and brings it to his mouth, fingers tightening on the mug of the pub he’d been offered (and oh, did the concerned ’take it; y’don’t look good, lad’ tug at the heartstrings as the honeyed warm wine was pressed into his hands). His chest heaves and Zagreus feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin, that this body doesn’t belong to him.

He lets go of the fabric, wiping the blooms down from it and to the floor, and tells the man behind the counter he’ll bring this back, decided to go home, raising the mug and wincing at how even his ribs are sore.

He barely notices someone entering as he’s about to step out, but thankfully, he doesn’t bump into them; the front of his clothes is a darkened red (darker still, the rest of it the usual garnet), a damp and sticky mess. Or maybe he does; hey, if you want to get gross demigod blood on you, it’s up to you.]

Oh! [He smiles sheepishly, though he doesn’t look up, making sure he doesn’t spread this to anyone, whatever this is.

(Has he been poisoned?) He sidesteps, making way for the person to go inside first.] Sorry, go ahead.

B. Do I at least get two hundred?

[At last, this is something that he knows very well.

As soon as he heard about it, he started making questions. Why would these people be arrested? What are the things they have in common? He’s no sleuth, but the whole thing seemed very, very odd. But even if he heard some accounts of how mindless bloodshed was A Thing, apparently, even during what he had assumed being harmless games in the cornstalk maze, he knows that even in his Hell of a home, people weren’t incarcerated without at least a trial.

So in prison he finds himself, slamming a guard down a corridor with his own shield, leaving a black streak on the stone floor behind him. The guard hits their head even within their helmet and promptly gets knocked out. He beckons his companion close, looking around and hoping the ruckus didn’t alert anyone else, and asks them to be on the lookout. Maybe you’re the companion, standing guard with their head on a swivel, throwing him the keys they found on the way to the cells.

Or maybe you’re the one in the cell when he opens the door, and he stretches a hand towards you, smiling hopeful and relieved.] Are you alright?

C. Wildcard.

[OOC: Feel free to drop your own wildcard, or drop me a PM / catch me on discord to discuss potential closed starters (I’m over at jackuzis#4761)! Here are notes about Zag’s shadow, who is more likely to make an appearance now than before.]

A3!!

[oomfies]

[ Lottie, suddenly, regrets her usual habit of arriving early.

She thinks this is something she shouldn't be seeing, spying Zagreus hunched by the countertop. And then that it's something she doesn't want to see. It wrings her heart dry and she feels nauseous, the worst part of it all is that she can't tell if it's flowers or her breakfast she'd expel. Really, all she wanted was to have a nice, normal, medicated day. Go grocery shopping, chug a potion. Make food, chug a potion. Breathe, chug a potion. Sleep, chug a potion. It's a terrible sort of routine she builds for herself, one that makes her feel the tiniest bit more sane when petals and roses leave her lips.

Today, she decided Zagreus would be her one exception to the schedule, her anomaly. They'd go to the market and she'd grin at whatever nice thing he'd say, she'd stare at his eye and everything would be..

Nice.

Simple. ]

Zagreus?

[ This is neither of those things, and it takes everything in her to not high tail it and run because he's making her scared. The dark spot on his cute little outfit, the tired and frail way he carries himself, it all scares her. She tugs her face mask down to her chin, her own skin pale and vaguely clammy when she faces him. The bag slung around her shoulders is forgotten, just something that clangs against her body as she reaches out towards him.

It's hesitant, the way she cups his face. If he pulls away, she won't stop him, but all she wants to do is angle his head up, to meet his sheepish smile with her own (she has to wrangle it on, but her attempt is at least sincere). A pause, when she realizes she hasn't even said hi let alone a reason why she's here. ]

Sorry, I -- I should've texted you that I was here? Which, I am.. Here. Now.

mavis | original (cw: self harm)

[telepathy]

01. alexa, play "love hurts"

[ as others rattle at the chains binding their ankles and at the cell bars, mavis closes her eyes. here, everything is as quiet as the wilds had been. as if they were not crowded in here together, overpacked into cells. as if they were somewhere far from stygia, and she were alone.

a hacking fit seizes her. a fluttering sense crawling up out of her lungs, blooming to the shape of red rose petals on her lips. she pulls one indelicately from her mouth, lips curling in a grimace. she crumples the wet petal in her fist, which is further marked by red blotches. it leaves smears of blood behind on her thumb and forefinger, her palm, her lip.

her head thunks back against the wall, and she tries to slow her breathing, shallow and steady so that she doesn't aggravate the sting in her throat. ]

02. leaving a mark (cw: self-harm)

[ an argument has started down the row from her cell, one that turns to shoving. mavis lifts her head to watch. she's not the only one. the guards approach, unlocking the cell to step inside and gag each of the offenders with some oily, filthy cloth. the same scraps that they each wear.

an opening.

mavis looks up at the door of her own cell. she rises to her feet, shuffles over, metal clanking from her ankles all the way. she closes her fists around the bars and considers the door, considers for the first time how it might open.

the burn on her forearm itches. the skin has puckered into something shiny and keloid, glinting in the dim light of the cell. when she had found it that first night, she had been struck most of all by the fact that it was the brightest pain she felt — no one else's pain, no one else's thoughts, and it even distracted from the irritating scrape of her own breath across the thorns in her lungs.

now it is something else. a piece of the cell that she'd carry with her. primitive but indelible. she paces the length of the cell, searching for — something. anything she can do about it. disrupting her cellmates, shoving them haphazardly out of the way so she can try to get a look at if there's anything under or behind them, but there's nothing.

nothing in the cells with them except the shackles around their ankles, with their unevenly cut corners and protruding metal bolts. as she returns to her seat against the back corner, she pulls her ankle towards herself, considering the brand on her arm. it hasn't fully healed yet, that burn.

she takes her shirt off first. or what passes for a shirt in here. then she puts it between her teeth just before she starts to scrap the branded part of her arm against the protruding bolts and corners of her shackles, trying to gouge her flesh further, obscuring the shape of the letter into some worser wound. ]

03. the great escape

[ either by the aid of another or by her own gumption, she has made it out of the cell, skulking the quiet corridors of the hale, bleeding down her arm through the makeshift banadage she'd given herself, still only wearing her pants and bra.

further down the corridor, footsteps. she draws up short, pulls back around a corner, and grabs the sleeve of her nearest companion. she presses a finger to her lips, then peers out around the corner to confirm.

and there he is. the guard, carrying heavy metal weaponry of a kind mavis doesn't recognize. she breathes out annoyance through her nose, then loses it in a coughing fit again.

her eyes widen, even as she can't stop herself from hacking, clutching the wall and heaving rose petals and blood as she does. there's no way he didn't hear that. ]

04. wildcard

[ if you'd like something else, you can message me on plurk at protects. ]

leaving a mark (cw: self-harm)

[notpicky]

( The petals were one thing. They were impossible not to take notice of, too bright, too soft, too cheerful for the kind of place they were in. Hers were different than his, more easily recognizable, although the rose petals were the same vibrant crimson as some of what he was trying to hide as well. And maybe because he was trying to hide his own, to swallow down his own hiccups, he didn't really reach out to any of the similarly afflicted cell mates. He just assumed it was some...strange sort of seasonal allergy that must exist around this place.

Much more difficult to ignore is when she starts undressing. Or, at least, seemingly so, though she stops at her shirt. Yuuji isn't staring, but he isn't...not staring, even when it becomes obvious she doesn't plan to remove anything other than her shirt. The determined way she stuffs it between her teeth is confusing, but he supposes it's one way to try to stop the coughing. And he's about to say as much until the words die on his lips and his eyes widen with shock.

It isn't the state of the burn on her arm; his hardly looks better, especially with the way he idly picks at the edges. No, it's the wild look on her face as she drags the fresh, seeping letter on her own arm over the battered, rusted manacle clamped around her ankle. )

Don't!

