EVENT & TDM 008

[sticksandbonesmods]

LET IT GO

WAKE UP

It’s strange, how as the dawn of a new day finally arrives, coinciding with the howling winds dying out, classic, adorable snowmen seem to have popped up all over the Grove overnight. The fog wall has yet to surround the barren remains of a town that once was, but it’s visible once more in the great distance.

Not that you can see it immediately. Something covers your eyes, and you can feel something heavy and frigid wrapped all around you. As you struggle more and more, the crunch of snow echoes through your ears as you step free- and when you turn back to examine their prison, you’ll realize one of the snowmen was you.

Meanwhile, old residents will get to deal with more and more people popping out of snowmen like daisies, and must remember that this is just their life now. It’s just another day in Aldric’s Grove.

Though, maybe you ought to help them before frostbite sets in.

MIRROR, MIRROR

The quiet couldn’t last forever. You should have known that something would happen, especially with the fog beginning to make itself known again. And this time, it’s something quiet. As you wake up one morning, there is a mirror on your nightstand — it’s silver and round, able to fit comfortably in your hand and wreathed in crystalline snowflakes.

And as you look into it, your reflection twists into something still undeniably you, but… have you a temper problem? Too many lies? A sadistic sense of humor? All of your worst traits are dragged out and reflected on the mirror, and no matter what, it keeps ending up wherever you are — and whoever else looks into the mirror will see this awful, terrible you, too. All of your worst characteristics, all the things you try to hide, unable to be hidden.

Maybe you keep trying to hide it. Maybe you let it stay wherever it keeps turning up, following you like a particularly terrible walking salesman, or maybe you break it. Regardless, nothing seems to happen… for now.

WITH SHARDS OF ICE

“For now”.

Late into the night, everyone wakes up to a sudden, terrible chill. When you open your eyes, you’ll find that you aren’t in your inn room or home, but instead within a giant castle made of ice. It must be a ballroom of some sort, a grand hall glittering in the moonlight — but looking out the window shows that the world beyond the castle is but a frozen wasteland of more blizzards and nothing else. Though you’ve been granted some of your gear — weapons and some supplies, and coats if you’re lucky — you’ll find that the temperature is dropping steadily, while something approaches…

Peek out the door to the main hall and you’ll see what’s coming so noisily. An army’s worth of hallowed ice knights with all sorts of weapons are marching to the door, intent on slaying the intruders. Should they get close, they’ll attack; should they land the killing blow, you’ll instantly freeze into a solid block and shatter.

And if you broke the mirror that haunted you? On top of all of this, you can feel yourself gradually growing colder, physically and emotionally, and your magic, if you have it, takes on an icy flair that you may find difficult to control. Maybe it's your feet that start to turn to ice first — maybe it's your fingertips. But as the night goes on, you’ll steadily freeze solid, and like any fairy tale, only an act of true love could possibly save you. Good luck figuring out what that actually means. True love’s kiss? A genuine compliment? A hug? What could possibly save you from your fate?

Those of you who survive until morning, who don’t become solid statues of ice or die within the castle’s walls, will be lucky enough to witness the sun coming up through narrow windows the size of your forearm. All around you, the castle starts to melt, dripping freezing water onto your head. For as much as you try to run before you, presumably, drown terribly…

…your eyes will close, and you’ll wake up in your bed, drenched.

FOOTPRINTS IN THE FRESH SNOW

The morning after that dreadful night, things… settle, again. Aldric’s Grove is quiet, and clear sunlight glistens across the snowy plaza and radiates off of frosted trees. Even now, the apple tree and blackberry bushes are unfazed by the cold, though the fruit may taste crisper and chillier than usual. Those that died within the castle return to life, feeling colder than normal for the rest of the day, but there seems to be no lasting damage. And, everyone who participated in the castle “game” receives a mysterious gift: A wooden coin with a sigil on it, resembling a clock with backwards hands behind a shield, attached to frosted pinecones, red berries and sprigs of mistletoe. It feels warm and protective.

You go outside. It’s been some time since anyone’s seen anything from the woods, let alone something that doesn’t want them dead — so imagine one’s surprise when a small family of deer can be seen walking amongst the trees. Birds alight to the branches on rare moments, and it’s surely a sign of something, that life has begun to return to the forest despite the deep snow and deeper chill.

Never mind that one of the deer has an extra set of antlers and another has three eyes. Never mind that the birds sound like people. Never mind that the rabbits have blood on their maws.

It’s just another day in Aldric’s Grove.

SPARK NOTES

CLICK TO EXPAND!

WAKE UP

Good day, new arrivals! You are now a snowman. Hopefully people who have been here a bit longer are willing to give you a blanket or ten.

MIRROR, MIRROR

A mirror appears and starts following you around, reflecting what you think are your worst traits or worst version of yourself is. Other people can look into it and see the awful you, too. You can break it and it'll leave you alone, or you can let it stalk you all month.

WITH SHARDS OF ICE

Welcome to the ice castle! It's cold, but you have your stuff with you, and it's not unlivable. Well, until the frozen army of knights starts marching in with the intent to kill everyone inside, anyway. One lethal hit from them will make you shatter into pieces. For those of you who broke your mirrors, you'll gradually grow colder both physically & emotionally, and eventually start to freeze solid. Don't worry, though, you can be saved through the power of love.

FOOTPRINTS IN THE FRESH SNOW

Dawn rises on the Grove and the dead come back to life. Everyone who participated in the castle game receives a magical charm, though they don't know what it does so far. Animals come back to the Grove as well! ...why do they look like that?

OOC

Happy January! TDMs are game canon as a reminder, and if you'd like to plot with people for this event, head over to OOC plotting. While it is not known to player characters at this time, the charms granted as a reward for the ice castle can undo one future negative effect (i.e. a major death). They are a one-time use item. As for how characters discover this information... idk, we'll see how y'all decide to utilize those. :)

UPDATES

❖ None yet!

SUBMISSIONS

QUESTIONS
INVESTIGATIONS
PAST-LIFE PLOTTING
INTEREST CHECK

(CODE)

Comments

QUESTIONS

[sticksandbonesmods]

 

[diplomaticimmewnity]

hi just clarification, mostly for Mizuki, ignore that I keep asking questions on the worng acct-

Do the people who died still get the reward? Is it just for participation or did you have to survive as well?

[sesa]

Asking this here instead of the discord bc it might be useful for others!

When the mirrors are broken, do they immediately stop working? Would the shards be able to reflect anything anymore, and if so, would it still be the warped images of people, or just a normal reflection? I feel like this might have been answered in the text somewhere but I missed it, in which case I'm sowwy-

INVESTIGATIONS

[sticksandbonesmods]

Please use the following form for investigations:

Character(s):
Location:
Action: What are they looking for? What are they doing?

<b>Character(s):</b> <b>Location:</b> <b>Action:</b>

Re: INVESTIGATIONS

[amethystic]

Character(s): Felicity
Location: Ice Castle!
Action: Mostly she's looking around and investigating, starting with the grand hall. Is there any sign of anything under the ice? Like a real castle? Any "monarch" being honored?


Anything cool and magic to steal?

[alligatus]

Character(s): Lancelot
Location: Ice Castle
Action: Just trying to see if there is anything familiar about any of the knights - do they dawn armor for anyone he has fought? Hell are they knights HE KNOWS?? What century do these knights of armor seem to be from? He knows about several generations of knights from the eras of 400 (his starting point) - 1600s.

[livlaughlove]

Character(s): Livio
Location: Ice Castle
Action: Liv is studying the knights even through the fights. He tries to keep his distance for the most part, but will sometimes venture for close combat to learn more.
Are they organized at all / do they seem to communicate with one another? Does it seem like they have a chain of command? Are they taking orders or acting as individuals?
They don't speak or have bodies once destroyed, but do they react to words or taunts or a changing up of maneuvers like a person (or an individual spirit) might? Or is it more senseless drive to brute force their way through everything?
Do they have any weak points besides those in traditional armor?

[reaperbunny]

I. Butterflies are kinda nice I guess (Grove - Open)

[ Ah, the mirror. The mirror that shows one their worst traits, the things that are truly the most deplorable, disgusting traits about themselves. Honestly? Brook is mildly surprised that such a mirror is not literally just a mirror for himself. Being as ridiculously old as he is, and living such a deplorable life, it’s hard not to be aware of his flaws. Impossible, even. Especially the flaws of “Brook”.

Brook is ignoring it entirely, though. He’ll give the occasional glance over at it when it speaks to him, but doesn’t flinch in the slightest. Unfortunately, for anyone who happens to be around the mirror at the time, one, will hear this deep, guttural and unrecognizable language from it, that is equal parts growled and hissed. Though the words themselves don’t make any sense, the sound alone seems to evoke an unnatural sense of despair and… guilt. Like you can feel your sins scratching against your skin. The more severe the sin, the more suffocating that feeling becomes.

You may even catch a glimpse of the Brook inside. Voidlike and only the vaguest of features, with shadows that both lick across what little skin shows, and in the surrounding space – not much unlike the merchant siblings. (Hey, Brook? Brook? Is that the reason you haven–)

Anyway, if you get too close, Brook is almost unnaturally quick in getting next to you, grabbing the mirror first, flipping it around. ]

Don’t mind it. He just gets a little sassy sometimes. [ ??? ]

II. But my tummy hurts, I’m getting sick of it (Ice castle - Open)

[ The ice castle is… big. It’s big and Brook might do well in the cold, but he hates waking up in new places. He knows he wasn’t there for the volcano, but the fact that now they’re in an ice castle doesn’t really bode well for them.

