quietplacelogs | MOD LOG #1

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MOD LOG #1

MOD LOG #1
Packing Up
Content Warnings: General tension
Themes: Survival, exploration, heavy-lifting

At the end of the month, the natives send out a mass message informing everyone of the upcoming trip to 'meet' the Sound Eaters. Preparing for the trip is simple, though labor intensive, and begins with making certain that everyone packs food, water, clothes, gear, and a twenty-pound package of sand. When it's time for the journey to begin, those tasked with watching the sandpaths, will lead the party on the journey towards the Eiffel Tower. It's a slow trip, a careful one. Natives will take breaks every few hours and when the sun sets, help everyone to set up their bed rolls around a few lanterns. The natives will unveil the star mapping feature, with constellations named and general history attached, on the devices. They will encourage those to tell stories, get out food and water, and 'talk' amongst the group before everyone settles into sleep. Out, under the night sky, the silence is more noticeable - there are no crickets or frogs. This process will repeat for two days until the group reaches the end of their destination at midday.

Sound Eaters
Content Warnings: Disorientation, confusion, character and native death, Sound Eater birth and death, body horror
Themes: Survival, exploration, horror, death

On the third day, characters will finally reach the Eiffel Tower, where the Sound Eaters in this area of France have set up their 'home'. Stopping far enough out to allow for communication, the natives will gesture to the ruins of the structure that appears to be altered. Structures are built up and around the metal frame, closing off different sections with a dark material that glints an oily-green in the light. After explaining that the Sound Eaters are influenced by the weather, rain being an issue for them, they'll take everyone closer. Silence is key here. The natives are visibly wary, tense, and uncomfortable but they believe that showing the arrivals what they're so afraid of will inspire them to be more cautious.

Now, as close to the Sound Eaters as they dare to go (less than a half mile), the natives will have everyone crouch down behind various cars and debris. The devices will say only one word, watch. As the sun begins to set and clouds darken overhead, the tower will open up, the Sound Eaters spilling out. They are split up, as the natives refer to it, into classes - the young, the shifting and the matured. The young are extremely sensitive to sound, volatile and aggressive, humanesque in form with features in various state of change. The shifting are grotesque, splitting and reforming, changing from young to matured in a shift that is punctuated by pained screams and the breaking of bones, splitting of flesh. The matured are in control. They command and guide their kind into a circle, where they all bend down, kneeling as something different than the rest comes out of the tower to stand at the center. The wind catches, dusting up red ash from it and blowing the ash towards the group - there's no way to move and it tastes familiar, coats your skin in red. They all grow quiet and a wrapped form, in the shape of a body, is placed at the Sound Eaters' feet. It crumbles, breaks apart and sprays out over the wrapped figured to completely cover it.

The shards of the Sound Eater bubble up and fuse together, creating a shell. Rain begins to fall. Light, but enough to cause the Sound Eaters to begin to move, pushing against one another but not leaving the circle. There's a shrill sound, an offbeat whistle, air escaping a tight space, a desperate inhale, and then the shell at the center splits apart. A Sound Eater died to create a new life. Smaller than the other young, the 'child' climbs up and out, but it's not the same as the others. It's form is generally human. Dark hair, androgynous features. No eyes. No mouth. Standing, it angles its head towards the matured and they move, as if on command, and surround it as it walks into the tower.

( If anyone makes noise at this point, in any way, the coming bad weather and what just occurred, will result in the Sound Eaters only attacking that person - rather than the whole group. They'll drag that person into the tower and out of sight. The character will be reset. )

The natives are upset. Spooked. They've never seen anything like that and they're quick to tell everyone this, followed by a hasty message to leave. As they're moving, the rain begins to beat down and the ground grows slippery. Making it back to the supplies is troublesome and just as the group gets close, one of the natives slips and tumbles down broken concrete, twisting and smacking against the hard surface until they come to a stop at the bottom. Anyone that goes to help will find that the native has hurt themselves and there's nothing that can be done, despite best efforts. The natives will take the time to wrap their friend up, relaying that the Sound Eaters don't attack now that the rain is heavy, and will begin the slow trek back to the community. They'll camp each night, the same as the trip up, but with an uncomfortable tension that no amount of story telling can break.

