FEBRUARY 2021 EVENT: PART TWO

[robbies]

 

CHAPTER TWO, PART 2: THE LIVING ISLAND

Everything you never wanted to see.

YOU CAN’T DO A LITTLE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T DO ENOUGH | JUST A DREAM FROM YESTERDAY | DARKNESS HELD ITS BREATH | YOUR FRIENDS WHEN THINGS GET ROUGH | COME AND PLAY WITH ME

---

YOU CAN'T DO A LITTLE BECAUSE YOU CAN'T DO ENOUGH

Perhaps you’ve been on tenterhooks since you woke up to find that your friends, your family, your neighbors somehow went missing in the night. Perhaps you’ve been hitting the pavement and knocking on doors trying to find them. So far, your efforts have been for naught. There’s been neither hide nor hair of the missing, and every attempt to find them has met with a dead end.

Until February 13.

In the afternoon, a strange, unsigned message goes live on the network. What is the meaning of “Living Island”? Does it have anything to do with what’s going on? There’s no elaboration… until midnight, when every neighbor’s television set turns on at full volume, hissing static and garbled noise as the dials turn and adjust. Several disjointed clips follow, ending on a mural that depicts the same words from the post.

“Living Island.”

The following morning, you’ll find that stranger things are beginning to happen. Some of you will be woken up to the blankets and sheets being yanked off your sleeping bodies by a powerful force. Others will find that when they step out of their morning shower, a message has been written in the steam on their medicine cabinet's mirror. Depending on how quickly you shower, you may only be able to see part of the message — but running the hot water longer and allowing the steam to fill the room will reveal it in its entirety:

“LIVING ISLAND.”

As time passes, you’ll find that the same message shows up every time the bathroom steams up, whether you’re in the shower or not. The same force that turned your TV on seems to insist that you pay attention to what it’s trying to show you, and its behavior escalates the longer you refuse. Characters will find that books go flying off of bookshelves, drawers are yanked out of dressers and desks, and breakable objects are smashed. Trying to prevent the spirit from destruction won’t go your way: If you try to catch or grab something that’s about to be thrown, you’ll find it ripped out of your hands anew and smashed anyways. If you tried to take all of your chairs down from where they’ve been stacked on top of the dining room table, you’ll find they’re back atop it the instant you look away.

All that’s to say nothing of the rumbling. It doesn’t start until the end of the first day, but from time to time you’ll feel the house beginning to shake on its foundations, a dull groan as it struggles to keep itself from collapsing in under its own weight. As time goes on, this will get louder and louder until the house seems to roar of its own accord, an unyielding shriek that can’t be stopped until the force causing it backs down.

Attempts to make contact with the spirit will never go well. It does not seem to be able or willing to communicate with you beyond its own tantrums, and characters who try may find that the attempt rapidly goes out of control. Candles flare up and burn wildly, Ouija boards are ripped into pieces and planchettes go flying, offerings of food are knocked over or thrown, and the lights flicker manically in turns. While you may be able to get some sleep at night if you’re lucky, the only thing that will reduce the poltergeist activity is to pay attention to the message it’s sending you and figure out what it means.

↑ back to top ↑

---

JUST A DREAM FROM YESTERDAY

Living Island. If ever there were a first step to stopping this madness, it’s figuring out what those words mean. But starting is always the hardest part, and with nothing else to go by than two seemingly unrelated, nonsensical words left behind by a force you can’t see much less communicate with, an already arduous task seems even more impossible. This is furthered by the reactions you get when you hit the street and start asking people if they know anything about Living Island. Most of them can only look back at you blankly, as if waiting for a punchline that never comes. Others actually take you seriously enough to consider the question, and to their credit, they do take their time racking their brains to remember where they’ve heard that name before, why it sounds so familiar. But the most you’ll get back from them is a sheepish shrug of the shoulders and a reply that it sounds like something from TV. It gets to the point where their answers blend together, each one more unremarkable than the last. Save for the one you get from the last person you haven’t asked. Living Island. I’m sorry, what was that? What the fuck did you just say? Dale Harding and Rosemary Craven might be as far away from each other as possible, doing things around town that couldn’t be more different, but their reactions are the same. When they overhear you asking what feels like the hundredth person you’ve seen that day about Living Island, they look your way — Harding in the middle of his patrol or lunch break, Rosemary in the middle of grocery shopping. Harding looks honest-to-God surprised. Rosemary simply looks confused, even somewhat concerned. That's such a... strange name. Where did you hear that from? When they hear your explanation, they go quiet, mulling it over. Rosemary’s expression turns thoughtful. Harding’s, suspicious. If I remember correctly, that was a clubhouse the children around town used to play in. I haven’t heard about it in… goodness, I can’t even remember. Years, perhaps. It’s a play on “safety island” — another name for a bomb shelter — and the name of this… stupid kids show that used to be popular. I guess they thought it was cute, calling a place like that something fun. But where is it? Well, most of the shelters in town are still in use, and children aren’t allowed in them unless there’s an emergency. The only place I can think of is… The grade school. Administration ran out of funding before they could finish it, so they just scrapped it. Closed it off and just hoped for the best. Didn’t stop people from sneaking in. I used to bust them for playing down there all the time, the little shits. Harding’s mouth twists into a sneer that doesn’t reach his eyes, which are soft and miserable, while Rosemary waits patiently for any other questions and, when you have no others, excuses herself to go back to her groceries. Now you have something even better than an explanation: you have a destination.