At least it’s not a race or anything, haha…

People will find Brook at one of the walls, a comically large fist in the form of conjuring shadows around his hand. He’s attempting to punch through the wall, it seems. He’s made a dent, too! Which… probably means he’s been at this for a while…

And when he seems to finally be making that little bit of progress, it seems to re-solidify. If Brook has a reaction to this beyond just holding completely still, it's hard to tell. He just seems to stare blankly. ]

III. Been bruised over and over again (Ice castle - Open)

[ Otherwise, he’ll just be helping with the knights once he realizes they’re an actual issue. Rather, he’s just avoiding them himself in various comical ways, slipping on his new mask (thanks, Wolfwood), and seemingly expressionless as he limbos himself past the swings of axes and the twirling of spikes flails and simply skating away.

But if there’s someone else in trouble? He’ll always seemingly mock whatever knight he’s killing by conjuring that shadow-y business he has going on into the weapon they’re using and slam into them with it, shattering or slicing the presumably non-sentient creatures and dispersing the shadows after. ]

We should move, before more show. …Are you okay?

IV. So, you know what?? (Wildcard)hmu @ discord or rubiesriot for plotting stuff!

I

[lupusxylem]

[Wolfwood hated his own mirror enough without feeling himself influenced by another god damn different one. But at least Brook's is far less personal, it's just that he doesn't like the feeling of being reminded of the things he hates about himself in the first place, and those many sins are definitely one of them. He's just a lot better at keeping it under wraps, unlike some people.

So when Brook tells him "don't mind it", Wolfwood's response is to scowl around the smoldering cigarette between his teeth.]

Why don't you just smash it? Ain't like you got anything to lose, unless you like having that follow you around.

[Do not listen to him this will prove problematic later-]

I. Butterflies are kinda nice I guess

[amethystic]

( felicity quirks an eyebrow, before shrugging it off. )

Thought mine reformed for a moment. With how eerie these things are, I wouldn't put it past it.

( "are you holding up okay?" dances on her tongue but she swallows the words with a quiet ease. compared to how she used to be in the grove, making meals for the inn every day and then going about her business trying to stave off boredom, it's hard to play the caretaker like she tends to. she's bone-tired and as much as she does care, she wishes she didn't. )

III. Been bruised over and over again

[amethystic]

( felicity doesn't answer right away. she thinks... her ribs are cracked. there's a frozen-over gash, and the ice has crept past her wrist, now. the first few words are barely a whisper... )

So... petrification, again.

( ... before she straightens up from how she was hunched over, leaning against the wall for support, and looks up at brook. her hair is starting to frost over, too.

so.

no, she's super not. )

... Thank you.

[oleaeuropaea]

i. Something's Wicked This Way Comes — Around the Grove, OTA

[The moment those strange snowmen begin popping up, cute as they are, Vash feels that something has changed. The air feels different, still like the calm before the storm.

Vash finds himself outside more often than not. He watches the edge of the forest. He tries to stare deep into the fog. And when those efforts reveal nothing, he finds himself pacing back and forth. More often than not, that path takes him past the general store. Every time he sees the building, he seems to stop. He pulls his gun from his holster not to shoot, but to pop open the chamber.

Each time, he meticulously counts the bullets. The number is always the same. Three bullets left. One had been fired into a Rose Hound. One had been fired getting away from the Rose Hounds. Three had been used to fend off his brother.

It would be a good idea to restock. But something stops him. It's not like he relishes having a full chamber. He doesn't enjoy the violence it begets. But it's the only way he can protect what matters, right?

Every time, he's unsatisfied with the answers his mind provides. And so he begins the cycle again. Maybe you should check on him?]

ii. Mirror Mirror — Around the Grove, OTA

[Vash first finds the mirror at the Inn. He'd only popped into his old room to make sure nothing had been left behind, and to grab some extra sheets. When he opens one of the drawers just to be sure, he finds it — that strange simple little thing. He picks it up, because of course he does —

only to immediately drop it when he sees his reflection. It's him, there's no denying it — he can see it in the glasses, the jacket, and the hair. But it's clear that there's something wrong with it too, just as anyone would be able to see.

By some miracle, the mirror doesn't break. But it is left on the ground as he hurriedly grabs his blankets and rushes from the inn. If he leaves it behind, he won't have to think about it, right?

Until he's out at the River, later that day. His hands plunge down into ice water, only to wrap around something round and definitely not a shell. He pulls back, and even through the mud and debris, he can still see that eerie face in the glass.

The mirror is promptly tossed into the nearest snowbank, while Vash slides back and looks about wildly. He can feel his heart in his throat. A strange fear that he doesn't understand grips him. It isn't just the mirror following him, but what's inside it. He doesn't understand it, but he knows to be afraid.]

iii. With Shards of Ice — Ice Castle

[He knew something was wrong. He knew they were on the verge of something terrible happening. And yet nothing could have prepared him for this. Vash has never seen a castle, to be totally clear. He's seen a lot of bizarre architecture and cityscapes, but never a castle.

Part of him is amazed that something like this could be made. The rest of him is horrified.

He slinks about the castle at first, watching its occupants warily. He hides behind columns, around corners, anything to keep himself out of sight. His hand rests on his thigh, ready and waiting to fire. Thankfully, he'd been convinced to restock, but...

He can't tell what the knights are. Human? Living? He doesn't know. And until he does, he won't fire. Even once the cold finally gets to his senses and he sneezes the biggest damn dad sneeze he's ever managed. Even once a group of knights turns on him and starts to give chase.

Slipping, sliding, and skittering through the halls, Vash runs and runs. But he never once turns and fires.]

iv. Wildcard Anywhere and everywhere

[Hit me with something different, or hit me up to plot something out!]

I

[lupusxylem]

[Wolfwood had come by the shop for the usual. The "usual" at this point being his weekly repurchase of cigarettes and a disappointed look from Heimr (along with a new pair of sunglasses please god he's suffering), which he's been ignoring. Look, there are some vices he cannot afford to give up, and this is just going to have to be one of them. So here he stands just outside of the building, leaning up against one of the side walls in the shadow of the awning as he lights up a smoke. It was conveniently some time before Vash showed up, so he inevitably notices the sound of crunching snow beneath his boots as he paces obsessively in front of the place.

He doesn't say anything at first, watching for as long as he goes unnoticed to see just what Vash is doing, and eventually it becomes clear when he sees him continuously checking the chamber of his gun before he goes back to pacing again. He knows exactly why.

Wolfwood sighs, exhaling a chestful of smoke before he deigns to give away his presence, arms folded where he's leaned against the wall.]

You're gonna wear a trench in the snow at the rate you're goin', needle-noggin.

[diplomaticimmewnity]

[ As an aside, Enciodes is going to be immediately breaking his mirror before he's really able to talk to anyone aside from the people who sleep at the lab! ]

I. I’m here dancing on the edge of the night ( Grove – Open )

[ Enciodes isn’t about to convince anyone else to break their mirrors, however. There might be some reservations in the simple fact of breaking something that’s supposed to be a reflection of themselves. It’s, like, symbolic, or something, right? Enciodes might not see it that way, but to say he doesn’t understand that much would be a drastic misunderstanding of how empathetic this big, dumb cat is.

Or just how nauseatingly grand he has to be at any given moment. Perhaps the life of a noble is truly a curse. Which is to say, if you seem conflicted with your mirror, or otherwise bothered by it, Enciodes elegantly either slides himself between you and the mirror, or slides his hands into yours and ultimately pushing it out of your hands so he can hold onto it and place it on whatever surface nearby is available. Whether or not you were holding it or not, though, he’s holding your hand and waist and spinning you around to face the direction away from the mirror.

It lasts only a brief moment, of course. He’s a gentleman, after all, so he’ll let go and give a regal bow. ] Now, that’s better, yes? An expression like that is unbefitting for you. Especially if there’s someone to help ease those worries.

II. I’m sleepwalking with my hand full of blue dice ( Ice Castle – Open )

[ The icy floors and cold environment isn’t entirely welcome, but it’s also not something Enciodes is unused to. He uses the slippery surfaces to his advantage, rather than viewing it as an obstacle, gliding through the halls and rooms in an attempt to find someone within the expanse of ice.

Especially if you’re someone who’s having trouble with the ice! Get ready for one who Snow Leopard offering his hand out. ] I can offer a hand, if you’d like. Or I could carry you, if you’d prefer. We could share my coat that way while we look for the others.

III. One Hail Mary for the hole in my heart ( Ice Castle – Open )

[ It’s not as if Enciodes doesn’t get cold. But he’s not stupid or reckless enough to go standing out in a blizzard, so it’s not like he experiences the feeling all that often. He’s built for winters. He’s lived in snow for a vast majority of his life. He’s navigated mountain peaks and has the clothing to stave out any chill he might get.

And yet… he is cold. He is incredibly chill to the point he is shivering. This isn’t something that he’s experienced in a very long time, and he feels like this should be a major worry for him. Yet only the ghost of concern sits in his mind. If apathy is yet the absence of emotion, then perhaps that’s what this is. Freezing and apathetic. How funny. Two things Enciodes wasn’t sure he could ever be.

He’s curled on one of the frozen chairs in a room, curled up with his tail around himself. Tenzin perches itself on the back, harboring all of the concern for Enciodes that his master currently seems to be unable to. If there are friendly footsteps nearby, Tenzin lets out his falcon-like cries to get your attention. Hi, hello, please help his cat, he isn’t doing okay, and Tenzin doesn’t know what’s wrong. ]

IV. I’m outside waiting for your love on the boulevard ( Closed to Gnosis )

[ For as much as the falcon appreciates other’s helping, he knows his master, and he knows the Liberi who takes care of him as essentially “second master”. Thus, he does fly off at some point away from Enciodes to seek him out through the endless expanse of the castle. When he eventually spots Gnosis, he’ll fly around him a few times to get his attention and then make his way off to where he’d left their Feline companion.

