MISSION: THE SUN NEVER SETS ON AMARYLLIS GROVE, PART 2

[ximilian]

● ● ● M I S S I O N   1 7 . 2

THOSE AMONG YOU • HARVEST THY GOOD WILL • GOOD FENCES & GOOD NEIGHBOURS • ALL EYE ON YOU • FYI

// INTRO. Those Among You  

After weeks spent in the ever-sunny town of Amaryllis Grove, the Orbers are surely used to their way of life: days spent focusing on living as perfect a life as possible, regardless of how real it is, under the watchful eye of the sun and the moon.

However, some Orbers may wake up one day to find that whoever they were living with — Joel, Harley, Cain, Gabe, and others of the team who have suddenly returned to their homes — is gone… but by the evening, they have been replaced by one of the Companions, made to their exact liking, going silently about their business in perfect imitation of the one they are replacing.

Furthermore, those who were found to be on the list of names of people to be watched will one day, while at work, receive a talking-to by their superiors, giving them a warning that their behaviour has given reason for concern — each talking-to ends with similarly, too:

“The sun is always very bright leading up to the Harvest Festival.”

// PART I.Harvest Thy Good Will  

The day of the Harvest Festival dawns with clear skies, the autumn wind rustling the newly-turned red and gold leaves in the trees and on the streets. The Housespouses have been hard at work arranging everything for the festival, from seating arrangements, decorations, and booths for different activities. Everyone is expected to attend, and with the day being an official holiday, there is no excuse not to show up.

1.0   During the weeks leading up to the festival, neighbourhoods have been abuzz with trying all the new recipes, all in preparation for this one day: bringing their very best pies, cakes, stews and roasts for everyone to taste. Many housespouses (whether part of the association or not) are eager to show off their cooking skills, either by making as many people try their foods as possible, or by participating in some of the traditional competitions that look for the the best dish of this harvest.

However, there is plenty to do for those whose main interest in cooking lies in eating: there are games to try, like apple bobbing, and a fun take on darts where rather than aiming for the middle, the goal is to state which ring you are going to hit and receive points for accuracy. There is also a whole table for decorating gourds — and if you are very happy with your result, you can also enter the contest for the most extravagant decorating.

2.0   When the time comes for all to gather around the long tables set in the town square, each table brimming with delicious dishes, the tablecloths and centerpieces in bright oranges and reds, some of the people around the tables may cause you to be surprised: it is not just the townspeople who are invited, but also the Companions, sitting in their assigned seats silently, eerily. There are more of them than one might expect: almost every other family attending has at least one Companion among them, a family member lost and replaced. However, questions about their presence are not tolerated, and those who may try and bring undue attention to them are quickly shushed.

One might also notice that despite the beautiful weather (or perhaps because of it), the atmosphere of the festival seems tense — smiles are strained, words carefully chosen, discussion remaining on the surface level.

Overhearing the different families speaking to one another, something to note is the way they refer to their distant relatives: it seems that Mr Willowby’s cousins, living out of town, were not able to make it this year; just like Mrs Reyes’ great-aunt, who is again missing out on a wonderful festival. The more you listen, the more you notice that there are no relatives visiting from out of town… and that it seems to be a yearly occurrence.

3.0   While the general atmosphere is very genial and welcoming, a few of the Orbers — mainly, Newt, Daisy, Yzak, Ryunosuke, John and Chishiya — will find that them, along with their (fake) spouses or family, are treated almost outright coldly.

Some of the townspeople will quite simply avoid associating with them, while others will exchange a few hasty pleasantries before making an excuse and leaving them alone, glancing fearfully at the bright sun in the sky as they do so. The dishes they or their families have brought go largely untasted, and other Orbers may catch the townspeople warning them against associating with “those kinds of people” too closely — after all, best to take care of yourself, right?

TOP

// PART II.Good Fences & Good Neighbours  

When you wake up the next morning, you’ll find that Amaryllis Grove suddenly feels a little … different. The Harvest had gone seemingly without a hitch (at least for those who hadn’t wound up on the list), but the tension that remained since your arrival here seems to have grown a little more intense. It’s quiet when you step out of your house expecting to see your neighbour greeting you by the mailbox, or to be down at the end of the driveway collecting their daily paper. You note the absence of the neighbour who lives down the block who often walks this way to get to the park with her daughter.

Things feel too eerily still, and as you peer up into the sky, you’ll notice that the cloud cover makes it impossible now to see the sun.

4.0   When someone screams, the first thing that may come to mind is how the last time you’d heard something so bone-chillingly devastating in this town alone was the night that Mr Myrsden had died. It’s broad daylight now, and the cry is still no less terrifying. You might decide to wait, or to hide wherever you are, or for those of you with a plethora of experience in dealing with life-ending screams, you may decide to investigate. After all, someone could be in very real trouble and they could need your help.

A small crowd has already gathered by the time you arrive, dressed in whatever you went to bed in. A woman in her plush pink robe and curlers still haphazardly rolled into her hair is lying on the asphalt in another neighbour’s arms, expression fearful and pained but still – thankfully – breathing.

“She’s just fainted, she’ll be all right,” Mr Barker says in relief, helping to sit her properly so that some of the other neighbours could tend to the fainted woman.

Within the crowd, several statements could be heard in hushed murmurs: “Said that her husband isn’t moving right,” someone says, while someone else begins, “Something feels wrong with my Betsy, too.”

There’s an air of unrest and discomfort amongst the crowd gathered at the side of the street, but at least the worst of it appears to be over. And so you’ll try to continue your life in Amaryllis Grove with the rest of your family (the Mayor has called for some volunteers to help with the clean-up from the Harvest, after all!), but you begin to notice strange things occurring throughout the day: Companions that had been programmed to follow a painstakingly careful path of activity appear to either stop moving, or begin actions on their own accord. Spouses or family members look between the overcast sky and their Companion in panic, shaking at their arms or shoulders, or tugging at their sleeves in fear. In fact, the town suddenly feels more populated than ever now as more and more people and their Companions mill into the streets in a truly unprecedented gathering, unraveling the meticulous routine they’d been living up until this point. Orbers may observe the familiar figures of Finn Mertens, Cain, and Joel Miller joining the throng. Harley Quinn and The Spot, done up in perfect likeness appear outside of their programmed routine.

And from above, even through thick cloud, the sky feels brighter somehow.

5.0   The initial shock of the Silent Companions moving out of sync wears off so long as they wander throughout town looking like they’ve lost their way. It’s easy enough to sidestep them if they cross into your path, and their former spouses and family members have largely appeared to have given into the malfunction, allowing them to meander the neighbourhood without aim. The Mayor announces that she’ll hold a town meeting for all people with a Companion this afternoon, hoping to reestablish a little order and assure comfort for the fearful and worried residents of the town. This is, after all, an unprecedented occurrence and no amount of convincing, magic or otherwise, has had an effect on the Companions out and about in town.

But then … the Silent Companions suddenly begin to move differently, the perfectly pleasant expressions carefully molded onto their faces remain unchanging as they lift their hands or quicken their pace, approaching anyone within close distance with menacing intent. They appear to stalk their targets, reaching out to close an iron-grip on a wrist or a shoulder, largely undetected except by those who recognize their faces and know them to be deceased in a former life. Orbers might find that aside from recent deaths, as well as the disappearance of some of their own crewmates, that from first glance it’s difficult to tell a Silent Companion from a living resident until their intent is made clear.

Anyone that reaches out to one of the Companions on their own, or is intercepted by one, will find that the interaction feels far more potent than ever. Mild feelings of paranoia are heightened into active and aggressive feelings of paranoia. Every negative and intrusive thought feels as though it might choke you, and the only way to stop it is to do it yourself – by whatever means necessary, even if they are violent. You might find yourself believing that your own family wants you dead and the only way to survive is to kill them before they kill you. The effects of nausea and discomfort make you immediately sick, and wanting to scratch incessantly at an itch that doesn’t exist, as if your very skin makes you deeply uncomfortable.

Cloud cover slowly begins to part now, and the bright, cheerful glow of the sun peeks through. It bathes the town in its perfectly pleasant light.

6.0   The last thing anyone can think of now is the Mayor’s town hall meeting. People begin to barricade themselves in spaces that seem devoid of a Silent Companion’s physical presence. Companions will pace hover nearby but so long as you remain out of their sightline, they don’t come directly after you. Orbers that have made friends and connections with their neighbours or any of the other townsfolk might consider sheltering together, finding an empty house or office, or seeking safety in a cellar with the windows and doors blocked off.

Of course, some of you might find that the doors to your own home are blocked off, the handle simply refusing to turn, or your keys suddenly snap in half, jamming the keyhole. Windows are locked shut as though the house itself is trying to keep you out, leaving you and your fellow crewmates exposed beneath the ever-brightening sky.

