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quietplacelogs2018-02-12 02:11 pm
bequiet) wrote in quietplacelogs2018-02-12 02:11 pm
Entry tags:
INTRO LOG #2
INTRO LOG #2
Put a Sock in It
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 – with or without the help of those who have come before you.
The Place Inside
Content Warnings: Disorientation, hallucinations, body horror
Themes: Plot, exploration
Have you been to hell. And more importantly, have you been back. We all know this pain but are too scared to recall. This horror controls us, pulls at our strings to ensure how our life plays out. So, let me rephrase my question: have you been to Ile Lacrox. And more importantly, can you come back.
In the community, if you hear something you're not supposed to hear, you learn to look the other way. If you see something you're not supposed to see, you pretend it never happened. If you feel disappointed, you learn to never ask for more. So, through good times and bad, famine and feast, the natives held fast to their rules until one common day a sly wind blew in from the south...
That same red dust twists through the streets, curling up in faint, little plumes of familiarity. The farther south you go, the thicker it becomes. Those willing to explore far enough will find it coming from an island in the middle of the river. Once there, doting every available surface is the evidence of Sound Eater births, and the closer you are to the island, the harder it is to avoid being coated in red. Even if it's not rubbed into the skin, it doesn't take long for the effects to take over. Every sound is amplified. Your breaths are deafening, the slightest step echoes. But no Sound Eater attacks. Your vision blurs, and it's as if your mouth is sealing itself shut. Those you traveled with seem to be similarly affected, and you know you have to be quiet. Anyone who brought supplies with them might discover that a drink of water subdues the symptoms.
OOC: Only characters who entirely submerge themselves in water will be free of the dust effects. Just remember that noise will attract Sound Eaters.
Liplocked
Content Warnings: Violent tendencies, mind alteration
Themes: Love, romance, obsession, sex
The natives are of French origin, and with that comes a love of romance. Residents will find treats and valentines at their doors. That same night, there will be a small, red-glowing fire built near the fountain. There will be jars pressed into the dirt and filled with a sweet, red liquid. Some natives can be seen drinking it and being very affectionate with one another. Anyone who drinks this is inspired to show endearment or lust to others, and it will wear off after sleeping.
There's also the noticeable addition of a new arrival. They came through the Reset Room just like everybody else. They understand the rules and follow them to a tee. They are the perfect example of what the natives want in their residents. They are charming and captivating. They say nothing, and they don't have to. When your eyes meet, you feel seduced. There's a nervous flutter in your stomach. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Pounding, constricting. They smile and then turn away.
As they're walking, you notice you're not the only one looking at them, and in their expression, you see your own mirrored. What started as sweet infatuation and longing dissolves into a jealousy unlike any you've ever known. All you understand now is that to win their affections you have to come out on top—so you're the only one they see. Your actions are not your own, but they're still yours.
OOC: There are two ways to break the "spell". Your character fights it out with someone else who is feeling the same way OR they're approached and physically touched by someone who isn't affected by the newcomer. A third of the community will be completely unaffected (everyone else is affected unless the player is uncomfortable with playing out the scenarios). The newcomer can be of any gender the player wishes. For those partaking in drinking, the players can choose what effects it has; it can inspire feelings of lust or boost paternal/maternal instincts or devotion towards friends.
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!
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and he's got their devices synching up in no time.
there. easy peasy. he almost tosses the device back before remembering at the last second that, if the guy doesn't have good reflexes (hey, he's got an eyepatch), the damn thing would make noise.
ugh. holding it out like a polite human being it is. ]
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Thanks.
The future's here faster than I thought.
[ He was only 24 and he was already talking like an old man ]
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it's just a smartphone. you'll get the hang of it after a while.
[ and then, with a quick tap to the eye and a nod, tetora shatters whatever facsimile of politeness he's carrying. ]
what happened to you?
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[ This was obviously a lie, right. Probably.
Majima didn't seem pissed off or anything; he got a billion comments about his eye and he'd simply gotten used to having half his world gone after a while.