He knows Gnosis won’t be able to keep up with the fast flier, so he does take the occasional break to loop back around, though Tenzin is clearly tired of the iced over furniture to land on. His feeties colded :(

Regardless, when they get back to Enciodes, there’s shattered ice all over the ground, and broken weapons and slashes all across the ice around him. Judging by the unsheathed sword-cane in Enciodes’ hand, it’s not too hard to put together what scene may have just transpired. However, looking just a little closer will show the smattering of shimmering crystals that have gathered across a majority of his hand, with light brushing of the same crystalline appearance over his jawline and the tips of his hair, making it look even more white than usual.

He doesn’t even acknowledge Gnosis is in the room, or when Tenzin lands on his shoulder. ]

V. Now I see the bright light, body's getting cold ( Wildcard )Y’all know the drill.

III

[sesa]

[It's by this point that Sesa isn't doing much better. He's feeling the same effects as Enciodes, only he's barely managing to force his way through it solely because he's just assuming this feeling is normal for him in the cold. He's weak, far weaker than he ever realized, and simply cannot bear the chill. Whatever! Just another shortcoming he has to overcome.

But to see someone like Enciodes curled up and shivering is another thing entirely. It's sobering imagery, to the point where he's able to forget his own woes for the time being as he hurries into the room, ignoring the pain in his legs as he tromps over the ice to the tune of Tenzin's frantic cries.]

Mr. Silverash- are you alright!?

Passenger | Arknights | OTA

[forwander]

[[ooc: Passenger has the tendency to talk to a child version of himself that lives in his head, sometimes out loud but mostly mentally — so blanket cw here for delusions. CWs that come up therein will be marked. If you don't want to deal with this, feel free to PM me to opt out and I'll keep that out of tags from him.]]

I. We don't build snowmen in Sargon

[Good morning Aldric's Grove, the snowman next to you just came to life. Congratulations, it's a bird!

...

He sounds a bit like he was suffocating in there, if the wheezing and gasping for breath is anything to go by. Each breath burns his lungs in the way that freezing temperatures normally do, like trying to swallow needles. The wings on his head flap in irritation, though they do nothing other than clear some of the snow out of his hair.

Never in his life has Passenger gone somewhere cold. Not cold like this, anyway. He thinks to himself he'd rather be buried in the sands of his homeland than wake up encased in snow ever again, a thought he doesn't voice, mostly because that's the exact second his eyes snap to yours and he suddenly straightens up and pretends that he's Good, Actually. He's Fine. He's not freezing (he's fucking cold), he was not just trying to gulp down air, and he's definitely not visibly shivering (he's absolutely doing this).

Hi, wow, he'd love to have a conversation but uh— maybe let's go inside. Whether you choose to follow him toward the looming inn or not matters little to Passenger, who simply pivots on his heel and heads toward the building without a word.

Bye.]

II. One time I burned down a city

[Passenger's mirror doesn't seem to bother him, even if it, at the best and worst of times, depicts a city burning at his back and him walking away from the flames. If these mirrors are supposed to depict the worst of someone, then Passenger may as well be the Devil Himself, for all the hellfire he's wrought in the name of vengeance. It is for that reason, perhaps, that he doesn't destroy it.

A small voice in the back of his head quips: "Do you want the others to see and scorn you? Or are you seeking their pity?"]

Not so, dear Elliot. I seek neither their derision, nor their commiseration.[what] Nor do I wish to hide the truth from those who I now walk this realm with. [who are you fucking talking to]

III. The forecast called for lightning storms

[So. Ice castle. Not fun. Really seriously not fun, especially when you hail from a country that's just Sun and Sand. Passenger, luckily, has a heavier coat by the time everyone is pulled into the castle, but that does little to stave away the cold.

He notes, with some brief flickers of annoyance, that his Arts don't work as well in here as they do out there. The machine he lugs around seems none the worse for wear, yet his ability to cast has been severely hindered. Passenger, frankly, does not have the time — nor the tools — to open the Arts Unit up and start rooting around in the parts to see if there might be a solution lying within. This would be fine, if everyone here weren't being stalked by knights. It is unlike Passenger to do anything out of the kindness of his heart and save people simply because they need to be saved — rather, he acts due to the need for the group to survive.

If you're about to be hit by one of the knights' weapons, all of a sudden, a bolt of gold lightning strikes true. The thing shatters easily, and Passenger pats the top of the machine arm where the bolt originated from almost proudly, were his face not otherwise completely impassive.]

A close call, would you not say?

IV. Wildcard

[(drops another bird on this game) teehee. Heehee—]

I

[sesa]

[By now, Sesa has been out in the snow for an extended period of time, not...having a good time, even remotely. He's gotten most of whatever that mirror brought out of him out of his system, but only just barely. His hands are dripping blood as he starts to stagger back towards the Inn this time, not the Lab. He doesn't want to go back to the Lab right now, where Gnosis and Silverash are and will undoubtedly ask him if he's okay if he runs face first into either. He could go hide in the Therapy building, but Mizuki might be there...ugh.

Alone. He wants to be alone.

It figures, then, that as he crests the hill of snow before him, he'll see the silhouette of someone familiar standing ankle-deep in the ice, parts of his clothing still mottled with clumps of snow.

Sesa goes completely still. His jaw sets, fangs digging into his bottom lip from the inside. Even his tail, which had been whipping about behind him angrily, has stopped moving. His eyes meet that of one Elliot Glover, and he feels like he must be seeing a hallucination. Be it that of the mirror, or of the Forest itself, he couldn't say.

If he had his weapon, would he raise it now? Would he allow the anger and grief rolling over him in waves to pull the trigger before questions could be asked? No. No, of course not.

Yet he finds himself wishing for it regardless, for he is the very last person he can handle seeing right now.]

...Passenger.

[lupusxylem]

A) Knock once for the Father | Grove, OTA

[Wolfwood slept in today.

Vash is already gone for the morning by the time he wakes, and the house is eerily silent. Even Angelina, who usually would have been sticking her tongue up his nostrils to get him to wake up, is curled up beside his neck shivering violently. The reason being that the fire in the fireplace had gone out long ago, and now the cold is starting to really seep in through the wooden slats of the house walls. Sitting up is a chore, what with the bandages he currently has wrapped around his side and hidden underneath the sheets around his ankle and elsewhere, like a white bandage slapped across his cheek. Instead of dipping into his vials, Wolfwood had gone the route of actually heading to the clinic for treatment after his encounter with Nai. His wounds aren't severe enough to waste it on, at least not in his mind...though he and Vash butted heads on it mightily before he was able to convince him to leave it. Even now as he sits there with the fluffy puppy clambering into his lap for warmth, he pulls the vials in his pockets free to examine them, remembering how they'd fallen loose in the forest.

While he's pondering this, the glint of something in the nightstand catches his eye.

Normally he'd probably just leave it, but...Vash doesn't have things. So he's compelled to lean over and pull the drawer open, his hand slipping inside to retrieve the small handmirror within.

He sees himself. Standing in the desert sands of No Man's Land, staring directly back at himself. His facial features are indistinct in the dark, yet his eyes are nothing but pinpricks of red behind his sunglasses. He clutches his gun like a lifeline, and every visible part of him is drenched with blood. Every orifice leaks, from his mouth to his eyes, expelling a bright blue fluid.

Wolfwood...immediately puts the mirror back and chooses to pretend he did not fucking see it, tucks the bedsheets all around Angelina, throws on his clothes (+winter jacket), and heads outside.

Today, he's actually headed to Heimr to be like. Responsible?? And grab a pair of boots. Wearing his loafers without socks in the middle of winter is starting to become untenable, and not being able to run at a moment's notice because your feet are frozen doesn't sit with him well with how this place operates. Would be nice of course if he could actually make it that far.

Out of the corner of his eye, something glints. And against his better judgement...he looks. He peers into the trees flanking the edge of the woods, currently painstakingly crossing the now-unfrozen river while trying not to slip off the stepping stones and bust his ass. Then, his eyes flicker up, catching on the source of the light bearing down on him. The same mirror he'd just tossed away now sits nestled in the branches of a tree at perfect eye-level, as if someone had grabbed it and placed it there knowing he'd see it when he walked past. The same reflection, following his movements, yet its expression remains the same. Blood-thirsty, yet agonized.

Anyone who might happen to be this far out will hear the sound of glass shattering, glittering shards tumbling into the snow around the heel of Wolfwood's shoe. He kicks the pieces into the water, waiting to watch them be swept off before turning to continue towards the center of the Grove.]

B) Twice for the Son | Ice Palace, OTA

[The cold is violently bitter. It cuts through the thickest garment, and Wolfwood now can't help but be thankful he thought to dress himself more warmly when he got out of bed today. Loose snow is a different beast compared to solid ice surrounding you.

It fucking sucks.

It does not help that this place isn't abandoned like most other oddities in this Grove. No, actually, it is teeming with threats, and Wolfwood knows that he's going to likely have to fight his way out. Just like old times, then.

You may find him:

1) With his back to the corner of one of the many icy hallways, holding his breath as several knights from the batallion slowly approach. Their footsteps are heavy enough to rattle their surroundings, like the whole castle may very well come down if too many more pass through here. He's holding the Punisher upright against his chest, one of his hands reaching to try and turn the skull-shaped dial at its apex.

...but he can't. His hand is trembling, and every time he moves to get a grip on it, it's like his hand slips right off. He curses under his breath, trying to reangle it, as the footsteps continue to bear down on him.

