INTRO LOG #3

[bequiet]

INTRO LOG #3
Put a Sock in It
Content Warnings: Disorientation, memory loss, confusion
Themes: Arrival, survival, exploration, horror

You wake, standing. A thick, muddy red dust coats your skin and clothes - it sticks to your tongue and blocks your vision. Inhale and it chokes you, exhale and your breath puffs out in front of your face in a transparent maroon cloud. It tastes of copper, tangy and harsh. Movement is difficult, every limb tingles and aches. Look to your left, your right. Evenly spaced in each direction stands another person indistinguishable in every way from the next. You're disoriented and lethargic, unable to grasp onto a single thought. A pinprick of light blooms ahead and grows steadily larger; a door has opened.

Hands grip your wrists, push at the small of your back and guide you out of the darkness into a room with four walls and a thin, sagging ceiling. The plaster is peeling, the air is musty, and the floor is slick. White plastic piping juts up from the center and curves into multiple spouts, clean water flowing in uneven streams. Those hands pull your clothes off and clear the dust from your body, redress you in handsewn jumpsuits. By the time they’re through, you will have begun to come back to yourself.

A finger is pressed to your lips. Kind eyes meet your own and a single word is whispered - hush.

Led out of the room in a line, you’re taken down a short hallway and into another, much larger room. There’s a woman waiting for you there, Constance, with a child hugging her leg - a cloth bag in her hands. She reaches in and pulls out a device, passes one to each of you. Once finished, she begins to move both hands in graceful gestures, a language. One of the people who helped you lifts their device and the screen lights up, tracks the woman’s hands. Letters appear on the screen and you understand the device’s purpose. She tells you what she knows and it’s not much.

This world is haunted. Noise attracts them, so it is not allowed. Communication is through body language, soundless writing, and the device. She tells you that your feet must be light and your mouth never used. There is a community outside these doors, where you can survive together, but only if you agree to one thing: complete and total silence. You'll have time to talk it over. You may ask one question and receive one answer. There are others like you in the room, those who'd come earlier. They're there to help.

Acceptance allows you to journey outside. The ground is marked in pathways of sand, lining the paths to each building and everywhere in-between. You notice that the locals hold their devices always, aloft and glance to it often. It will not vibrate or make a sound to signal a message. Notices appear. Rules. Guidelines. Feet on the sand and never anywhere else. To open a door you brush your fingers along the hinges - oiled and you may enter. If not, take the brush from the can sitting nearby and coat the metal with the dark liquid.

Now, you're to settle into your new home – with or without the help of those who have come before you.

In Freakish Flight
Content Warnings: Threat to safety, death, weird creatures
Themes: Plot, survival

This is the tale that was told to me by the man with the crystal eye,
As I smoked my pipe in the camp-fire light, and the Glories swept the sky;
As the Northlights gleamed and curved and streamed, and the bottle of "hooch" was dry.

The new arrivals are here, like clockwork it seems. A strange occurrence that the natives haven't missed. They don't have answers but following support and encouragement from some of the older arrivals, they have been looking into it. If they notice anything odd, they post it to the bulletin board and they're working as hard as ever to help. Settling in is easier this time around, smoother, as everyone is more prepared than before. The first few days go well, one of the natives finds a patch of wild berries and makes fresh jam - serves it with breakfast until it runs out. There's a nice breeze that night, not too hot and not too cold. The stars twinkle and the moon is full, a pleasant atmosphere rolls through the community as everyone falls asleep.

Everyone wakes to the soft sounds of birds chirping. There's a light fog, windows misted over, and abruptly, it goes quiet. The only way to see outside is to open the door and those curious brave enough will find, covered in red dust, a handful of individually unique creatures scattered around the fountain at the center of the community. There's about fourteen of them - each one focused on the door of the main residences and two have scurried off towards the others, quiet now but watching. After the first door opens, they move, stopping only when they're right in front of each of the houses and then the sounds start again. Louder.

OOC: Removing the threat, these creatures, is possible in a few ways. They have a weakness for water, which slows them down and shuts them up. They can be killed, the same as any normal animal might. Or they can be captured, something tied around their bills to silence them. Unfortunately, only a few will survive being caught alive ( we randomized out of the twelve houses - 5, 1, 2, 12, and Private Housing (Sora) and the Permanent Apartments ) and can be kept for study. The players in each house can decide what they want to do with them or use the comment below if they want to hand it over. As a side note, the dead ones can be kept too.

