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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!
tired dad incoming
You look tired. [he signs, the device picking it up and translating it. If anyone should be an expert in tired, it's this guy, because even a softer expression can't hide his own deep, darkly-colored bags.]
Here, sit down with me. Take a rest. You deserve it. [And from the look in his eyes, he means it. It's not the derisive look of an adult telling a child what to do. There's a level of respect to his look. Anyone enduring this place deserved some rest, some respect.]
yeeeeeeeeessssssssss
...though, this man seems even worse off than he is, in that regard. He feels more concern for him, in fact, than he does for himself, and as he's about to address that...
He's given and offer and... told he deserves a rest?
He gives a genuine, soft look of surprise, before his gaze averts, suddenly guilty. As much as he would like to...? He knows that isn't true.]
With all due respect, I don't. [He offers Aizawa a weak, sad smile.] But it's kind of you to offer. Thank you.
no subject
This place punishes people enough without punishing yourself.
[He pats the seat next to him again, with a bit more firmness.]
I won't ask you anything about it. [So it was his choice to talk about it, try to convince him he didn't deserve it, or just leave it at that.] So, at least sit down while you finish your drink.
no subject
He hardly wants to think of the demons and sins that have plagued his heart since... as long as he can remember, really... So he does his best to push the thoughts away for this kind man.]
My name is Goro Akechi. It's nice to meet you.
[The smile is a little forced, but part of it is sincere as well. The drink has unearthed some feelings deep down in his heart; the hope to find an adult that would care about him. That would take care of him, to some extent, if he needed help. Well... they've only just met, so he certainly doesn't expect it of this man, but the gentle insistence, he finds, is comforting.]
no subject
[He can't exactly sign his name in the local sign, so he finally has to dip into his pocket for his own device:]
Aizawa. [All he needs to say for his name, really.]
You're a high schooler, aren't you? Really, this place is indiscriminate about who it brings in.
no subject
[His face falls a bit.]
I have seen younger.
[Not so much in the first group, he doesn't think, but... during this round? He'd definitely seen kids and even interacted with a kid who was probably around half his age? If only a bit older than that...]
no subject
We'll figure out a way to get them back. No matter how long it takes.
[Or what risks they had to take but that wasn't a comment he would add to someone younger than him.]
no subject
To see an adult who cares for children like that... it both makes his heart swell a little with hope, and... hurts?
... he ends up leaning on Aizawa, suddenly feeling needy and hungry for that sort of protectiveness. That genuine compassion that he's been bereft of of most his life.
But he's a rotten teenager with blood on his hands. He doesn't deserve it.]
It's nice to see an adult who cares so much.
[...heh, an "adult". Because he isn't one, right? ...well, at this moment... he feels like a child more than anything...]
no subject
The people here are scared. Sometimes fear makes them selfish.
[Or, at least that's his justification. Adults in this situation were allowed to be frightened, too. He didn't like that they'd then disregard the security of the younger people stuck here... or how many implications are hidden in what he'd said. Akechi, this kid, he probably didn't mean just here.]
It's not what you should have to worry about. [even if he had, already.]
no subject
He hadn't really been talking about the adults here, specifically. He hadn't really gotten to know them, too much, and there were certainly some that were shitty, but... Heh, well. Are adults truly any different, wherever you go?
...apparently, because Aizawa seems to genuinely care.]
Humans are just naturally greedy. I've known that for a long time.
[...and that must be pretty telling in and of itself.]
But I will. They ought to know that they have can rely on their elders.
no subject
Well, I can't stop you from worrying. [And taking that feeling and turning it around- to the idea of being someone that can be relied upon- well, that's the mindset his own students would show, right?]
Just take time to rest, or there will be nothing left to rely on. [... he sets his hand down, after that. Like, conveying it has reminded him of his own guilt in the matter. He was still here, he hadn't overworked himself into an unrecoverable mess, but- Ah, was "do as I say, not as I do" another unavoidable part of adulthood? Maybe he should take it easy, too...]
no subject
Perhaps you should take your own advice.
[He looks up at the older man with a clearly concerned expression, the red liquid causing him to feel much more worry for him than he would otherwise.]
You look exhausted.
no subject
This is normal. [And he'll gesture, idly, at the heavy dark marks under his eyes after finishing his sign.]
I don't sleep well. [And he doesn't like it, sometimes, when he dreams. It briefly feels like the scar on his elbow twinges and a shadow or a memory that makes him blink rapidly, like he can clear it. He doesn't need to think about that, right now.]
Let's agree we both need it, then.
no subject
[He flops back against the man's side heavily.]
Almost every night... I suppose I should count myself lucky I haven't yet screamed in my sleep.
no subject
That's right. And I can't tell you they ever stop. [It doesn't break his heart to know someone so young had nightmares that serious. It was something that couldn't be prevented. Instead, he focuses on the fact of them both being here, now, dealing with it. They probably wouldn't stop. The idea of making a sound in ones sleep was more pressing than the fact the nightmares existed in the first place.]
Soundproofing. Or sometimes I'll lay facing the wall, with a pillow close by. [That helped when he was sick, at least. He hasn't screamed out, either, more seized up or felt like he was going to stop breathing. He'd had years to try and feel some form of control over them.]
no subject
Well, to be honest, it doesn't happen that often. The ones that make me scream. It takes quite a bit for them to do that.
Usually I wake with a gasp. Sometimes in a cold sweat.
It's utterly exhausting.
[He hates the constant feeling of lethargy and lack of energy due to his poor sleep. Of course, that's only one part of the reason he feels that way... but still a fairly significant part none-the-less.]