2) Sometime after a recent altercation with the knights, he's found someplace to rest. It sucks to have to sit on the icy floor to recouperate, but he finds himself with little recourse otherwise. He's never been this cold. Every breath feels like knives in his lungs, even walking has gotten harder. And now that he's had a moment to warm his hands, he's actually looking at them, realizing that his fingertips have turned a frosty, icy blue. He rubs them together, but he realizes he can't feel them. Not anymore.

3) His condition progresses, but he keeps it hidden. Every time he breathes, it's like a dragon breathing billows of smoke, and even the sweat he works up fighting the knights has started to turn to frost on his forehead and the back of his neck. Down another hallway, Wolfwood peppers another of the knights with lead, just barely managing to keep the Punisher balanced on one knee since he has to kneel down to fire it. Yet Wolfwood seems...angry. Incensed, moreso than usual. Every time he fires the gun, he screams over the din of the bullets firing, the muzzle flashing off the ice around him.]

c) Three times for the Holy Ghost | Closed to Vash + Nai

[In some part of the palace, having tucked himself in one of the few remaining safe spaces not littered with icy corpses, Wolfwood is fighting for his life.

He'd just mowed through another small army by the looks of the carnage all down the hallway from where he'd just been, just barely managing to drag himself around the corner before collapsing. He hasn't taken stock of his condition until now, though it's not like he needs more than a glance to see that it's bad. The frostbite on his fingers has spread up his hands like spiderwebs of ice on a glass, and with his legs sprawled akimbo before him, he can see that from the bottoms of his feet to his knees, everything has turned equally icy and numb. It's why he can't struggle to his feet, because he can't feel his legs anymore.

Panting, he manages to throw open the inside of his jacket with his elbow, barely able to fumble into his pockets to scoop out the remaining vials within. The glass tinkles against his iced-over fingers as he brings them up to look, only to be met with their insides having completely frozen over into solid ice.

His head thuds back against the icy wall he's leaned against, his hair- now frosted white on the ends and ever worsening- bleeding color rapidly the longer he stays still.]

Shit...shit!!

D) Wildcard

[Hit me up if you want to plot something different!]

C that is for Me

[oleaeuropaea]

[Since arriving in this strange, maze of a place, Vash's focus has been nearly singular. He has to find the people that he loves — has to find both Wolfwood and Nai somewhere within the impenetrable walls of ice and frost. He'd found success in the latter, but managing to track down the Punisher had proven to be difficult despite the... noise, he makes.

The rattling fire of the gun he carries is an impossible sound to miss. He's heard it almost since he woke up here. The problem is the way it echoes through the seemingly endless and twisting corridors that make up this castle. He's opened doors swearing he'd find Wolfwood firing at will. Instead, he found only knights that had been promptly sprinted away from.

He can't help but feel that they're going in circles around each other, spinning endlessly never to truly find themselves. Yet even as he thinks that he rounds a corner just in time to see another pile of ice knights be shot to absolute pieces.]

Wolfwood! [He shouts down the echoing hall before sprinting. His boots threaten to slide on the ice as he rounds the final corner and —

he knows something's wrong the second he spots Nick. The hair is the first sign, half-drained of color and riddled with ice. It isn't long until he spots his feet, wearing boots for once but iced over nonetheless. The hands also aren't missed, darkened and riddled with weaving frostbite as they are.

In short, Nicholas D. Wolfwood is a mess. And Vash fears that he's too late to save him, just as he's been too late so many times before.]

Nick... [His voice is softer as all but falls to his knees before him. The ice lets him slide those extra few inches, so that he can grab Wolfwood's hands between his own. The chill of them is almost painful.] Nick, I'm here. I'm here. It's going to be okay.

[sesa]

A) Ever since I could remember | Grove, OTA | CW: graphic description of a burning corpse, blood, etc

[It's sitting neatly in the center of his work when Sesa wakes that morning.

A mirror, as pristine as it is small for Sesa's large hands, sits there unassuming as he brings a mug of coffee over that he mercifully places on the table before actually spotting the thing for himself. He lifts it carefully, initially wondering if someone stopping by had left it there, already thinking of ways he might return it, when the reflection he sees within causes him to stop.

Since Sesa is standing at such an angle that anyone both entering the lab and within it can see past his shoulder, it won't be difficult to catch a glimpse in the moments that Sesa finds himself frozen, unable to move. For there, looking back at him in the mirror, is a Vouivre that looks like him, except he knows, he knows he knows-

Their body is half slumped forwards, barely able to sit upright on its own. Flames burn around them in a constant hellfire, licking up unseen arms as it continues to eat them away. Both of the horns have been broken off, completely shattered by some immense force, like an explosion. One side of their face is similarly missing, the skin perpetually melting away from the bone, revealing a terrifying grin slicked with crimson underneath. Yet despite the way the body burns, hardly recognizable anymore as a person, one eye stares back from underneath a fan of smoldering red hair.

Any onlooker is only afforded a second of time to glimpse the reflection before Sesa storms out of the lab, knocking into the table as he goes, his tail catching the doorframe before he finally makes it outside. He carries the mirror with him some distance away from the other buildings, out of sight of anyone else, before taking it between his claws and crushing it beneath them. He breaks the mirror with his bare hands, and when the cracks through his face don't satisfy him, he collapses to the snow and proceeds to smash it with his fists, pulling the pieces of glass from the frame with his claws if they're stubborn and won't release, crushing it until the entire thing is mangled and barely resembles a mirror anymore.

And still, he doesn't stop. Not until his knuckles and fingers are bloody and the snow around him is flecked with red.]

B) Everything inside of me | Ice Palace, OTA

[Sesa is rattled.

Between the mirror and an unwelcome visitor in the Grove, he's feeling more than a little out of sorts. Those who know Sesa well may notice that he isn't smiling, when usually he does nothing but smile. His expression is cold and the way he moves through the castle is calculated, his focus entirely on finding some way out.

But there is no way, not without going through the knights.

He's brought his grenade launcher, which- as of yet- has a completely full chamber of explosives. Not once has he fired his gun, not even when he believed Mizuki was being endangered by Moder. But now? Now he's being beared down upon by these icy foes, and he finds himself lifting up his gun to aim at them while they're still a reasonable distance away.

...but as they walk, he notices the surroundings shudder. He sees the way the ice, fragile in its mere existence, threatens to break. If he were to fire an explosive here?

Sesa grits his teeth, taking a step back with his finger barely squeezing the trigger.]

C) Just wanted to fit in | Closed to Passenger

[Sesa has long since grown accustomed to the cold being a miserable factor of his life in the Grove. Not once has he felt able to fully withstand it, not even in the warmth of the Inn or the Lab. But here? It's the first time since being tormented the first month of his arrival that he truly feels like he may die.

Every step is laborious, as if he were walking through the deep sandy dunes of Sargon. He shakes so hard he feels like he's going to fall apart. Icicles hang from his horns, his scales having become brittle underneath the way his body simply cannot get warm.

He wants nothing more than to be warm. He needs another body to cling to. Something...someone.

But there is no one here. Anyone he's run across during his time in the castle has long since become separated from him, leaving him alone to wander its frosted halls as his limbs slowly solidify underneath his clothing.

He wants. He wants...

He wants to go home.]

D) Wildcard

[Hit me up for plotting if nothing here works for you!]

it's for me prompt

[forwander]

[If you don't break the mirror, you don't become a statue. Passenger has no knowledge of this, of course, but the fact that he allowed his mirror to show his darkest sins to the world has spared him an untimely, frozen death. The knights are troublesome, but he has ways of avoiding trouble.

He always has.

He wanders alone for a while. Passenger did not wake up in this place next to anybody, and he would not have preferred to. He has saved some few from getting torn apart with his Arts, yes, and perhaps where matters of survival are concerned, he ought to connect with others and stick with them this time... but the Sand Soldier operates alone. He always has. Even when he seemed to be operating with others, it was only to fulfil a means to an end, and those others had died in fires set by his hands. There's no point to a true team-up, Passenger thinks. This place is not like Rhodes Island where cooperation is fostered and expected. It is, to him, more akin to the backstabbing alleyways of Sargon.

...

Sesa, though, has always been different. Passenger's obsession with him started the moment Sesa opened his mouth about his brother's death, and even if Sesa fights with him, even if they might not be on the greatest terms, the obsession continues on. To say seeing Sesa freezing to death puts some sort of turbulent emotion in Passenger's chest at the sight is an understatement. The urge to burn everything to the ground like he'd done 4 years ago rises... but Passenger has no matches with which to light the flame.

He strays closer. His overcoat is heavy and warm, but there's a second one underneath it, and he wagers he'll be fine for a spell as he drapes the coat over Sesa's shoulders.]

That expression ill-suits you, Sesa. Come, rest with me. Not far from here lies a room in which we may sit for a spell.

[mooninthewater]

I. When you look in the mirror, are you even there? cw: Scopophobia ( Around the Grove, Open )

[ “Hey, Rubie, are you done with the eldritch monstrosities in the mirror?” No.

Mizuki doesn’t actually know what to do with the mirror when he finds it. His first thought is to eat it. His second is that maybe he should stop immediately assuming he should eat something just because it’s new and probably magical. His third thought is to ask his friends about what they intend to do about it. More specifically, Add, but he’ll bother him about it later.

So, while he will eventually break his mirror, Mizuki simply carries it around behind him in one of his tentacles. It’s actually hard to see whatever Mizuki’s reflection is, considering the glass is covered in what looks like barnacles and seaweed and mildew and water damage. The image inside is blurry. There’s a white and blue and black shape inside that moves, though, with a scattering of what looks like cerulean stars along the edges, and trying to help give the form some shape.