Oh, but do, a voice chuckles inside of him, while his Shadow waits idly, seemingly smirking.

( He shouts before he can stop himself, and he's scrambling hand over hand on all fours, his own chain rattling with the effort as he drags it out taut behind him. Perhaps he doesn't understand the full gravity of the mark just yet, or maybe it just means something so much worse to her than it does to him. In either case, it's the thought of watching her put herself through that pain that has him reaching to stay her hands once he's close enough. If she'll let him touch her at all, let alone actually try to stop her. )

Fukawa Toko/Genocider Syo | Danganronpa

[janescayre]

FUKAWA

A) This is Outrageous (AC Effect - "White Lies")

[It's a lovely day in Serene, now that the bodies have been cleared away. What a wild week that Harvest was, huh?

Anyway, maybe you're browsing a fruit stall in Serene, maybe you're in a bookshop. Fukawa is next to you for some reason. Probably uninvited. She meets your gaze.]

Oh. You l-look really nice today.

[She pauses.]

Actually, no you don't. I don't know why I said that.


B) This Kind of Behavior is Never Tolerated in Serene. (QUEST - HINTERLANDS)

Wh-what kind of fate is this? [Fukawa edges closer to her companion. She watches the generous goatherd who'd given them directions plod along his way, ushering his tattered flock to follow. Neither man nor beast look like they've eaten in days.] So if you're not a complete saint, you j-just get exiled out here? Wallowing in shit like p-pigs?

[She casts them a desperate look. She had been told the Hinterlands were a haven for those looking to dodge the Gallows, but everyone knew what it really was. A last refuge for the damned. Being forced to trek through it for hours on a quest that'll net a hefty sum is starting to turn her stomach a little. Is she looking at her own future here? Thanks to Syo, she might find herself kicked to the curb sooner than she thinks.]


C) You are Playing Music Too Loud: Right to Jail, Right Away. (GALLOWS)

[Yes indeed, much sooner than she thinks.

Fukawa had been no better than a yowling jungle cat when she'd woken. Clawing at the bars, hollering, mindless with fear. Any guard passing the cell only sneers in disgust. She spends the next few hours weeping, coiled around the fresh burn on her arm. Fresh brand. "F". Like a grade, like some sort of sick joke.

Then they toss a second soul in. She clamps herself against the wall, shivering with fright.]

D-don't! No! Let me out! Don't bring them in here!

[What if they're some sicko murderer?

Po̻͜t̻͍͜,̫̝̝ k͖̞̫e͓͎͕t̙̘͍t͎͉̞l̺͓̠e̞͍͍.̡͕͜

Her shadow cackles long and loud as fresh tears drip from her eyes. And here she'd thought she was all dried up.]


D) Driving Too Fast: Jail. Slow: Jail. (GALLOWS)

1. Prison Break
[After god knows how many days of hunger, of misery, of wishing the Headless Horseman would come back and cut her to bits, there's an odd sound from the end of the hall.

Fukawa's immediately huddling at the back of the cell. But the noises are suspicious. It sounds oddly like a struggle, and not the futile kind.

She edges forward, cautious, and that's when someone bursts into view. Someone who's not a guard.]

YOU! [Doesn't matter if she knows you or not. She's clinging to the bars at once, the very picture of desperation.] G-GET ME OUT OF HERE! NOW!


2. The Prisoner
[When they peer around a corner and find the dreadful scene, Fukawa has to hide behind her fellow escapee. The man chained to the wall is far too bloody to face (pinned by a spear, like he'd lost a round in the Roman Coliseum), and that Guard beside him is a dreadful menace. They're as good as goners if they show themselves now, just look at his armor. The mace.

Even Syo might have trouble dodging that, armed or not. Her scissors are gone anyhow, and Fukawa's too furious and frightened to try switching just yet.]

I kn-knew it, I knew it was too good to be true! [Her whisper is fraught and breathless.] We're going to die here!


E) You are Charging Too High Prices for Sweaters, Glasses: You Right to Jail. (SERENE)

[Now that she's out, she's got to do something about these rags. How conveniently cliché of the locals to hang their clothes out to dry.

It takes some time to pluck up her courage. There could be guards anywhere. Someone might spot her, shout for help. She's branded and she's filthy, in prisoner's garb, skulking about and trying her best to keep her sniveling under wraps. Really what she wants is a blanket. Thick and down-filled and big enough to disappear under, never to emerge again.

Steady now. Clothes first. Then she can consider how best to hide from humanity for good.

The long skirt comes down easily, a pair of stockings with it. It's the sweater that does her in — the second she yanks it down, she's locked eyes with someone passing by. Too close to miss either her or the tell-tale rags she's in. She realizes that the brand is facing them too, wrong arm out.

She freezes on the spot.]


SYO

F) You Undercook Fish? Believe It or Not, Jail. (QUEST - HARBOURS)

[All she's been getting off Gloomy since they did their time in the clink is abject misery. It's to be expected. Hatred, though: that's fresher than it's been in ages. When they swap the vestiges of the last girl's emotions linger, and not since her stint as an active killer has Syo felt the self-loathing so viscerally.

What's different now is that it stings.

A͔͚͓n̪͙͜d̫͓̟ w̢̢̪h̙̠͜y͔͕͍ s̙̝h̪̞o͖͓̠u̠͉͖l͔͍͍d͖̞͇ t̙̟̼h͍͕̝a͍͚̞t͇͔̫ g̻͍̪e͙͜t͙̘ i̼̘̼n̢̪ y͍͉o̞̝̺u̢̪̼r̢̘ w̫͕̻a̢͔͍y̢̼͎?̢̻ I͖̺t̢͇͕'̢̙̦s̢̙ n̝̘͜o̢̠̻t̞͚̦ n̝̫̫e͍̟͓w͖̼̞.̘̺͍ S̫͖̟h̙͚͖e͎͉͇'̢̠͕s̡͍̟ a̺̘͖l̢͇̝w͖̫͕a͕̪̙y̢̺͖s̻͓ k̪͕̪n̘̘̫o͎͍̫w͙̪͜n̠̦̦ w͔̟͔h̡̫̝a̘̙t͕͇͉ y̠̙̘o͓̝u̪͜ a͎͙͜r̡͖̞e̡͓͎.̪̝

All right, so. She's fucked up. Whatever. She's done so much worse, seriously now. It's nothing. She could have splayed that slice of Cherry Pie on the wall for all of Serene to see, just like old times. She could have sliced that brat's fuzzy wuzzy ears off. She could have taken Twitchy's fingers for trophies.

And still, her nerves won't settle. So what, should she try doing Miss Morose a favour? Repent with community service, earn them a lil' mula?]

YOU SLIPPERY FUCKING SONUVABITCH!! [She stabs at the water (it's a new pair of scissors), but it's no use. That scaley bastard has swam away. Syo throws her head back, looking to the heavens for grace. The water laps at her legs.

Oh, there's someone at the shore.]

Hey there! [Suddenly she's all smiles.] Wanna gimme your money? I need a fishing pole real bad. Help a poor, sexy specimen out, will ya?


G) Wildcard? Jail.

[You know what to do. PM me or hit up my plotting comment, surprise me, come on over, come on in. I know it's mostly Fukawa here because I blanked on Syo but she's available wherever, whenever, esp during prison escape. Saving Hanahaki for closed starters.]

e

[midway]

[ Claude's picking his way back to the warm embrace of his bed when he stumbles across Fukawa desperately stealing the clothes from some innocent laundry-doer's wire. They lock eyes, and what strikes Claude first isn't the brand on her arm or the state that she's in, it's the sudden well of jealousy that flood his chest.

He wants those clothes. (The skirt, the stockings...?)