Then he reconsidered. Tetora had helped him, after all, so: ]
I wouldn't apologize.
things to google: parts of an eyeball
[ it's honest enough, despite the bald-faced lie he's been given. tetora won't push; what he will do is pull on the skin under his right eye. from this distance, the lettering looks like a black scar, or some permanent discoloration on the sclera.
eye for an eye, quite literally. ]
thought maybe you were the same as me. would've been a problem if you were.
oh right I forgot about the eyeball tattoos
Then you can rest easy. If I had some crazy eyeball tattoo, I'd probably pick somethin' that didn't involve callin' everyone's attention to the side it was on.
Name's Majima.
also the eyeball cameras, officially. wild, i know.
[ majima, though - that's a distinctly japanese name. he's not one to judge race or ethnicity based on looks alone - especially not when his eyes are a bright amber, the only gift given by his american original's genes - but names? names he'll take as they come. ]
tetora.
fancy meeting you in... wherever the fuck we are, because it's certainly not tokyo.
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[ That had sounded to Majima like a threat, and while Tetora could be simply mouthing off, Majima didn't show his eye to anyone short of his sworn brother. ]
France. It's France.
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]
Didn't listen too well to the chick from the welcoming committee. Figured most of it was a load of bullshit.
They take all your shit too?
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Yeah. Not that I had all that much on me at the time. But my knife's gone.
[ his precious, precious kniiiiiiiiife
pour one out ]
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They took my guns. [ it's a proclamation so rife with emotion you'd think he was missing a limb. he feels you, eyepatch dude. ] Even my knives are missing. I could've kept those quiet.
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They took my bat, too. And my 9mm.
[ Even his nunchucks. Even his taser!! Now he was an empty shell of a man, except he still had his fists so I guess that part was fine. ]
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I spent forever collecting the right kind of knives, you know. And they just took them all. You had a 9mm? Me too, and a 45.
I feel so fucking naked.
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[ He motioned to Tetora. ]
Least ya can still fight.
[ They couldn't take that away from you!! Also, the longer Majima 'talked', the more obvious it'd become that he had some firmly entrenched Kansai-ben going on. No one question this. ]
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It's a lot louder with fists. You hit something, it thuds, you can't avoid that. People scuff their feet on the ground, they grunt, they yell. With a knife it's an easy in-out and then bam, you're done.
...You know, hypothetically.
[ oops tmi ]
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[ Majima said, raising an eyebrow. ]
You can still be quiet about it. If you're careful.
[ essence of choke out, yeahhhhhh!! ]
Tell ya one thing, though. It ain't as fun if you gotta keep it down.
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Nothing like the sound of a fist to the jawbone, hell yeah. This place really is a nightmare.
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So much for blowin' off steam. So job'd they stick ya with?
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Quiet maintenance. [ then, with a wry grin: ] I play guitar.
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[ Well, that was actually kind of a pleasant surprise, actually. Not that it looked like he was going to have a chance to play anything in the near future. ]
Acoustic or electric?
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Both, but electric's more my thing. Harder on the fingers. Angrier.
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The cabaret I worked at back in Sotenbori, we had a band. Those guys could really play. Miss it already.
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[ it's a roundabout way of asking, "what's it like in there?" what's the culture like? what are the people like? tetora's too young to go to those places, and he'll forever be too young - the curse of his genetics ensures it. not that it'll stop him, but the sentiment stands. ]
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(Real smiles A-OK tho.) ]
I ain't a client, I'm the manager. The Grand's the biggest cabaret in Sotenbori, so we get all kinds. But the customers know what the rules are, and they know what happens when they break 'em. So all in all, I try and make it a decent place to work.
Haven't heard any complaints so far.
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[ it's a little awkward, far as lamentations go, but here's the thing: he's never going to get the chance to just unwind and hit up bars or clubs just for the hell of it. gakuso is a hydra of conspiratorial horrors, winding its many heads all over the world's most innocuous places and people. tetora can never trust the open air of home, not when cctvs and other surveillance machinery litter what constitutes the "free" world.
nothing's truly free back home. it's the only truth tetora can believe in and live with. ]
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