INTRO LOG #1

[bequiet]

INTRO LOG #1
Muzzle and Mute
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, a child hugging her leg, and 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.

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.

The Man in the Hat
Content Warnings: Heavy lifting, following the rules, alcoholism
Themes: Moving in, survival, exploration, horror

Once you’ve claimed a room for yourself, it’s time to acclimate to the community. Natives will ask what you need and take you along the sandpaths to different areas in the city to gather supplies - furniture and the like. Heavier items will require assistance and will take longer. Houses are mostly empty so if you and your housemates need something, you’ll have to carry it and put it inside the home. Do not make any noise or the natives will refuse to help you. Getting to know your housemates is key to a smooth transition. They are going through what you are right now; take the time to get to know them. Make house rules.

As the first day gives way to night, the natives can be seen moving at a faster pace outside. They’re hurried, though not frightened. Some even smile at you. When the sun sets behind the ruins of what was once picturesque Reims, your device will signal that it’s time to meet at the center of the community. There, natives will stop each person and give them a small gift - a trinket, a token to show that they are trying their best to make all the new arrivals feel at home. These are all items from the character’s home or from another character's home (they will not be anything that belongs to anyone else). Small, soundless and either something taken during the application process or something brand new. They will have no powers to speak of and are meant to be a momento. If asked, the natives found them the same way they found each of you.

Then the party starts. Sort of. A soundless, stitled kind of celebration. Fun is meant to be had, but it’s not an overly joyous occasion. The natives simply don’t know how to cut loose. There will be extra food in the form of one and two; Phillipa even brought some of her homemade bread. If you stumble across a man wearing a hat, the only man in town who does, and agree to go with him when he offers to show you his house - he’ll gift you with a jar of hooch; it’ll burn on the way down.

Sound Eaters
Content Warnings: Threat, danger
Themes: Survival, exploration, horror, game plot

It’s the second day of your stay, and the natives call for an emergency meeting at the Town Hall. Everyone is paired off (see below) and are asked to walk the perimeter looking for anything out of place and patching any areas that might have been affected by weather. Once finished, the same is done on the inside, and when the community leader is satisfied, the main hall is opened up so that everyone can congregate. Characters, during this time only, are allowed to make sound. This is so that the natives can explain why silence is so necessary...

The Sound Eaters.

In an effort not to frighten everyone, the natives won’t go into the history just yet, but they will warn that when someone makes a sound, it attracts them. They don’t know what they look like because they are so fast. If you’re too loud, then in the blink of an eye, you’ll go through a room reset. This is because either the natives ‘silenced’ you or the Sound Eaters have. They will explain that the room came at the same time the Sound Eaters did and that it doesn’t work for the natives. Sometimes, it doesn’t work on new arrivals. Death, for those born in this world, is permanent. If you attract them, you’ll get someone killed. Hence the need for no noise. During the meeting, the natives will tell each character of their own experiences. Their losses. The families they have left and how they’d do anything to keep them alive. They don’t know if you’ll be reset, but is that a risk you’re willing to take? The meeting will last a few hours and will end on a somber, ominous note - at the end of the month, they are taking everyone to meet them.

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!

NAVIGATION

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Comments

jessica jones.

[underachievement]

01. THE MAN IN THE HAT: heavy lifting.

[ Jess gets to the house early enough to wander it without running into another person. just a robot. she's still put off from the arrival process and willingly numbed to all the weird shit that followed. so, sure, a robot, or a cyborg or an android, that's for some nerd to know and marvel at. all that matters to Jess is that she (it? Jess will ask later, maybe, if the dream/coma/mindfuck rug doesn't end up getting pulled) doesn't need a bed so Jess takes it into the garage, the furthest room from the others that doesn't attach to a needlessly extravagant bathroom. as for a walk-in closet, that's just a fancy way of saying utility room.