Alone or Together
Content Warnings: Poisoning
Themes: Plot

Up until now everything around here has been, well, pleasant. Recently certain things have become unpleasant. Now, it seems to me that the first thing we have to do is to separate out the things that are pleasant from the things that are unpleasant.

The natives have been up front about those that came through the Reset Room before. Some left, some didn't survive, and a few now call themselves natives. The above message lights up everyone's devices ( username - lamar ) but all ways to respond are disabled. A follow up message comes from Constance, explaining that they don't know how the message has been sent due to the fact that Lamar has been dead for over a decade. That night at dinner, the set up in town hall, the natives are abuzz talking about the mysterious message. Food is passed out. Drinks are had.

Before the first person leaves the hall, a plume of red dust sprays out from an old vent near the floor boards and fills the room. Quickly, all color is leached from the world. Every person is now color blind, seeing everything in varying shades of black, white, and grey as they cough and choke, trying to clear the dust from their faces and mouths. Was this Lamar? Was this the person who rigged up the noise machine in Verdel Square? What did the message mean?

OOC: The effects will fade after twenty four hours. All arrivals, new and old, plus all natives will be effected. For each character, one person will still be in color. Players can decide who this is. A friend, lover, enemy, one of the natives.

OOC
From your mods:

Please be mindful of content - if something triggery comes up or if it goes up a rating to say, something sexy, mark your threads in the subject line. We're very flexible and allow any material; we just want our players to be respectful of each other. If you have questions, pp the mod account, use the faq or comment to the appropriate post below. Have fun!

NAVIGATION

---

Comments

thomas | the maze runner

[eachother]

FISHING;

[ he can only fish when it's raining, they tell him, because the sound of the rain masks any other sound that might attract unwanted company, such as monsters or death, or sometimes both. it's misery on top of misery, really.

thomas isn't the type of person that likes to stay in one place for very long when there are things to figure out and places to be explored and questions to be answered, so here's a stick, now go stand in the rain by the water and wait isn't exactly an ideal job. that doesn't mean he abandons the responsibility — not yet, anyway. newt advised that they should lie low and keep their heads down for now, and that means not drawing unnecessary attention to himself, which is more of a challenge for thomas than it should be for any one person.

so far, though, he's done a fairly decent job of standing in the pouring rain, bored out of his mind and half-convinced that there aren't actually any fish to be caught at all. in his boredom, and his inability to stand still unless his life (or someone else's) depends on it, he paces slowly up and down the bank, lazily pulling his bait through the water with (less than) half of his attention on the task at hand, and the rest on his wandering mind and the thousands of questions he still wants the answers to.

there's no telling how long he'll last before his curiosity and his frustration gets the better of him and he ditches his fishing rod, but knowing thomas, it'll be sooner rather than later, unless something, or someone, manages to grab and hold his attention first. ]

IN FREAKISH FLIGHT;
( house 8; outside; open )

[ thomas isn't so much asleep as he is half-awake when he hears the bizarre chirping coming from outside. at first, he thinks nothing of it, nearly ignores it even if the sound is somewhat uncommon to him. it's the sudden absence of the sound, and the hazy realization that noise of almost any kind can, apparently, attract monsters that are destructive enough to leave the natives fearful, that has him jolting awake.

thomas isn't scared. not yet, but he is curious about the sound — and the mist clouding the windows. he climbs off of his mattress on the floor, stumbling for a half-step as he gains his footing, and he's half-way through the foyer before he realizes he doesn't have his device and backtracks to grab it.

there's nearly zero hesitation from thomas as he opens the front door and steps outside. ... the birds aren't the ugliest things he's ever laid eyes on, but they aren't exactly pretty, either, and thomas squints a little against the fog for a better look. it only takes half a second for thomas to realize they're moving, approaching the houses, and another half second to realize that he's virtually weaponless. they're just... birds, or something similar, anyway, but he's not naive enough to think that they're harmless.

they're oddly quiet birds, at the moment, but thomas isn't exactly complaining. he keeps his eyes on the one set on the house he's chosen to occupy, only glancing away briefly to make out a few other people standing out on their porches too, just blurred outlines in the fog. thomas stands fairly still, waits for something to happen.

and then the bird begins to screech again, louder this time, and thomas startles a little, stumbling backwards step. his eyes widen and his pulse jumps a few beats. what the fuck is he supposed to do?

without thinking, he hisses under his breath. ]

Shit. Shit.