It's so sudden and nonsensical that it catches him off-guard, and he manages to stifle it when her condition finally trickles past the haze of inexplicable jealousy. ]

Fukawa?

[ He takes a step forward. ]

... Are you okay?

Hibiki Fujiwara | Original

[windsongs]

🍃 o1. DO NOT PASS GO.

[ CW: Violence, mild gore, blood ]
[ While the rest of her group goes on a tear, Hibiki has other things in mind. Being small has its advantages and disadvantages. Despite being bloodied herself the blonde has no trouble moving through the shadows, but after a bit of reconnaissance, she can't help but notice that all of the guards she sees patrolling the gaol are much larger than she is. She needs to hide this brand (that she doesn't dare look at right now), or else she won't be able to move freely for long.

But she has managed to surreptitiously gather some keys from a few unsuspecting guardsman--and some brass knuckles to boot. So she's not doing too bad.

Taking out yet another guard as he lazily makes his rounds, there's a certain lack of restraint her movements that normally isn't there. The poor bastard isn't going to be walking away from her attack, judging from the sound of a body slamming into the worn stone wall outside of the cell, as the guard is flung. Bones crack on impact, and as she charges forward, the small blonde hits with a haymaker to the gut, for good measure. The guard drops, and for a solid minute there's the sound of cloth shuffling and metal jingling.

Moving toward the cell door, the guard's uniform thrown over her arm, Hibiki methodically goes through the keys on their key ring before finally unlocking the door. She sets to work, wordlessly unlocking prisoners and pressing a finger to her lips. Her face scuffed, blood clotted at her brows, nose and lips, she directs her attention to the person she's currently freeing.

Hmm. That could work. Hibiki offers the uniform to them. ]

Give me your cuffs, put this on and follow my lead.

🍃 oX. WILDCARD.

[ Feel free to hit me up with whatever from event prompts II and III. Not having Hibiki personally suffer from hanahaki, so I'll pass on prompt I! ]

[midway]

[ How incredibly embarrassing that in a showdown of weaponry, oppression and desperate escapes, Claude isn't undone by a lance to the gut or a sword through his back but... landing on his ankle wrong after being tossed through the air. He hadn't noticed in the heat of the moment, but after the immediate danger and adrenaline had passed, it became very obvious that he'd sprained something.

So embarrassing. (He's going to take this to grave number two.)

Which is why he manfully ignores the jolt of pain that accompanies his burdened gait. At least he's no slouch when it comes to physical fitness, his grip steady on the unconscious prisoner on his back. He's used to ignoring aches and pains while marching on a campaign anyway.

It's fine, and he even smiles when he hears footsteps as he steps out of the Gallows and his gaze catches on Hibiki, this meeting no less dour than the last.

She suddenly disappears from his vision when a pure white wyvern drops between them, her wings kicking up a gust as she lands. ]

Whoa there! You're going to give people a fright, friend. [ He peers around a wing at Hibiki. ] ... Are you all right?

[ He's asking about more than just the appearance of his lizard. ]

Kainé | NieR: Replicant v. 1.22... | OTA

[pissoffbook]

I. PUSHING UP DAISIES

---

[Outside of Stygia, since Kainé still refuses to find a proper dwelling within the city, the sound of hacking and coughing can be heard.

Kainé is on her hands and knees bent over the creek by her camp, breathing heavily as the roses she just vomited up slowly flow downstream. She wipes the blood from her lips and sits back on her knees.]

What the hell is happening to me?

[₱ØØⱤ, ₱ØØⱤ ₭₳ł₦é. Ʉ₦Ⱡł₭ɆĐ ₳₦Đ Ʉ₦ⱠØVɆĐ.]

What was that?

[She growls at her Shadow when of course, Tyrann has to butt in too. Kya ha ha, you don't know? It's a curse of unrequited love. You going soft is starting to bite you in the ass, Sunshine!]

What the fuck are you going on abo-?

[She's interrupted by another violent coughing fit at the end of which she lays down on her side and curls in on herself.

ł₣ Ø₦ⱠɎ ɎØɄ Ⱨ₳Đ ₳ ₴ØɄⱠ₥₳₮Ɇ. ฿Ʉ₮ ₦Ø, ₦Ø Ø₦Ɇ ₵ØɄⱠĐ ₱Ø₴₴ł฿ⱠɎ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₳₦Ɏ ₴ØⱤ₮ Ø₣ ₣ɆɆⱠł₦₲₴ ₣ØⱤ ₳ ₣ⱤɆ₳₭ Ⱡł₭Ɇ ɎØɄ.

Kainé holds the sides of her head with her hands.]

Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP! I don't love anyone! And I don't need a goddamn Soulmate. Fuck off! Both of you!

[Both her Shadow and the Shade laugh wickedly as she lay there groaning in pain.]

II. DO NOT PASS GO

---

A. [Prison, right where we belong, Sunshine, kya ha ha!.]

Shut it!

[Kainé expresses her annoyance by kicking a rock, which skitters halfway across the room before coming to a halt as it hits another imprisoned Restless. Kainé doesn't notice and sinks down to the ground, leaning her head against the cold stone wall.]

B. [She doesn't know how long it's been since she was imprisoned, but she's starting to feel... restless.

She's spent time trying to find a way out, harassed the guards, and even stood up for her fellow Restless when the guards got a wild hair to torture, but she hasn't given up on getting out. Like hell she is going to rot here!

Lucky for her, there seems to be ac commotion happening. The guards outside the cell shout and run off down the hall, which gives Kainé a clue that whatever's happening, they weren't planning on.

No way anyone's stupid enough to try a jailbreak... are they?]

Wildcard!
Hit me with whatever! I love wildcards!

Prison - B

[cruelyethuman]

[Watching the progression of souls being brought forward, the spectacle of branding and punishment for entertainment - the Darkling recognizes it for what it is; control.

Efficient.

The distinction between himself and the Shadow that slithered in to him on the way here, is negligible, they want the same things - to rule. To find a way back to Ravka and set it all to right, with Alina on his arm and all the power of the both of them combined at his disposal.

He takes a step closer to Kainé's cell, the shadows parting around him like water until he stands before the cold prison bars.]

You got caught.

The Darkling / Aleksander Morozova | Shadow and Bone

[cruelyethuman]

I. PUSHING UP DAISIES

[It starts with a cough.

Nothing dramatic or especially noteworthy, except for how Grisha do not fall pray to illness. But since death was on the table, the Darkling doesn't pay the cough much attention. The rules have changed, and he will adapt to them.

As he adapted to all the things that came before, and will learn to loath all the things that came after.

But it builds, from a tickle to a full-blown fit, bloody petals slipping from his mouth in sleep to mar the sweater balled up as a pillow under his head. And he hides it, like every other weakness, behind scraps of fabric and in the crock of his elbow, even as blood starts joining the soft pieces of flowers.


He doesn't want, not when wanting is such a weakness.

But he listens, to the words and whispers on the street, keeping his own state a secret even as the story builds in to something cruel and unkind- love]

It's not really any of your business what I need it for, just sell it to me.

[As he haggles for a tiny vial of ointment at the market, hand holding a small catch of coins.]

II. DO NOT PASS GO

[He didn't spill the blood of someone not himself, but the Darkling does watch with dark eyes as others are paraded out to receive their punishment.

A show of force and dominance.

Power.

He knew men like this before, had seen them cut down and had seen them accent the throne to take what wasn't willingly given by the people. He knows them, and where this might end.

But he watches, the weapons used and the act of putting a letter on those who stepped out of line.

Later, he will visit the prison, sneaking in under the cover of shadows, near-silent and armed with a knife.]

Do you need help?

WILDCARD - with note

[Come at me, or talk to me on ireth to plot things! The Darkling has the honor of having his emotions run around in physical form this month! Mod note for reference. Please make a note if you want one of his emotions and not him in your reply - emotions running around Pride, Lust or Contempt.