Mizuki’s voice comes… from the mirror? From around you? From everywhere? It sounds sourceless. With almost an echo and something enchanting and ethereal about it, as well as… ominous. Foreboding. If the mystery and enchant draw you in, then you’ll swiftly be met with eyes. All the barnacles are eyes, though the figure in the image is still blurry, there’s still eyes.

The voice is still sweet, the voice is still enchanting, yet now it sings of the many deaths it sees you dying. The many things it wants to do to see when you’ll break. The many traumas it wants to know you can endure. How long until you’re broken? How long until you give up? How long until you seek “Us” out?

…

For like a few lines, before Mizuki pulls it away from you with a little frown. ] These things just showed up today. Do you think we’re supposed to do something with them?

II. I don’t wanna know all your secrets, ‘cause I’ll tell ( Around the Grove, Open )

[ And if you haven’t broken your own mirror yet, and he happens across you by it, he’ll do the both of you the favor and flip it over so the glass is facing down, then look up at you with his usual cheery smile. ]

Hi! I wanted to come check up on everyone!! Are you doing okay? Keeping warm? Have you eaten today? [ Mizuki’s mirror, at this point, is broken, but he’s not about to say “Hey, Add said you should break this, so you should do that” to anyone. ] Whatever the case, I hope you’re not bothered by these corrupted reflections. I’m real proud of you, anyway, so the corrupted mirror can go kick rocks.

III. It’s hard enough being alone with myself ( Ice Castle, Open )

[ After a while of being inside the castle, Mizuki does find himself colder, in both senses. Though, it’s less of being devoid of emotions and more like something’s just drowning them out, slowly. For a while there, Mizuki even just seems tired. If you’re traveling along with, you’ll probably hear things like “I want to sleep” or “I’m tired” or “Can we stop here for a second?” or something like that. He doesn’t seem unkind. He tries to force smiles. He’s sleepy.

Mizuki’s always been too willful for even the gods, so maybe it’s unsurprising that it’s just trying to pull him under like this. Everything so dull, but hanging on by the thinnest of threads, and all Mizuki has the energy to do is just lean against the nearest thing to try and sleep. That thing may very well be you.

…Then, like a switch being flipped, Mizuki sits back upright, eyes wide like he’s always been wide awake, but with a distinct lack of… well, whatever made Mizuki… Mizuki. Without even a word, he picks up his harpoon-umbrella and starts across the ice. Those creepy, black, inky tentacles of his that tugs at one’s fear response if they’re stared at for too long no longer keep themselves cloaked, either. No reason to, apparently? He uses them to more effectively get around, using the slime that oozes off of them to make his path easier to walk against the ice.

He’s just sort of… going! You could follow!!! Or you could say “naw fuck that noise” because that’s honestly the best response– ]

IV. I don’t know how long I’ll be holding on ( Closed to Add )

[ We Many might have adapted to its own world’s crystallizations and the rocks that try to assimilate with organics, but evolving to prevent this would take more time than We currently have. A shame, they say, within their hivemind, and perhaps, Mizuki’s other one as well.. Waste of a good vessel.
It must survive.
Cannot.

There’s some unrest, general feelings of anger, of something possessive, of something that’s indescribably eldritch in a way it’s almost dizzying to feel. Is it because Mizuki is “asleep” that We’re so clear? But We have never been like this before, and Mizuki takes plenty of naps. So then…?

…Add, or Dynamo, may get the sense something is willing this through. It’s not easy to tell what. Technology mixed with the ancient and all-consuming ocean is going to have some odd variables here and there, but that ‘something’ is doing its best to get a point across. They’ll get one more message before We Many stop altogether.

“Help.” ]

V. I know you tried your hardest, I know that you meant well cw: gore mentions ( Back at the Grove, Open )

[ Mizuki has yet to die to the whims of the very sadistic forest. He’s got a strong sense of self-preservation, even if it might not seem like that sometimes. The need to survive outweighs the need to listen, though he’d be lying if his self-preservation was lower than that of his want for his Obsession™ to live and survive. And isn’t that just what happened?

He’s not dealing with any of this well. The reward feels horrible, despite the fact it’s trying to evoke calm, protective emotions. Mizuki just feels… hungry.

Which is why you’ll conveniently find him at the forest’s edge, dealing with his feelings by ripping apart a new deer friend! Yaaaay! He’s a carnivore and he missed meat, sue him– ]

VI. But you pushed me to the edge and I slipped, and then I fell ( Wildcard )[beatboxes loudly]

II. I don’t wanna know all your secrets, ‘cause I’ll tell

[dissonanz]

( oh- kreide doesn't startle, but he's clearly surprised that mizuki approached. ... he's a sweet thing, isn't he? kreide rests a hand on the back of the mirror idly, and is grateful that it only shows images, rather than playing any sound alongside the cruel visions. )

I have, yes, thank you. ... I can't lie and say it's no bother, but... it's nothing that I haven't seen before. If anything, I think its a reminder, however brutal, that I both must and can be better, though.

[amethystic]

[ Blanket Warning that Felicity has recently lost a limb and is coping with this still, and poorly sometimes. If there's anything I forget to tag, please just let me know and I'll correct it as soon as possible! ]

i. my world has turned so cold
The Grove, OTA

( felicity hasn't slept well, since her return. between nightmares and phantom pain, alongside the ever-shifting celestial bodies above giving her constant migraines, she never stood a chance, really. but even the restless nights spent awake, staring at the ceiling and wishing for sleep to come don't prepare her for the mirror appearing on her nightstand. whatever it was, even she didn't see or sense it.

disturbing.

it's broken in minutes, a loud shatter against the wall before she slips out the door of her inn room, tugging her shawl on over her sweater as she makes her way down to the kitchen. brushing past whoever may be in the halls, she throws the door open and goes straight for the coffee. it's going to be a long fucking winter.

eventually, though, she frowns. )

Hey. Did... something show up in your room overnight?

ii. but i won't cry
Ice Castle, OTA

( the castle is beautiful. breathtaking, even. it'd be absolutely incredible... if it wasn't so fucking cold. even glancing out the windows of the great hall reveals... more cold. the blizzard outside is unwelcoming and makes felicity think of thousands of tiny knives, and ultimately she pulls away and tries to pull her coat around her tighter, shivering. this is the worst. she's from california.

...

and, well. she was there for the volcano. anyone can see this isn't a good sign, but she knows what happened last time. )

Seems our host loves extremes.

( ... god she's so tired )

iii. cause icicles don't soften when they die
Ice Castle, OTA
cw: injury, unusual blood, freezing alive

( and of course the other shoe drops. or more like, thousands of shoes drop while everyone's already flat on their backs from slipping on the ice and are now being rained on by shoes, and it's hitting everyone in the face.

the shoes are the deadly ice knights trying to actively murder them.

thankfully, if there's one thing felicity is set against, it's ice. fire dances around her fingertips as she casts, weaving sparks of flame through the air, and each spark either bursts into greater flames or latches onto knights before the heat spreads. except... at one point, she pauses, because her fire is taking on a light blue hue, and not because of rising temperatures. and then she sees it. how her fingers are almost crystalline, frosted over. it's a slow creep, but...

the distraction is an opportunity. a frozen blade pierces her left, where there's nothing to block it, and silvery purple shimmers float through the air before splattering on the ground like the liquid her blood otherwise is. ice begins to spread from the wound itself, too, and though she does stumble, pressing her arm to the injury...


she can't find it in her to care. )

iv. so why should i? why should i?

( wildcard option, babey! no post-game prompts because i genuinely don't know if she'll be saved or not! )

iii. cw injury / blood continued

[livlaughlove]

[there's a moment of stillness before a barrage of gunfire shatters the attacking knight's head, rendering at least that individual no longer a threat. so long as felicity stands there motionless, or at least unable or unwilling to fight back, any immediately surrounding her will be similarly dispatched, lightning fast and without mercy.

the gunman responsible (in a coat she may or may not recognize) rushes up to her, twin submachine guns still at hand to ward off any more attackers. he gives her wound a once over to determine the severity, and notices the similar ice on her fingers. altogether, it's concerning, in a word, but there are still enemies to avoid at the moment.]

Can you move? We can't treat that out in the open.

daeshim | original | ota

[faeshim]

wake up

[the cold gets in the way of all of his senses, and daeshim's first thought is that the fireplace must've died down, or perhaps the winter winds blew the door open. whatever it is that has him nearly chilled to the bone, he must quickly remedy it! but when he moves, he realizes that he's not rising from his bed - he's not in his bed, not in his woods either. he wouldn't even need all of his senses to know that, even a single one would do.

confusion follows, though anyone who saw him wouldn't see a hint of panic in his expression, what precious little expression that the fae actually has. he only trembles because of the cold, turning around and around in the dawning light until he notices the snowmen.]

Hm.

[daeshim steps closer to one of them, the frost on his lashes obscuring his vision even more as he squints at the snowperson. curiously, he thrusts his hands through the snow, seeking a hint of warm underneath it.]

mirror, mirror

[he's suspicious of the mirror. it's not because of the metal - he's never seen iron this shiny and it lacks the offensive scent. but daeshim knows that there's no such thing as a gift. something is always expected in return. it's unwise. he won't touch it!