[ he's got to shut it up before it gets him and everyone else killed. that's the plan, or the basis of it, anyway. the rest, it seems... is improvised.

gritting his teeth and bracing himself, thomas lowers his center of gravity and steps forward, slowly at first so as not to spook it into flying away. he takes another step, down one stair, and then suddenly, he rushes forward, diving off the porch... and onto the bird.

well. that's a start. at least the sounds are slightly muffled now as the bird squirms and struggles underneath him — but he could probably use a little help, if he's to shut this one up entirely. killing it is also an option, and one he's no exactly opposed to, but as far as he can tell, the bird isn't trying to kill any of them, it's just — trying to get them killed.

maybe killing it isn't such a bad idea. ]

ALONE OR TOGETHER;

[ thomas can't get the message out of his head. he's gone over it at least a hundred times now, trying to make sense of it, find some kind of answer or a clue as to what it means, if anything at all. the fact that it came from someone who's supposed to have been dead for a number of years only makes thomas all the more suspicious.

he's distracted through most of dinner, though it's not impossible to draw him into a conversation, especially if it's speculation about the strange message and the person rumored to have sent it.

when the dust creeps up from the vents, thomas is quick to grab the collar of his jumpsuit and pull it up over his nose and mouth on instinct, but it does him little good. he's on his feet in an instant, reaching for the nearest person to offer his help whether he knows the person or not. the most logical thing to do right now is to get out of the dining hall.

but before thomas can take more than a handful of steps towards the door, all of the color drains from his vision, fading out into black and white. it's enough to trip him up for a moment, his brows furrowing sharply as he looks up, and then to his left and right. he drops his collar from his face, using the same hand to press his thumb and index fingers against his eyelids, rubbing his eyes in the hopes that maybe it'll fix whatever's happening.

it doesn't, but thomas also doesn't have time to worry about it right now. though the dust is beginning to settle, instinct tells him that it's probably not the greatest idea to continue breathing it in, so thomas' top priority is to get out. again, he extends his hand, there for the taking, but if not, it can also be taken as a gesture to follow him. ]

C'mon. I don't know what's happening, but I don't think we should stick around.

WILDCARD;

[ i'm down for pretty much anything tbh. throw something at me and i'll roll with it, or hit me up on plurk @ kingsfoils, or via pm to this journal if you wanna discuss something else! ]

in freakish flight

[deadlight]

[ called outside by the birdsong, bev's in the process of leaving house eleven's deck when she catches sight of an older kid approaching the noisemakers like a cat. he can't be about to do what bev thinks he is, but then all of a sudden he divebombs the thing, and she's running toward them too because - what the hell? he's definitely going to get killed.

there's a pause when she gets there, like she doesn't quite know how to help either, before she reaches out with both hands to try and desperately clamp its beak shut. killing the bird itself hasn't occurred to her yet, but it's not like she can type to communicate a plan anyway.

instead, she'll chance the tiniest whisper, in the hopes that if they're not dead yet because of a bird screeching, this won't tip them over. ]

What do we do?

[eachother]

[ the possibility of death has never really stopped thomas before, and he's faced a number of different creatures that are much larger, much more violent, and far uglier than these bird-like annoyances. if the bird doesn't kill him (and he's not anticipating death by hell-chicken), the sound eaters will — if they hear them. if they even exist at all, and thomas isn't all that convinced. video footage means little to him. it can be doctored, filmed to lead someone into believing one thing when the opposite is true.

thomas snaps his head up as the sand around beverly's feet kicks up a small dust cloud among the one he's already stirred up, glancing up towards her. the bird isn't terribly hard to hold down even as it struggles, but thomas is quietly grateful for the smaller hands that close around the creature's beak, silencing it for the time being. the rest of the birds are still calling away, and there isn't much thomas can do about all of them at once, but at least there's one less bird drawing unwanted attention.

he doesn't know what to do. if she lets go, thomas is convinced it'll just keep chirping, and while he's not entirely convinced yet that the sound eaters are a real threat, calling them to the front door and putting everyone at risk isn't exactly how he wants to be proven wrong, either.

thomas shakes his head slightly, his brown eyes flickering back and forth between both of hers. he doesn't know her face, but he doesn't look like he expects to, either. his lips part for a moment, but it takes him a moment to piece a solution together.

thomas's voice is a low murmur, just above a whisper and nearly lost in the rest of the noise. ]

... We have to kill it.