And even if you do manage to break into your own home, either by smashing the in the glass of the windows, or physically kicking the doors in, the house itself might feel as cold and unwelcoming as though it knows full well who you really are, why you’re really here, and what you’ve come to do. You feel more seen in your own living room than you do in the open street, the discomfort of being hunted and exploited wearing on you like a slippery, wet blanket. The walls feel suffocating, the food in your pantry and your fridge tastes like ash and rots within hours, and you feel as though the ceiling above you might cave in on you at any given moment just because you’re here.

TOP

// PART III.All Eye On You  

The sky now has cleared completely, leaving nothing but the harsh white and golden glow of the sun hanging high above within the bright, beautiful blue overhead. The town itself is a reflection of something much darker and more chaotic, but the temperatures are warm and pleasant and there is very little shadow being cast by the sun itself as it greedily swivels around on its axis in watch.

7.0   Amaryllis Grove suddenly feels like a whole different town when compared to the Orbers' initial arrival. What had been a quiet and well-orchestrated little town without a single hitch for every perfect day of every perfect month, every cog in the machine a well-oiled one, suddenly seems to have crumbled apart. Doors, windows, and cellar entrances have been blocked off and barricaded with heavy household appliances such as refrigerators, laundry machines, and meticulously-crafted furniture. Shattered glass and broken parts of a Silent Companion that had met some partially-successful retaliation are strewn across the asphalt. Cars are left abandoned at the sides of the streets, doors hanging wide open and groceries spilling out from bags and onto the pavement. People still left stranded in the streets, locked out of their own homes, become helpless victims to their very creations, driven to madness and tortured by a familiar and well-loved face that never wears any other expression except that of perfect unfeeling neutrality.

For those that manage to make it to the town hall and the office of the Mayor, they’ll find her pacing back and forth, scrubbing at her face in deep thought. Her husband, Stuart, sits poised and tense on one end of a long chaise against one wall, watching his wife in concern. Any resident is welcome into the overly large room, of course, and luckily for the group no Companion has caught on to the location just yet. The Mayor has posted her very best magic-users at the doors, however, just in case. It isn’t going to do much more than slow them down but it’ll buy them some time to escape at least.

The Mayor, looking uncharacteristically flustered and stressed, turns to you.

“Well? I hope you’ve brought a genius idea with you, because I truly am at a loss.”

TOP

F Y I

• The events in this log take place during the month of November.

• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.

• And finally, your soundtrack for this log: ♪ ♪ ♪

TOP

▶ NAV

Comments

QUESTIONS.

[ximilian]

For any questions regarding the events or information on this log, ask them here.

[hadbadays]

What happens if you shoot a Companion in, say, the head and/or chest? :3

[astudyinviolet]

Are there any special requirements to "break" someone from 5.0's influence? Proximity/Distance to a Companion? Slap to the face? The Power of Love tm? Whatever one wants?

Or Not Applicable/Nothing at all since it sounds like 7.0 still has people messed up?

People still left stranded in the streets, locked out of their own homes, become helpless victims to their very creations, driven to madness and tortured by a familiar and well-loved face that never wears any other expression except that of perfect unfeeling neutrality.

[cruelyethuman]

Would there be any penalty for slicing the Companions in to pieces?

[softshoes]

Will companions be attacking people or just grabbing & stalking them? If so, would they do that of their own volition, or just to retaliate if someone strikes them first?

[ruinously]

me asking the most important questions - for 1., will there there be a pie competition and can dean win it #priorities

MAYOR CHANTILLY STUART — CLOSED TO KANAN (@blindrun)

[ximilian]

This thread is meant to be a continuation of the log. As we want to give you the freedom to choose how you'll respond to the Mayor, you are encouraged to write your own starter.

Please make sure to respond to this thread within 48 hours and tag it consistently. The thread should be finished by November 18.

[blindrun]

[ 'Genius idea' is not really his forte. He's the guy who makes the plan happen, less so the planner. At least that's his comfort zone. This is... far out of it. Whatever idyllic little place the Mayor pretended this town was is collapsing. The fake people keep growing in number and now they've turned outright aggressive. So how do they move forward? In his mind, getting rid of the fakes is the best strategy. Up until now he assumed the Mayor had some control over them, but even she's at a loss. ]

I haven't brought anything but myself. But I can help you come up with, at minimum, a plan if you're willing to cooperate by answering some questions.

John Watson // Sherlock // OTA

[hadbadays]

Part 1

3.0

[ It's been a rather nerveracking time, since he hasn't been sure about what to expect of being put on a watchlist, but after nothing happened for a while he's tried to relax somewhat. After all, acting too strange won't exactly help get them off his back. It's very obvious at the Harvest Fest, though, and he's almost fascinated by the animosity.

There's no point trying to make a big deal of it. He doesn't try to make anyone pay him any attention and will stick by his 'spouse' more often than not. If any orber opts to ignore the warnings and talk him up or invite him to join in on games, though, he'll join in with a smile. ]

Part 2

5.0

[ With the Companions turning hostile, John brings his gun and goes to patrol the streets. Although he doesn't know if a gun will do much against them, it's better than nothing, and he won't know without trying. He never takes his hand off it, keeping it and his hand in a pocket.

Anyone that looks like they're about to get grabbed will first hear a gunshot, then they'll find John in between them and the Companion. ]

You should probably get out of here.

[ Especially before paranoia gets to him, but he doesn't know about that part. ]

Wildcard

[ John will be out and about and around to help out anyone that gets hurt! And feel free to hit me up with anything else. ]

3.0

[legalcy]

[Minimus has brought yet another bland but well-prepared pasta dish to the celebration, and the housespouses of the neighborhood flock to his recipe-accurate and unexciting dish, asking for his housekeeping secrets and how does he manage to dust all of his furniture so well? The latter topic of conversation is actually interesting to him, and he manages to get on their good social graces.

After an hour of little eating and much talking, he notices that John has been standing by himself the entire time. It's difficult wriggling out of socializing, but when his dish is completely gone and the crowd has dispersed, he sidles up to his fellow Orber.]

Are you alright? [Yes, he's being ostracized, but considering where they are, he worries that his life may be in danger.]

Wei Wuxian

[singlelogbridge]

5.0

A.

[Wei Wuxian isn’t a stranger to voices in his head. He’s lived with them for years now, quietly assuring him of his worthlessness, of his guilt, angrily demanding he take vengeance for the wrongs done to him. They’ve been comforting and terrifying in turn.

It’s been better on the Ximilia. The inability to reach for resentful energy on so many missions, or the lack of need means the voices have quieted. Sometimes he thinks they’ve gone silent entirely. He goes months at a time without them now, and they’re quieter when they come, easily ignored. Without the Yin Tiger seal and with so many loved ones around, they fall on deaf ears.

It’s different this time. The voices have changed, indistinguishable from his own so that he can’t tell where they end and he begins. He pulls Chenqing from his pocket and stares at it, but the flute remains silent and the voices continue.

Maybe it really is him this time. Maybe he’s finally lost his mind. His grip on Chengqing tightens and he shoves the black flute back into his pocket as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He stops to lean against a brick wall in the town shopping center, ignoring the frantic movement around him as people search for safety.

The orb he reminds himself. This is the orb. It has to be.

He opens his eyes to find Finn staring at him from across the street. Wei Wuxian blinks and Finn moves towards him. He’d been missing, Wei Wuxian knows. He’d been missing and now he’s here and he knows but it’s Finn.]

Shagua? [He calls out, waits for the moment when Finn always wrinkles his nose at the affectionate nickname, and it doesn’t come. His throat grows thick and he doesn’t move. Finn stalks closer and the hair on Wei Wuxian’s arms rises. He feels like he’s going to be sick. Still, he doesn’t move.

He’s transfixed on the thing wearing Finn’s face and stands frozen, waiting for his approach.]

B. Closed to CR
((CW: for lots of violent imagery.))

[Wei Wuxian is not well. There are images flashing before his eyes, memories, and hallucinations, and he is not well.

Protect them. You have to protect them. He lets out a whimper and walks faster, moving through the streets of the neighborhood like he’d determined to get somewhere even though he doesn’t know where he’s going, only knows that he has to move.

He sees Shijie run through with a sword. Sees Wen Qing and Wen Ning burning, even if he wasn’t there for it. The bodies of Uncle Fengmian and Madam Yu with their hands outstretched towards each other.

They suffered. The voice in his head says and he doesn’t know if it’s his or not.

You didn’t protect them and they suffered. He closes his eyes but the images don’t fade.

