quietplacelogs | MOD LOG #3

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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.

NAVIGATION

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[She hesitates briefly before she sighs and begins to walk, moving past him and down the hallway. She'd said they should go inside, after all, so whether they could find blood bags in here or not, at least things seemed less chaotic in here.

Caroline peers over her shoulder to check that he's following her before she keeps talking.]

How did you end up here, anyway?

( yes, and perhaps they’d have running water, and a bed.

klaus follows dutifully behind, eyes peeled and roaming. the building isn’t quite dilapidated; there’s some decency to it, but clearly it’s been deserted for some time. beds abandoned, dust accumulating, lights off. it aligns with what he’s been told by newt. ) Suddenly and without explanation, which apparently isn’t par for the course. ( no, not at all. nor was the welcome wagon. ) I ran into a young lad; he illuminated the situation for me.

( klaus peers into the next room they pass. it’s an empty office of some kind, nearly picked clean.

with attention and the interest of of concern, he inquires, ) How was your arrival?

[Maybe it's her silence at his explanation that tells him all he needs to know about her arrival. It was similar, sudden and without reasoning, par for the course as he described. She'd asked because she'd been hoping to hear more than that, that maybe there'd be some kind of explanation.

Apparently not.]

Yeah, well, I'm not the most illuminated.

[She keeps walking, doesn't ask for more information. She'll care about that more once she's not both starving and in a stressful situation.]

Well, I was saved from my first random attacker by freaking Supergirl.

[Y e p.]

( illumination can wait, not only because the delivery and tone of her reply suggest a weary mood, but because klaus is somewhat struck dumb by her fantastic claim.

they walk a few steps. there's the sound of a breath being inhaled, as if he intends to speak. she's joking, perhaps? it's not actually supergirl, but she's employing some diverting hyperbole. a few more steps. another inhale. or she does believe so. she must have been mistaken. how does he put this delicately?

then again, is it really out of the realm of reason? he'd like to think so, for his own sanity.

finally, after the third: ) From the comics?

Edited 2018-04-02 03:10 (UTC)

I guess?

[She's thinking much the same, honestly. If vampires and werewolves are a thing, then an alien with powers shouldn't be too big of a stretch, right? It's the whole is she really from the comics or did she just pick up the name because it fit thing that she can't reconcile.]

I know it sounds crazy, but I saw her fly. And she's just as strong as we are, if not stronger. I don't know what to think about it either.

( at the moment, klaus doesn't want to think of it too much at all. it's been a long enough day without challenging the bounds of his wits. he pulls in a breath and sighs with a measure of tested exhaustion. he believes her, of course. there's little choice in the matter despite what he wants.

a sound of footfalls has him pause with tension; they're headed their way. klaus lifts hand to hover over caroline's arm, stilling them both and silently asking for quiet. he hears a heartbeat. breathing. human: not like their attackers. good. he looks caroline's way. ) I think we have a more pressing issue we can comprehend.

( in the blink of an eye, he's intercepted a man, wide-eyed at the appearance of another suddenly before him. klaus' hand has beckoned him to still and his eyes lock onto his. ) Stop, ( he orders, his pupils dilating and drawing him into his thrall. )

Edited 2018-04-02 19:14 (UTC)

[Her motion pauses as well as her breath; she hears it just after he does, the quieter sounds of the person heading towards them. A moment later, and Klaus is nowhere in sight, but it's easy enough to follow him.

He's already locked eyes with the man, forced him into stillness. Caroline sighs, already tense with anxiety as her speed slows and she walks towards them.]

Klaus...

[There's a warning in her tone; he could take this any number of ways, and plenty of them? She won't like.]

( he's aware of the warning. he knows what he is capable of accomplishing, and as such he has little shame in it. he spares her a look, one of placid, rhetorical question, his brows lifted. ) You said you were hungry. ( the drawl is ominous, imbued with a dark amusement, but klaus makes no move to follow through on the obvious path.

instead, he looks back into the man's stricken gaze. ) Are there blood provisions in this hospital?

( his victim seems choked for a moment, more afraid of the sound bubbling up in his throat than his answer. realizing he need not speak, the fear fades in his eyes; he shakes his head.

that answers that. klaus weighs a hand on his shoulder and pivots towards caroline. ) Well, ( he concludes, and gestures towards the man with obvious meaning. bon appétit. )

[She stands stiffly.]

I didn't say I was that hungry. [She was hoping for blood bags. She didn't do this. She made it a point not to.

At least he asks the appropriate question first. There's a comment on her lips, about not needing to scare the poor man just to ask that, but then he confirms there's nothing of the sort. At least he doesn't look like he wants to scream anymore. (Little does she know...)

Her jaw clenches and she stomps over, her expression angry.] I'm fine.