Finding Santa Rosita Elementary is as easy as a fifteen minute drive from North Santa Rosita to Shadyside. Getting in is a different story. By day, the school is open for business and humming with activity, so you can’t very well go barging in and not expect to be reprimanded for disrupting class. This leaves you with three options: go before it opens, wait until school is over, or come in the middle of the night. Each have their own pros and cons, but all of them will get you the same result.

After hours, the school is desolate and still. The wind, the occasional slap of a naked branch against a window, and the squeak of your footsteps on the shiny, clean floors are the only sounds you’ll hear as you navigate the empty hallways. Most of the classrooms are locked, and the ones that aren’t don’t have anything any more unique or worthwhile to them than the occasional lunchbox left behind by a student or the classroom frog croaking in its tank. In a way, this is a good thing — it doesn’t leave that many places to investigate and makes your path that much more linear as you finally, inevitably and silently make your way downstairs into the bowels of the school.

The long corridor that awaits you in the basement is, in theory, not very different from the hallways upstairs. There are lockers lining both sides, dented and darkened with age and dust. The tiles are cracked, dirt and pieces of stone kicked up from exposed areas of the floor. Seemingly, this appears to lead to a dead end. But look closely at the wall and you’ll see the impression of a door, painted to match the walls. The lock is flimsy — in fact, depending on when you find it, someone may have already broken it. All that’s left is to enter and descend down the tiny room’s only feature: a ladder under a rusty steel hatch door, stretching down into darkness.

↑ back to top ↑

---

DARKNESS HELD ITS BREATH

CW: gore, surgery

Stepping into the old shelter, the first thing that hits you is the stale, uncomfortably moist air. This first room is cavernous and dark, and your footsteps and whispers echo in spite of how quiet you might try to be. There’s a faint smell in the air, a trace of copper and rubbing alcohol that might make your eyes water, making your mouth feel unpleasant as it hits your tongue. As you get your bearings and begin to pick your way through the dark, you’ll notice traces of another smell — something simultaneously spicy and cloyingly sweet, a scent that seems to assault your senses and leaves you with a headache pounding at the base of your skull. Thankfully, there isn’t enough to do more than make you nauseous, but the smells warn of what’s still yet to be found.

As you continue through the labyrinthine warren, you’ll begin to find signs of human presence — some of the trashed rooms may be fitted with tables and supplies one might expect to find in a laboratory, meticulously labeled with typewritten strips. Several of these boxes appear to be old, covered in grimy layers of dust, while others are fresh and clean. All of them contain medical supplies. Eagle-eyed investigators might note that the untouched supplies tend to be the type contained in first-aid kits — acetaminophen, antibiotic ointment, simple adhesive bandages — while the ones that have been opened are for heavy duty surgical work — coiled IV lines and tubing, empty syringes, surgical gloves. One room in particular seems to have been fitted out for someone’s personal use, boasting a stripped-down bed, a chair and desk, and a comfortable recliner.