It's Raining Me- Rain. It's Just Water.
Content Warnings: None
Themes: Survival, fun, noise-making

After everyone is back in Reims, the natives will split off to bury their dead - they will not allow anyone to accompany them. Everyone is encouraged to head back to the community to get a break from the bad weather and to unload their supplies. The following day, the natives can be heard outside. Splashing and making noise, fixing houses, and what might have been a somber event will quickly turn into something a little more upbeat as rain beats down on the city. Children will play and occasionally laugh, stunted in their ability to enjoy themselves but willing to learn from the arrivals. Bigger items will be moved and natives will encourage everyone to do the 'noisier' things that they need to do. When the rain ends, work will resume as usual and soundproofing will be a lot more difficult - the water washed away sandpaths and damaged some areas. Cleaning up will take time but the natives aren't as unhappy with the situation as they just had a moment's respite from the normal tension of their everyday lives.

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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i. packing up/shipping out

[ frank seems almost upbeat on this day, silently helping others that need help to pack their belongings and offering to carry a sand bag or two. maybe this is finally it -- the natives are going to let them in and stop lying to them. he understands being scared and so even though he's still miffed at being left out of the loop, he gets it. he'll be easy to spot in a navy jumpsuit and yellowing bruises scattered over his face, though the ones beneath his eyes are sunken and purple again; more fresh than when you may have seen him last but healing too. as usual, his device is nowhere in sight but he'll be equally easy to flag down and pretty obliging all the way around on the way out of the village. ]

ii. camping a

[ to the surprise of exactly no one, this marine is good at pitching a campsite and he's used to doing it in the dead of night and complete silence already. having a sliver of daylight is a welcomed change and again he'll be eager to help anyone who wants it.

at night he won't be sleeping, but out by the fire trying to read. if he is interrupted he'll put the book down and focus on whoever is trying to talk to him, he might even have a story or two. if no one tries to get his attention, he'll go on squinting at the pages with no concern for what's happening around him. ]

iii. sound eaters

[ this is it: today's the day. they're finally going to see what it is the natives are so afraid of. frank knew it had been bullshit from the beginning, how they'd never seen a sound eater, that they didn't know what they looked like. he had looked at the natives that first day and saw the faces of men and women who knew their enemy and were petrified of it reflecting back.

he moves to the front of the crowd, willing to cover anyone's eyes or just have someone grip his arm as they watch. it's disturbing -- worse than a lot of the shit he'd seen. and frank hasn't just been through war but hell on earth. this? this is crazy. he watches with abject horror, unable to tear his eyes away as he catalogues all of the different forms and how they interact.

after delivering the native babies the night before, this birth is so disparate from that one that he tastes copper in his mouth. except -- that's just the same red dust that had carried him into this world. the "child" looks so humanoid, almost innocent. whatever this is, frank knows he doesn't understand. maybe he wouldn't care to either. ]

iv. camping b

[ on the way back, he is much more somber and reserved. he goes to sleep early on in the night without waiting to watch over the others as he might usually. at roughly midnight, he wakes in a violent jerk and a quiet scream of distress. frank looks around for the cause of his nightmare, but there's nothing. just the sound of rain pitter-pattering away all around him. he looks out of it but if approached he'll sign the native word for sorry in case he woke anyone up. at least the sound eaters don't seem too interested now that the weather is really picking up. ]

v. rainstorm

[ frank puts a hand out as they reenter the small circle of houses and the familiar sandpath. it hasn't rained since they've been here and water was hard to come by besides. he hurries away from the group and stops home to drop off his things and shrug into a more appropriate jacket for the weather, one that he had begged off an old woman in town. he then begins the slow-going task of collecting whatever recepticle he can to gather the rain water for later use. he's focused on this singular project but would welcome help as he's trying to get as much water as possible: they don't know when the next storm will come and it's arduous getting water from the taps in the houses.

when he's satisfied that that is done, frank will be seen playing with the native children for a time. at first he went to check on the mother whom himself and poe had helped in the forest, but then the rest of the kids enlist him in a game that seems to involve jumping in every puddle they can find. he'll be laughing and carrying on -- not exactly the behavior we've come to expect from good ol' punching bag.

