The Quiet Place Mods (
bequiet) wrote in
quietplacelogs2018-03-26 07:21 pm
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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.

wildcard
Carpet is honestly a rather pathetic sight at the moment, wet and bedraggled and filthy, brilliant colors covered with sticky, half-dried smears of red mud. Now that the chaos has finally settled down, he's making his way towards the building housing the Reset Room; it'll be tough trying to scrub out all this mud by himself, but he intends to try.
He pauses for a moment, though, confused to see a human silhouette this high in the air. It's a little hard to tell who the figure is, given the quickly fading light, but he only knows one "human" who can fly. Is that Supergirl? Can it be her? Something about the shape seems wrong, somehow.....]
It's a bird, it's a plane, it's- no actually it's a flying fox.
Except he catches the edge of a familiar feeling as he scans the skyline. It's not a thought, yet; he isn't focused on it. But it's the presence of a thought, which he hadn't been expecting this high up, this late.
So he drifts towards it curiously, pulling out his phone and flicking the screen unlocked for the light from it.
Wait, is that a carpet?]
Hello?
[Usually he tries not to read people's thoughts at random but how does a thinking carpet communicate? Kurama lets himself focus in on the thought-presence to scan it.]
flying foxes are SO CUTE THO
It's not the light from the phone that surprises him--it's the greeting. Focused on scanning him as he is, there's absolutely nothing keeping Kurama from gleaning the whole of his thought process, jumbled and non-verbal as it is, little more than a rapid-fire flood of impressions and feelings.
(Sound. Voice. Stranger. Shock. Fear. Worry. Danger. Rain? No rain. A fleeting, momentary memory-image of young, volatile, aggressive Sound Eaters massacring people at the Eiffel Tower. No. Protect.)
It all passes through in an instant, though there's no way to glean any of Carpet's racing thoughts just by looking at him. He shakes his "head" and waves his tassels frantically instead, one tassel curling into the shape of a hand with a raised finger, and brings it up to his top edge. It's the best he can do for that gesture, without having lips or a face to make it clearer: Shhhh. ]
This is true.
Kurama frowns and moves into his phone's text app, typing quickly.]
I'm sorry. I just appeared here earlier today and it's been...hectic. Thank you for the warning.
no subject
The thoughts are slower and calmer now, as Carpet reads the message and looks Kurama over as well as he can in the darkness for injuries. He starts signing, trusting Kurama's phone will scan and translate the gestures.]
I'm sorry it was so scary when you showed up. Usually it's a lot calmer! Are you okay?
no subject
Luckily, Kurama doesn't really need it to.]
I'm not hurt. I've had worse days, to be honest. I appreciate your concern, though. Is that sign language normally your only means of communication?
[He's actually really curious about Carpet in general. Most of the genuinely sentient artifacts he's encountered have some form of more universal communication.]
no subject
There's a strong air of confusion from him, but just to be safe, Carpet turns a somersault in the air, bringing the end holding his device to the front instead. He starts typing, a fair bit slower and with more difficulty than the sign language; it's hard to use a device like this with tassels, especially when they're stiff and crackling with dried mud, but it seems like the polite thing to do.]
The locals taught us their language and gave us these to communicate with too. Before I came here I couldn't really talk to anyone at all!
[There's a flash of remembered loneliness and frustration at that, mingled with happiness and excitement and gratitude over such a simple but vital gift--and countless memory fragments, pieced together like a mental mosaic, of trying to get points both urgent and trivial across with Charades. His success rates were..... mixed, at best.]
no subject
[Kurama is rather horrified by both the written message and the accompanying memory fragments that flesh out the story. Even for a mind that sees the world through a different lens, as many artificial ones tend to, the ability to express oneself is still important.
He shakes his head and gestures at the device Carpet is working with such clear difficulty before typing again.]
You don't need to go to all that effort for me. I can hear thoughts when I concentrate on it. I usually try not to without permission but I wasn't quite sure initially how to understand you otherwise.
no subject
[(A memory of a back pressed against him as he lay mixed in with a heap of soft cushions and rugs on the floor for lounging. A glimpse of a regal looking man's face turned to lean his cheek against him, murmuring almost soundlessly as he listened to someone else stretched out nearby. "Touch my hand once if it was a servant. Twice if a guard."
Three gentle touches, barely perceptible twitches of a tassel. Master's eyes hardened, but his smile never faltered. "How many of these meetings has he had?" Slowly, he started to count. The thoughts are simple and straightforward, literal--intelligent, but with very little of the nuance or self-awareness that Kurama can pick up on now. After all, he'd practically been a newborn then.)
The next message from Kurama is enough to leave Carpet quite still instead of moving to respond, shocked and awed in turn, and his device dangling momentarily forgotten. It takes a few moments for that to give way to curiosity, untouched by either upset or skepticism. If Kurama claims that to be the case, well, he's open and trusting enough to believe him, and there's apparently nothing he can think of to hide. Humans can't do things like read minds, can they? So what is he? A genie?
(A few more mental images, of a battered and tarnished brass oil lamp and an enormous blue man full of energy, the latter remembered with a rush of warm fondness and admiration.)]
no subject
There was a time when Kurama wouldn't have cared but those days were past.
The easy acceptance of Carpet's reaction to his ability is...kind of soothing. It's not a reaction he expects to be common, honestly, but it's nice to be not only believed but met with interest instead of anger at the intrusion.]
No, not a genie. It's a little bit complicated, though, since I'm actually several things that don't usually overlap. The mind-reading ability is something I received when I became...a minor death god, basically?
no subject
Have a headtilt of confusion. Allah is supposed to be all-knowing and all-powerful, right? He's like everyone's Master, from what Carpet understands of the situation. Even normal humans. So if that's so, then why would he be brought here by surprise and trapped just like everyone else?]
no subject
No, where I come from, there are greater and lesser gods. But it's more or less like this:
God/Allah
|
Angel/Greater servant
|
Composer/Lesser servant <-----Me
|
Reaper/Least servant
|
Human
no subject
You must be really important!
no subject
The enthusiastic reaction to Kurama's own place in it all is unexpectedly cute. It's not actually untrue, he supposes, given that he is meant to be his world's first Composer...]
If I were home doing my job, yes. Here I'm just another member of the community.
no subject
[The mental images conjured up as he muses over it are, quite naturally, musical in nature--Kurama coaxing a soft, soulful melody out of a nay, or weaving something sweet and sinuous with an oud's strings. Isn't singing Allah's praises a form of worship, too?]
no subject
...Some worlds are being menaced by creatures called Noise, that feed on negative emotion and will breed until they destroy everything. The job of a Composer is to run what is called the 'Reaper's Game', where the souls of the dead destroy Noise and work at tasks set to them. If they win the game, they can be returned to life.
no subject
He wonders if Noise is even here, on this world. Would Sound Eaters fear them? Would they hunt them? Is that why they're here? Maybe the silence they enforce actually helps to keep Noise at bay. Maybe if Kurama ran his game here..... maybe his game would destroy all the Noise and the Sound Eaters wouldn't need to be here anymore.
.....Or maybe he's thinking far too literally.]
How do people win? Do they compete to see who can destroy the most noise?