the frame has to be disassembled to get through the door. Jess quietly stacks the parts by the wall and tucks the mattress into the corner, then leaves to explore the neighborhood. the last thing she wants to do is get to know anyone she'll be living with that has actual blood pumping through their veins, but for anyone dwelling past house 10 (or before? whatever, space) that's having trouble with their load, Jess is willing to cut in and lend some super-muscle. seriously don't be from house ten, or do, she'll be so mad that you tricked her into bonding ]

02. THE MAN IN THE HAT: alcoholism.

[ after watching enough strangers stuff their mouths and stay standing, Jess swipes a loaf of unpoisoned bread for herself and picks at it from the perimetre of the corpseless wake that's been thrown in their honour. she snatched her camera off one of the natives, presented to her like a gift. you know, this thing that is hers, that she owns. some fucking film would have been a gift, or how about the battery charger? too much to ask. her nikon hangs uselessly around her neck, catching crumbs between the buttons. it might serve as a deterrent for anyone taking advantage of the disorientation of most of the guests, but who knows.

Hatman sticks out noticeably, a little too noticeably, and oh god, did she just think that? she needs a drink so bad. Jess chooses him as a point of focus despite the recklessness of disregarding the rest of the gathering at large. there's being paranoid and then there's being paranoid about being paranoid. anyone who goes off with him, she takes note of when they come back. they seem as clear-headed as when they left, just more well equipped to go about fixing that. no shit, she wants one of those bottles for herself, but not enough to off into the darkness with a stranger no questions asked.

has your more trusting nature netted you that goodgood drank? allow Jess to sidle up to you and ask ] What'd it cost you?

03. SOUND EATERS: heavy lifting.

[ starter incoming; see attached subcomment below ]

0wildcard. [ bring another prompt/starter, hash out smth OOC beforehand (here, PM or PP @lungful). ]

man in the hizzy

[oorah]

[ the sudden appearance of her next to him as he stuffs the jar of hooch into jumpsuit pockets too shallow to house it has him leaning away from her. he doesn't startle though, almost used to everyone creeping up on him. frank frowns deeply and stares at her while she types, his deep red-purple eye socket throbbing and making him all the more impatient.

he's been trying to avoid having a real conversation with anyone, though a few had already goaded him out of his shell. what this woman wants seems much simpler and for that he's grateful. he shakes his head to try and get across that it was free, insofar as much as anything is here. a veritable prison yard where a few luxuries are thrown back in their faces like gifthorses. he gets annoyed enough at the thought to pull out his device from his other pocket and reply. ] didn't suck his dick if that's what you're asking

hello again michael clarke duncan

[underachievement]

[ she's not worried about a guy who may or may not be concealing a tank in his jumpsuit -- more worried about the guy in the hat, but neither of them return to the event looking worse for the wear. he had that shiner when he left, she's pretty sure. there's really no common link between the folks who keep wandering off with the goddamn Hatman except that they're all stupid enough to do it. ]

Kinda yeah
So I guess it must've been worse

screams

[oorah]

[ he gives a soundless laugh, just a jump of his shoulders really, and pulls out the jar so she can inspect it. ]

just moonshine
i think they feel bad for fucking us over

[ it would be sweet if they, you know, hadn't in the first place. ]

01 ish

[fortheflowers]

[When Jessica returns to house 10, she'll find that the bed had been completely reassembled in the corner where she'd put the mattress, and it has sheets on it and a pillow. Depending on how long Jessica is gone, she might catch 6O also carefully maneuvering a small table and a chair into the garage for Jessica. She smiles brightly and hopes that Jessica doesn't mind.

Doesn't matter if Jessica is actively avoiding bonding or not - 6O is going to be nice and helpful anyway!]

[underachievement]

[ Jess walks in as the chair is making its way into the room and immediately SHE SUPER DOES MIND. Her brow creases reflexively though there is nothing confusing about the situation, her hands fan outward in a gesture demanding uh What the hell?! and she's all the pissier for not being able to say it out loud.