The trickle of water can be heard in the depths of the shelter, and as you emerge from one corridor that filters into a large chamber, it becomes immediately obvious where you are: This is an operating theater, with a table stationed beneath all manner of lights that can be adjusted and moved. A faucet drips monotonously in the back of the room, over a sink stained with blood with bits of grey, pulpy matter stuck in the drain. A bucket filled with blood and viscera ferments on the ground beside it. There are smears of blood, both dried and fresh, on the cloudy tiles, and a cabinet full of surgical instruments is slightly ajar. Looking at the instruments, characters will find that a couple of scalpels and a pair of tongs have dotted blotches where the metal was cleaned with water; whoever used these tools last didn’t dry them before putting them away. A small table near the operating area has a turntable sitting atop it, with a record already set under the needle: a single of Elvis Presley’s “Heartbreak Hotel.” There are a few other records sitting in the cabinet beneath it, including Big Mama Thornton’s “Hound Dog,” Frank Sinatra’s “Frank Sinatra Sings for Only the Lonely,” and James Brown and the Famous Flames’ “Think!”

In a separate area of this room, an oversized desk is piled with books and empty food containers that look as though they’ve been repurposed for one reason or another. These books are chiefly on anatomy and the medical sciences, though there are a number of books on psychology and how the brain functions. Though some of these books are water-spotted and dog-eared, there aren’t any notes written in the margins, nor are there any papers to be found. You can turn this area as much as you'd like, but all you’ll find is a couple empty cigarette boxes and some broken and bitten pens; the trash can next to the desk, filled with soggy ashes, seems to suggest that any papers that might have given you a lead were destroyed before you got here.

But the lab, with all its instruments, isn’t what you came here to find. There’s still at least one more room to be found…

↑ back to top ↑

---

YOUR FRIENDS WHEN THINGS GET ROUGH

CW: gore, surgical trauma, amputation, lobotomy, brainwashing and interrogation, mouth trauma, eye trauma, ear trauma, body horror

The missing are being held in small, sturdy cages in a single room connected to the back of the operating room, dim and dank. The cages are placed equidistant around the room, ensuring that even if you try, you can’t reach out and make contact with your neighbors. The missing will find that they wake at approximately the same time, curled up on the ground in uncomfortable positions. Unlike your rescuers, your nightmare began far earlier than when you first awoke in this room, sore and disoriented. In fact, you could argue it started the moment you went to sleep on February 9th, leaving empty beds and concerned family members behind.

With no clocks or watches available to tell the time, you may not be able to tell how long you’ve been here. You sleep and wake, sometimes to a bowl of what looks like sticky rice lying in your cage that wasn’t there before. Sometimes, an overpowering smell will fill the room, faint at first; by the time you register it, it’s already overwhelmed you and sent you into a deep sleep. And when you wake, one cage will be empty. The inhabitant will be returned the next time you go to sleep and wake up, but not quite the same as they were before. They seem heavily drugged, discombobulated — or perhaps there's something visibly different about them. Whoever has taken you is doing a lot of work in their lab — and from the smell of things, meat work — and before long almost all of you will be sporting dressings of some type or other, fresh red seeping through the sterile cloth within a matter of hours.

Maybe you should try to keep each others’ spirits up. You don’t know how long you’ll be here, after all.

All of this goes on for a while — days, although it won’t be easy to count them given that there are no windows in the room. But nearly a week later… you wake to find that the front of your cage is unlocked. Unlatched. Open just an inch. Looking around the room, you’ll find that yours is not the only cage to have been opened — all of your cages have been unlocked.

Is it a mistake? Or are you really free?

↑ back to top ↑

---

COME AND PLAY WITH ME

CW: blood and violence

Whether you’ve released yourself from your cage, or were discovered by a well-meaning friend before you could, or you’ve simply had your fill of exploring the shelter-turned-laboratory, the time has finally come to leave. Unfortunately, if things were that easy, you wouldn’t even be around by the time the scuttling sounds begin — somewhere down the hall, in the room behind you, fleeting and sly. It’s not an animal sound, a creature picking its way through the garbage and debris littered around the shelter. No, with the way it stops and starts every time you start and stop walking, this is a very deliberate, human sound. And if you don’t believe that, you’ll see soon enough when you see the naked, bone-white figure walk into view at the end of the hallway as casual as you please, their body smooth and sexless like a department store mannequin. They turn (your) their head and stare directly at you with (your) their wide, glassy eyes crinkled in thousand-yard delight. You hear your voice echoed back at you, airy and chirpy and so indescribably wrong it makes your blood run cold.

"Hi!"