]

B

[sonofrome]

[War, prison, punishment. What the Centurion knows about those from war and the battlefield of Rome reminds him of when he had to do unforgivable acts himself. He was meant to be punished with this brand on his arm for what acts he committed against innocent Britons/Barbarians. But hell, if he was going to show that weakness in front of the Darkling.]

The Centurion wakes up in a prison cell, much like a gladiator of his world but his emotions are tucked away, cold as much as he can handle. His shadow would poke on how weak he was compared to the Darkling, and it knew he was.]

The General was picking at the shackles at his legs, not saying much.

"Depends."

[His look was angry, sullen]

"What are you expecting in return?"

uchiha sasuke | naruto

[chokuto]

I. 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐆𝐎 (cw: blood, violence, captivity)

[In the wan light, Sasuke stirs from his slouched position on the ground, peering through wrought-iron bars — left eye closed and right eye open, color a flat black. Shirtless, various old and healed scarring is visible on his upper body beside fresh scrapes and cuts, the worst standing out in a vivid F on the bicep of his severed left arm. Blood trickles from his hairline where he has suffered several blows; the cauterized branding is an angry, sore, shiny red.

His own resolute calmness betrays nothing of an active, calculative mind. He's watched the comings and goings of the guards assigned to the area for some time, and he's beginning to gather a better picture of their routine movements.

Eventually, someone else is hauled into the cell with him. Sasuke will ignore them unless they begin to speak to him first. If they're especially noisy, he'll snap:] Be quiet. Do you want their attention? If you aren't willing to keep your mouth shut, then we'll never have an opportunity to get out of this place. [Very sympathetic.

If, however, his cellmate is as quiet as him, his rasping voice will finally part the silence in a low murmur.] Have they told you of your crime? ... It's bothering me.

II. 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐄

[Upon escape from the cell, Sasuke rushes toward the perimeter of the Gallows around them, sliding neatly into the shroud of darkness without sound. If you follow him, he'll eventually pick out the red-painted arrow through the mausoleum and lead the way into the cave passages — after stopping to collect both his phone and sword from the contents of a nearby bin.] Collect your belongings. Let's go. [He's not waiting for an answer.

In the caves, Sasuke navigates in continued silence, until abruptly stopping. If he's with someone, he will hold out his right arm to halt their progress forward.] ... We aren't alone.

[Out of the dark, an Abysmal appears, ambushing them. Its skin is a pale and rubbery gray, mouth wide to expose horrifically broken teeth as it roars, preparing to dive on tentacled limbs from its high place on a cavern wall.

At some point, Sasuke is separated from his companion and wanders the twisting, subterranean passageways alone, feeling his way through the limitless darkness. He hisses when he steps badly on one foot, ankle hurt from the shackles he wore in the prison; he kneels against a wall to rest.]

III. 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒 (cw: body horror relating to the hanahaki disease)

[He has gone several days without an episode following what had occurred behind Naruto's door. Long enough to convince himself of the fluke, strange magic embedded in a dimension he has yet to full understand — until it happens again. An ache, at first, a though he's swallowed an extra breath of air incorrectly. Then a tickle in his throat. Then a burn.

Sasuke is standing in public when it happens. Either at one of the central Notice Boards around the city; or purchasing food at a local market in the Harbors; or beneath the cool trees of Serene's forest, close to the library; or on the road leading out of the underground Hale quarter. Either way, he's easily seen as the fit takes him. At first an innocuous cough, it doesn't clear his airway. The coughing intensifies, until Sasuke is taking a wide step back, right hand fisted over his chest. Then he buckles to a knee, the force of it becoming a choke — and at last the petals splatter from his throat, bright canary yellow, freckled with blood.

He remains kneeling, staring in mute shock and breathing raggedly.]

IV. 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

[Throughout the month, Sasuke can be found in a number of locations related to quests or just general exploration.

1. Again, standing at a Notice Board to review the displayed quests. If your character also comes to investigate, he'll approach and possibly enlist them if they have combat experience, or especially if they are a healer and willing to reveal this to him. The quests he will be taking on this month are: Serene with the Shadow-possessed Restless; the Harbors fishing request; Mirth, but he'll need some convincing (possibly from your character?) because he dislikes Mirth and doesn't see why the person can't just find the lost films themselves (yes, he'll say this rudely).

2. Sasuke is regularly out in the wilds surrounding Stygia, including the Hinterlands and the Shadowlands. He's armed now with a sword (soul-forged or not? ~it's a mystery~) and he won't hide his presence if he comes across another Restless while he's exploring/monitoring the area. He may also be found close to the Forges, possibly in one of the underground passages, snooping as ninja do.

You can find my plotting comment here if you want to hit me up OOC!]

iii & iv - 2 combo??? if it's not cool, lemme know and i'll edit!!

[spaceassassin]

[ keith likes minding his own business. if he keeps to himself, more often than not, no one braves bothering him. it’s the sour resting face; unfortunate, maybe, but proactive in keeping people at arm’s length. a shame then, that keith’s timing is this: him exploring one of the less welcoming districts, treading on a nondescript path that’ll – as far as he can guess – lead to the infamous forges. it also, subsequently, leads to a blockage.

a restless, rather.

he’s a sorry looking thing, bent over his own sick that’s splattered all over the ground. a kindness would be him asking the typical, run of the mill, are you okay, but when the answer is apparent, keith sees little point in wasting breath. instead, he keeps his distance, gaze drawing forward and away. ]

You should get outta here. You’re only gonna draw attention to yourself.

[ and keith. though, the screams do help drown out that hacking. ]

Zack Fair || Final Fantasy VII [All Prompts Open]

[heroproceeding]

I-A. Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Collect- WAIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING

[ He hadn't done anything, Zack had argued. The only blood he'd spilled back there was his own, he'd insisted. None of those people at the square had been felled by him. But his words fall on deaf ears. The branding nearly blacks him out. They ensure it happens with a hit to his head.

His arm still burns near unbearably when he comes to, chained and hurting. But stubborn is as stubborn does. And one mere chain does nothing for him, dwarfed by a SOLDIER strength they did not account for. He's already yanking at it, keeping his focus on the task at hand over the screams around him. Focus on the mission. Don't get distracted. Can't help anyone if he can't help himself first.

He rattles out the words in his head in rhythm with his yanking until a weak link finally snaps abruptly and he's left unceremoniously falling on his ass. The drop fails to wipe the victorious smile off his face though. Has him leaping into action now despite the ringing of the last remnant of the dangling shackle on his ankle. He grabs the chain belonging to the nearest fellow prisoner to him and pulls on that one now with a loud grunt. ]

I-B. Mausoleum Madness

[ Sense of direction has never been Zack's strength, try as he might. His vision just doesn't make up for that. Has him uncertainly walking down one long way before turning into a stretch of another that leads to no where fast. Another dead end. Another turn back.

It's frustrating. Enough for him to slam at the side of a wall with a fist. Foolish mistake. The side wall gives way. The ceiling above follows with and Zack's leaping back with a loud shout. He avoids the cave in but not the tentacles behind him. They catch and ensnare him, his arms quickly restrained by the abysmal. He immediately fights back against its grasp, even as it drags him with a: ] Hey! Hands- Tentacles off!

II. To the Rescue

[ Brass knuckles, mace, whatever the guard before him wields, it's nothing to dissuade Zack from facing off with him the moment he sees that other prisoner all shackled up and a mess. Foolhardy of him? Perhaps. Stupid even. He can hear Kunsel quipping some kind of tease at him for throwing himself in the middle of a fight like this, especially after having just escaped himself.

But SOLDIER honor, huh.

Of course, it never hurts to have backup. Which means Zack might be yelling at the nearest person who seems to be having second thoughts on leaving the prisoner, too, with a: ] Hey, a little help wouldn't hurt!