[ it's not ideal, but it's what he's got to offer. he has no way of trapping it and very little time to do so, anyway, he imagines, so this is it. this is plan b. ]

[deadlight]

[ it's a dilemma that bev hasn't had much chance to debate, between the panic of waking up and hearing those things, to now, her mind's been a flood of adrenalin. getting her to the door, to the source of the noise, and then moving on autopilot when she saw someone older and bigger take out the bird first. even holding its beak like this, she has a civilian's sense that she's doing something cruel to an animal.

not that she'll let up her grip, despite its struggling. ]

I know.

[ it's hissed back, with a touch of reluctance. though she may be fresh off beating an evil clown to death with melee weapons, this is - just a bird. a weird, probably alien bird, but still. it hasn't done anything to get them hurt yet. unless you count the noise it's making as an attempt on their lives, which bev might just.

between the struggling bird and the boy keeping it still, it's difficult to get a look at the latter. trying to get a measure of his character, whether he's the kind of boy who just kills animals for fun (sorry, there were a lot of those in her hometown,) or if that's really the only possibility. ]

But what if it's just - lost or something?

[ again - no real solution for whether that's the case. but animals - they scream for their mothers or something, don't they? bev wouldn't know, but she looks at thomas like she's expecting he might. ]

...Do we really have to kill it?

fishing

[justbeingknife]

It's all about patience,

[ signed Majima. By now, he'd managed to find himself a water-repellant overcoat with a goddamn hood, since you could only ever do anything useful around here when water was falling from the sky. ]

Ain't gonna catch anything that way.

[eachother]

[ patience is probably the one thing thomas has so little of that he may as well not have any at all, but the offered advice is lost on him anyway. thomas slows his pace, eventually coming to a stop as he watches majima's hands move. he squints a little, brow furrowing softly as he tilts his head.

thomas hasn't been here long enough to pick up any of the sign language. for all he knows, this stranger could be trying to tell him that wicked is good, and he'd be none the wiser.

thomas, who also hasn't been here long enough to acquire more than just a jumpsuit, would probably benefit from a decent coat considering the job they assigned to him and the restrictions that are attached to it, but as it stands, he's drenched. his hair is stuck to his forehead on one side and slicked back on the other where he's pushed his fingers through it, and his eyelashes hold water like they plan to save it for later.

he shakes his head, the movement subtle, and his lips part like he's about to speak, but he catches himself before he can say anything out loud. instead, he soundlessly mouths his confusion. ]

I don't know what any of that means.

[ at least he has the decency to look mildly apologetic, even if he's just... frustrated. ]

[justbeingknife]

[ Majima didn't understand a word of English (well, okay, maybe a couple) even when it was spoken aloud, so he sure as shit didn't know what Thomas was saying... but he could guess, based on his expression. Also based on his own experiences here last month.

He indicated his device, mimed pulling it out and pointed to Thomas as if to suggest that he should do the same. Should Thomas not get the picture, however, he'd simply hand over his own device and sign quickly so the phone would translate what he was saying: ]

The phones translate sign language, too.

[ Good thing these things seemed decently moisture-resistant, though Majima certainly wouldn't take his chances throwing his in the river. ]

fishing

[clussy]

(Eddie had never been a fan of rain, but he had never hated it either. It reminded him of dreary days and sewage drains that watched you more than you ever watched them. But in this place, it's a little different. Rainy days meant fun days because you could be more reckless, you could be loud. Eddie had launched full scale warfare against one of his friends, and now he walked with the proof caked all over him from head to toe. Mud was dripping all over him, and while a lot of it was sloughing off in the rain, there was still much to do about the rest of it.

And like hell he was tracking this much mud all through his house.