Much like the Doppelgangers you encountered in January, these ones look and move like dolls, their limbs connected with ball-joints. However, whereas those ones were near perfect imitations of you and your friends, these ones look like they just fell off the assembly line. Their faces are unnaturally flat and plastic, like all the imperfections have been ironed out of them, but they are unmistakably yours. And when they open their mouths to squeal at you before running with all the unnatural speed not having a pair of lungs affords them, you’ll find that even their voices are perfect imitations — and not necessarily of your own either.

There’s no way to tell how many of these Doppelgangers are down here with you, hiding in the dark. They’re stealthy and sneaky, only coming out to attack when they’re sure you’re alone. Even if you’re not, they’re intelligent enough to come up with ways to separate you from your group, calling to you from another part of the shelter, mimicking a voice from someone they know you’ll listen to. Even if there’s no possible way they could be in Santa Rosita.

"Help me!"

"Is that you...? Oh thank God, I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Please, don't leave me!"

Other times, they’ll take a more aggressive approach, allowing their limbs to pop out of place so they can sprawl on the ground, imitating a heap of discarded doll parts. Once you get close enough or turn your back on them, they’ll pull themselves together and attack, speeding towards you on fours like a crab.

There are two ways out of the shelter. The first one is the hardest: go back the way you came. With the low visibility, the number of Doppelgangers, and the confusing layout of the area, you’re more likely to get turned around and go in circles than you are to find your way back to the ladder — a location made even more difficult to discern since the hatch door has been lowered, blotting out all light from the room above.

The second way is the longest but also the easiest: head deeper into the shelter, past the operating room, through the rooms filled with broken furniture and ruined floors that are very easy to trip on — especially when you’re in the middle of running away. Eventually, you’ll come to another ladder, this one leading to an open hatch that deposits you into a dark passageway. The air up here is more fresh, but not necessarily pleasant smelling. There’s only one way to go — forward.

After what feels like an hour of walking, you’ll see a light at the end of the passage. Follow it and you’ll find yourself exiting a storm drain that drops you into the heart of Old Growth, just outside of West Santa Rosita.

↑ back to top ↑

---

OOC INFO

Welcome to the second part of February’s event! You can use this entry to top-level for the event, but feel free to utilize the log and network communities as well.

There will be a top-level posted for NPC interaction tied to the second prompt below, wherein you can request to play out your character’s interaction with Harding or Rosemary. If you would like to have your character interact with either one of them, comment to the top-level with the name of the NPC you would like to thread with. You may only thread with one NPC. The mods will respond to NPC tags until February 28th.

Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.

---

▶ NAVIGATION ◀
COMMS	logs | network | ooc | memes
OOC INFO	premise | rules | faq | taken | applications | hiatus/drop/canon updates | activity check | reserves | mod contact
SETTING INFO	calendar | setting | housing | npcs | death and tranquilizing | the story so far | event suggestions/engagements

Comments

[feudalladyshandmaid]

[That's easily one of Rapunzel's greatest strengths; her empathy. Even if she was in danger herself, she would always put the safety of others before her own. Quite the righteous attitude, and perfect for a future queen... A particularly sour memory of her threatening Eugene to get a rise out of Raps bubbled up into Cass's mind. Even still, Cassandra saw strength in her choices. Most of the time.

But Rapunzel could also be too self-sacrificing. And right now, she could barely form a coherent word with whatever they'd done to her throat. Cassandra couldn't ignore that, or the fresh worry that clenched her chest tightly. What if Rapunzel lost her voice entirely? What if she started choking?]

We'll help them, Raps. But you need help t-

[Another clattering, the sound of broken class underfoot. But it's Rapunzel's hands gripping her tightly that grabs her attention the most. Almost on instinct, she whirls around with one hand reaching for the knife at her side, the other arm held out to her side, shielding and guiding Rapunzel behind her.

From the shadows, step by staggered step, a doppelganger's uncanny face comes into the light, with the rest of its gaunt, doll-like form following. Glassy-eyed gaze leveled at them as a cheerfully blank smile stretched wide across its otherwise porcelain white frame.

"Hi!"

Cassandra's own voice slipped through its thin, cracking lips.]

Raps-

[A ear-splitting squeal bounces off the walls. And the doppelganger suddenly rushes them with surprising speed, coming basically up to Cassandra's face in the blink of an eye.]