She spends a couple hours helping people out and this is what she gets? A ROBOT MALCOLM? ]

[fortheflowers]

[6O very carefully sets the chair down in the room. Her only response to the gesture is to smile and wave. Either she doesn't understand the displeasure inherent in the gesture, or she's willfully ignoring it.

Like the other androids, she's already downloaded the sign language data from the device, but it's more comfortable to type. Therefore, she pulls the device out of her pocket and quickly types out a message for Jess and holds it up for her to read.]

Welcome back! We were able to acquire several extra pieces of furniture, so I thought you might find a table and chair useful!

02

[rockypath]

[Faith had on a whim decided to follow the man in the hat. There had been jack all to do at this party and his beckoning had a least been more interesting than sitting around staring at one another doing nothing like this was some awkward middle school dance. And if he'd been planning on leading innocent people into his house to murder or to unspeakable things to them, then she could handle that.

Part of her had actually hoped that had been his intention, just to give her an excuse to punch something or someone to let off some steam. But no. It had been to give her a bottle of booze. Err. Alright.]

[Sitting down to open the bottle- she gave it a sniff. Even the sniff burned her nostrils. That was some strong shit, whatever it was. Glancing at Jessica, she shrugged, texting back.] Nothing that I know I gave? [Maybe he'd done something she wasn't aware of?]

[underachievement]

[ a couple of the people who go off with the guy look more like they're spoiling for a fight than willfully misplacing trust, mostly in the way they carry themselves. Faith is one of those people, and Jess is similarly disappointed by the apparently uneventful trip. the lack of proven shadiness just makes him extra shady, in Jess's opinion. the answer to her question is suitably creepy and probably the most accurate she's likely to get, if true.

Jess bites back a sigh and narrows her thoughts down to ] Did he make it seem like it was illegal or something?

[rockypath]

[Thinking about it, she shrugged.] Don't think so? Met my fair share of shady ass people - didn't remind me of them any. Just seemed about as weird as any of the others natives.

Not like he was a drug dealer or anything. Kinda odd he's the only one around here wearing a hat though.

[Faith peered into the bottle. The worst that could happen was that it was poisoned. At this point Faith was willing to take that risk considering this shit show around them. At least it would liven up this party.

She took a swig, lifting the bottle of her head and taking what accounted to about three shots worth. Clenching her teeth, she had to battle not to hiss. Fuck, that shit burned!]

Wildcard

[thatsruff]

[Throughout the day Teddy had learned the layout of much of the house and committed the scents of his new handlers (those who had scents) to his memory. One room had remained inaccessible to the canine, however, until later in the evening.

He knows someone is in it. He heard them come into the house and had caught the whiff of a familiar but not yet placed scent. He just needs to find some way to get an acknowledgement from them. He sits in front of the door and paws at it just once, softly, a light scrape of his claws on wood. His ears fall back in a flinch at the sound.

He's holding a loop of twine in his mouth, from which hangs a bottle of the unusual alcohol someone seemed fit to unload on a dog with no thumbs and certainly no stomach for such a beverage. Perhaps one of his handlers could make better use of the drink.]

[underachievement]

[ another reason Jess chose the garage: private ingress. relatively. she won't be fooling around with no foyers, thank you, and she plans to avoid the hell out of the communal kitchen space. at the end of the day, having shaken off the disorientation with the help of her old pals anger and suspicion, she has a better idea of what she actually needs in here: a mini-fridge.