He sees Lotus Pier burning, the bodies of his shidi and shimei slashed and burned and shot, blood and viscera smeared across the floor. Sees them in stacks the way they were that day, like so much refuse to be burned.

Wouldn’t it have been better if it was quick?

He sees Gwen bleeding out on E-23b, sees Finn raked through by that dragon on Alydhion.

They suffered, you have to stop them suffering, they’re all going to suffer—the thoughts halt as he looks up and his eyes land on a fellow orber. Someone he’s met before. Someone he cares about. The sun hits his eyes and for a second they almost look red, but then shadow falls on his face again and reveals it for a trick of the light. For a moment he’s still, and then he moves towards them with a slow gait, sorrow and fear in his eyes.]

C.
Wildcard me!!

b

[deferences]

[this entire town has been tossed into uproarious chaos and the only thing lan sizhui can think to do is find those he's closest to; there's a good handful he would worry about during a situation like induced paranoid aggressiveness, especially taking into account what a lot of them have been through, but it's fortunate for him, he won't have to search too long for one of them, at least.

his own misleading thoughts cannot be trusted, he knows this, and yet it's still difficult to tamp down the brief images that flash through his mind here and there, even through his frenzied running. it helps that he is on a mission, something he can pour more focus into rather than let himself get overly distracted by other things he's aware likely aren't real at the moment. (they are still quite vivid, nevertheless, so it makes sense why he gives pause from time to time, but he's always quick to keep right on going.)

while rushing out from a side street and turning to continue onward down the main road, sizhui comes to a dead stop at the sight of wei wuxian, relief flooding through him that's followed up with concern when he sees his movements, recognizes the look in his eyes, and realizes there's something terribly wrong.]

Xian-gege!

[worried or not, it won't keep him from making a beeline toward him after he's shaken off the slight stupor he was overtaken by for those few seconds.]

Newt Geiszler | Pacific Rim

[groupiedrifter]

01. // Harvest Festival

[Newton had absolutely noticed the cold shoulders given to him (and his beautiful wife, of fucking course) during the harvest festivities — in fact, there's practically a Red Sea moment at one point, where he absolutely feels like a second-rate Moses parting the ocean. He's never gonna deny that he's got a little bit of a temper, okay? Or that he had a pretty severe (and still ongoing) issue when it comes to defiance and obnoxiously acting out when people are perceived a-holes.

Even worse, when he's on edge after some of their crew inexplicably became weird statue-people.

So he spends the harvest intentionally needling and annoying the people who try their damndest to ignore his existence. A few glasses of wine and some pretty good pie toward the end of the night, and the low-simmering outrage and tipsy ability to say 'fuck it all' leaves him stepping up to a microphone he definitely wasn't supposed to be at, clinging a little spoon to his wineglass as he goes.]

Excuse me; excuse me! Quick word, real quick, from one of "those kinds of people".

[Oh, dear.]

First off: totally delicious food, loved every bite! Sorry I didn't actually make anything myself, but I'm the world's worst cook. Also, love the aesthetic. Totally not a subtle creepy factor. Anyone ever see the movie Midsommar? Wicker Man? No? Anyway. I just wanted to say I super appreciate everyone's neighborly, welcoming presence around here. And by appreciate, I mean to say... every shady asshole who whispered a word about me or my friends, or avoided us at every opportunity: you can all go fuck yourselves!

[He points at random folks in the crowd, as he's lead off by either a panicked resident or fellow crewmember:]

Yeah, you! You and you and especially you, Mrs. Krestal! Your weird yam pie tasted like it needed a warning for carcinogens on them...!

[... Sorry.

Carry on.]

02. // Good Fences and Good Neighbors



... That's not good.

[It's a worried mumble under his breath as he checks his wristwatch, noting the lack of activity he usually sees before heading off to the school for work. He looks up at where the sun usually is — and finds he's got nothing to petulantly glower at. The sun's out to lunch. Not good, also. He walks slowly down the street, stopping to look at a Companion that had suddenly milled into his line of sight. His shoulders slouch, and a strained look draws on Newt's face.]

Man... Joel, buddy...

[It's Joel, yeah, but there's nothing about it that is Joel. Just like the other handful of crewmates, it's just — the same old emptiness the other silent figures have. Or had. He's noticed an increase in unusual activity to be sure among them... What's it mean? He doesn't have a fucking clue. And maybe there's a lot of you out here, just as lost as he is. ]

03. // Negotiations (Around Town)

[And wouldn't you know it: things just get worse. He's been fortunate to avoid the sudden, alarming 'attacks' from the silent companions, but a lot of it has been working on his cardio and getting his ass bailed out by his fellow, more physically capable orber. He appreciates any help on that front, because by the time he's outmanuvered the fifth or sixth companion coming after him, he's panting like he's run a marathon.

But more importantly, he's noticing the people who hadn't been as lucky. Crewmembers who have been succumbing to the extreme paranoia and feelings of violence that the figures had instilled in them. The idea that they're all being influenced into hurting others... it twists something in his gut and chest. Memories of his own torment while trapped in a body and mind he had no true control over strike him like a hammer across the head, so he elects to make some pretty stupid choices.

He looks for those he's close to, to make sure they're not afflicted.

And if they are, he approaches very carefully, hands raised up in peace offering.]

... Hey. Having a pretty bad day, huh? Me, too.

I mean, sometimes I wake up on the worst side of the bed, but this all really takes the cake, pal.

[Very, very stupid decisions being made, but he hopes he can be of some help.

He's real sick of being helpless, anyway.]

[OOC: Wildcard or starter in mind? Hit me up here! Feel free to reach out at simpledog if there's anything you wanna run by me!]

: ) 🔪

[coordination]

[ He tried his best to fight it off.

It was as though the silent companions somehow knew he'd be a little more of a challenge to grab at, appearing suddenly in places and lunging when he least expected it. He'd managed to skillfully avoid them for a good long while, but that luck of his ran out when he was trying to get to another Orber in trouble. There were way too many of them and one had grabbed for him at just the right time to have him swerve to avoid it - right into the unavoidable grip of another.

The symptoms come on easily - perhaps it's because beneath the surface he already feels the occasional sensation of choking, of drowning on his own grief as he's constantly keeping himself above water because he has to and he can't give in and he can't let it overcome him.

But those feelings twist into something different with the influence of the companions. They turn uglier, more vicious and assumptive of everything around him. The rest of the team has been too slacking, how many of them have given up on their regrets? They don't care anymore - and they don't want to see Yzak's own fixed, they'll even actively try to stop him in order to not have to finish their mission. And the others? They're going to throw him under the bus at the last moment in order to assure that at least their own regret gets undone. And his regret is all he has to hold onto anymore, the one thing that hasn't been ripped away from him.

He won't let it happen again. Not after Blue. Not when that's the reason he hangs on so desperately to his regret and his will to move forward toward that goal and beyond it at all, dismally lonely as that path ahead feels already. If he lets this happen, he'll have nothing. Nothing but less of himself and failure for all of the time and his own life he's put into this. He will not let anybody take this from him.

When those feelings begin to fester, he notices it. He tries to fight it with logic, with the better understanding he has with facing his own thoughts from when every single one of them could be read and known. But it only delays the inevitable. His skin begins to feel as though a million little ants are marching across it, biting him with every step they take. His stomach twists, churns in a way that isn't something so familiar to him. He has to fight this off. He has to stop this.

He has to stop this... (this power from overtaking him)

He has to stop this... (these thoughts are dangerous, he's going to hurt someone, someones)

He has to stop this... (stop those who are going to try to stop him first, take away the last thing he has, these liars he's been traveling with!)

He's stopped trying to make his way back to his home, leaning heavy against a tree, his right hand rubbing, itching at his left arm as if that's going to help. He hears footsteps approach him from behind, and Newt will notice Yzak's shoulders tense up immensely when he speaks. It's one of them. One of the worst offenders, even, who'd managed to trick him into gaining his trust to make his true objective easier to carry out when the time comes. When he turns his head and peers over his shoulder, there's a spark in those blue eyes that Newton hasn't really seen before. There's a legitimate, violent hatred in the way he looks at him. Newton's demeanor and words don't even seem to register to him. ]

No. No!

[ There is a familiar tone in his voice - it's something set and firm, determined. But it's also angry and all of that intensity is being directed straight at Newt.

He stands up straight, whirls around into an aggressive stance to face him, teeth bared. ]

I'm not falling for this shit anymore!

[ And then he swings, his right prosthetic arm, right at Newton's face. And on top of the weight of the arm he's putting both the speed and the strength of his genetic enhancement into it. ]

Toru Hagakure | My Hero Academia

[mienai]

001. | Harvest Thy Good Will

If you want to be really fascinated by something, then watch someone you can't see while they eat. It's a truly bizarre spectacle. Dressed in a new dress she is totally and utterly smitten by, she sits at one of the tables with a plate stacked with food, claps her hands together in thanks for the good food, and proceeds to eat.