[13thcommander]

Yes, that's correct. Firearms aren't any use against titans, so we used blades instead. The gear with firearms was better for...

[Erwin trails off; the gear with firearms was for use against people, and if Falco has seen both, then it's been adapted by the Survey Corps at some point in the future. Erwin isn't sure how he feels about that; everything in life is a gamble, but he always tried to keep the Survey Corps above having to attack other humans. With so few of them left behind the walls, it hadn't seemed right, not unless they were attacked first.]

Which one did you see them using most recently, if you don't mind me asking?

[13thcommander]

[Then it would have been the first time Levi ever gave an enemy what they wanted, and given how he looks afterwards, Erwin isn't going to fault him for it.]

[Erwin comes to a stop, and the sound does too. He slowly turns in a circle; the sound follows him. It's only when he turns his head, trying to find its source, that it gets fainter, and even then, only barely. When he straightens his head back up, the sound is back to the same volume.]

[Very gently, Erwin rests his head on Levi's back, pressing his ear against him. That makes the sound the loudest it's been yet, and Erwin's guts shrivel with horror.]

It's coming from you.

[What the actual fuck? Erwin wants to strip Levi down, look for more surgical scars, to see where this sound might be coming from, but they don't have time. After a moment's thought, he lifts his head, readjusts Levi on his shoulder, and keeps going, his pace faster and more jostling this time.]

[freeflight]

[ That's exactly it.

There's a shudder that runs through him as Erwin confirms what's clear. There's a high pitched shrill sound in his ears that has nothing to do with the sounds of whatever had been shoved inside him. The absolute bastards, he'd just thought- ]

Thought they just cut me up... [ His words are all the quieter now, slurring together a little. It'd just been a nasty gut wound his captors had made and stitched up, he'd thought, not like the shit they'd done with his arms and legs. He can make out some scuttling sound in the distance, maybe behind them, but he can't pin it down. Lifting his head takes too much energy. Anything he does would just slow Erwin down, and arguing with him in the field wouldn't get him anywhere. ]

[righthandstand]

[Okuyasu lets go of her, slowly, checking if she is able to continue standing or if she has to sit down. If she lives, he has to repay her for saving his life. This lady went out of her way to save a kid she barely knew.

He wonders if this is what his mom would have been like if she had lived.]

M-maybe we can take you to a hospital! Hold on. [Climbing a ladder is not difficult; he is shaking from recent events, but he ascends at a steady pace. Once he reaches the exit hatch, he shoves it over, revealing the sky.

It had been so long since he was outside.

He quickly pulls himself up and onto the ground, where he collapses and closes his eyes.]

[grice]

[ falco doesn't expect kindness onto him, but he does selflessly offer it to others. a sign that he should perk up and pay attention to his surroundings again, as much as he could before the smell would start up again, he plants himself right at back of his cage and offers, with more firmness, if not splotchy and oddly said: ]

. . . Yes, sir. [ he had to do what he can, but he wasn't about to say he regretted saying anything. it's something he'd like to be reminded of. something he could hear colt telling him. either way, now the important stuff, keeping his voice down to a hush. ] Do you need t'stay awake?

[ he could help, with. talking, he supposes. ]

[grice]

[ falco responds diligently enough, no pause: ]

The swords. I was helping Mister Levi and some other soldiers . . . And there were a lot of titans involved. [ that story might be too large to explain in one go, so he keeps it simple as he subtly places with blanket fabric between his fingers. ] But the first time I saw them, they were firearms. It was in my home, in Marley.

[ and then, quietly, he realizes where this has gone, turns his head slowly up to meet erwin's gaze and. his heart feels heavy every time he thinks about it. all those people who were hurt or killed and didn't know why . . . ]

. . . Marley attacked Paradis first. If they waited— Marley would've attacked again. The first time they breached the walls, it was only a Recon mission. [ and the damage that was done was hideously destructive. ] I'm not saying any of it was in the right, but . . . Your people were defending themselves, sir.

[ there's no excuse for killing, but they were in the middle of a war. he understood that. he didn't want either side to be harmed, but he knows it for what it is. he's still sorry for it. ]

[freeflight]

Nn. [ That’s a no, likely, and he starts to fall quiet aside from his audible, stressed breathing. He isn’t lucky enough to properly pass out, but it’d be easy to mistake him for doing just that when his eyes slide shut.

But there’s something else to say, more than he’s already demanded, and he manages with mumbled words that slur together, ] Been doing a good job. Focus on that.