[ He says before he gets full on bashed in the face with the shield of the guard and goes rolling. ]

III. Wildcard

( ooc: Nothing in particular strike your fancy? PM me or oocly tag me here and we can plot something else out. I'm also up for notice board things and will intend to do an open post with that stuff later if they aren't touched on during the event.

Also just fair warning on me continuing to be slow. I work with kids. They continue to give me their colds. I continue to take forever to get over them. /o/ Thank you for your patience. )

han sooyoung | omniscient reader's viewpoint

[pyojeol]

will be writing closed starters! feel free to pm if u'd like one!

rosa... loan shark debtor inc

[pyojeol]

[LET THIS BE BEFORE JAIL TIME,

Sooyoung would have absolutely invited Rosa along just by bumping into her back at the apartment, so now here they are tackling the quest that's located closest to them... Or at least, should be? She toes the nearest pile of broken rubble, and groans. She'd been kind of impressed at the devastation they'd seen at Frish's place, but now... It's just a little one-note. Forest, caverns, rocks, more rocks, broken rocks, etc.]

How far are we supposed to track this guy?

[yet again, she is Complaining.]

FELIX HUGO FRALDARIUS | FIRE EMBLEM: THREE HOUSES

[boarwitness]

A. TICKLE IN THE THROAT

[it's rare to find Felix somewhere non-hunting or fighting-related, yet here he is, at a cafe in Mirth, knocking back a cup of tea like it's his job. every couple of moments he coughs, frowns, and drinks some more.

maybe he's sick? or maybe you know exactly what's up. in any case, it's a premium opportunity to bother felix, and maybe enjoy a beverage, too. you can probably slip it on to his tab...]

B. THEATRE KID

[somehow or other, Felix has managed to force his way through the missing movies request, and obtained the pseudo-USB stick. maybe you were with him. likely you found it. but it's Felix who plugs it into his phone, with no knowledge to fear what viruses await him.

when a movie starts from an exploration of files, he frowns.]

Is someone trying to contact me? Hello?

[he just assumes it's a video call. are you really gonna be the one to explain arthouse cinema or just movies fullstop to Felix Fire Emblem.]

C. HAND TO FIN COMBAT

[on the shore, a pair of thigh-high boots.

a little distance out in the surf, in about knee-depth ocean, their owner, pants hitched up to just above the watermark. he seems to be sprinkling something into the water in front of him, watching it pointedly, standing stock still with his a sword in one hand, hovering over the water.

then, in a quick moment, he stabs the water with the blade, hauls it up...

a fish.

he plucks it off, and throws it in a woven basket slung across his shoulder.

do not congratulate. stop him.]

D. DO NOT PASS GO

[this whole day has really sucked, and the cool new tattoo really stings. but it doesn't take long for Felix to come to, and start causing trouble. when he sees you chained nearby, he doesn't even hesitate, regardless of your relationship with him.]

Hey.

Start a fight with me.

[solid conversation opener]

E. BREAKOUT

[if Felix can't break out, there's a good chance that you find him if you're planning on breaking IN. he's not going gentle into this good night—on the contrary, your attempt to rescue him places you as the awkward audience of Felix in a full-on brawl with one of the prison guards. he's not losing—yet—but the way the guard is wielding his club suggests that may shortly change.

help him? heckle him? why not both?]

X. WILDCARD

[HIT ME BABEY I love a random prompt if you've got one!! tap me with a PP on nijikai or via DM!]

d, i'm sorry ... looks away ...

[unalign]

[ lumine doesn't have a lot of regrets, except maybe this one.

sure, it's for a good cause. but said good cause has gotten her momentarily concussed, given her a brand new throbbing arm tattoo, and landed her in jail. which was the plan in order to get the guard schedules, the escape routes, and everything else about the gallows that would make the breakout easier for everyone. she's managed to get most of the information she needs already. she just needs a way out.

and it seems like there's a guy who wants to make it easier for her. great!

she gives it a beat, debating on his words, before she picks up a rock that's managed to dislodge from the wall in the cell, throwing it hard at his head. or well, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to maim or injure him. just enough to, you know, start a fight with him as he wanted.

... she'll apologize later, she promises. ]

rudbeckia de borgia • how to win my husband over

[appeale]

PRE-EVENT — 1ST - 6TH;

NOTICEBOARD.
[ maybe you've already tried your hand at retrieving the star fragment from the Hinterlands, and weren't able to get past the judgey elementals; maybe you've just heard from others about the impromptu weighing of your soul required to earn their approval. what better way to negotiate with them than to bring along someone pure as virgin snow? except, if you do happen to ask Rudbeckia to accompany you— ]

No way! No way, no way. What if they don't like me?!

[ is that her concern??? ]

HINTERLANDS.
[ ... but if you do manage to convince her, and lead her out through the Hinterlands — when she steps up in front of the tiny Knights of the Broken Flame, she freezes. so do the little fire spirits, who regard her warily.

they seem... less receptive than expected? Ruby turns to look at you nervously, seeking support, and then back at the elementals. ]

H-Hello...

THE GALLOWS;

JAIL.
[ by the time they've dragged her all the way from Serene to the Gallows, Rudbeckia has given up on any resistance. she's always known that there isn't any point in trying to explain herself; the only thing anyone ever wants is punishment. so, she cooperates. the brand hurts, but she's had worse. they're detached about it all, closer in manner to the way the servants used to treat her; that, too, doesn't compare to the humiliation of cowering to her eldest brother's sneer.

anyone who has met Ruby might expect her to cry, encountering her here. she doesn't make a sound. she is almost obedient, sitting up against the wall, her golden hair in disarray around her. the only expression on her face is exhaustion.

even if she knows her cellmate, she doesn't acknowledge them at all. ]

RESCUE.
[ throughout the chaotic process of escaping the prison, Rudbeckia does her utmost not to make a nuisance of herself — if she falls behind, she's certain she'll be left there. she keeps pace with her rescuer without complaint and does as she's told, never asks for more than she's given. it isn't until they enter the dark passageway that her blank demeanour finally cracks:

she reaches out to hold the back of your shirt, just barely with the tips of her fingers. ]

I-I'm sorry. I can't see very well, so...

AFTERMATH.
[ for several days following the jailbreak, Rudbeckia does not leave the apartment complex, and in fact hardly even leaves the suite. if anyone wants to check in on her, they'll have to seek her out or send a message. ]

POST-EVENT — 14TH - 17TH;

HOUSE FLIPPING.
[ a week. she gives herself one week of sulking and cowering, shaken by once again getting driven to the very edge of a cliff for something she didn't do, and by the realisation of how dangerous the Hierarchy is, even to someone like her. but that only means it's more important than ever that she can establish lifelines amidst the other Restless. it's not like she thinks anyone would ever come to save her if she were sent to the Gallows alone, no matter her reputation; she's not a child, dreaming up fairytales.

she'll just take whatever rope she can reach. that's enough for her, because it has to be. so she has to do whatever it takes to make sure that rope won't break when she tries to climb it. fixing up houses like she said is a good start, isn't it? a kind-hearted girl and a compliant citizen.

you might find her trying to carry supplies that are definitely too heavy for her, or find yourself curious when you see her sweeping debris out the front door of a ramshackle house... or maybe you're already here to help her out. if she doesn't know you, she will have asked for your assistance and even offered to pay; for her existing friends acquaintances, if you offer your help, she tries to insist that she doesn't want to be a bother, but you can eventually get her to cave.

sometimes she can be heard humming while she works. if you're from the 21st century, you might hear a snippet of a tune that sounds familiar. it's probably just a coincidence! ]

NEW MOONS.
[ somewhere in Stygia, you find Rudbeckia facing a door with her head against it, leaning into it with her full body weight. she seems... depressed???