The food simply vanishes with each bite, though on occasion, a crumb finds itself sitting midair as it sneaks onto her chin.]

Delicious... This is so good! You should try some; have you eaten the pie? They have so many pies!

I think I'm getting sick from so much sugar, but I can't help it!

002. | Good Fences and Good Neighbours

[And then, things go bad. Quickly.

It accumulates into a quiet but urgent whisper near one of her crewmates, though there's nobody to be seen.]

Don't go that way! There are companions that way.

[Hagakure had immediately disrobed normal garments and stuck to her equally invisible hero suit in order to avoid detection from the silent companions and equally tormented, violent townspeople who had began to wander the streets. And for her part, she's been very successful in staying out of harm's way! It's easy when nobody knows you're around. But this way, she can help give people warnings for danger up ahead that they couldn't have possibly seen.

It's what a hero would do. Help protect whoever you can from harm.

It's why when she sees someone who is about to be on the receiving end of an attack from someone in the throes of murderous paranoia, she leaps into action — and tackles that poor soul out of harm's way; the orber that gets the tackle looks like they've just been jump-kicked by a poltergeist as she yells:]

Look out! [She's on her knee in an instant, though, in full defense-mode — and she doesn't waste any time facing the townsperson in question.] And cover your eyes, quickly...!



[Best follow the warning, because after that, a large, bright light bursts from every inch of her body; it sends the area into a flashbang of whiteness and makes the attacker stumble and hold their eyes. Temporary blindness — effective and relatively harmless, even if it hurts for but a moment. If you happen to glance up at her at the right moment, you may see a flickering of her true form before she goes back to complete transparency.



She (seemingly) turns to look at her fellow orber, worry in her tone:]

Are you okay?

003. | Closed to Vash

[Truth be told, she hadn't thought it would be that bad. Getting stabbed. People get stabbed a lot as heroes, and they can handle it just fine! Poor Midoriya is always nursing some of the worst injuries, and Mr. Aizawa had been hurt in his time as a teacher and hero in ways that made her stomach flip. And on TV, pro heroes are always sporting all kinds of broken bones and lacerations and internal damage... So she should be able to handle a lousy knife to the ribcage. It was just a glancing blow, after all!

And if she can't, how on earth is she going to keep up with the other students? Or with the crewmembers of the Ximilia? She'd be letting everyone down.

So, she makes the very poor choice of not informing her fellow teammates that she is, in fact, currently bleeding a lot. It isn't until her vision was swimming and wobbling that she considers... maybe she'd made a serious blunder in her critical thinking. I probably should have told someone, is her first syrupy thought, followed by, Oh no, nobody will see me here.

And then — face to cement, as she collapses on the sidewalk. She proceeds to lay there, knocked out cold. What luck is there, that someone may trip over her invisible body?]

004. | All Eye on You

[So, the good news: Vash helped her not die from blood loss. She's terribly embarrassed by the assist, sure, but also tremendously grateful not to be accidentally left dead on a planet somewhere because nobody knows she'd fallen in the first place. Instead of being fully invisible now, a floating bandage in the vague shape of her torso has taken her place. (You know, like the Invisible Man.)

Seeing as she's still too weak to go out there and protect further, she's elected to stay hidden in the nearest house that had been broken back into. It doesn't stop her from noticing any poor soul out there trying to find a place to rest or hide in themselves, though. She removes the barriers and cracks the front door open in time to quietly call out, her voice somewhat pained:]

This way...! In here. Hurry, before they notice you.

[OOC: Starter idea? Wildcard? Hit me up on <user name=simpledog site=plurk.com or via private message!]

4

[lostdestiny]

[ Bruised and cut up from getting into scuffles with one too many Silent Companions, Shinn darts through the door without taking time to place the voice. Once he's inside, it takes him a moment to place what (who!) he's looking at, and why she looks that way. ]

Hagakure? What happened to you--?

[ His voice cracks with surprise and concern and a lot of stress, and for a moment he holds out a hand like he wants to pull her into a hug.

Then, abruptly, he goes very pale underneath the grime and minor injuries, and pulls the hand back. Shinn knows what it feels like to be in "aggressive feelings of paranoia" mode and also knows that he'll do things he regrets in "aggressive feelings of paranoia" mode -- up to and including freaking out, hallucinating, nearly killing people he cares about. Without someone like Athrun around to yeet him into the moon for bad behavior, he's worried that he's more dangerous to people like Hagakure than the Companions are.

His other hand closes tight around the phone in his coat pocket. If there aren't any Companions in here, if they're not in a fight, it will be better, right? It was always fine with Luna until that very last battle. ]

dean winchester | supernatural - ota

[ruinously]

// PART I. HARVEST THY GOOD WILL

a; [ Dean can't resist entering the pie part of the competition - he can bake a pie, a damn good one, and it gives him something to do with his hands. It's a gorgeous thing, that apple pie, and when he wins he gives a hoot of delight, ignoring the loud and obnoxious grumblings of the previous years winner.

He can't help but gloat a little, and he leans over to the nearest fellow orber, declaring- ]

Best pie you'll ever taste, I guarantee.

b; [ Once it's over and people can actually sit down and dig in, that's when he turns his attention to what's happening at the long tables, the eerie silence, the utter tension that permeates the air, almost tangible. He's got a keen eye, watching each family and Companion carefully, picking slowly at his pie because frankly, it's the only thing on the table he trusts.

He leans over to the person next to him, tipping his head. ]

Seem a little tense to you, too?

// PART II. GOOD FENCES & GOOD NEIGHBOURS

[ Dean's entire life revolves around running towards screams so that's what he does, drops everything and heads in that direction. She's 'fine', but that seems subjective and after asking a little after her he retreats before he irritates someone too much, disappearing back towards 'his' house.

His priority soon becomes taking care of his fellow peeps, casually wandering the streets with his gun tucked into the waistband of his pants, hands slid into jacket pockets. The Companions are getting more aggressive, and Dean's managed to avoid getting caught up in their friggin' nightmare.

Maybe you haven't, though. Maybe one's got a hold of your arm, or maybe you're in the throes of paranoia that you can't shake off. That's when Dean appears, ready to put a bullet in a Companion or give you a good shake to clear the head. ]

Hey - ! Snap out of it, get the hell outta here!

(( ooc; ota! feel free to run with any prompt, or wildcard me! if you have something specific in mind shoot me a pm and we'll hash it out! ))

wildcard babyyyy

[chilloutdickwad]

Get down.

[Dean's about to get got himself, in the middle of trying to help the others. Two silent figures approach at his blindspot — but Bob is already in the middle of intercepting, grabbing Dean by the jacket and swiveling him out of the way, just as he drops an empty guitar case; in his other hand, he aims a large shotgun he'd brought all the way from the Ximilia's armory and aims it at one of the companions.

One shot, then two, strong enough to launch the two attackers flat on their backs.

Momentary objective complete; Dean Winchester is not endangered.]

joric | closed starters

[drawsblood]

andy

[drawsblood]

[ It's an uneasy night spent in a house that clearly doesn't want him there and the next morning as his alarm goes off Joric is already awake, staring at the ceiling as his mind comes up with increasingly paranoid scenarios about everyone that wants him dead. The house is a given, as every waking moment he feels like the walls are slowly moving in to squeeze the life out of him. The Silent Companions want him dead too. He can tell.

Sitting up, he reaches for his pills on the nightstand, but his hand stops before it touches the bottle. No. That's their plan. They mean to poison him! He stands quickly, glaring at the bottle. He's not falling for it. Otherwise going through his morning routine, he showers, dresses, and makes his way downstairs. In the kitchen he stands before the fridge, judging every bit of food inside as if it too is poison. He exits the house and the click of the lock behind him is actually a relief. The house no longer feels like safety against the rogue companions. It feels like a threat.

Two hours later he feels it rising. The paranoia easily fuels his anger and as his vision starts to go dark he spots a companion coming for him with an outstretched arm. With a guttural yell the rage takes over and he rushes the companion, tackling it to the ground before ripping at it with his bare hands. ]

Sherlock Holmes | Sherlock Holmes Chapter One | OTA

[astudyinviolet]

A Sherlock themed playlist for these threads for the heck of it.

Part I: 1.0-3.0: Be careful, Sherry!