Jess doesn't think she'll sleep, nor will she spend every waking hour lying on a mattress in a cement box, but needs a break from all the frickin' people. she's sipping moonshine cribbed from Jade (a teenager, god love this place and that doffed up creep) and getting her head together, batting dirt from her legs when she hears the gentle rake at the door. she's content to ignore it until she remembers that here, that's kind of a big deal. supposedly. she's not buying it yet, she just refuses to endanger anyone else with her incredulity.

negating any tidying effect on her clothes, she brushes her hands off on her knees and goes to the door. forgets to check the hinges. her glare is off the mark by a couple heads at least, and chipped by confusion when it does land. whose dog is this? and what's that-ohhhhh. okay forget the first question. Jess kneels down in the open doorway, gauging his or her temperament. and confirm she's seeing what she's seeing. ]

[thatsruff]

[The canine has no use for booze, especially booze contained in an jar he could not possibly open without breaking. He sets the jar down and nudges it toward her gently at the base with his nose. If she does not want it, he is sure she can find someone who does. Humans were meant to be in charge of the rations. He only recovered the supplies, he did not choose how they were handed out.

He tilts his head the other way when she kneels, and the device on his collar glows with a greenish-blue hue. Silently, he stands to wag his tail so the drag of it will not cause more noise. The humans here had seemed to respond positively to tail-wagging.]

cw for the thread: violence, death, past trauma

[kiljoy]

[It's the afternoon of day 2 and he returns to the house after the meeting at the town hall. They're back to sullen, miserable silence, and he already feels half like these people, a shadow of his former self. He wants food. He wants a proper cooked meal, meat and veg and gravy with all the trimmings. A glass of wine to wash it down. Curl up in front of the TV. Laugh at the screen.

Food is the only thing he might remotely be able to get here so he heads into the kitchen to see if anyone has stocked up–

And stops dead. Jessica is there.

He freezes. For a second he's too stunned to move. Her back is turned but he knows it's her, knows the slope of her shoulder, her cheek, her hair. And the memory comes flooding back: the dock, the watching crowd, Trish and Jessica, Jessica with her hand gripping his jaw, lifting him up, the fear bubbling up in his chest when he realises that she has him, that the inevitable is about to happen and then she tells him to smile–

She snapped his neck. The memory is vivid, excruciating. A flash of intense pain and then... nothing. Waking up here.

The possibility has occurred to him that he's dead and the universe has conjured up an afterlife so unbearable that he'll want to end it all within a week. If that's the case, of course Jessica is here. Of course. She's here to torment him. She tricked him, rejected him, spat on everything that he tried to do for her, treated him like a dog. And the final insult: putting him down.

His skin is hot and cold. He can't tell whether the adrenaline coursing through him is fear or rage. Kilgrave grits his teeth. He can't help it. He has to speak.]

You fucking bitch.

[It's quiet but venomous. His senses are catching up with him and he backs away – he can't be alone with her, she's too dangerous – he has to find a housemate or get out on to the street, even raise his voice if necessary. He shuts the door on her and turns around, his heart beating fast (does that count as making a sound? he can hear it drumming in his chest), then walks as quickly as he can back into the great room then through the foyer to the porch. If she comes after him, he'll run. Fuck that, he'll make a noise if he has to. All he needs is one person he can control, one person, or even an interfering bystander to get in their way. Whatever he needs to do to stop her.]

[underachievement]

[ accomplishing her assigned task for no other reason that she recognized the kid who got stuck with her and wanted to glean an idea of how she fared since the night before, Jess has gone above and beyond the call of anything by the time the meeting starts. and she hasn't slept. so she has trouble staying tuned into the spiel, regardless of its gravity. a couple questions and answers of relative value are volleyed back and forth, and then they roll out the tragedy victims for testimonial time, which she absolutely refuses to justify with her presence, and hopefully doesn't cheapen too much with her bluntly beaten retreat.