He arrives at the river just upstream from where Thomas was with just enough foliage and boulders between that Eddie wasn't quite paying attention. Eddie nudges a foot into the water, and it's about as cool as the rain pounding down from above. He drops his device to the side under a nearby tree where it was mostly dry and bounced over to the water. Without a second more, he was hopping right on into the river fully clothed and dunking under. Eddie was small enough in every way that when he lifted his legs, he could let the current carry him a bit, and he did.

Which is precisely how he wound up floating right into Thomas's bait. He could feel the hook grab at his shirt and this was where the first problem was. Mostly because Eddie was rubbing at his face, and then he felt a tugging at his shirt. He gave a startled like shriek (juuuust slightly louder than the rain itself) and jolted, figuring that it was a snake and he was about to die of poison. Most likely. What else could it be ....!

His sneakers slide over the rocks and he comes to a stop, looking and finally...noticing...wait. His eyes follow the line, and. Lead. Back to a boy. Eddie instinctively dropped down into the water so only his eyes and nose are poking out and well... He should probably take that lure out of his shirt but for right then, he felt a little iron ball of panic drop into his throat.

Who was this.)

[eachother]

[ it's the light tug on the line that catches thomas' attention first, just enough to slow his pacing to a stop. just a single pull at first, and thomas's brows knit together as his fingers curl a little tighter around the handle of his fishing pole and he turns his head, eyes narrowed slightly against the light sheet of rain.

it's the faint, panicked shriek, however, that sets him on actual alert, his narrowed eyes widening instead. as far as he knows, fish — or any other marine creatures for that matter — don't shriek when they've been snagged. he was told that fishing was restricted to when it was raining to mask the sound, but he'd assumed that meant the sound of splashing water, and not this — whatever the hell this is.

thomas takes a few steps closer to the riverbank, his fishing pole lowered but his grip still tight around the rubber handle. he lifts his free hand, dragging his palm down over his face in a poor attempt to get wipe some of the rain from his eyes, then uses the same hand to shield them the same way he would from the sun, if it were actually out.

through the rain, he can just barely make out the shape of something peeking up above the surface of the water. something that looks suspiciously like a person trying to hide — or someone that's drowning, perhaps. the latter possibility is enough to push thomas into action, his eyes widening a bit again as he bends to set the pole down —

and then he's stepping down and over some of the rocks lining the riverbank and wading right into the water, headed straight for eddie with a strange sense of urgency, the water parting and splashing around his legs the further in he goes. ]

this is a train wreck.

[clussy]

(Oh Christ almighty! The last thing that Eddie had anticipated was for the boy to plunge into the water. It jolted Eddie up above the water and he tried to swim back up against the current. This was one of those instances where he forgot entirely how weak he was supposed to be, and instead let the muscles in his body work. He was a good swimmer, and he pushed up into the water- but that wasn't really the problem. The problem was the little stab he felt in his side

There's a catastrophe of things that happen. He looks down, not able to see much at all through the water, but he can feel himself actively getting caught up in the fishing line. How!

Suddenly Eddie felt a deep booming sympathy for all those poor animals who had to deal with the world's trash. Eddie plants his feet on the rocks, but he's tiny and the water comes over his shoulders. He feels for the hook and gets it out. It didn't stick him too bad, but there's also..The boy. He looks up abruptly, grimacing because this might be his last day on earth. This kid could drown him like nothing. Especially since Eddie was caught up in this stupid line.

It doesn't matter anyway- cause by the time Eddie had stopped struggling, the guy would have reached him. Time to die he guesses.)

Please make it quick. If you gotta bash my head in just do it so it smashes everything out in one blow, okay? (Eddie speaks in a rush. Up close, Eddie was sporting an injury already- though not from the river. The side of his right temple was bruised with two stitches, and the eye of the same side had no whites showing but instead black-red from ruptured vessels. This kid was already having a bad time, but he was ready to have a worse one.)

In Freakish Flight

[stealyoursoul]

[Leo's been interacting with these birds for about ten minutes total and he's already had quite enough of them, thank you very much. The one at his house seems to have been taken care of for the moment, so he's going to see how many of these little nuisances there are. It seems like there's one per house and he's looking at the one by the nearest house when--

--a teen around August's age divebombs the critter and catches hold of it. For a moment, Leo just watches, wondering whose going to win out in the struggle. The little bird struggles mightily and is making a sound bizarrely like a laser being sliced through something. It seems like Thomas has a good enough grip on it for now, so Leo approaches, speaking as quietly as he can.]