[ As Watson had warned him, the locals did not take to Sherlock's absences at his job well. The crowds had somehow missed the violinists both at the park and his random street performances. Sherlock had laughed and refused to give any other explanation beyond a musician's heart and whims. However, he's present at the festival as everyone is. The darts game stirs up a bit of fanfare as Sherlock correctly states and hits each ring. Amazed, they give him dart after dart, and when they've run out of them, what remains on the board are the letters "SH" written out in darts. He's shuffled off to gourd decorating... Should someone tell him that he shouldn't be drawing some strange tentacled creature all over the gourd?

The stew Sherlock brings is just as disgusting as it was before. His attempts at creating something better had vanished once he became more concerned with Watson and Naruhodo's safety. With some pettiness, he enters the disgusting stew into a competition where many of his persistent matchmakers sit as judges. Sherlock is more than happy to leave them to it. (Everyone knows that no one is going to touch that stew.)

He has better things to do like both watch and avoid looking at the Silent Companions. They make his body tense, that feeling of paranoia slinks into him again. At his place at the table, Sherlock ends up sitting with his eyes closed and food untouched. Why? Why are they here? ]

Wildcard

[ Want to do something else? Write a prompt or drop me a line at Sherry's journal, aviekokyre, or on Discord @ aviekokyre and we can plot something out! ]

All threads under this top level will contain dark content matter. Please be mindful of the content

[astudyinviolet]

Part II: 5.0: Ymg' ymg' ah fhalma's gnaiigof'n

[[ ooc: Given that Sherlock is going to be living his one of his worst fears, I'm going to ask that characters who tag this are either previous CR or having gone through/seen similar things to know that he's traumatized. Characters will not be in danger from Sherlock, but Sherlock might become a danger to himself.

PS: All my uses of R'lyeh have translations with a mouse over. ]]

cw: past child abuse, trauma, mental illness, medical malpractice, Cthulhu madness, potential suicidal ideation

[ Sherlock had seen the Silent Companion with Gabriel Rodriguez's likeness around. They hadn't known each other all that much; Rodriguez taught Sherlock how to use the coffee machine and left him at the mercy of the aggressive matchmakers. Still, this is the first instance of Sherlock seeing anything like this since his arrival on Ximilia Station. He wants to know, understand. That proves to be his downfall. The Silent Companions had affected Sherlock earlier, but that pales in comparison to what they do to Sherlock now. ]

Ymg' ah nafl lloigog llllw'nafh l' mgah ahf' l' ah nog.

[ Sherlock stops in the middle of the street. He's wide awake, isn't he? Amaryllis Grove may look different in this light, but he hasn't traveled to that other world. He looks around. He only sees the Silent Companions. Their mouths aren't moving. They're stalking closer, but they aren't the ones speaking to him. Those warped words reverberate within his head. ]

Ymg' ah nafl lloigog llllw'nafh l' mgah ahf' l' ah nog.

What does that mean?! I keep hearing that and–

You would know if your greatest asset was of any use to your case or this mission. Have you found anything? Have you come any closer to understanding than when you began?

My-my investigations haven't turned up much, but there are other avenues I haven't pursued yet.

[ Sherlock's not even sure which he's talking about: his case or this mission. ]

You are a liar like all the others! No. Once more your obsession for the truth comes at the expense of others. They're the ones in danger, even though you are of no worth at all. Without an answer, what use is the question? What use is you? You aren't fooling me!

I...

Cleft your mind, splinter your soul and become a servant of madness! Hurt them. Kill them. Spill their blood for the Great Lord! I'll kill you!!! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!

[ Sherlock has heard those strange words but never had he spoken them aloud before. The syllables fit like knives over his tongue. He should act first, shouldn't he? He doesn't need anyone. He knows what he's capable of. He's studied, seen, enough murders to carry them out. Why should he wait for them to betray him? He can skip past the lies they tell him now. Their pain and sacrifice can serve to strengthen the Great Lord. ]

GE-GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!

[ All that... is someone else in his head, right? Not him, right?! Not like--Suddenly, he can't breathe. His head erupts into pain. He crumples to the ground. In his mind's eye, he's not in Amaryllis Grove. He is in Cordona, in the back garden of Stonewood Manor. Violet Holmes strikes her son. He falls, crying out in pain. She calls him a liar, demands he return her real son as she drags him by his thin arm across the ground. His begging goes unheard. She is nothing but a silhouette of the woman he recognizes but lacking all else. Violet Holmes plunges little Sherlock under the water and holds him down. He thrashes, unable to breathe, unable to break free.

He was ten. That wasn't the first time his mother had lashed out at him, but it was the worst. And the last. Sherlock can see his own notes locked away in the attic of his mind. "Fragile sanity: My mother's struggles with mental disease could well be hereditary, and affect my mind and rationality." For as much as Dr. Otto Richter experimented on his mother, he also noticed the psychological traits developing with Sherlock; it's a real possibility.

There is a violet thread of madness running through the tangled skein of Sherlock's life, and his hope is to unravel it, and isolate it, and neutralize every inch of it. And then move on to the newer emerald thread knotting and pulling the threads apart to reveal the very fibers making them. He just needed to stay sane enough until his mind could be fixed by the Orbs or by some other means. Sherlock thought he had time. He was wrong. Not if he's thinking like this, like his mother did.

Sherlock pushes himself to his feet and runs. His grey eyes have turned pale and clouded as if he's been blinded by what he's seen in that other world despite still being in this one. Or is he? Which is real? He reaches Abbey Park, and it's instinctual for him to curl up, making himself smaller in the shade of the gazebo. Pain continues to lance through his head, and he presses his hands to his temples. There's no imaginary friend to act as a mental shield. No real friend to tether him back to reality. Broken sobs form words, form desperate pleas. ]

Jon! I'm cracking, Jon. I still need you, Jon! If I must be mad, then let it be the kind with you trying to protect me! O-or or, this has to be another dream! Watson! Jon! John! Jon! John! For God's sake! Wake me! Do something! Where are you? ... help me...

[ If he can't break free from this overwhelming desire to kill the others to make this stop, then he knows of only one solution. On the chance he has slipped into that other world, his death will mean nothing but progression. If he's still in this one, then at least he won't hurt anyone. ]

Sherry! Sherry, hang on a little longer. Just stay put, all right? Don't do anything.

Uncle Bob / The T-800 | Terminator 2

[chilloutdickwad]

I. HARVEST THY GOOD WILL

[The T-800 sits very patiently at the nearest harvest banquet table, hardly moving, much less breathing or looking anything other than a very, very realistic prop. He only turns his attention to anyone who approaches — be it a townsperson or one of his own — and declines any attempt at offering him a dish or sample of the good foods that are available.]

I am not capable of eating.

[It does look enjoyable though. He's never really put much thought into the concept of nourishing one's body with such things; very human and very unnecessary. It would be illogical of him to linger on it, wouldn't it?]

What is the point of combining so many ingredients in such complicated recipes? [He looks to the pies on the table before him.] It would be easier to eat the apples and bread separately. This exceeds a human's recommended sugar intake.

II. GOOD FENCES & GOOD NEIGHBOURS

[An important question is posed, when things start getting dicey:]

Do you require protection?

[That is the question posed as you're being stalked after. The T-800 studies the being that follows them, recognizing their composition as something unnatural. The silent companions. Depending on what the person he's talking to says, he absolutely plans to use the large shotgun in his hands to shoot any potential threat that approaches.]

III. ALL EYE ON YOU

[Lucky him, he has no need to consume food when it tastes like rot. And to think he'd earlier been considering how he may be missing out on something enjoyable... No, he'd rather not eat, now that he sees the effects of people who aren't able to consume important sustenance without feeling like they're ingesting debris.

When he's outside, he makes himself useful by breaking open the boarded-up homes. It's as easy as stepping him, then wrenching the boards off, or even the very doors themselves. He turns to the person he is helping, tossing the door aside.]

Task completed. You may enter.

I

[blindrun]

Oh, ok...

[ He was just trying to be polite offering up a slice of apple pie, the first time he's ever tried anything like it himself. But hey, more for him. Kanan forks another piece into his mouth while the man elaborates, though his slowing chews down as something dawns on him. He swallows a little too early and has to clear his throat when it goes down rough. ]

Are you not human? You could've fooled me.

noah | xenoblade

[offseers]

( 3.0 — cold as ice )

[ noah is no stranger to be treated coldly. the colonies were warm and kind enough when the war allowed for it, but he's interacted with enough agnian troops to know it's not the easiest thing to bear. he's never minded it then and he doesn't mind it now. it takes a great deal to ignite noah's temper.

being jostled around by the throng of people, accidentally "elbowed" in the face, pushed harshly by someone passing by, causing him to fall and rub his shoulder is . . . nothing, really. still, he frowns, nursing his shoulder with his hand. ]

They're really upset. Why?