she's drunk more than she's eaten but still holes up in the garage for a good hour with the last third of her first jar of hooch. there are two more tucked under the bed, putting her single most pressing concern out of the way for another day or two. all that remains of the previous evening's bread loaf are the crumbs she brushes from the bed, that now live on the floor, feasibly forever. finishing off the moonshine in an ambitious gulp, she almost spits it back up and more, which is what reminds her she needs to eat. each lift of her foot embitters her on her way to the kitchen; she's in the mood to shuffle or scuff, and who knows, one day she might even give stumbling a shot! she'll have to drink more carefully, while simultaneously discovering her super-tolerance for liquor distilled in a hole. how could this day get any better

not expecting it to even be stocked, she's uninvested while digging through the fridge. huh, let's see: we've got OJ, soda, Sunny D, purple stuff--

the first words she's heard outside of a designated speaking area could be meant for anyone but, come on. Jess knows she's the one being addressed as instantly and mortally as she knows who's doing it. all three in their scant syllables slither up her spine, slipping tongue-like into the spaces between the bones. her grip on the fridge door dents it with a soft crunch that warns her off of it before she rips it from the hinge and throws it what might be, but isn't, a hallucination. she's certain her luck isn't that forgiving; look at where it's landed her. she whips around, dark, drunk gaze searing with disbelieving hatred. yeah, he's real. her brain's not so goddamn on point that she'd imagine him without his peacock feathers, his Fifth Ave necessities and his human accoutrements. he's alone. he's alive.

he's afraid.

Jess gives chase right away. the chance to put him down before he hurts anyone crests on the shotgun surge of adrenaline and gives her a North Star to pursue through the haze of panic swiftly sluicing in. it's impossible to give a shit about being silent, even though she just sat through what felt very much like a school assembly on the dangers of not doing that. fucking Sound Eaters, are you kidding her? they brought this guy in and they're scared of some bump in the night shit? damn, is she glad she saved her question, 'cause she's gonna have a thousand once she's done dealing with this, assuming she lives. she'd like to, but, you know. when life gives you lemons sometimes you have to get yourself killed punching those lemons' hearts to the centre of the earth.

overcoming him is pretty easy, then. she gets a grip on the back of his collar and yanks him back in step with her, shoves him to the wall by his neck. god, he's so weak. no wonder she gave that bus the benefit of the doubt when she should have gone back and made sure he was dead. the snap was telling, the second time, and she almost leans right into it now, but, right, those sarcastic-airquotes "monsters". (who she can really see herself coming around on, in light of this new information.) no comforting snap. her head is a riot, her blood is careening through her vessels like it might shear the insides of her veins, she needs a fucking second, okay? and claps her hand over his mouth before checking over her shoulder for witnesses ]

[kiljoy]

[It's been less than 48 hours since the last time Jessica grabbed him by the neck. Déjà vu doesn't even cover it. A cold sweat covers his body. His chest feels like a hollow cage, his heart threatening to burst out. He hits the wall with a gasp; Jessica's eyes are burning into his with even more hatred than before. He scrabbles fruitlessly–]

Hel–!

[Her hand clamps over his mouth, stifling him, and he's pinned like a butterfly to the wall, but therein lies his only hope: they're outside, they're on the porch and there's the street in front of them, windows in the houses opposite them, surely, surely, someone will see or hear and come to stop her...]

01

[iisupergirlii]

[Kara has been shimmied up the chimney most of the day, giving it a good scrub. She's decided "escape route" is better suited for her needs than "crackling, warm fireplace." At least for now. The weather's pretty good still. Her head is just poking out when she sees a tall lady in a dark colored jumpsuit effortlessly lifting a couch by house eight by herself. It might as well be a sandwich with how much of an effort it seems to take.

And that's fascinating. She's (mostly) sure the lady isn't another Kryptonian but definitely alien, right? Or maybe a metahuman, like Barry or most of the Legends. Kara glances around to see if anyone is looking her way - then again, no one thinks to look on top of the houses, thankfully - and she shimmies the rest of the way out, floating a foot above the roof for a moment before setting her feet quietly down on top of it.

She hops down from the house and comes around, walking over to 8 and the woman, unaware that she's completely covered in soot. She starts to speak but quickly takes her device out instead, typing out -]

I guess you don't NEED a hand, but would you like one?