If you hold it still, I can break its neck.

[Painless deaths were easy considering how much stronger he was than an normal human being. Besides, he wasn't particularly fond of animals even at the best of times.]

[eachother]

[ compared to some of the other hideously ugly and far more dangerous creatures thomas has faced before now, this bizarre bird is practically harmless. but it's not so much the bird that thomas is worried about, it's what it could bring if it continues to sound off, and in the middle of the community, no less.

ideally, he doesn't want to kill it, but realistically, he doesn't have much of a choice right now. that's not to say he's opposed to killing it, because honestly, he bears no attachment to the creature, but keeping it alive does have its benefits. if he's lucky, maybe someone else will figure out how to capture one without killing it and he can help figure out where it came from, the same way he found where the grievers came from back in the maze.

but this one's luck has run out. thomas glances up, one hand closed around the bird's beak and his eyes narrowed slightly against the small, dusty cloud of sand his brief struggle kicked up. his other hand is pressed against the bird's back, holding it down in the sand while it awkwardly flaps the one wing thomas doesn't have pinned down.

that's about as still as it's gonna get without him letting go to readjust his grip, and thomas isn't going to risk it, so he wets his lips and then nods subtly at the stranger, silently signalling for him to go for it whenever he's ready - the sooner and the quicker, the better. ]

[stealyoursoul]

[Leo wouldn't have minded the little birds if they didn't threaten the well being of everyone around them. So, the shrieking nuisances had to go, one way or another. If it would have been easier to keep them alive, he would have been all for it, but what were they going to do?

Leo's eyes go flat like he's retreating somewhere inside himself for a moment. There was never a Sunai born that took a life lightly. They were creatures built for feeling things deeply due to the way they were created. He pets the little bird on the head for a moment in a comforting manner the way he sometimes just before he kills someone to feed off their souls. Then he reaches out and breaks its neck in one swift movement before it can even comprehend what's going on.

The movement causes the sleeve of his left arm to ride up. There's little black crosses that look like tattoos circling his entire wrist and then running up his arm. He knows exactly how many of them there are.]

Looks like that's the end of the bird.

alone or together!

[unchancy]

[ red explodes across the room, and nancy suddenly doesn't know where she is. her eyes shutter again and again, and she shakes her head, dust fanning out of her hair. when she tries to focus on the path ahead, the colours shift, losing their vibrancy, and it reminds her of another two-toned world. all blues, damp and closing in, choking her out, punctured only by a hand trying to pull her to safety.

and here again, someone's talking to her. not saying nancy nancy nancy, but he's another boy who can't be much older than her, reaching out instead of running away. without hesitation, she nods and takes his hand. maybe that's stupid, like a little girl again instead of nancy wheeler: monster hunter.

it helps; that's all. ]

Out the front doors — [ She coughs, tugging the high neck of jumper over her mouth. ] — and left.

[ Most people will go right, toward the housing, so it's likely to become noisy in the chaos. ]

[eachother]

[ nancy isn't the first person thomas has led to safety by the hand, though it has little to do with whether or not he thinks people are capable of looking after themselves and more to do with the fact that once he's decided to help someone, he's not willing to let them fall behind. attaching himself to someone just means he doesn't have to worry about losing them, that he knows when he needs to stop or be more of a physical support. in a way, it's almost an unspoken promise — whatever happens, you're not alone.

as soon as nancy's hand slides into his, thomas closes his fingers around hers and tugs her a little closer before he starts to move, weaving through and around the hall of steadily-panicking residents while quietly but urgently warning whoever he can to get out of the building.

his eyes are burning with the dust, dry and red near the corners, and his throat feels a little rough, probably coated with a thin later of it, too, but thomas doesn't seem terribly concerned about either of these things. he'll worry about it later, maybe, but for now he's focused on getting himself and as many people out as quickly as he can.

when they reach the front doors, thomas stops one of them from swinging closed, catching it with his forearm and pushing it back open with his arm outstretched. it's only then that he lets go of nancy's hand, lightly placing his between her shoulders to guide her out, his voice low. ]

C'mon, go.