( 5.0 — words like violence, break the silence ) cw: suicide ideation, potential violence in threads

[ it had been a brush against his arm.

he hadn't thought of it. noah had been tense, thinking of reaching for his blade when it occurred. and then the onslaught of feelings caught him in his chest, causing him to crumble to his knees, gasping. all the memories came rushing forth. ethel's death, joran's betrayal, mio . . . mio, mio, mio. he failed her. he failed them all. noah is not supposed to be here. he's a fake. n was . . . n was him, the real him. the one who was meant to exist.

NO.

noah grits his teeth, pulling his sword and taking a stance. he's not going to curl up and die. he's not going to give up. not for anyone. not for anything. even if he has to burn the whole world down. he swings his blade in front of him, ready to cut people down. ]

( 6.0 — this town ain't yours )

[ noah only experienced what a home is for a little while.

it was warm. and kind. people cared. shared meals together. talked together, lived together. it was so similar with what he had with eunie, lanz and the others that it helped him realize that even though he lacked those formative experiences, he was just as much a person as everyone else. that gave him the fortitude to help others. he broke windows, he did his best to cut down through doors so that people could get inside while he ushered them quickly to safety. ]

Go, while there's time. I'll cover you.

[ says the not-ten-year old. ]

( wildcard )

[ got a different prompt you’d like to do? ping me on timmtams / pm this journal ]

3.0

[ruinously]

I'm not completely sure. Probably with how nosy we are.

[ By necessity, of course. It's just how they all have to be when on these missions. ]

But it's getting a little excessive. And annoying.

Natasha Romanoff | MCU | OTA

[deaddrop]

PART I.HARVEST THY GOOD WILL

[deaddrop]

1.0

[Natasha Romanoff is a very serious and professional spy, and she has a job to do. She's looking for the orb, of course, just like they all are, but there's another task, too—a personal goal. Commit an act of vandalism, the orbs said, and she needs to do that part too if she wants to undo her regret, right?

In light of that, Natasha arrives at the harvest festivities with a few special supplies, which she discreetly uses to deface such diverse targets as pumpkins, local landmarks, and even food.

Natasha is discreet about her mission, but if someone were paying close attention, and if they knew what to look for, if they were very looking, they might notice her putting a mustache and googly eyes on a slow cooker, turning it into a rather surprised old man, or gently defacing picture of one of the town's prominent citizens.]

2.0

[Occasionally Natasha dips into the conversations around her, especially those about the lack of visitors, but mostly she listens in.

Somehow, it doesn't come as a surprise.

On the other hand...]

Honestly, probably a good thing my parents can't visit.

Shuntaro Chishiya | Alice in Borderland | OTA

[dispassioned]

Strawberry Hotdogs

[Arisu might be the housespouse in the family, but Chishiya actually knows how to make a few dishes, himself. Unfortunately for everybody he does not make any of those for the Harvest. His personal goal for causing public disturbances combined with his disdain for this town in general has inspired him to bring something truly horrifying to share with the neighbors.

He arrives at the Harvest festival midmorning with a plate full of hotdog stuffed strawberries. Bright, plump strawberries topped with what appears to be whipped cream. Or is it mayonnaise? Actually, it's a toss up. Some of them are covered in whipped cream, others in mayo. All of them are stuffed with raw hot dogs.

No one should actually eat these. In fact, if he sees an orber reaching for one he will probably intercept them.]

Ah. I wouldn't try those if I were you.

[Unless of course, he doesn't like the orber in question or they happened to insult Arisu's cooking at their party a few weeks back. In that case, RIP.]

Cold Shoulders

[It's not the first time Chishiya has been ignored or otherwise treated as a problem or an inconvenience. He's been treated worse by people who matter more. Still, it rankles him a little bit. People who were perfectly friendly to him a few weeks ago treating him like pariah now...for what? Starting a little bonfire? Questionable hors d'oeuvres?

It's irritating. It highlights the problems with places like this. How two faced people can be.

And so Chishiya deals with it the same way he deals with most things that annoy him. Calmly. By casually being as obnoxious as possible.

When he notices a neighbor trying to avoid him, he sidles up to them and just starts chatting. Making small talk, like he doesn't notice their intense discomfort. With some people he chats about easy things like the weather. With others, he'll launch into a detailed one-sided discussion on the human cardiovascular system and the importance of heart health, even for the young. This particular conversations (if one can call them that) may include implied insults about some of the food people are serving at the Harvest. After all, some of these dishes appear to be pretty high in sodium and cholesterol. People really need to think about these things.

The neighbor he's currently talking too appears to be pretty desperate to get away from him. They are pointedly not replying to anything he's saying and clearly looking for an escape.

Chishiya huffs in exaggerated exasperation.]

So, you really are just going to ignore me. That's pretty rude, you know.

Wildcard!

[Feel free to throw a wildcard option at me or hit me up at etceteras for a closed starter if you want something specific!]

--CLOSED for Arisu

[dispassioned]

[Chishiya is very clever, but he has this problem where he rarely panics, even when, really, he probably should. So when the Silent Companions start acting strange, Chishiya does not appeared to be bothered. Instead, much like a cat, he is curious.

He's wary, of course, he's not stupid. He keeps an eye out and tries to make sure when he's not being followed. But still, he strolls through town calmly, hands in his pockets, not getting to close but definitely studying the Silent Companions as much as one can while being several feet away. If one seems to be moving toward him he doesn't flee, he just takes a few casual steps back, musing to himself about whether this behavior is a feature or a bug.

He's betting it's a feature.

In any case, the particular street he's on seems to be getting less deserted. A few extra Silent Companions have popped up at the street corner. That could be a problem. Maybe someone with a better sense of self-preservation would like to encourage to Chishiya to, perhaps, run for his life. Or at least his sanity.]

Poison Ivy | Harley Quinn Animated Series

[greenpower]

PART I.HARVEST THY GOOD WILL

[greenpower]

[If you guessed Ivy would handle Harley leaving poorly, give yourself a point.

On the one hand, she does seem determined not to give up on her personal goal—which is good news. It means no army of disgruntled trees taking out Companions and bystanders alike.

On the other hand, it means Ivy has to take out her frustration some other way.

She can be found in the backyard of her home, her hair a mess, mascara running down her face, smashing flower pots with a level of stamina and enthusiasm that comes mostly out of anger and a little out of fear.

The sound of it cracking and falling, being stomped underfoot, can be heard by any of her neighbors, and honestly anyone brave enough to come to the door.]

Daisy Johnson | MCU | OTA

[morethan084]

| HARVEST |

[Ever since being brought into the chief’s office to be given a very clear warning about her interaction with the companions, there’s been a shift in the way the townsfolk interact with her. Or more accurately, how they don’t. It doesn’t bother her as much as it does when they act this way towards Andy and Noah.

Having been told some weeks prior that people were looking forward to her quiche, which she’s never actually made before, Daisy shows up to the harvest with one thanks to Noah’s help. Setting the quiche on the table where others put their dishes, it doesn’t go unnoticed the way some of the townsfolk give her a wide berth.

She stays off to the side for a while, watching others interact but when she spots a familiar orber she moves over to them. Any townsfolk that were either talking with them, or nearby, are quick to move out of the way.]

Hey. Guess I’m the down pariah.

[When the time comes for the big feast, Daisy takes a seat near Andy and Noah and there’s a pit in her stomach when she’s forced to see just how the two are being treated. Dishes are passed over them and she feels her anger rising just before an orber grabs the dish and hands it to her.]

Thank you.

[She says to them, staring down the townsfolk despite them quickly avoiding her gaze. While they eat she keeps looking over at the companions that are also at the table, and her gaze lands on one of them before she’s looking to a nearby orber.]

This is getting creepier and creepier.

[She sends the text via their comm, so they can’t be overheard.]

| GOOD FENCES |

Investigation

[The moment Daisy hears a scream she’s awoken from a dead sleep and scrambling out of bed, wrapping a nightgown around herself she slips into her shoes quickly and heads outside to see neighbors gathering around one of the houses. Some people move out of her way when they see her approach, one of them muttering to stay out of it.]

I’m a police officer.

[Daisy reminds them firmly, despite still keeping her distance for her now. She tries to get answers, but no one is willing to really give her anything.]

Did you see anything?

[Daisy asks one of the Orbers after pulling them out of earshot.]

Rescue Attempt

[Things go downhill so quickly, it almost feels like whiplash. The companions start acting out, and the next thing she knows she spots one of them grabbing a hold of one of the Orbers.]

Let go of them.

[Daisy says firmly, but they don’t seem to care. She still isn’t sure what exactly they are, but after seeing companions of fellow Orbers, she knows she has to be careful with how she uses her powers as just trying to release their hold on the orber’s wrist isn’t working.