[underachievement]

[ Jess isn't exactly leaping at the chance to substitute a hatchback for dozens of cohabitating strangers, it just keeps her moving, doing something instead of trying to force herself back to sleep in the interest of waking up. she has enough trouble getting rest under normal circumstances and with the blood alcohol content that her body is used to. good samaritanship is a means of tiring herself out, maybe shaving a few hours off the inevitable battle with insomnia. she just gets the heftiest items where they need to be and then finds something else to lug around.

the hardest part is not making any sound. it takes her a couple trips to get extra mindful of scuffs, thuds, and other bits of litter and debris that she disregards as regular noise pollution back home. Jess's capacity for surprise was exasperated well before any of the truly insane nonsense was tossed at her, so the splotchy shadow of a woman appearing in her periphery only maintains her attention for the device lighting up and insisting on conversation. ]

Have you seen yours? [ where the hell did she just come from, anyway? she looks like the victim of a cartoon explosion ]

[iisupergirlii]

[Kara frowns at the message, then looks down at her hands, one holding her device, which is now covered in smudges. She turns bright pink under the soot but rolls her eyes at herself. Quickly, she types back-]

Sorry. Been cleaning. There's a chimney in my bedroom. I don't mind helping you out, though. My name's Kara.

[afterward she self-consciously rubs her hands off on her jumpsuit, not that it helps all that much.]

also 01ish

[twoaffirmations]

[The humans needed supplies and furniture! 9S was more than happy to assist, considering he could lift and move quite a bit of weight without fatigue. He's carrying back several chairs stacked over both his arms as he walks past Jessica.

...But apparently he really can't resist an opportunity to complain. Seriously, he's been doing this all day! No one listens to him! Slumping over as if he were letting out an exasperated sigh, 9S sets the chairs down and leans over them.

He signs.]

Man, what a pain... You think if they had all this stuff it would have already been in the houses.

[underachievement]

[ once she notices the blindfold, he snags her attention in passing and forces a double-take. he seems to know exactly where he's going, so she wonders if it's a Daredevil situation, the loss of whom is fresh enough to easily derail her thoughts. the best possible thing he could have done is address her, although she has no idea what the signing means and only gets to translating the second half when she remembers her device can do that. ]

No shit. Can you even read this?

[twoaffirmations]

[9S cants his head upon reading the question. It takes a second for him to even register the fact a blindfold might look odd to anyone else.]

Yes, ma'am. My visor feeds me a real-time data overlay. I can still see everything.

02. i'm sorry for him

[skittering]

❰ it's been blissfully quiet today. a little unnerving, since lalli's surrounded by people in this place and that would usually bring a nearly endless chatter for him to tune out like white noise, but he isn't complaining. then again, he doesn't really complain much either way.

either way, he's wandering along one of the sand paths, jar of gross throat-burning liquid in hand and an unwelcome fuzz at the edges of his mind from the one sip he did have, when a woman slides up beside him and holds out her device.

by now he's learned that when someone does this, you're supposed to read it. you don't have to, but it seems like it makes things a little easier if you do. so he does, eyes narrowed just slightly as he parses the words, then his attention drops to the jar in hand. she means this, he guesses.

and without a moment's pause, he decisively places the jar in her hands instead (whether or not they're ready for it) and makes to keep going on his way.

question him further? or just accept the dubiously benevolent gift and go about your day? ❱

this place is the best

[underachievement]

[ Jesus, okay. finally someone who can cut to the chase. the downside is it throws into relief just how much unnecessary conversation she's endured today in a universal quiet game. Jess tips the jar back in a "cheers" gesture and lets him carry on, though she keeps her eyes on him for a short while, in case he's traumatized and merely trying to shunt off the material reminder. weird guy. not helpful, everyone here is weird. congrats, lalli, you get the auspicious title of Good Dude ]

i want this cr to continue someday, even if this thread ends here. points to eyes, points to jess

[skittering]

❰ that was the most painlessly short social transaction he's experienced all day.

lalli decides that she's not awful. (though the odds that he'll remember her face if they meet again are... incredibly low.) and soon enough, he's wandered off down the street and out of sight. ❱