[ she's right. mostly everyone is veering off to the right, and while most of them have at least half the mind of try and stifle their cries of fear and discomfort, it's still certainly enough noise to draw something in, if something were listening. left is the better choice, and thomas has some hope that newt will come to the same conclusion if he hasn't already. if he doesn't hear from him soon, though, there's no question that he'll come back to look for him.

thomas doesn't stop moving even after they've made it outside, twisting around to take a couple backward steps as he watches people file out of the hall, hardly any of the faces familiar. he squeezes his eyes shut in attempt to fix the lack of color, drags the sleeve of his jumpsuit across them in one more poor attempt at the same, and then drops his arm down at his side when neither gesture helps.

he looks at nancy, slowing his pace a little, then lifts one of his hands, his thumb and forefinger forming a circle as he wordlessly asks if she's okay. ]

[unchancy]

[ the physical touch anchors her in the moment, keeping her from drifting elsewhere (to the upside down in her memories or any other place of panic). on a practical level, someone half a foot taller and a shade bulkier than her is ideal for clearing a path out of the full town hall.

once they're at the door, nancy has locked into the present situation. her pace out is fast on instinct, when she knows the sound eaters are known for speed. a cursory glance at the crowd shows there's no chance of finding her little brother. she's not tall or strong enough to push her way through the throng to look for him — and she knows neither wheeler is stupid enough to yell for the other. oddly enough, she thinks of frank then. he's a smart kid your brother. yeah, he is. smart and social enough to get to safety on his own, likely with one of his protectors in tow.

a flicker of colour distracts her momentarily. maybe it's a trick of the light, but she could've sworn she saw a familiar head of hair and jean jacket.

'course there's no sense in pursuing it. be practical, nance. so, she stays with thomas, content to keep pace without question. and when he looks to her, she returns the gesture before fishing in her jacket pocket for her communicator. it's quiet enough out here that she doesn't think they're in immediate danger. as she types, she sneaks another glance at him under the guise of moving her hair out of her face and behind her ear. seeing someone in black and white is, well, odd. like a hitchcock film. hard to think she doesn't even know what colour this boy's eyes are, when he's looking straight at her. ]

I think there's dust stuck in my eyes.

[ listen, she doesn't want him to panic if she says something crazy like, say, i can't see colour anymore. ]

But if we take the next sandpath left again, we'll head towards the river.

[ you betcha nancy wheeler studied the map as if her geography final was imminent. she tips her head to one side, eyebrows raised as if to ask: are you coming with me? 'cause she's going there with or without her plus one. ]

alone or together

[solemate]

[In hindsight, he doesn't know why he takes Thomas' hand. Sure it's right out there - in his face - but he could have nodded and followed after him. That's what he would have done. But and this is a big but, Minho's vision had gone black and white all except the guy standing in front of him. That's gotta be weird. And he's staring. Eyes flitting around the room and back to Thomas, brows pinched in confusion.

When he does take his hand, it's a firm slap and grip, that ends in Minho pushing Thomas towards the door.]

Everything black and white for you too, Greenie?

[Hah. Get it. A teasing nickname that kinda makes sense considering the situation they're in.]

Am I?

[He wipes the dust from his face with his other hand as they move, trying not to inhale anymore than he already has.]

[eachother]

Minho... [ in all of the sudden chaos, thomas hasn't actually taken a second to even pay attention to who he's trying to help until minho's hand is in his and his friend is shoving him towards the doors. the mix of shock and relief is evident on his face, and only half of that is because he hadn't expected to be reunited with minho so easily. the other half is largely due to the fact that in all of this black and white, minho is the only person thomas can see in full color, almost like he's been cut and pasted into an old photograph. right now, he doesn't have time to think about why that is.

thomas shakes his head a little, glancing back over his shoulder briefly to make sure minho's following as he moves for the doors, weaving around and sidestepping other panicked residents. the nickname is kind of odd, as minho hasn't really called him "greenie" in some time now, but thomas thinks nothing of it for the time being, focused instead on getting out of the dining hall. ]

Yeah, you're— [ he starts, finally letting go of minho's hand as he draws closer to leading them out. he brings the same hand up, scrubs the back of his wrist across his eyes and squeezes them shut for a moment in hope of righting whatever's wrong, but nothing helps. ] You're the only thing that's not.

[solemate]

[Minho had thought he might be the only one here. He didn't know the how or more importantly, the why, but finding Thomas is a relief. Falling asleep in a helicopter and waking up in a dusty room, a place like this, wasn't exactly pleasant. When they get out, past all the panicked people, and he has his hand free to himself, Minho goes to hook them at his chest only to remember he's in a jumpsuit now.