Holding her hand out she sends them flying backwards quite a few feet, ignoring the panicked noises from some of the townsfolk.]

Are you okay?

WILDCARD

[Have something else in mind? Feel free to write something below or PM/message me on plurk morethan084.]

harvest

[drawsblood]

Things are becoming as tense as a bowstring. I wonder what will happen when it is released.

[ Joric is watching her from the next table over where he sits by Yelena's mac and cheese. He isn't being ostracized like she and the others on the list are, but people here have never liked how he's a single father so getting dirty looks is nothing new. ]

alucard | castlevania

[ananym]

( 1.0 — a gourd time )

[ he felt uncomfortable, joining the festivities. large groups of people still set his teeth on edge. as if he's waiting for the proverbial axe to fall. he weaves in and out, mostly watching and keeping his commentary to himself. whoever these people are, friend or foe, he sees no reason to be pointedly mean.

though, alucard wonders if he's just being a coward. retreating into himself, to shy away from the old pain.

glancing around, he spots a gourd. hm. letting his fingers elongate, he approaches one and starts carving. once he's done, alucard pulls back, satisfied. his gourd is a violent looking creature with too many teeth. some of the others look queasy, but alucard seems bemused. ]

I think it's fitting, don't you?

( 4.0 — watching )

[ the rampant fear and unease was permeating everywhere. even alucard found himself distressed, struggling to keep his calm. it is one thing to fight off monsters and invaders. how do you fight this. he watches from a distance, floating in the air as his eyes mark the disturbing patterns of the companions. he wants his sword. he wants to act. with a growl of disapproval, alucard comes back to the ground. ]

What is the point of being here if we can do nothing?

( 5.0 — the vampire club ) cw: violence, vampirism

[ it was like they were alive.

they being taka and sumi. alucard could hear them. giggling, laughing, mocking. the ghost of iron restraints pulled at him and he swore he could feel the sting of it closing around him, forcing him down. he nearly bends the knee, under the weight of these illusions cawing at him, clawing at him. everyone is out to get him. they're out to make him suffer. they want to use him, force him, break him.

they don't care to see beyond. they only see a vampire.

alucard snarls, his eyes red and teeth bared. then let him be a vampire. anyone who comes close will bear the brunt of his power. ]

No further.

( wildcard )

[ got a different prompt you’d like to do? ping me on timmtams / pm this journal ]

5

[blindrun]

[ Paranoia has been pulling on his nerves like a hand stringing a puppet along for a show. It brings him back to the first days of being on the run from the Empire, barely a teenager and having to fend for himself in a galaxy that had no room for Jedi anymore. Every night he went to sleep thinking he might get stabbed, or shot, or taken. Every morning he woke up thankful to be alive, but knowing it could be the last day.

Before he realizes it, he's suddenly confronted by a man on the street living in his own personal hell. However, with all the insanity going on, he's armed himself. A blaster in his holster and his lightsaber hilt dangling from a hook on his belt. Is this a fake? It's hard to tell these days. However, he does come to a halt as commanded. There's still enough rational in him to avoid a fight. ]

Take it easy. I won't fight if you won't.

emily dyer | identity v

[medicative]

5.0.

[there are few benefits to being accustomed to being hunted, to every nerve being twisted and stretched in fear, to the ever present expectation of pain. but it means when the world goes awry, when paranoia and monsters flood the streets, that something in her clicks back in the right way, and she knows how to get through, actions built by so much practice. move swiftly, be aware of all possible paths. it grips her skull but it cannot tear it apart - because she knows this crushing feeling in her veins.

thus, it means she's free to find someone who's sick, being overcome by the feelings, and approach to try and call out - but not touch, she's not foolish.]

Do you need help?

[alternately, someone's gone for you - a Companion trying to crush you, someone consumed by paranoia who's injured you, becoming lost and hurting yourself. whatever the case, it's enough that Emily's spotted you on her route, and she's coming to assist. working under pressure like this is perhaps the most familiar thing all mission.]

Easy now...

[she has her bag to help with minor things, but anything critical, she'll heal outright, if it'll be too much a burden in these dangerous times.]

6.0.

[it's getting worse. they're starting to truly hunt in earnest, and Emily knows it won't stop. not until some condition is met, or the orb is in hand. absent a Companion in her own home, and on her own, she knows it'd be nearly suicidal to go where they are instead of staying put. still, there are those who are trapped, left as easy prey for the constructs. people that maybe could still be reached and brought to safety. so, the answer is swift, decisive. she writes a message.]

un: emilydyer
I am currently in a safe zone. If you are in the vicinity and need somewhere to temporarily go, find this address. Do not let them follow you.

[and attached, her own address. they don't have the supplies to keep people for however long, but a brief break to get out of the sun's light and sight can be given freely, and then things can be sorted from there.

it hurts, that she can't offer this to more of the people who live here - but perhaps, if someone arrives who doesn't mind going to look, they can see if they can't rescue any more souls.]

wildcard.

[got a different idea on what you'd like to do? feel free to hit me with it, reach out at moonjelly if you'd like! open to anything else - Festival threads, more lighthearted content, things back in part 1, etc.

also feel free to go after her in 5.0., she'll approach even if someone is a risk!]

6

[coordination]

[ Sure we'll assume this happens sometimes after Yzak's run-in with Newton that he was snapped out of.

Meaning he looks a little worse for wear when he heeds Emily's offer and needs to get somewhere to rest even for a few moments. ]

Emily.

[ His voice accompanied by a knock at her door, a bit hoarse. ]

It's Yzak.

Yzak Jule | Gundam SEED

[coordination]

[ Closed and open starters will go under here. ]

[ Tbh if I don't get an open up and you wanna do something just wildcard me OR just poke me somewhere (gaignun, urtv on Disco) with an idea and I can put a custom starter up THANK. ]

For Andy

[coordination]

[ Haha so what if I just copy and paste from another comment wouldn't that be fu—

He tried his best to fight it off.

It was as though the silent companions somehow knew he'd be a little more of a challenge to grab at, appearing suddenly in places and lunging when he least expected it. He'd managed to skillfully avoid them for a good long while, but that luck of his ran out when he was trying to get to another Orber in trouble. There were way too many of them and one had grabbed for him at just the right time to have him swerve to avoid it - right into the unavoidable grip of another.

The symptoms come on easily - perhaps it's because beneath the surface he already feels the occasional sensation of choking, of drowning on his own grief as he's constantly keeping himself above water because he has to and he can't give in and he can't let it overcome him.

But those feelings twist into something different with the influence of the companions. They turn uglier, more vicious and assumptive of everything around him. The rest of the team has been too slacking, how many of them have given up on their regrets? They don't care anymore - and they don't want to see Yzak's own fixed, they'll even actively try to stop him in order to not have to finish their mission. And the others? They're going to throw him under the bus at the last moment in order to assure that at least their own regret gets undone. And his regret is all he has to hold onto anymore, the one thing that hasn't been ripped away from him.

He won't let it happen again. Not after Blue. Not when that's the reason he hangs on so desperately to his regret and his will to move forward toward that goal and beyond it at all, dismally lonely as that path ahead feels already. If he lets this happen, he'll have nothing. Nothing but less of himself and failure for all of the time and his own life he's put into this. He will not let anybody take this from him.

When those feelings begin to fester, he notices it. He tries to fight it with logic, with the better understanding he has with facing his own thoughts from when every single one of them could be read and known. But it only delays the inevitable. His skin begins to feel as though a million little ants are marching across it, biting him with every step they take. His stomach twists, churns in a way that isn't something so familiar to him. He has to fight this off. He has to stop this.

He has to stop this... (this power from overtaking him)

He has to stop this... (these thoughts are dangerous, he's going to hurt someone, someones)

He has to stop this... (stop those who are going to try to stop him first, take away the last thing he has, these liars he's been traveling with!)

He's stopped trying to make his way back to his home, leaning heavy against a tree, his right hand rubbing, itching at his left arm as if that's going to help.

The little bit of lucidity he has doesn't want to be found. The influence doesn't either because it does not wish to bother with these people who he's suddenly so suspicious of. But if they happen upon him it dares them to approach because they're going to regret it. ]

The Darkling / Aleksander Morozova | Shadow and Bone

[cruelyethuman]

I. Harvest

[Good will, he thinks, sinking to his knees on the immaculate lawn, hands held tightly behind his back as Aleksander eyes the basin of water in front of him. Good will of the people of Amaryllis Grove and the eye watching them all.

And because he can almost see Yennefer among the crowd, dress flashing and dark hair glinting in the sunlight.