[ Praise might be extremely rare from him, but it’s genuine when it happens. ]

[peninhand]

[ She didn't need hospital, thank goodness. She was just very, very tired.

She smiles when she sees the night sky's light peek through the hatch Okuyasu opened. He's safe. Probably her time to get out now.

Unfortunately...?

Before she can climb the ladder, she collapses onto the ground, unconscious. Now that she no longer had someone else to look after, it was as if her mind had lost what little energy had kept her going up until now. Whoever passes by next will probably wake her up. That certainly won't be Okuyasu seeing how he passed out as well. ]

[grice]

[ he hopes to god there won't be a next time, but falco knows that's too much to ask from a world that goes constantly insurgent no matter where they are. his attention is high and his eyes fixed. that . . .

that was praise he never wanted to go to waste. if there's ever a next time, in whatever perilous circumstance it was— falco hoped that he'd be able to protect him. ]

I'll keep watch.

[ it's the last thing he says before resting his numb maw and allowing levi some time and audible peace to rest (although it was laughable to call it that). he'll keep watch, his psych might falter, humanly, the longer they were down here— but he doesn't forget this. ]

[blackscales]

Wrathion shakes his head at the first question. The knife he has isn't even one designed to be wielded in this way -- it looks distinctly like a kitchen knife. Beggars can't be choosers, however, and Wrathion would rather be armed with a kitchen knife than not at all.

The second prompt has him glance back. In the dim light, his features furrow.

"Several of them. Be on your guard, they are more intelligent than we might give them credit for."

Carefully he begins to step forward, pushing his way back through into the operating room and trying not to let his eyes linger on the contents. The goal is to get out safely, now, not to dwell too heavily on this place. They'll learn nothing by getting trapped and dying here.

No worries!

[blackscales]

I'm simply worried about someone getting hurt.

[ A statement that manages to be light but also threatening. Daylight told him to play nice. He's beginning to reach the limits of nice, but just about holding it still. ]

But perhaps, officer, now that you know people do still go down there you can do something about it.

[demonicmiracle]

[He manages to catch the wipes with his left hand, grateful that even made human, he seems to have retained his ambidexterity. Mostly because he would've been embarrassed to drop something in front of Archer.]

The ones of us that went missing, from the looks of things.

[That's what the knives are being used on, he means.

Pushing his sleeve up, he makes an attempt to wipe as much of the blood off as possible, only pausing to grimace at Archer drinking rubbing alcohol. He's had his fair share of strong booze, but — that seems unnecessary.

Still, he holds his arm out.]

You watched me get my bloody fingers cut off without screaming. I'll be fine.

[He's not going scream about a bit of rubbing alcohol in a wound.]

[fanoperator]

Lifting his head with a tired but automatic smile, ready to be friendly and sweet even though he's exhausted, Huaisang nods at the question, studying this stranger curiously. "There should be, yes. I'll show you."

He rises, cup still in hand, and leads the stranger to the kitchen, pointing at the dregs of the coffee left in the pot. Though it might be polite to refresh the pot, Huaisang simply doesn't know how.

Setting down his own cup, Huaisang performs a brief little bow, arms lifted in front of him with his palms facing toward his own chest. "Huaisang of Qinghe greets you."

[vampirella]

You're one that got taken, aren't you?

( look, she might not have helped out whatsoever or even expressed much concern over the missing. that doesn't mean she didn't keep herself abreast of the situation, however. look, she's a survivor, and she's in a stupid squishy body again. she needs to know what to avoid if she doesn't want to end up as one of the unlucky few.

she's heard plenty of horror stories about what happened to the abducted, mostly through the network. she hasn't had to face anyone in person, though. and that it's a little kid seems especially brutal. she scans the spot he tries to reveal, for signs of the surgery itself, for some kind of tell. ) So they surgically implanted some sort of device that yells at you for picking up cheap porn novels?

( what the fuck? why??? )

[spaghettimonster]

[Papyrus drags his feet briefly at the idea of a network, and looks up at the walls and ceilings like he'll catch telltale bits of dust dropping as mannequins scurry in unseen tunnels. He only falls behind a couple paces before scurrying to catch up, and doesn't notice the hint of an echoing scurry somewhere.]

At least the doll part. [He has to agree with that much, there's probably not any doll parents making doll babies. Not in this world.] But however they're moving... they're really good at voices. Did you hear...?