(she doesn't know how to open doors.)

alternatively, if you live in the apartment complex in Serene, you might encounter Ruby sitting next to a door like a cat waiting to be let in/out. ]

WILDCARD;

[ feel free to throw any other noticeboard quests or gallows incidents at me! if you want to plan something else or you'd like me to write a specific starter for you, hit me up at the event plotting, on plurk @ phaseblast, or on discord @ isa#2727 ♥ ]

house flipping

[zhanmadao]

[ he's learnt never to try and judge people by their appearance. sure, the girl may look very thin and kind of frail, but surely if she's so set on carrying that many heavy logs, probably for a fire, she must be capable-- nevermind.

mo ran grimaces as he looks at all the logs she'd cradled in her arms tumble to the ground with a loud noise after just a few steps, risking to hit her feet in the fall. he quickly rushes over, his high ponytail swaying back and forth and his black hanfu billowing in the motion. ]

Are you hurt?

[ he asks already from a distance and by the time he's close to her and intently looking her over to spy if there's any blood, it's obvious she's talking to her. he may tower over her with his 6'2". ]

Let me help. You risk to get injured and there are too many things here that'd take advantage of it.

haruno sakura 🌺 naruto

[craters]

（ closed starters below. pm if you'd like one, or feel free to step in with a wildcard! plotting comment over yonder. ）

fukawa;

[craters]

（ the smell is oppressive — sweat and blood and human waste, the stench of rotting things and of damp, wet earth. everything is dimly lit by flickering lights, some of which are entirely burnt out, casting a sickly yellow pallor over the prison.

around the corner, she can hear two guards conversing about their prisoners, rowdy lot, can't wait to get them to —' before the conversation becomes too jumbled to track. they're walking in the opposite direction, their footsteps receding as they go. one of them calls over their shoulder that they'll bring lunch for a third, who must still be on shift.

he'll be waiting for that lunch for a long time, she thinks grimly. as soon as she's reasonably assured the other two are too far to notice a scuffle, she slips around the corner, crouched low and moving carefully. being without chakra does make her orders of magnitude less lethal, but she's still a shinobi.

she makes it to the guard and flips a poison-coated senbon into one hand, stabbing it in one smooth motion into the man's jugular. the poison's a fast-acting paralytic that she put together herself, the guard barely has time to do more than grunt in surprise before he slumps backwards into her arms.

she wants to kill him. her fury over sasuke's mistreatment means her shadow is lingering, loud in the back of her mind. a paralytic is one thing, but she could just as easily break the man's neck. she does consider it for a moment, as he stares up at her with bright, wide eyes, terrified by what she assumes is the sudden difficulty he'll have drawing breath and the fact she holds his life in her hands.

she looks at him for several heartbeats, and then: ）

I'm not going to kill you. But you should re-think your career choice.

（ and then she hefts him up over her shoulder. there's a supply closet not far from where they are, and she wants to steal his uniform. it'll be a bit big, but it'll pass scrutiny so long as it's not up close... so she gets the man to the door, shoves it open and promptly stops dead in her tracks, before she steps the rest of the way inside and pulls the door closed behind her so she can hiss — ）

Fukawa?

（ — in a combination of disbelief and annoyance. ）

steve harrington | stranger things

[fawcetted]

●●● pushing up daisies — ;

[ Jesus fucking Christ.

The first time Steve burps up a rose petal, he initially thinks he’s seeing things, and the blood-red colour of the petal is some kind of whacky illusion, a sign that he’s probably taking this ‘hey I’ve died and now I’m stuck in this crazy hellish afterlife’ really, really badly. The homesickness for his own crappy town and its peculiar antics hits deep, like a sharp stabbing pain in his chest.

... turns out that stabbing pain is really just a coughing fit about to happen, and this time it’s the snow-white colour of chrysanthemum petals that fills the palms of his hands. He sleeps it off, doesn’t try to think too much of it (denial, anyone?) but then the fever and the itching starts, and his body feels worse than the worst hangover he’s ever had. He kinda feels like he’s dying.

He’ll be in the marketplace now, visiting any vendors with healing items, in search of something to sooth his insides just as he hacks up blood and thorny red roses — ]

Sorry, do you guys have any like … Extra-Strength Pepto Bismol? Or something?

[ Or just a little later, having found something to pacify his insides and surface ailments, he can be found sitting by a particularly pathetic curb somewhere, head hanging into his lap, looking pale and a little sweaty but at least … stable enough to breathe. There are remnants of carnation buds strewn about at his shoes but at least the blood is minimal.

His voice is hoarse when he says a little bitterly: ]

No, I’m not doing great, thanks for asking.

●●● do not pass go — ;

[ Steve hadn’t spilled any blood during the Harvest, too busy taste-testing bad beans and generally being a little more of a social butterfly than a blood-lusty killer, so his appearance in the Gallows may seem odd. Almost uncharacteristic.

Thing is, he got here on his own volition and not as a prisoner but a guy in search of his missing soulmate. Once the thought had been put into his head, it was hard not to pursue the possibility that Eddie Munson might have been captured by Reapers and taken here along with some of their fellow Restless. He sneaks in during a shift-change and starts to make his way down the length of cells. ]

Hey — you haven’t seen a tall nerdy guy with big hair in any of these cells, have you?

[ Don’t worry, he won’t leave you to rot — unless you mean to stay here, anyway. If he can, he’ll offer to help you out. Of course, he might need a little direction; jailbreaks aren’t exactly something he’s an expert on.

Hell, he only won his first fight like, last summer. ]

Hold on, okay? I think I can get you out.

[ From time to time, you might notice him pausing to reapply some healing poultice for a blister or a rash that’s gone a little sour but at least he’s got the coughing under control for now. ]

●●● wildcard — ;

[ if none of the above sparks any inspiration, feel free to leave your own starter below (or use the bits you like)! send me a PM or plotting comment to hash out any details. ]

knock knock

[redsoil]

[ What's life ( or unlife? ) without a wholeass divinity showing up at your door, huh?

Following the mark made upon the map, Set arrives in the harbor with a small basket tucked over one arm and the most perturbed expression upon his face. Many souls have gone missing over the past few days - drawn into long-winded field missions, or simply taken away by rough hands. It concerns him, to think that those he has begun to grow close to territorial over, could vanish so readily without his knowledge. Then again, he was never the all-seeing one, nor even a god that was very close to others.

It is why his arrival at Steve Harrington's place is unheralded, sudden, and loud. He bangs a fist on the door, after checking the map pin on his phone, demanding loudly: ] Come to the door and let me in! I know you are expecting me.

[ this guy ]

joel miller | the last of us

[healthkit]

[ god ok lets try this again, properly this time ... ]

open prompt + wildcard — ;

[healthkit]

●●● do not pass go — ;

[ While spilling blood comes as absolutely no surprise to a severe post-apocalyptic survivor like Joel, getting arrested and detained for it is a new experience. Back home, the matter of ensuring one's survival and killing to stay alive for one more lousy day was an intrinsically understood concept. Prisons were for off-shoot societies, and maybe cults.

In this afterlife, he’s had to learn to survive in other ways. Other less violent ways, even. But the instinct to protect himself at all costs hasn’t quite had the time or circumstance to be smoothed down from its jagged edges, so. He can’t remember what exactly he’d killed or why but it lands him in a cell with some of his fellow Restless, branded with a crudely placed F across the skin of his arm, the heavy iron cuff around his ankle keeping him quite literally rooted to the ground. Doesn't stop him from pacing across the small space when he can before finally settling into one corner of his cell to look past the bars at his fellow cellmates.

At you, perhaps. ]

So what’re you in for?

[ Even on his good days, it’s hard for Joel to come by a joke, but here he is, cracking something like one. Maybe it comes from a place of being pissed off enough, and feeling well and truly trapped. Maybe it's a way to form an alliance. Or maybe he wants to start a fight, get you in on the ruse and provoke the guards to approach and open their cells.