You are not fine. ( the staunch reality is delivered, not without compassion. but it is inarguable, the worried truth in his eyes as she comes close. he lifts his other hand to her arm in an attempt to quell her rage; he's not blind. what she wants is to be fine; what he sorely desires is also for her to fine, but there is nothing of the sort for either of them here. ) Not only have you ben fighting for what I assume is as long as I, but you've been wounded. ( he gestures pointedly to the tears and blood on her shirt.

and she healed him. a lump forms in his throat as he looks down at her, his eyes full. she tore herself open and she deserves — she needs what he can do for her. he swallows thickly. ) Conscience aside, there is no other option. ( steel enters his voice, he forces the man a step towards her. ) Neither of us will survive if you don't feed, and if you don't feed, I won't.

[She swallows past the burn in her throat; he knows perfectly well that she knows she's not fine. Not really. Her thirst burns hot in the back of her throat, spreading up her neck and across her scalp. The fact that she can smell blood on their clothes certainly doesn't help, nor does the quickly beating heart of his offer.

He reaches out to touch her arm, and she lets him, even as he begins to gesture to what is obvious.

There are other options, to that point he's wrong, but they're not good ones. And then involve her being a weakness, something he has to protect for as long as this madness lasts.

Her breathes out through her nose harshly, but it's easy to see that she's giving in.] Fine, if only because at least I know he won't end up dead. [She's frustrated, and it comes out sideways, but she doesn't want to do this.

In part because she knows how much she's going to like it.]

( what he says is true, but what he says is also calculated. he does not think of her as a weakness, but he knows she will not stand to be one; he knows given the reality of their circumstances, she will choose. she will choose what she needs.

he also knows she's frustrated, could count the reasons why, and if the dismissive response to his proclamation has any affect, he doesn't show it. truth be told, he's quite certain her feelings about it are one of the reasons for said frustration.

and it wasn't his aim, anyway. klaus steps back without a word, his hand slipping away from her still and waiting meal. )

[She steps closer, eyes focused on the poor man who's about to become her meal. She knows she can do it without hurting him real badly, but it's not fair and he's probably afraid.

She wars over whether or not to fix that, remembering when it was someone else taking her fear away so they could use her, but she pushes that thought away. This isn't like that. She isn't like that. Her intent matters.

Caroline places a hand on his shoulder, locking eyes with him before her pupils visibly dilate.]

I'm not going to hurt you. You don't have to be scared, okay?

[The man doesn't nod, held in place by Klaus' previous compulsion, but he seems to relax at least. Her hand moves to his arm, fingers grasping his wrist and bringing it to her mouth before she eases her fangs through his skin.

Blood, hot and metallic, bursts against her tongue, and it takes all of her willpower not to sigh into his wound.]

( it does matter to her. despite her instincts, it matters to her if she hurts anyone. it is an instinct he has detached from himself long ago, but he watches her compassion with a soft, intent curiosity; with a familiarity long forsaken. (he wonders how, he wonders why, for the first time with an interest he hadn't considered before—)

her hunger, however. her hunger charges the air, in ways that creep up the back of his throat. the tendrils of red that stain the white of her pupils reflect against the dull lighting. he catches the sight of her fangs before they sink into the man's wrist. she is careful. she is very careful, her control under a very stubborn thumb, but her lust echoes and thrums.

he watches. he watches because he wants to do so and because he cannot look away from the blending of her conscience and the monster under her skin both. )

[She doesn't notice, which is probably for the best. She's too busy dividing her attention between the visceral enjoyment of feeding on something warm and the very strict control she exerts over her desire to take more than she should.

She pulls once, twice, a third time. Warmth slides down her throat and sits warmly where it settles, radiating outward. She can feel her body knitting itself together in places unseen, beneath the skin. When she finally pulls away from the man's skin, there's a gentle flush to her cheeks, life and vitality present again in her features.

She wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand, a streak of blood staining it, before she reaches for the man's opposite arm so that she can help him press his palm against the wound to stop the bleeding. Her eyes meet his again, eyes expanding and constricting again as she speaks quietly.]

You accidentally fell and cut yourself. Go find something to cover that with and don't show it to anyone. You never ran into anyone while you were here.

[She breaks eye contact then, noticing the daze in the man's eyes as her compulsion sinks in, and then she's moving past him and grabbing Klaus by the arm to pull him down the hall with her.]

Let's go.

( he needs no prompting to follow and does so with one last lingering look at the man she leaves behind, gently scathed but living, the trauma and fear of their interaction erased. it's prudent, yes, and no less than what he would do, given the necessary circumstances.

their definition of "necessary circumstances" perhaps differs.

(it's more than that, he knows. she cares for the people she leaves behind to be breathing.

it means something to her. personally.)

he follows her steps and begins to match them. ) You handled that well, ( he comments.

to start. )

[It does mean something to her. She's accepted what she's become, she's good at it, and that means she doesn't need to be a monster. She can have it all, the perks without the negatives.

Just because she's a vampire doesn't mean she can't try to be a decent person. Proving it in front of other people just makes it that much better.

Speaking of, said other person's footsteps start to sync with hers, and she glances over at his words, eyebrows lifting.]