...

he touches it. curse his raven-like love for shiny things. naturally, it's his own reflection that he sees in the mirror. at first. but the image quickly turns into something twisted and emotional, with greedy black eyes. ugly - no, he's already ugly. this is more unseelie. more like his father. the monster in children's literal fairy tales.

daeshim grips the mirror in both hands, tempted to slam it to the ground and stomp it until the shards turn to silver glitter. but he places it on the ground, a wildflower springing from his palm instead. he starts plucking the petals from it one by one, whispering words under his breath. it's a child's game that some might be familiar with.]

ice knights

[he's running from the knights as quickly as his legs will carry him. behind him, vines slither in the direction of the ice knights, curling around ankles and weapons in an attempt to slow them down. he could stand and fight; if this was his forest, he would do exactly that as its guardian. 

it's only when dae notices that some are turning towards someone else that the vines start growing thorns, thick as nails and sharp as razor blades. daeshim stops running then, the perpetual frown on his lips turning down at the corners even more.]

This way! I will hold them back!

[let him be your pint-sized purple-haired hero.]

wildcard

[something else? you lead, i'll follow!]

wake up (i just want to say. he's cute and i love him already.)

[dissonanz]

( have you ever gone for a nice morning walk on a calm winter's day, only for an abundance of snowmen to crop up? kreide might have thought it a prank by one of the others, or a task from the trader, but that just doesn't feel right. and then one moves. and it breaks to reveal a person.

good god. is that what all of them are? how-

no, not important just yet. immediately, kreide rushes over, trying to pry off his coat as temporary relief for the stranger- his own sweater from the shopkeeper is plenty thick, good enough to keep him warm until they get to shelter- as he speaks. )

Are you alright? Come with me, the inn is warm-

Basil | Omori | OTA

[polarvoid]

A) Behind you, Inside you | Grove, OTA | cw: drowning

[When he opens his eyes, he cannot breathe.

The water was cold. Dark. Unforgiving. It rapidly filled his lungs, the panic of struggling for oxygen only forcing him to inhale more. As such, the transition from water to ice is near seamless, equally as all encompassing and suffocating.

He wants to get out. Out, get out-!!

One of the snowman built near the Inn is quite smaller than the rest. And it too, like some others before it, begins to shudder as its occupant within comes to. It happens less as a gradual escape, and more of a violent burst all at once. One second there's a snowman, and the next it's nothing more than a pile of snow with a boy crouched on hands and knees in front of it where he fell. He shakes violently, the khaki shorts and white short-sleeve he wears underneath his green vest doing nothing to protect him against the snow.

...snow?

He lifts his head, snowflakes dusting blonde locks that fall around terrified eyes. He brings his arms close to himself, unable to do anything but kneel there, unable to fathom what's happened. He's...no longer drowning, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's alive. Is he dreaming?

It's cruel, to dream of being trapped in the snow. It makes Basil...terribly sad.]

B) I can't help but see | Inn, OTA (Omori Spoilers)

[At some point, someone has pointed Basil to the Inn, where it's much warmer than subjecting himself to the elements without anything to keep himself warm. Perhaps someone has given him something warmer to wear, or maybe he has a blanket to bundle up with. Either way, he doesn't want to go back outside right now. Until further notice, actually, he may not go outside...ever. At all. Period.

He is, at least, used to being alone. Sitting on one of the Inn couches with his legs pulled close to his chest, he tries to puzzle through what it is that could be happening to him. His only thought is that he's still in that lake, except this is some sort of dream he's having. His mind is making up a whole new town to live in, perhaps. Somewhere...somewhere that isn't Faraway.

Basil finds himself dozing on the couch. He doesn't want to sleep- how can he be so tired, when he's still so afraid?- because the fear of waking up dead is too much to bear, so he tries to keep himself distracted. He searches the room, counting the things he sees, naming them in his head, trying to focus on keeping his breathing level. It's then that he notices something on the table in front of him, a small decorative mirror that seems to have been left behind by someone.

...he isn't sure what compels him to pick it up, but he does. Basil looks into it ignorantly, merely expecting to see his own sad expression looking back at him.

That isn't what he sees.

A high pitched, terrified scream rips through the Inn lobby as he drops the mirror from his hands, it clattering to the floor and underneath the table somehow without breaking. He brings his hands up to his head, gripping the sides of it, opening his mouth to cry out again only to find that his throat has closed up with fear. He can only whimper into his knees.]

No...no no, please no-! Go away!!

C) It's growing, It's killing what matters to me | Ice Palace, OTA

[Most of the others here, trapped similarly in the Ice Palace, have some way of defending themselves. Basil...well. He didn't arrive entirely empty handed, but what he found in his pockets upset him more than anything, and thus it's hard to say whether it will actually be of use to him here. He's not a fighter, not in the slightest, and that's just too bad.

There are things here that want to hurt him. Things that don't care who he is, where he's come from, or what he's going through. The only thing Basil knows how to do, then, is hide.

He's managed to find an unoccupied room somewhere deep in the castle, where all of the furniture is made from ice. The Knights seem to be patrolling the hallways, so it seems safer to be a place where they might not think to look, he'd assumed...until they wandered back this way and started to search the rooms. It left Basil with no recourse but to hide inside an icy wardrobe, one made from thick enough ice that it obscures him...mostly. The dull outline of his shape is still there, colors warped by the ice, and it's only a matter of time until he's found.

Basil remains there regardless, curled up in a ball in the corner of it with both hands clapped tight over his mouth to keep himself quiet. It's so cold. He fears that they will hear his teeth chattering when he hears the first soldiers begin to enter the room.]

D) Wildcard

[Hit me up on disco or Basil's journal if you'd like to plot something more specific thank u I'm just tee dee emming him for now to see how it goes]

C

[amethystic]

( soldiers enter, searching. it sounds like many but it's really only... hm. three? more yet in the hallway, though. the clinks and scrapes of ice armor on ice stone are grating, and likely ominous to the boy. can he see as one walks over to the doors he's hiding behind? as it reaches for the handle? can he see when a blue light suddenly erupts on the other side of the wardrobe? icy metallic feet scramble like they're trying to either run away or charge forward, but there's an unusual sensation of frosty cold and burning heat at the same time.

and then, footsteps. a figure at the door, smaller than the knights but no less imposing. which is saying something with that burst of pink against all the ice and blue and white.

the door pries open gently, and there stands felicity, ice creeping up her fingers, frost dusting her skirt and hair, creeping across her face and making her already blue eyes all the more frigid as she stares impassively. )

...

You aren't a fighter, then. ... Follow me.

[twisttheknives]

I. I've done nothing wrong, except for all the atrocities

[Nai's "worst self" may as well be defined as "this one right here who's sitting next to you on the inn couch". One would think, therefore, that the mirror he purposely ignored this morning would not matter, because Nai is constantly at his worst and therefore there's nothing to hide or whatever, right?

Incorrect. It's not so much the "something to hide" as it is "the mirror is accusing him of doing Wrong, which is Wholly Untrue because Nai is Always Right". It teleports to the table next to the couch and starts yapping in Nai's voice...

A knife-tentacle emerges from his back and stabs it and the table through, shattering both, before retracting. Nai doesn't even look up from what he's reading as he does this. Fuck you, mirror. And fuck you too, table that held it and is therefore guilty in this circumstance. Eat metal.]

II. besides that, I'm innocent

[Nai is in the therapy office. "Oh, he's getting therapy?" No why the fuck would you ever think that. He is... sitting in the lounge trying Video Games. There's nothing else to do here, after all. No plans to work toward since most people here are robots/elves/birds/a jellyfish?? Shadow people? It's kind of like a vacation but in purgatory. This is fine.

Whenever you come in, he's laying on the couch, upside-down with his legs on the wall, holding one of Mizuki's Switch consoles in front of his face and playing Cult of the Lamb.

...

Listen. He's having hobbies that aren't murder, let him fucking cook.]

III. What do you mean I didn't reach out I literally thought about you (CLOSED to Vash)

[Nai has spent the last, mmm, three hours of his day indiscriminately slaughtering any ice-knights he comes across. They're not actually alive, he's discovered; they're just out to kill everyone they come across. Although his abilities often won't cooperate with him, so far, taking them out hasn't been much of an issue.

Throughout the day, though, he starts to get a lot colder. At first, he blames it on the fact that he's in a literal ice castle and, eventually, the cold was going to set in no matter how thick this coat is. He's not used to the cold, there's a reason for it. It's tolerable. Eventually...

Eventually, Nai just sort of feels tired. Drained in a way he hasn't before, not for a long while anyway; logic points to general fatigue from ability overuse, which makes sense, considering nothing in this place ever wants to work with him and therefore it tracks that his energy would drain faster. Not at full strength, not at full stamina, blah blah blah. But the fatigue... it progresses, even when he isn't in combat. He's sluggish, exhausted, and every step feels heavier than the last. At some point, Nai thinks he stops caring. There's only the need to press forward and find somewhere to sit down. From there, he can regain his strength...

Except, as soon as that thought enters his mind, his right foot freezes to the floor. When he thinks to look down, with the vague threads of consciousness he has left, Nai finds that his hands are in a similar state. Frozen-over and immobile.

When did it get this bad?]

IV. wildcard

[girl help the kniferat has my brain in a chokehold]

iii

[oleaeuropaea]

[Since waking up, Vash has had one reason for moving around, one reason for fighting his way through the knights. He has to find his family, both blood or otherwise. So far, despite the distant gunfire and ice carnage he's come across, neither Nai nor Wolfwood have shown themselves to him.

Until now.

He can feel that there's something off the moment he meets Nai's gaze. There's something quiet and wrong about him. It's not like him to be still, not when he's otherwise vulnerable. Wavering abilities or no, he wouldn't be out in the open like this.]