Any chance to escape, right? ]

●●● wildcard — ;

[ if none of the above sparks any inspiration, feel free to leave your own starter below (or use the bits you like)! send me a PM or plotting comment to hash out any details. ]

set | ennead

[redsoil]

— IT'S CLOSED STARTERS & WILDCARD(S) MONTH.

[ Set managed to NOT shed blood last month, and is thus left out of the loop in regards to what is happening at the Gallows. If you're not up for angst in some capacity, he is available for the following! I'll make starters, just hmu.

— Yelling at the Gallows entrance, making demands to free people in exchange for himself. He's a much better prisoner, don't you see?
— Absolutely getting hammered in Mirth's various dens of iniquity, while suffering both hanahaki symptoms and the fact that he keeps seeing fears, friends and figures in reflective surfaces. He's very paranoid, hopped up on substances and may lunge into a fight if pressed in any capacity. Either a) soothe him or b) fight him!
— Writing letters to the Hierarchy, of which -- anyone who comes across him will be able to read his letters, which are not politically savvy and are, in fact, increasing in frustration. Set, you can't threaten the Hierarchy with bodily harm!
— Notice board quests! Hmu for any of them, save for the fallen star adventure.
— Find him in the library, reading up on labyrinths, as well as asking around for information on THE Local Labyrinth.

I have some closed starters for people as well, prepare thyself. Here is his plotting comment! I also have a unique prompt for angst,,, in his perma-catchall log for established CR. ]

Arrakis Faylare | Original Character

[fallendragon]

I. Do not Pass Go (cw: sensory deprivation, possible violence)

A.) Capture

[It wasn’t the first time Arrakis had been hunted for reasons he didn’t understand. It had led to his death last time and he resisted when the Hierarchy came for him. His gentle disposition was shattered as he conjured a violent gale around him, cutting anyone who dared to get close. His eyes brightly glowed and he disappeared under his panic and rage as he embraced his inhuman mage side. The debris caught inside his vicious wind faintly illuminated the shape of a dragon, its mouth open wide in a silent growl that sounded like the howling wind. It didn’t matter who approached him, everyone was met with the same unforgiving wind. His normally friendly voice sharpened with a venomous threat as his shadow took center stage.]

G̴e̷t̵ ̴B̴a̴c̵k̸!̸

B.) Gallows (cw: hanahaki symptoms, possible magic poisoning)

[As soon as he stepped foot inside the gallows Arrakis was cut off from his magic. The bright glow from his eyes faded as his consciousness was forced back inside his human body. Unfortunately regaining his senses made the brand burn more and his agonized scream earned him a heavy hit over the head.

The screams woke him up. He winced as the movement from sitting up agitated the brand on his arm. His eyes narrowed at the ugly burn and a spark of anger shone through his groggy expression. His eyes were adjusting to the dim light quicker than he expected, although he wouldn’t call that a good thing. It just made his grim situation feel more real and he pulled his legs closer to himself as he tried to ignore the loud clinking of the chain his feet were tethered to. He didn’t feel like pretending everything was going to be fine so he ignored his cellmate. He kept an eye on the guard as he discreetly pulled on the chain. He stopped when the guard came close again. After a few tries, he rested his head against his knees with a sigh. So much for that plan. Even with his wind magic he couldn’t cut through metal.

A fit of coughing interrupted his thoughts and a few bloody black rose petals slipped past his hand that covered his mouth. Oh yeah, he almost forgot about the flowers. As if being wrongfully imprisoned wasn’t enough, he felt like he had a fever. His eyes widened in panic. Wait, he was hot? He should be cold without his magic, not hot. Hot meant he had too much magic, which would get ugly fast and he frantically turned to his cellmate.]

H-hey!

[His throat stung and it was hard to get the words out.]

How...ah...

[Each word felt like a herculean effort but he desperately pushed through it, his breathing becoming more ragged with each breath and he tried to race through the words.]

How long have I been out?

[It seemed that he pushed his poor throat too much and he erupted in another fit of coughing. He closed his eyes against the pain as a few fragile crystal petals shattered on the ground.]

C.) Rescue (cw: possible hanahaki symptoms, lmk if you prefer the thread without them)

[Arrakis wasn’t in good shape. He wasn’t in any position to save anyone. He knew that, which is why he didn’t play the hero and he let the other prisoners save themselves if they could. But this one was different and he stood frozen with indecision at the terrible spectacle in front of him. He shouldn’t get involved. He had already made an enemy of the Hierarchy. He didn’t want more trouble but the haunting memory of his death compelled him to act. He couldn’t leave anyone to die alone as he did.

Arrakis couldn’t use his magic but he was still a skilled fighter and he nimbly dodged the guard’s attacks. The plan was simple, tire out the guard, except he was fading faster than the guard. His head swam and he clumsily sidestepped a little too late when the guard swung his mace. He might need some help.]


II. Lost Gryphon

[As soon as Arrakis escaped he looked for somewhere he could hide. He was a wanted criminal, and he couldn’t risk dragging Hibiki or Zach into trouble. He would have to deal with his transformation alone this time. A faint breeze followed him as he searched. He slipped into an abandoned house just as the wind turned into a strong gale. The walls creaked under the fierce wind before everything went quiet.

A small white gryphon about the size of a housecat peeked cautiously out the window before hesitantly taking to the skies. He avoided people at first. He flew away whenever anyone got too close but running away was too lonely and he kept coming back. His tail curled defensively around him as he hid in a nearby tree and watched people go by. The fur on his front leg was burnt in the familiar f shape, like so many others who supposedly had forsaken the Hierarchy’s hospitality. Hopefully the wrong people don’t notice.]


III. Pushing up daisies (cw: hanahaki symptoms)

A.)

[It had been a few days since Arrakis had escaped. He hid his brand under a dark long-sleeved shirt and tried to act like nothing was wrong. There was a slight tension in his usual sunny disposition, but he did his best to push past the shadow that loomed over him. He wasn’t the only one who could use a bit of joy after all. Being annoyingly cheerful was what he was good at and he happily chatted with everyone he came across. He was a bit quieter though and he let the other person lead the conversation since talking was a bit painful with flowers in your throat. He didn’t want to let anyone know how bad it had gotten so he discreetly turned to the side to stifle a cough. He sneakily summoned a tiny gust of wind to quickly get rid of the bloody petals, nothing to see here, before he turned to his companion with a polite smile.]

Sorry, there was something in my throat. I didn’t catch that last part.

B.)

[As the flowers got worse, it became harder to keep his symptoms a secret. The last thing he wanted was to draw more attention to himself so he spent most of his time on rooftops where he wouldn’t trouble anyone. He stifled another cough and looked sadly at the broken crystalline petals in his hand.]

Althiyan flowers aren’t fair.


IV. Wildcard

[Feel free to make your own starter if you want something different! You can plot with me on plurk Nicholaj, Discord@Nicholaj#7374, or pm, whichever is easier for you.]

iii-a.

[lackluster]

[ After a while, the strange sickness that's going around is not so mysterious anymore, and Tartaglia can tell the difference between an innocent cough versus one that's caused by a floral restriction in your throat. He raises an eyebrow when Arrakis turns away from him, arms slowly crossing over his chest.

Sure, he might have a one-track mind sometimes, but that doesn't mean he's blind to what's obviously happening here. He was asking the other man about his magic that he'd witnessed in the Gallows, and was eventually planning to ask for a spar, but maybe that'll have to wait. ]

Shouldn't you be resting?

morpheus. sandman, netflix

[dreamlords]

01. PUSHING UP DAISIES.

[ at first, he ignores it. he's an endless and an endless cannot and will not get sick. he refuses to even consider it and thus, it's not happening.

but the tickle in his throat does not go away and he starts coughing. it's almost like he needs to take a drink and so, he keeps a bottle of water with him but that does nothing to eliminate what's happening.

when he has a particular nasty fit of coughing, he's taking a walk and the flowers just...erupt from his mouth. it's actually a bit frightening for it to happen, something new and unfamiliar. it doesn't hurt but he stares in horror anyway at the various flowers that cover his boots. ]

What.

