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quietplacelogs2018-03-12 06:34 pm
bequiet) wrote in quietplacelogs2018-03-12 06:34 pm
Entry tags:
INTRO LOG #3
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
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!
fishing;
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
laughs at my whack-ass typos in that previous tag jesus
it's not like the kid is wrong about his talent (or lack thereof) when it comes to finishing (though he's probably wrong about the hat), and thomas isn't trying to impress anyone by being able to put a fish on a string. sure, bringing something back to food prep probably wouldn't hurt, but also — he could be doing literally anything else and he'd probably be more useful.
thomas lifts his chin slightly, tilting his head in a slow nod as if the kid from his dream has just steered him towards some kind of epiphany. ]
A hat, right. Well, all they gave me was this pole and a jumpsuit, so.
I don't even remember if I noticed tbh
You might be able to get your own clothes back like I did. [ Although wearing a jumpsuit makes him feel like a ghostbuster, it just doesn't have that comfy factor his hoodie or ugly sweater has. ] The natives gave them to me one day. Also a house. [ Oh so casual about that. He's thirteen and has his own house with his best friend. What a little grown up he is, or tries to be. ]
It's weird how these jobs get picked for us... I know a guy who used to be a pilot. Pretty cool, right? But he got made a cleaner here. [ No offence to cleaners, but definitely not as cool. ] I guess we all have to do our part, though. [ Whatever the job. ]
no subject
the room he's been given here is honestly more than enough for him, as bare as it is. it's better than homemade hammocks or sleeping in dirt. he can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to have an entire house to himself. but mike seems proud of it, so thomas can bear to be a little bit impressed for his sake.
he finds a little bit of comfort in knowing that he doesn't seem the only one that's been a bit misplaced when it comes to job assignments. if anything, maybe it just means that the people who brought him here don't know him well enough to place him somewhere he'd be a little more useful. wckd knew everything about him, watched his every move, decided what he remembered and what he didn't. being assigned a job he had no interest or actual experience for, when he thinks about it this way, is actually a little bit of a relief, regardless of how boring it is.
thomas lifts the end of his pole a little, pulling the line taught so the bobber jumps an inch or two across the water before he lowers the pole again. he uses the back of his other hand to wipe at his left eyebrow and then his left eye as some rain drips from his eyelashes into his eye. ]
Yeah, I guess. [ he pauses for a moment, then looks at mike again. ] I, uh. Back [ home feels like a weird word for the glade, so he doesn't use it ] where I came from, I was a runner. We all had different jobs based on what we were good at. I guess they don't really care about that here.
no subject
It doesn't surprise him to hear Thomas was a 'runner', not after all the running Mike saw him do in their shared dream. Though what exactly the job entails (besides the obvious), intrigues him. ]
Running might come in handy for you here... though it won't save you if you make noise. [ You could be a gold medalist sprinter and still die. ]
So I'm guessing you did more than just... run away from those things that were chasing us in the dream, right?
no subject
at first he'd written it off as having pulled a face from his subconscious, probably someone he glanced at briefly in the reset room when he'd first arrived, but not long enough to actively remember seeing him. but now — now that same kid is standing in front of him, asking about a dream that he shouldn't know about because it was just a dream, and thomas hasn't said anything about it to anyone.
thomas's brows furrow sharply, his confusion and curiosity written all over his face. he blinks, lowering his fishing pole without even thinking. if he wasn't interested in fishing before, he definitely isn't interested in it anymore.
he wets his lips, trying to think of what to say. ]
You—... you remember that? You had the same dream... [ thomas shakes his head a little, the gesture so subtle that it's almost as if doesn't happen. ] Who are you?
no subject
[ How could he forget? The dream had been terrifying, scarier than anything he'd encountered back home. ]
I'm Mike... and there are more dreams I remember. There was one I was playing basketball with this other kid, then I was on this amazing island, then another in some kind of maze...
[ The more he thinks about it, the more he remembers that the monsters in the dream with Newt were incredibly similar to the monsters in the dream belonging to the boy in front of him. Maybe they were even the same... ]
Who are you?
no subject
[ is it possible for two people who have never met before to have the same exact dream? thomas doesn't think so, and immediately (like almost always), his mind jumps to wckd. if wckd could scrub certain memories out while leaving others, it's not entirely implausible that they could be capable of something like dream sharing, or linking two minds together, or whatever would make it possible for two people to experience one person's dream.
it doesn't make any sense to thomas, and he'll think more about it later, but right now he's intrigued by something else mike has said. none of mike's other dreams mean anything to him, except for— ]
What kind of maze?
no subject
As for Thomas' question - what kind? How many kinds were there? ]
A scary one. [ To put it plainly. ] One with really high walls you can't climb over, where your only option is to run because it's filled with monsters... That kind of maze.
[ He tilts his head curiously at Thomas. ] Do you know which one I'm talking about?
no subject
slowly, thomas nods, the movement subtle. ]
Yeah... I think so. [ but why would a boy dream of a maze he's never seen before? for half a second, thomas considers that maybe mike has seen it before, that maybe he's one of the other children from the other mazes. but if that were true, would he sound as unfamiliar with the maze as he does right now? like it's something he's only recently experienced, and not something that, for most, was just a part of life in the glade?
thomas tilts his head slightly, and considers his own dream. if mike was able to wander into other people's dreams — then who was dreaming about the maze? ]
... Was anyone else there?