Nai? [His voice is low, for fear of attracting an audience. He creeps closer, wondering if perhaps this is an illusion. He wouldn't put it past the magics of this place to toy with them further.] That's you, right?

livio ⸸⸸ trigun maximum ⸸⸸ current character / OTA

[livlaughlove]

i. DUPLICATE // trigun spoilers // CW: disordered eating, potentially internalized ableism
[every time that mirror pops up next to him or behind him, livio grows more and more tempted to throw it to the ground and step on it. but he can't quite shake the feeling that that would be a bad idea, even disregarding the idea that he would have to clean it up or risk someone cutting themselves on the broken glass. most of what he's gathered about the grove is that unfamiliar magic is bad, and if this isn't unfamiliar magic, nothing is. he doesn't want to tempt the entity.

he tries to avoid leaving his room for the time being, at least. to ride it out. but... he doesn't know how long this will last, and he does have to eat. for as long as he tries to put it off, his metabolism demands it, eventually.

the mirror, of course, doesn't stay in his pockets forever. inevitably, it'll show up at the most inopportune moment… while he's making himself something to eat, going to the shop to buy supplies... and someone will see what he sees.

it looks like him at first glance, but his bearing and expression are wrong. where he normally slouches, his reflection is hunched like a predator waiting to pounce. his smile is too wide, and shows all his teeth. worst are his eyes – irises inhumanly dilated, pupils shrunk, all possessing the same wild, carnivorous impression as his body language. this is not the livio anyone in the grove knows.]

⸸⸸

ii. LA CREATURA
[the closest thing livio has ever seen to a deer is a thomas, and the similarities end with hooves and long necks – although tomas easily have deer beat on the neck. as far as he knows, the number of body parts is normal. the creature itself is not.

so he himself is staring like a deer caught in headlights, for god knows how long. long enough that his statuesque presence doesn't seem to bother them. as soon as he senses somebody else approaching, though...]

What the hell is that?

⸸⸸

iii. WILDCARD
just throw something at me or plot with me! [plotting meme] / PM / fuckweasel

i

[lupusxylem]

[It's a bit coincidental, that Wolfwood ends up seeing Livio's mirror. They happen upon each other on a concurrent visit to Heimr, after Wolfwood's already destroyed his own and has been endeavoring to simply forget about it. Well. It's hard to forget about anything when the first place he looks, he sees the glint of yet more glass.

Except it isn't his own. And the reflection he sees in that mirror...similarly isn't.

It's striking, how unsettling to him the image he sees is. How unfamiliar and strange, yet...strangely familiar at the same time it all is. It fills him with a sense of dread that he can't shake.]

...Livio?

Vash the Stampede | Trigun Stampede (again)

[oleaeuropaea]

i - Closed to Wolfwood

[In one minute, Vash breaks apart. For a split second, there is pain unlike any he has ever felt. This comes despite the fact that he’s been shot at, burned, fallen off of impossibly tall places, broken bones, and watched countless people die before his eyes. None of it compares, not even when combined together. But it lasts only a second.

Then there is nothing.

He doesn’t think. He doesn’t feel. For all intents and purposes, Vash the Stampede simply isn’t. If he were conscious, he might have thought to be disappointed. There was no mournful reunion to be had with those lost. There was no looking down on those who passed. But with nothing with which to process his predicament, he feels — predictably — nothing.

Until he does.

It feels like someone has pressed the rewind button. The pain repeats, only this time his body puts itself back together. Each bit, shattered like glass in midair, summons itself forth until every single inch of Vash the Stampede is put back together. All at once, his mind snaps back to his body, with sensation overwhelming him entirely.

He’s cold. He’s cold and alone and there is carnage everywhere. There is nothing but silence, save for the rapid dripping of a castle that’s long begun to melt. The chill saps his strength, leaving him to wonder if he’ll die once more upon this floor, staring at the remains of laser fire and bullet casings. How cruel, he thinks. At least before, he’d died in his loved ones arms.

This is a death far more fitting for him.

Beneath him, the ground cracks. The ice gives way, and he falls downward, then downward still. It feels like plummeting into the abyss, down into the hell that old book of Nai’s used to describe. Vash thinks to scream, but knows no one will hear him. He can only wonder if death will take him quickly and less painfully. He cannot help but hope for the opposite.

He closes his eyes, waiting to shatter anew. But instead…

Instead, there is softness. Sopping wet softness, but softness all the same. He rises abruptly, looking around wildly. The part of the bed beside him is damp, as if something similar had happened recently. But if there’s anyone there, he can’t tell. He finds himself coughing, distracted as a few handfuls of water sputter out.

Oops. Guess he inhaled some of that.]


ii - Around Town

[The chill does not leave Vash easily, even some days later. He spends much of his time in front of a fire. It doesn’t matter where — sometimes it’s at home with Angelina. Other times he avoids the home entirely, preferring to warm himself by the inn’s flames. More times still, he throws himself into cooking. Like before, he doesn’t seem to flinch if something burns him, or if he cuts himself. But instead of laughing it off, he just continues working.

It doesn’t end there. Even his very movements look and feel stiff. And when his gaze is met, it feels… distant in many ways. Like he hasn’t quite come back to himself. If asked, he’ll smile in a way that doesn’t quite disturb the rest of his face.]

It’s fine - don’t worry about me.

iii - Around Town

[It isn’t a permanent thing, this icy affect of his. Sharp bursts of emotion seemed to melt the exterior, at least. And the longer time goes on, the more it seems to slip away from him. Nearly a week after his return, Vash almost seems like himself again. The cold still doesn’t seem to bother him, but at least he’s more prone to a smile or two.

One could, perhaps, be forgiven for thinking that not everything is right. Particularly, his brain cells may or may not be frozen. It’s the only way to explain why, one afternoon, Vash abruptly sprints at one of the still lingering snowmen. He tackles it, knocking it clear into another snow bank, which he then dives behind.

Are you watching? How closely? For after a split second, that blond head pops up once more, this time wielding a snowball.]

We’re under attack!!

[Is this war? This might be war.]

the prompt for ME im sorry this got long

[lupusxylem]

[Spending an entire night trying to escape an inescapable castle does things to you. It wears you down, hollows you out in a way that somehow still manages to weigh on you. And that's if you're not still raw from having lost your lover just hours prior.

Wolfwood is not doing okay. There are rarely times he is, but right now he's not sure he's felt more at rock bottom in recent memory, not since his botched escape from the facility, Conrad, Legato...at least that had been a more personal failing. He had failed Livio, of course, but he'd also become a failure to himself. He fell backwards into a beartrap that closed shut around him, sealing his fate for the rest of his life. This was an entirely different kind of torment. Even as Wolfwood wanders the icy halls, trying to find a way out of them, he sees Vash's icy cold face behind his eyelids when he blinks. He sees him coughing up blood, spilling over the ice between him and Nai. His clothing is still bloody from it, even though it's frozen over now for the most part. And in numb, aching hands, he carries the Punisher under one arm, and Peacebringer in his other.

It isn't until Gnosis had invited him into a sort of safehouse alongside a previously-dying Enciodes that he finally stopped. He'd stopped...and hadn't really had much of a plan to continue from that point. He didn't know what the Rhodes Islanders' plan was, nor did he care. He simply sat in that solid-ice recliner as silent as the grave, staring at his own reflection in the side of Vash's gun.

Then, as the castle had begun to melt around him, he hadn't wanted to flee. A hypocrite to his very core, he'd told Nai to "get out of here alive", so that Vash's death wouldn't be in vain. But it's hard to really hold up his end of that when he'd lost his will to do the same.

But then he thought about it. Really thought about it. And he knew, in his heart of heart's, that allowing himself to die a miserable death buried in this castle would be spitting on Vash's memory, in essence.

He would need to survive, by whatever means necessary.

Skidding into the hallway, he'd ran. Every fiber of his being screamed out in protest, but he forced himself past it, every breath a billowing plume of steam as he followed the trail of destruction he and Nai had left in their wake. He had no more charges of the Punisher to work with, no way to blast down the melting walls. But surely, one of them would serve as an opening. Just enough of a gap for him to get out.

Then, the entire roof had collapsed on him. In one sudden, final rush of energy, it was over. He hadn't even had a chance to react.

...and then he woke up. Soaked. Freezing.

Home.

Alone.

He knew without even looking around that this was Home, or what had become Home for him. The simple walls with nothing on them, the constant pervasive smell of firewood and cigarettes. Angelina's fur, still clinging to his pillow, tickles his nose. But above all, he's completely surrounded by, utterly overwhelmed by Him.

Vash...he smells earthy. Perhaps what one might expect, from a "Plant". But beyond that, there's something distinctly sweet about it too, like that of a fresh flower, or raw honey. It clings to the fabric around his head, taunting him. Mocking him. He won't get to experience it again. He won't be able to bury his nose into those golden locks to inhale that scent, and when it eventually fades completely from this house, there will be nothing left but a symbol of the destruction Vash hated to his very core.

He wants...to not be here, just as much as he never wants to leave. He feels emotion welling up in his throat for the first time since Vash breathed his last as he turns away from where he should be at his side, curled up with his hands reaching up to fist painfully at his own hair. He heaves a breath, wet from the water in his lungs, and just as his mind begins to fracture, and the air in his lungs turns into a scream-

The mattress beside him suddenly feels heavy. The icy cold wetness has seeped into the back of his jacket, leaving him feeling even less human than before. His heart leaps into his throat and lodges itself there when that weight behind him shoots upright, and he.

He...

Reacts.

Wolfwood sits up and turns in a single fluid motion, not at all expecting to see a familiar face by his side. See, he's come to not trust a single god damn thing in this place, and the last time something "appeared" to him, it was that mirror. Then it was the castle. His face is contorted, nose and brow wrinkled with a kind of incensed rage that he didn't think he still had in him after he and Nai mowed down all of those Knights, but it's just as well that he maybe learns his lesson with this.