[ closing his eyes, he tries to pretend that this didn't happen, that h was merely imagining it and then it happens again and again, flowers covering the ground in front of him.

he looks up, watches the eyes of people who pass and dares them to say something. he has no answers for them so he doesn't want to deal with questions. ]

02. DO NOT PASS GO

[ if there is one thing in his life that he hadn't wanted to happen again, it's being imprisoned but that's what happens.

they find him and they take him and despite seeing them coming, he's still not able to fend them off. they take him and they put a brand on his skin that doesn't heal. it stays, bright red and angry, and he's never felt pain like that before. he doesn't know how they do it, how they've managed to injure and brand an endless but he doesn't get anytime to think about it before he's blindfolded and moved.

when awareness next filters in, he realizes that he's in prison again with a brand on the back of his shoulder and a long chain cuffed to his leg.

he's angry. more than that, he's a little terrified about his vulnerability. but anger wins out and he gets to his feet, pacing but not yelling. he pulls on the iron leg restraint, pacing and probably annoying those nearby.

but he doesn't care. he wants out of here.

now. ]

03. WILDCARD

[ for anything else that might not be above that you wanna do. i'm at jortles for discussion. ]

do not pass go.

[exilire]

[ with the help of zagreus, and the brute force he uses to crash through the barriers and guards, she's able to make her way deep into the prison. she barely gives the other imprisoned there more than cursory glances, as they stalk past the barred cages; she's not here for them, even if she does relent and wait patiently for her companion to free them with the keys they steal off of the guards.

she's here for someone else, and she finds him finally at the very end of the prisoner compound, his leg shackled with a heavy chain as he paces around his cell. he's disheveled and dirty, a wound bleeding through his coat at one of his shoulders, and johanna comes close enough to wrap a hand around each of the bars and try to press herself between them to speak to him. ]

...Morpheus.

[ said with a distinct note of concern lacing her voice, regardless of the fact he'd abandoned her and left her alone after their last encounter at the festival. she'd been initially angry about that when the drink's effects had worn off, but she'd remembered exactly everything she'd done and said to him under its influence, and while shame isn't exactly in her repertoire she does regret pushing that boundary with him and making him uncomfortable. somehow he knew it hadn't been voluntary, though; something had taken her over, and he'd been correct in assuming she hadn't been in her right mind. the fact that she hadn't been in full control of her faculties is something else to worry about, for another time.

still, it makes this reunion just a little bit more awkward. she stifles a cough into the sleeve of her coat, before turning her face toward him again. ]

...I'm going to get you out of here — just hold on.

Aerith Gainsborough | Final Fantasy VII

[aflowers]

I. 𝒫𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓅 𝒹𝒶𝒾𝓈𝒾𝑒𝓈 (Shadow!Aerith)

[ As far as Aerith knows, she has the lesser form of the curse that seems to be making its way through Stygia. While she certainly has something of a mild cough— a persistent, irritating tickle in her throat— she's certainly not spitting up flowers like she's seen so many here doing... much less the pain and the blood that sometimes comes along with them.

It's something both fascinating and horrifying at once: She loves flowers, of course, finds them beautiful like nothing else, and she's seen people here and there spitting up flowers that she's never seen before, flowers clearly from worlds other than her own. And even the flowers she does know... she finds herself wondering why those flowers in particular, what meaning they have to the victim of the illness.

Perhaps it's selfish of her, finding something beautiful in the pain of others, but she can't quite help it— even as she feels her heart go out to these people, there's an interest that spikes every time she sees whatever petals they find themselves coughing up. It's her Shadow, of course, deep and insidious as it is, using her natural curiosity and her love for flowers against her to inspire her into acting more selfishly.

She catches herself sometimes— other times not so much.

Right now is one of the latter times. She was certainly kind enough to hand you a flask she's carrying, filled with water and something that tastes and feels mostly like honey, but since then she's been examining one of the flowers you spat up, tilting it from side to side as she looks at it from all angles. ]

What is this one called? [ she might ask, if they're flowers she wouldn't recognize from Gaia; if she would know them, she asks instead: ] Do these have any special meaning to you?

II. 𝒟𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈 𝑔𝑜

[ She hasn't spilled any blood— in fact, since arriving here, Aerith hasn't hurt anyone at all.

To be honest, she wasn't even entirely aware of the Harvest in the first place; most of her first month was spent trying to understand exactly what she was doing here.

...Being away from Gaia has been hard.

However, difficulties aside, she's hardly about to let loved ones languish in the Gallows, especially once she hears that people are trapped there. And whatever this Hierarchy might have to say for themselves, she hardly believes that anyone she knows could be responsible for murder. Whatever insane things have happened here...

Well, she just doesn't believe it.

It's for that reason that Aerith finds herself sneaking into the Gallows where others are trying to get out. She's not exactly well kitted for an excursion of this kind, carrying a grand total of one weapon: a long fallen branch that she's utilizing as a staff. But that hardly matters to her. She's scrappy, and sneaky enough that she should be able to make it work.

Maybe.

Either way, while looking for her friends, she has managed to come across your cell, and careful to keep herself out of view of the guards, she hides herself as well as she can in the shadows, trying to talk to you. After all, she may have specific people she's here for, but if she can help others, that's a good thing too, right? ]

Hi. [ Her voice is low, quiet. ] You're not meant to be here, right? Do you want me to try and help?

III. 𝒯𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒸𝓊𝑒

[ Of course she's going to free him.

She's never seen him before, of course, but that doesn't matter. He's in pain, he's essentially being tortured, and that's just not something by which she can abide.

The only thing Aerith has going for her is the branch she's been using as a staff; even her natural magical abilities don't seem to want to work here, and she's quick but not quick enough, taking a few blows that send her flying, gaining a black eye and a blood nose and something of a limp before she realizes that the only way this is going to work is for her to just keep the guard busy.

Luckily, she's good at that kind of thing.

Whether someone comes along to help her free the prisoner in the meantime, or she is able to keep on the move until the guard topples over out of exhaustion... that doesn't matter. Either way, she'll make this work. ]

𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹 > 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒸𝓊𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃

[aflowers]

Finally.

[ There's a clear relief in her voice as it echoes through the darkness of his cell, perhaps a little too loudly for her safety— although right now she doesn't exactly care. She's been looking for him for more than long enough, coming across person after person who isn't him... and of course she's been more than happy to help out as much as she can, but Cloud has always been her top concern. And how could he not be? They have too much history at this point for it to be any other way.

Besides, she figures, she still owes him one from when he broke into Shinra to rescue her.

(And come to think of it, this Hierarchy seems to have a lot in common with that particular company, but that's neither here nor there.)

Even in the dark, the iron cuffs and tattered rags make him look small somehow; the only thing worse than those is the ugly "F" branded into his arm, red and painful in a way that makes her shudder to look at it. She's heard that there's something to help him get rid of it, but... first, at least, they've got to get him out of here. ]

You must be thirsty, right?

[ Aerith's hand slips through the bars, holding a flask of water, one she's been carrying with her practically everywhere since the annoying little tickle in her throat started. It's tinged with honey (or something very similar to it at least), and between the sweetness and the liquid should hopefully give him enough strength to get started. Because quite frankly, now that she's here, she's not exactly sure how she's going to get him back out.

(Nor is she giving much thought to the fact that if this really is a sickness going around, having him drink from her flask isn't the smartest thing to do— right now, it just seems necessary, and that's enough for her.) ]

How are you feeling? Do you think you can make it out of here if I can get you free?