at night he'll be in a fresh jumpsuit on the porch of house six, this one an orange-yellow color. if someone wants to sit with him while he eats a well-deserved dinner, he won't mind. he might even speak actual words to their faces. ]

vi. closed to poe dameron

[ frank had unconsciously stuck close behind the native woman who looked ready to pop any second. he doesn't think she should be taking this trek with them all, but it isn't for him to say. when she motions himself and a man he recognizes over to help her, he realizes he was right. at first he's scared, but he's always had a cool head under pressure. it's routine the way he covers her mouth when she tries to scream and gives poe silent instructions to guide the babies to safety.

when the affair is over with and the twins are safe with their mom in the group of natives, he sits close by poe and shares what he believes to be a look of solidarity. first the whole debacle with faith, and now this. he thinks they'll be brothers after this, that's how it worked in the service anyway.

he had named the baby curtis after his best friend back home, a man he owed his life and so much more. a man he misses dearly. it seems appropriate since curt got his leg blown off because frank was trying to help a pregnant woman. at least this one wasn't strapped to the gills with homemade c4, otherwise poe might have undergone the same fate. ]

[ Poe had been asking the native woman if she needed anything. Water for the most part. He would notice her touching and rubbing certain areas of her belly. However, he would start trailing behind to give her privacy. Because he didn't really want to annoy her but he wanted to keep a watchful eye on her as well. The next few minutes seemed to slow as the woman seemed panicked and motioned for him and the grumpy guy to follow her. Poe could guess in that moment what it meant. First he knew that the sound would be bad. Frank did a good job with covering the woman's mouth and giving silent instructions to Poe. Why was he always doing the dirty work?

There's a look of determination though as he helps with the delivery process while making sure to cover the babies mouths as they exited. Muffling their screams was difficult since he didn't want to do it too roughly. But once everything was finished and the task completed. He seemed more at ease, relaxed and with a wide grin on across his mouth. After giving his hands a wash and they weren't messy, while sitting next to Frank he would do a quick clap on the man's shoulder while nodding at him. He's thankful it had been with Frank.

Poe named his baby after Muran. A man that had died when he was part of the New Republic Navy during an attack that they were doing their normal routine. The First Order came and stole a freighter. In that process of going into hyperspace Muran's starfighter had been within it, killing him before he could eject to safety. Poe was blamed for his death, the First Order wasn't considered a threat and he had to take orders of sitting on his hands and do nothing. The pilot didn't do that though, he went looking for trouble and would have gotten court-material or worse. Before he went back to the New Republic he got to meet General Leia Organa and defected to the Resistance. Even though he was able to avenge Muran's death later, if none of that had happened, he would still be in the New Republic blinded to the threat that was happening. ]

Curtis, not a bad name.

[ there's the briefest gritty smile spared for poe at the clap on his shoulder. he's happy to sit in companionable silence pretty much always, but now it seems especially appropriate. he's tired very suddenly, though the woman had done all of the hard work. the weeks' sleeplessness is catching up to him with the hiking and sand-muling. but he's trying to hold it together. it isn't as though he has much choice.

belatedly, frank realizes poe has a message for him, bending his neck to read it. he closes his eyes briefly, shakes his head. muran isn't a bad name either, he has a feeling it was given in the same vein as his choice. call it a hunch. pulling out his device, he realizes they've never really talked before, only exchanged worried glances and the like. he supposes he can give up being a grumpy gus just this once. ]

i like muran

[ Being with company in a shared silence would be easy for Poe to get used to too. Quiet had been a thing between him and his own father, but there was a reason for that. He shared quiet times in this matter with some people from the Resistance. Sometimes he would be off on his own with only BB-8 talking with him as he watched the rest enjoy themselves.

Poe had been thankful for the constant moving since it was keeping his thoughts from drifting toward conversations he had here. But knew how to exhaust himself to the point of passing out and being able to sleep through the night.

A small tilt of his head as he catches that small shake of his head. Poe gives a tiny smile as he reads Frank's message. His shoulders shag back a bit as he quietly types back. ]

I hope he turns out a bit like him, but I wouldn't mind how he turns up. I just hope they live in a nice happy home. As happy as it can with being here.

frank/hotdog/punching bag/pete THAT GRUMPY GUY

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iv but before he goes to sleep

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