Because he has Peacebringer, having wrenched it from his belt, and it's steel barrel presses firm into Vash's abdomen. His trigger finger still itches, and Wolfwood's aim- as ever- is lethal and precise. It all happens in less than a fraction of a second.

The gun clicks heavily, having been exhausted of every bullet back in the castle.

Then, when his eyes settle on Vash's face, locking with those bright blue eyes, the gun drops limply from his hand between them.]

Luca Aurelius | OC | OTA

[unheiring]

i. The Creature Lunged - The Edge of the Woods

[It had only meant to be a brief foray. Freshly warmed from his reunion, Luca had seen fit to slink away while his sibling gathered their own information. The woods might have been different, but he never would have expected they'd be wrong. He'd grown up beneath both towering pines and winding grapevines. If ever there was something he could trust, it was the trees.

But not here.

Pinned beneath a beast most fearsome, Luca finds himself wondering if he's finally met his end. He thinks to embrace it, but a faint, almost imperceptible whisper from within the back of his mind reminds him to move.

I cannot reach you, the Beast says, and Luca feels himself lunging forward on instinct. Flame extends to the tips of his fingers, and his first reaction is to thrust his palm upward into the heart of the creature. The display alone seems to discourage it, as the monster hops backward. The feathers and fur of his neck expand outward in a threat display, making it clear that he will last only seconds before it charges once more.

Luca doesn't give it the opportunity. He scrambles back, breaking through the treeline and into more open space. His sword is ripped from its sheath against his back, but the monster does not break through. Through the murk, though, he swears he sees its eyes watching.

Which is why he doesn't move. His breath comes heavy, the cold air scraping his throat and burning his lungs. Eventually it makes his fingers ache and his nose go numb, but still he doesn't move. He has no attachment to this little village, but once upon a time, he was meant to be a knight. Buried though the urge is, the duty to protect still lingers.

That being said? Someone might want to tell him to chillax. Seriously, Luca, the creature seems long gone by now.]

ii. I Turned and Ran - The School- Library; Netbook Adjacent

[When the trip into the woods fails, and when the stories the strange folk around town pass along fail to answer any questions, Luca tries to seek out what he knows best. Of course, a standalone library is nowhere to be found, nor does there seem to be any archive. He goes to his third best choice, the school. At least it has a library nestled within its halls. It's nowhere near the grandiose collections he grew up with, but it's a start.

You can find Luca sat at a table that, somehow, manages to be too small even for him. One of those kindegarten sized ones. He doesn't seem to care. He has the notebook he found out, dutifully taking notes about the history of the town.

Which, yeah... Means the whole netbook is getting exposed to his stream of conscious thoughts and angry notes. Maybe you might want to say something to him? Oops.]

iii. To Save a Life - The Inn

[Eventually, frustration grows too great, and the cold too bitter. With no other choice, Luca returns to the inn. Logically, he should hunker down within his room. The problem is that there isn't quite the roaring fire as one might be able to manage in the lobby. Also, he may or may not have discovered cocoa at some point? Why, because I said so.

Please observe the very grumpy bird, bundled not only in a jacket, but also a blanket as well, as he hunkers in front of the fire. The feathers on his neck are absolutely puffed out in irritation, and they only flair out further if someone approaches him.]

Can I help you?

[He has no manners, I'm sorry.]

iv. I Didn't Have - N/A

[Wildcard. Hit me with anything, or reach out to ashstriferous]

library

[cryopathy]

[it seems the siblings had the same idea. kiera, holding a few books of her own, peers out from around a bookshelf with a bemused look that morphs to outright judgy when she recognizes her brother.]

I can hear your pen scrawling from the other side of the library. How do you manage to make even taking notes so angry?

Phantom | Arknights | OTA

[bloodyopus]

(CW/TW: Strong implications of mental illness, potential violence, mentions/implications of past brainwashing. Please check my permissions and temp. bio in this journal for Phantom’s full CW & TW list. Either way, please proceed with caution, and please let me know through PM if there is something that you feel uncomfortable with in the course of our interaction. )

I. DO YOU SEE YOUR OWN FACE IN THE MIRROR?

[ …Is this what the mysterious voice had meant when it said that it wanted to play? The round, silver mirror sat on the nightstand this morning, almost innocently, almost taunting in its innocuousness.

And after a fitful sleep, a couple of hours at best - since he normally already had trouble sleeping, even more so in this strange…place - the fact that it…just sat there, appearing as if out of thin air seems more sinister than mocking.

It calls out to him, that mirror. A siren song, not unlike the one he sang on that doomed debut night on stage.

Yet, Phantom resisted — he refused to even look at it, despite the goading of the other voice in his head. He was getting better at refusing its call, after all, after four years now in Rhodes Island. As a matter of fact, the Feline immediately found something to drape over it, to cover the reflective surface as soon as he could process the situation. The visage that would stare back at him in it likely wouldn’t be his own, after all.

Merely someone with his face, whom he did not recognise — and refused to recognise.

…He could not stay indoors, either, although that was actually his original plan, since he would much prefer to avoid meeting the other residents of the Grove. But with the silver mirror perched on the nightstand, even with his black cloak draped over it — he feels uneasy. Paranoid. Even more so than usual.

PERHAPS THAT WAS YOUR WORST QUALITY, LUCIAN.

Ignoring the coldly mocking tone in his mind, which he was more than used to by now, Phantom took his hat and slipped out of the door. He didn’t look back, quiet footsteps taking him to the edges of the Grove, outside of others’ sight.

…Yet, the mirror kept appearing. Once in the snow, on his path; then everywhere his furtive glances might land. ]

Is this some sort of a twisted jest? [ He muttered to himself, missing Miss Christine more than ever. She’d likely know what to do, but the mysterious voice, or whoever (whatever) was behind it was cruel enough to separate them. Well, at the very least, the dark-haired man was wise enough not to break the mirror, since every Victorian child knew how much of a bad luck that would bring. ] …Stop.


II. LIFE IS A MASQUERADE BALL IN THE COLD

[ An object that appears mysteriously in his room, portending something ominous in the horizon; and now he found himself in a castle - another castle - when he opened his eyes. It sounds familiar. Too familiar.

…The last thing he remembered was a sudden chill. The mirror was still there on the nightstand, since he gave up in the end and took it back there, and he was on the bed, hardly asleep when it happened. After the terrible chill came the sudden spell of sleepiness - he could reason that it was the exhaustion from one too many sleepless nights settling in with a vengeance - and then he found himself in this place.

Wherever this is.

The ballroom was strangely, hauntingly beautiful, alluring and forlorn, although it reminded him of that stage — his stage. WILL YOU SING FOR US ON THIS STAGE TOO, LUCIAN? BEFORE YOUR VOICE TURNS INTO ICE? The VOICE in his head had asked, the one that he was used to rather than the one that whisks him to Aldric’s Grove — his constant companion ever since that one fateful night, aside from the spirits of the dead and Miss Christine, who wasn’t here with him.

He shook his head, for the first time in a long time making a move to acknowledge that VOICE. It chuckles in his mind, in a rich, yet distorted voice, pleased that he had, at last, acknowledged it. WHAT A SHAME. I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO YOUR SPECTACULAR PERFORMANCE.

It whispered, but this time, Phantom chose to ignore it. The act of shaking his head was somehow a heavy one, as if his skull was turning to lead — or ice. He was sans his cloak, and it was freezing here, even if his dark suit was on the thick side of things and he could normally withstand the cold better than most people.

…At least he got his daggers with him. Three of them, and it was good to know that his hands - gloved, thankfully - hadn't frozen solid, either. Yet.

Although for some reason, crystals of ice were already forming on the suppressor around his throat — perhaps that was why the VOICE had been taunting him.

All the sudden clamour, however, distracted him, and that’s where he would be found: silently peering out the main door to the approaching ice knights, one hand on the hilt of the dagger closest to him that was strapped to the side of his thigh, assessing the enemies and his chances of ambushing them.

Before the suppressor BREAKS. ]


[ ooc: A little note — Phantom would be considered to already be in the Grove for several days prior to the setting of this TDM, but it’s very likely that only a very handful few (and by that, I mean like almost close to no one save for shopkeepers and NPCs) knows that he’s around. But you could catch him skulking in the edges of the Grove for the first prompt.

For the second prompt, I’ll add a little fun gift: Phantom’s suppressor, which he wears around his throat, is the only thing that stands between him and your relative safety, as imperfect as the device is according to him. If it breaks, even the slightest wrong inflection in his voice could melt your sanity, although I’d definitely need your permission first if we’re going down this path.

And it depends on whether or not his alter would take over, too. So, tick tock, choose between frozen solid or be driven to insanity by an insanely beautiful voice. ]

I || KICKS your door down HELLO

[succiduous]

["Haha no one else from Rhodes Island will show up here" thought Gnosis, a fool, as he rounds the corner from where his lab is stationed some distance from the inn, trudging through the snow, and then is immediately forced to do a double-take. He's not overly familiar with Phantom — sort of difficult when the landship has so many operators, and you're also a labrat who'd prefer the comfort of machines to a living person — but he's pretty sure he's looking at another Terran. Confirmed, when he approaches with swift steps and actually gets a look at that face.

Definitely Phantom. Great. How long did they have until the entire landship arrived?]

I take it— [he starts, not even bothering with a "hello, how are you, welcome to hell by the way", and then his own mirror teleports somewhere nearby and drops into the snow without further fanfare,] —you've arrived just in time to be harangued by these mirrors.