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bequiet) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
quietplacelogs2018-03-26 07:21 pm
bequiet) wrote in quietplacelogs2018-03-26 07:21 pm
MOD LOG #3
MOD LOG #3
Arriving in style
Content Warnings: Fighting, death, violence
Themes: Survival, plot
It's early in the day when it happens. The red dust that seems to be everywhere sweeps through the city streets, mixing with the steady patter of rain and making it hard to see and breathe. All red and leaving the taste of copper if inhaled, what could have been an easy day without any trouble quickly becomes anything but. While those in the community are heading for cover or finding ways to continue on through it, the new arrivals begin waking up in different cities all over the world. There won't be anyone to greet them, and leaving the room through the door is their choice - after doing so, they'll immediately step out into the city they were assigned. The streets are empty, houses abandoned, everything crumbling and in ruins. There will be signs noting their location, which they'll catch a glimpse of before a sharp push forward causes darkness to engulf them.
Waking up for the second time, in Reims but not in the Reset Room, they'll come to inside the red dust as it whips through the streets of the community. They won't be alone for long. Another person will be waking up beside them, and after a few moments of disorientation, try to attack. They might have weapons or use their hands, and they will not stop until they've taken a fatal blow. Their blood is dust, and they, along with their weapons, disintegrate after they've died. Can you stop them on your own? Will someone come to your aid?
The Sight of Lightning
Content Warnings: Poison, sex
Themes: Survival, plot
The day after the storm, the same red dust will find its way through Reims and come into contact with every person. Since the dust is everywhere, some might not notice that it's floating through the community and know that something is off. The effects don't begin until night fall, where everyone will feel the desire to seek out companionship of many different kinds. Though it is not always the case, the people that saw each other in color will "want" to be with that person more strongly than they might already, and will be more likely to confess or do something about it. Some might feel an intense need to be around another person, though not necessarily sexually - almost as if they need that person around them to be happy or content. For some, it might be a desire that can only be fulfilled by more than one person.
The effects wear off the next time the person gets wet. This can be a splash of water across the face or fully submerged. Or even drinking something.
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! The OOC Plotting Post.
something something abnormal psychology blah blah inextricable intertwining of sex and violence
He tossed the bat; it bounced off an attacker's head with a comical thud. Now he was a flurry of spinning kicks and fluid bites with his dagger, lashing out on all sides with whoop and wild cry. His lips had pulled back from teeth in a snarl or a grin -- perhaps both.
When Tetora winked at him, his answer was a flash of his teeth, a silent check this out as he tapped a poor, lumbering beast on the shoulder and used the opportunity to rob it of a concealed knife. A brief, brutal dance of alternating kicks and teasing jabs, and the man was gone in a literal puff of smoke; Majima used the heel of his hand to send the stolen blade in a high, spinning arc toward Tetora. An easy catch, if you know what you were doing. ]
makin this up as i go tralala
it's been a long while since he's fought like this. it's been months of keeping quiet, going against his own instincts about how to act, how to speak - it feels fucking amazing to just cut loose, pun intended, and let out so much pent-up frustration and energy even if it costs him an hour or two soaked under the rain. out in public, drenched from head to toe in blood dust - it's almost like it came straight out of a comicbook.
but gods if it's not fucking fun as hell.
a few more rounds finds him almost back to back with majima, as the horde grows bigger and bigger by the minute. they're gonna have to find a way through soon, but in the meantime - tetora raise one knife-holding hand, first holding four fingers up, then three.
seven down. ]
they need to be stopped tbh
He'd fought with plenty of people over the years. But fought beside? It was an old feeling, a faraway feeling, like finding the corner of a chest once smothered over by dark earth. He'd even forgotten to keep count -- not something Taiga did, so the best he could do was roll his shoulders in a shrug of said admission before his knife threaded an arc of deep violet through the throats of two more targets.
It was at times like this, when he could practically taste the sharp bouquet of copper in the air, that Majima wondered if he really was crazy -- if the merciless control he'd held onto for so long hadn't been a mask, but an overcompensation.
You're psycho, Majima.
He tossed his dagger into the air with perfect, knowing grace; a kick sent it whistling and vicious through the air to bury itself hilt-deep in the chest of a third man. Majima pulled the blade free in what ought to have been a gush of hot scarlet. The man began to dissolve, but not before Majima leaned in close, as if to murmur some sweet promise into a lover's ear: ]
You're so pathetic...
never
majima is whispering sweet nothings to the man he's just destroyed and tetora can't help finding himself laughing, such a heartfelt sound that not even the red dust or the rain could choke down. he imagines this must be what fighting with a comrade would be like, what fighting with the lucy seven was supposed to be if they ever survived to be on his level of insanity. he never got to know; he mowed them all down like they were nothing, destroyed all of their potential under the weight of his own ego and his anger.
this feels natural. this feels real, the way his blood pulses under his skin and catches fire at the thought of a fight. ]
You're fucking nuts, Majima.
[ the crowd is starting to thin out, though - there aren't any new attackers coming through the dust, possibly because the rain is getting heavier and not even the preternatural dust can fight gravity. time to take their time. ]
Re: never
It was too bad the strangers' numbers were already thinning, but at least they'd both gotten a little exercise out of the bargain. In fact, one of their remaining opponents was coming in swinging a goddamn katana -- where we they getting this stuff, anyway?
Majima caught the blade in his teeth outright, bowing back to accommodate the overhead swing as the man struggled to force the sword out of his grip. Instead, he lashed out with a kick that sent his attacker stumbling backwards, then followed up with a palm strike to the sword's hilt.
The blade pierced the man's chest cavity and emerged through his back, accompanied by a gurgle Majima assumed had originated as a scream. ]
Too bad. Guess these turkeys are just about roasted.
no subject
[ how come these guys got swords out of nowhere and tetora has to work to get his own back? tetora swings at the woman running up to majima, diverting her attention to himself as he pummels her face in until she explodes into a cloud of dust. they're drenched now, head to toe, with red dust mucked up by the water sluicing down their bodies. this will feel disgusting soon, tetora knows. as soon as the rain clears and they're back to their self-imposed silence, it'll feel like a dream again.
at least they got a good fucking run out of it. tetora's back hits majima's and their shoulder blades skid against each other through the wet cloth. tossing his head back, tetora calls out to the older man. ]
It's been a pleasure.
no subject
Don't talk like this's gonna be the last time.
[ God, if it was, what a fucking downer. The last one on Majima's side went down, gushing red dust out of the side of his neck. Only when the figure fell to its knees did it disintegrate, just like the rest.
Majima wiped his blade clean on his suit jacket; rain ran down the cutting edge. ]
Gonna head back?
we could probably wrap up
[ he's not interested in the ifs or possiblys that comes with his own statement. he counts on this being a one-off, certainly, because tetora knows how flimsy luck can be when it's assumed to apply to whatever situation presents itself needing it. that said, he'll be sad if he's proven right, too. this has been so much fun. ]