Of course, I did. Just because I don't put myself in that situation all the time doesn't mean I don't know how to do it.

I've no doubt you knew how to do it, ( he says, ) though I wonder why you've taken such measures to avoid it. ( if caroline strives to make a point of proving herself as a decent person and vampire, he's certainly made a point of the opposite. how obvious it is why: he was given no choice, no chance, no guidebook nor guiding hand but desperation and fear.

when finally there was choice, well. there was also a long road of terror and survival. but that was his experience, not hers.

caroline likes control. but she is not so intent on constructing such strict, non-negotiable lines for herself without reason. without experience.

she hesitated. not to feed, but to compel. )

[She looks almost instantly uncomfortable by the tensing of her shoulders, even if she tries to hide it in her purposeful steps down the hallways. She could lie about why she does what she does and it would probably sound believable. She doesn't want to bite people, she doesn't want to be a monster, but he's right.

She knows she won't hurt anyone, that she can do it without taking too much or causing damage. It's the compulsion she tries to avoid.

Caroline turns her head slightly, catching his eyes in the corners of hers.]

Because I've been that person and it sucked.

[Thanks, Damon.]

( it would be believable, but it would not be the full truth. he would know it to be less than full honesty, and if any denial of his belief did not work, perhaps he would accept her answer with a grain of salt, folded neatly away to consider another day.

this is better, her trust. easier.

easier, but he hardly feels satisfaction hearing her answer.

on the contrary, he is quiet, something black and unpleasant swirling in his gut; his mind races as he considers the players and their capabilities; their motives. stefan wouldn't. perhaps a random interloper might've passed through the scene, but if they did, he would have known about it.

no, there's only two people with motive and means.

he reaches to catch her arm and stop her. )

Damon or Katherine?

I died the day Katherine came into town.

[If not that day, it was close enough. She was the reason she'd died with Damon's blood in her system, the reason she was a vampire.

At least in that way, she was better off.

And Klaus also has his answer.

She doesn't want to think about it, tries really hard to leave it in the past. She didn't even remember what was going on while it was happening.]

Obviously, after I became a vampire, the compulsion wore off and I got to remember all the crappy things he did to me.

Edited 2018-04-14 00:17 (UTC)

( there's nothing he can do. he knows this, even asking. wanting to know.

it was an age ago, and there is nothing he conceivably would do, nothing caroline would assuredly want anyone to do, despite the bitterness and suffering laced into her words.

but he cannot help but know it, stuck between his ire and caring and disgust: a quiet acknowledgement. at that time, he wouldn't have done anything. in fact, he's done more or less the same, or worse, dozens of times over. yet the idea of damon's fangs in her neck, using her as nothing more than a toy...

his fingers flex at her arm and he says nothing for a long spell, his expression inscrutable but for the dark shadows in his eyes. )

[His grip tightens against her arm as her words sink in, and it's then that she finally pulls her arm, albeit not sharply, from his grip.]

Don't even go there.

[She doesn't want his pity, his anger, his desire for revenge on her behalf. She wants it in the past where it belongs. There were very few that could do anything like that to her ever again, and one of them was standing in front of her, pissed that it had happened at all. There was something to be said for that, at least.

Still, she realizes belatedly that it sounds like she's judging him, and for once? That's not the intent here. They both know he's done the same and worse. Right now, that's not the point.]

It's not worth it.

[There was also nothing to be done about it, so expending emotional effort on it was dumb.

Also sometimes unavoidable, as proven in this moment, but something she liked to stay away from as much as possible.]

( he won't go there, for now. neither will he forget.

perhaps it's not worth it, for all that has evolved and changed, after whatever acceptance she has crafted for it. certainly if damon showed up tomorrow, it would be out of even his best interest to do so. (and he has done the same. that — that retaliation would be for her.

for him.

he understands it's hardly his place.)

klaus shifts on his feet, parts his lips on a breath, and looks down after the link of their touch is severed; after the line is drawn.

still, he will not promise nor agree to either of those things, because truth be told he can't. he does not want to. those calculations of what should be done, what she wants, are sound. more than that, he understands. but —

she is worth it, and the anger simmering in his heart is volatile and righteous. even if he will not ever lift a finger, he cannot agree because of that. )

Come on, ( is all he says, and ducks into the nearest room.

it's an empty hospital room, but there is an adjoining bathroom. he walks inside and tries the faucet. it sputters once, but water flows. )

Edited 2018-04-14 14:32 (UTC)

[It's not that she wouldn't appreciate what it meant, that she wouldn't get some personal vindication from it, but that is the problem. She's better than he is and wouldn't stoop to Damon's level.

Besides, there's nothing to be done. Not anymore.

He moves through the closest doorway, and she follows after him, taking a look around the room's haggard features. Water pours from the faucet after a little coaxing, and while she's soaked to the bone from the rain, this will help them get the dust and blood off their skin, at least.

Their clothes? Not so much.]

Do you think those things will get inside, too?

(no subject)

poppycock - 2018-04-23 14:03 (UTC) - Expand

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