There is a slow count-down and he tries to be dignified at first, bobbing for the very first apple without sloshing water all over himself, but it is impossible to do this and not look like an idiot.

An idiot with style, at least, and he bobs and dives, water dripping from the tips of his hair and mustache as the illusive apple slips from between his lips again and again. Slippery and sweet, it evades him and more water spills over the edge until--]

Ha!

[He gets a bite, chewing hard and fast, pinning the apple to the bottom of the basin, biting until he has to pull up, back arching to gasp of air.]

V. Good fences.

[It seems like a fluke, the first time it happens. When a companion wraps steely fingers around his wrist and Aleksander promptly vomits on the already grimy sidewalk. It happens before he even has a chance to feel anything, before lifting his eyes to meet the blank, dead ones in front of him.

Even shaking, he can make a shadow. Summoning darkness between his fingers to cut the ones holding him captive as his own heartbeat rings in his ears and it ends-- so fast. One second, he is delicately slicing through fleshless fingers and the next, the companion slips away, slippery and silent, to stalk towards someone else. Someone he doesn't remember seeing and it doesn't matter because Aleksander steps back in to the comforting darkness of shadows under a tree.

The next time, there is too much time. It stretches out, taffy-like and dreamy, the companion coming closer on unfeeling legs and it builds- the tickle of terror down the line of his spine, the lick of panic in the pit of his stomach even if he's already clasping his hands before him.

It builds, as the companion comes closer, as the gap vanishes- was it even there to begin with, or had it always been like this? Had the hairs on the back of his neck always stood on end? Nerves firing uselessly, conflicting impulses to FIGHT, to FLEE.

And still, it comes.

Cold hands grab his shoulders and Aleksander stares back in horror as it washes over him in waves of nauseating fear- a roiling ocean of it, you did this it almost whispers, fingers digging in to the soft flesh of his arms. We could have had this, comes as a close second as his eyes glaze over and he sees a village on fire. Smells flesh cooking years and years ago, in the dim lights of Amaryllis Grove.

They will never stop coming

He knows it in his bones, how they will always treat him- how they will treat his people. They will always burn, the smell that never quite leaves you as the sun sets, the sights that sparked a million nightmares and Aleksander hears it-- the dull roar of foot soldiers and horses, geared up for war and coming for him.

For her

In the dwindling light on the street, the shadows gather around him and his hands move effortlessly despite the hold, a black blade forms between his fingers-]

VI. Neighbours. (locked to Alina)

[All the doors are locked and the windows bolted shut on the small house, the home he found with Yennefer and Aleksander is on the front lawn, trying to watch the street and the house at the same time. Head swivelling from side to side, hands bare and held ready

The tether is a dead thing, something he doesn't think about.

Like a wound scabbed over.

It dulled over the past weeks, drowning under the sweet domesticity of living. Of sleeping next to Yennefer, the smell of her skin and the sound of her voice in the dark. Slipped beneath the sight of Hagakure (invisible, but it came naturally, to look for the lifted cup or the sound of her voice) and Shinn, all dark, tousled hair and boyish mischief.

But, standing on the lawn, there's a soft, gentle thump from somewhere deep inside, a glow that wasn't there before- a warmth that grows in to searing heat underneath his ribs.]

good fences.

[ravkas]

[ this tenuous agreement had cost him alina's good favor. the very least he can do is make sure the darkling does not use the cut to decimate the idyllic little neighborhood that nikolai has come to hate.

the companions pose a problem, among other things. they're hellishly strong and seem to have no life in them, eerily reminiscent of the khergud he's heard rumblings about in shu han. this is the one time he's not exactly opposed to the darkling summoning a little shadow and taking out a contraption that clearly should not exist, but nikolai can see in his expression that it's not amaryllis grove he's seeing. they've all been subjected to their pasts, their worst fears and darkest shame, and — well. the darkling certainly has a wealth of years to choose memories from.

he would raze this entire place to the ground, and nikolai would never be sure if he could blame him for it. not if something else was clouding his mind. not if he's not all here.

if nikolai doesn't act quickly, he's sure the cut won't show him any favors just because he has a little darkness besmirching his otherwise golden soul. his guns are of little use against the companions, though he could possibly wedge a blade somewhere beneath its skull and hope to peer into its innards — it's not alive, it's an automaton, and they can be taken apart. but it will all take too much time.

the monster inside him seems to react without prompting. in one breath nikolai is seeing through his own eyes, and in the next, it's through the monster's, fractures of darkness spreading across his skin like a doll of broken porcelain. he springs forward, his fingers blackened and tipped with sharp talons, snatching the companion in a crushing grip, his wings carrying him to the darkling to slam its body down at his feet.

his clawed hands make impact, crushing through the chest cavity as if it's made of paper. nikolai bares a row of sharp, black teeth before biting into the companion's throat, severing its head from its body. when he looks up again, he settles his pitch black eyes onto the darkling, his wings hovering around them like little bits of shadow. ]

nikolai lantsov — grishaverse

[ravkas]

— existential dread (closed to FITZ).

[ it feels fitting, somehow, that there would be a raging… person? automaton? thing? entity trying to murder him on the same night in which his key has simply broken off right in the lock of the door. that’s never happened to him before.

never trust keys; it’s always better to pick a lock than get through a door honestly. tragic that no one is around to hear such a grand nugget of advice, except for the entity that’s trying very hard to rip him to shreds.

it’s not doing a bad job of it — he’s left quite the trail of blood just getting here, bleeding from somewhere in his shoulder, though it shouldn’t be glossed over that he did destroy one of the companions earlier. he takes credit for it despite the fact that it was his demon that took over in that moment. unfortunately, his demon seems to want to nap now, so nikolai is left just being himself, which — well. that shouldn’t be as depressing a thought as it is. without the demon, he is quite easily bruisable by these annoying entities, and he has an unattractive ring of red markings around his throat where one had very nearly asphyxiated him half an hour ago.

he bangs on the door with one numb fist, leaving an ugly smear of blood against the bright teal paint — his handiwork. ]

Alina! [ on second thought, she’d probably let him rot out here. maybe her scheming husband is home. ] Fitz!

[ there’s no response from inside, and the companion is only getting closer. there’s no time for understatement. nikolai draws his gun and aims at the lock, firing a bullet through the mechanism and slamming his shoulder against the door. it gives with a lurch, and nikolai tumbles inside and slams it shut, hooking a chair leg with his foot to drag it over and wedging it beneath the broken knob.

then he crashes into the mirror in the foyer as the blood loss catches up to him, twinkling shards raining to the polished wooden floors. he stands there for a moment with glass wedged into his scarred palms, then casually ambles forward, squinting. he thought it might feel nice to be home — or at least safe — but the walls feel closer than the last time he was here, dread creeping into his heart. ]

Do we have a housekeeper? [ there’s clearly no one here, but it’s always helped to talk to himself. ] I don’t know who’s going to clean up that mess.

[buckkeep]

( unlucky nikolai just arrived home a bit too early — a great embarrassment to someone so fashion forward. fitz would be suspicious if he thought about it, as nikolai generally prefers to be as inconvenient as possible.

well, maybe he holds to standard, on second thought. what fitz sees upon arriving: a sparking, electronic shape trying to get in the front door of his house, a breadcrumb trail of splattered blood leading up to the house, and the general fog of panic that fitz takes, breathes in, and abruptly turns to rage. not flesh nor blood, little brother says nighteyes, while fitz prowls, a wolf in the dark, fetching an axe from the shed in the backyard and wielding it like a young man, aimed for the kill of slain firewood and the necks of the forged. no meat to be had. let us hunt quickly, and protect our kin.

quickly is exactly how fitz goes about the dismantling — not killing, not really. it's all just wires and metal and the sparking of electricity, as fitz's axe reigns down, blow after blow after blow. nighteyes reminds him of the blood, but frenzy is there and powerful and in control. then he says the name sunlit stag with affection, meaning alina, and fitz finally stops, eyes sharply focused on the back door, the blown lock. her reaches for it, yanking, shoving, ramming his shoulder against it. never does he think about going around to the back door — he just applies force, and then more force, until the chair snaps and the door gives way, to the mess before him.

the fox, nighteyes says. it takes a second for fitz to focus, to take it all in — nikolai standing like a wraith, decorated almost stylishly in the rubies of his own blood. only a king such as he could make suffering look in vogue, which is only a brief thought that fitz has, before replacing the chair with a barricade of some entryway furniture, and stepping into him, a hand touching his shoulder and coming away wet. )

Nikolai, ( he means to sound annoyed, but it comes out oddly fond, actually. an arm snags around his waist, axe dropped to the floor, while he tries to guide him forward. ) am I always to be covered in your blood? Come, fox. Let us clean you.