He drops them to his sides.] Yeah, you too.

[Blinking doesn't bring the color back, neither does rubbing his eyes. He breathes out. He remembers what that woman had said - their trials had only just begun.]

Do you think this is what she meant? The doctor.

[Ava Paige. Who'd died not long after telling them why they'd been trapped in that maze.]

fishing

[iisupergirlii]

[once some of the arrivals started taking care of the birds in ways that broke Kara's heart, she had decided to go on her morning patrol, flying through the rain, her wet cape sticking to her in the air.

Near some water, she spotted a newcomer who... was maybe fishing? Possibly? Pacing isn't usually the way one fishes but hey, different strokes!

When she lands beside him, though, and takes in his expression, she nods, understanding.]

Bored, huh?

[eachother]

[ thomas has seen a decent number strange and unusual (and sometimes hideously disturbing) things in the short time he can actually remember of his existence. he's faced giant, hideous, murderous, flesh-machine hybrids, humans that have, unfortunately, been turned into vicious, violent, and zombie-like, with quick reflexes and a one-track mind — but never a girl dropping out of the sky like it's no big deal.

while kara is as far from hideous as one could probably get, she still falls under strange an unusual as far as encounters go. thomas isn't easily startled, but he's also not particularly used to people quite literally dropping in on him, either. he flinches, not so subtly, just shy of actually ducking as he brings his empty hand up a little, almost as if to shield himself from —

a woman. who just came out of nowhere. out of the sky, if his eyes weren't deceiving him, but he's not so sure about that because that just sounds... slightly insane. but she's also wearing a cape, also in the category of strange and unusual, so thomas isn't quite sure what to think about... anything, currently.

he blinks, relaxing a little and absently uses the hand he'd lifted on instinct to (uselessly) wipe some of the rain from his face. briefly, he looks her over, his expression slightly curious, but mostly cautious for now. ]

Uh... I don't— I don't fish.

[iisupergirlii]

[well, he's a skitterish guy, isn't he? Kara tries to make herself as unthreatening as possible, lowering her shoulders, a smile on her face, and she gives Thomas a little wave.]

Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Supergirl, and your fishing secret is safe with me.

fishing;

[353]

[ Mike goes wandering, as he often does when it rains because part of him hopes maybe history will repeat itself and he'll find that girl with the shaved head he found in the woods once...

With his dark blue hood up to try and protect his hair (it doesn't protect all of it, his fluffy hair can't be contained so mostly his fringe across his forehead is wet), he stumbles upon Thomas by the water. From a distance, Mike can't quite figure out what he's up to, neither does he recognize him from the back as the boy whose dream he found himself fighting to survive in. ]

What are you doing? [ Mike will call out over the rainfall. ]

[eachother]

[ it's not the sudden voice itself in the steady, static hush of rain fail that draws thomas's attention so much as it is the vague familiarity of it. it's not a voice he can put a name to, at least not immediately, but he knows he's heard it before, even if it can't place where just yet. he pauses in his lazy pacing, turning turning his head to glance backwards over one shoulder, his eyes squinted a little against the rain.

it takes thomas a few seconds to place where he recognizes the boy from, and another few seconds to consider if it really makes any sense that the boy from his dream is not just a boy from his dream, but an actual person, too. maybe it wasn't actually a dream at all.

for now, though, he tries not to think about it took much. instead, he simply turns around, lifting the fishing pole in his hand a little for emphasis, the line leading out to the water where a little plastic bobber floats on the surface, waiting to be pulled under. ]

... Fishing.

[ or something close to it, because he hasn't actually been trying. ]

[353]

[ Mike comes closer, close enough to recognize the older boy's face, blinking through the rain with a holy shit on the tip of his tongue. But he holds back because nothing about the boy suggests he remembers Mike from the dream - maybe Mike only experienced it - and he doesn't want to scare the teen off by saying he saw him in a dream. Mike knows weird, and that's definitely one of the weirdest things you could say to a person you barely know. ]

You don't look like a fisherman. You need one of those hats... Maybe that's why you suck. [ A hat is a key accessory to fishing. And obviously he's teasing Thomas. ]