[Not to name names, but he's heard some voices he hasn't heard in months, and thinking of it is just another pile of unsettled on what's already an uncomfortably large heap of unsettled.]

[13thcommander]

[Erwin is quiet for a few minutes after Falco finishes. He knew most of this already, but hearing it from someone on the opposing side, someone who would have ended up fighting against them (but is now somehow on their side? he's going to have to get the full story at some point), is another perspective altogether.]

I wasn't there. When the first Wall fell.

[He stares off into space, looking at nothing, and his voice goes quiet.]

The Survey Corps was out beyond the Wall when the attack happened. It was either planned, or a horrible coincidence. We weren't there for the first few hours, and it was... a massacre.

[He remembers riding back into Shiganshina, and the chaos and horror they found there. He remembers the three days in the saddle after that, doing everything they could to get civilians out of harm's way, and suffering catastrophic casualties doing it. He remembers the tattered remnants of the Corps limping behind Wall Rose, and getting handed the reins and told to rebuild, and how everything changed.]

[But he also remembers a pair of young Survey Corps recruits, barely out of childhood, and how, for the few weeks they'd been members, they'd been good soldiers.]

War is horrible for everyone. Only someone who has been there can really understand it.

[13thcommander]

[He's going to find them. Erwin is going to find whoever did this to Levi, and he's going to make them pay for it. This is personal now, more personal than it's ever been before, and Erwin isn't going to let it go.]

[But that's all for later. First, they have to get out of here. Erwin can hear the scuttling too, and gets the sense they're being watched, but he doesn't slow down. If anything, his pace keeps up, and when something skitters at his feet from the shadows, Erwin barely breaks stride when he stomps down on it, leaving it cracked and shivering behind them.]

We'll get it out. We'll figure out a way to fix it.

[fanoperator]

"You're doing plenty of work," Huaisang disagrees, brow furrowed with gentle empathy. "It's just a different kind. Be sure you're getting enough sleep. And... if you want a hug. I know how important it can be to have human contact."

His smile is sad but optimistic nonetheless, studying Takame as he looks up at him. "I'm Huaisang, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you."

[undiagnosed]

No, he wasn't here-- he died years ago... [archer mutters, then stops and frowns when he realises what crowley actually meant. he squeezes his eyes closed for a moment, then pours some of the rubbing alcohol onto the cleanest cloth he could find in the cabinet and finishes wiping the wound down before he starts wrapping it up. archer's far more careful than his entire... personality implies he would be when it comes to wrapping up wounds in the field and while it's not perfect, it's clearly practiced.] So, I guess they've upgraded from passive aggressive to creepy basement surgery. I suddenly don't feel so paranoid about hiding guns everywhere at my place.

[shalamayne]

Anduin would have wielded a butter knife or a teaspoon if that had been all there was to hand, so he cannot truly judge Wrathion for what looks like a kitchen knife. Some weapon is better than no weapon and he gives a small nod at the mention of being on his guard. The last few days(?) have been awful and it doesn't end yet, Anduin knowing he won't be comfortable until he's back in his assigned "home".

Even then that's not safe though he banishes that thought, instead opting to blatantly ignore his current location of walking through the operating room. Blue eyes remain steadfastly focused on the way ahead, though the remnants of a song do echo through the young King's mind as they make their way through the room.

"The last thing we need is for them to be more intelligent, though we shall deal with them should we cross paths. I would suspect those in charge here will have taken the important things with them by now." Which brings up another question for later. How did they know the rescuers were coming? Anduin rubs the back of his neck, still vaguely surprised by the lack of hair.

It's only when they reach the next room that Anduin pauses, ears straining as he hears something faint from further down the hallway. "Voices?"

[grice]

[ porn solicits a series of fast beeps before silencing underneath his clothes, and now that they were in a place that he was able to show it without any other townie eyes on them, the jacket is shrugged off and pinched between his knees. he still makes sure to adjust his scarf, but with the jacket collar absent in helping him create extra cover— the way the scarf nearly hangs off an edge connected to where his mouth should be is irregular.

now that he thinks about it, ]

It might be anything that isn't supposed to be for kids.

[ it did the same thing at the supermarket, and he possibly experimented a few times to see what it was that would actually make him beep (he just didn't think these romance novels were actually explicit content). falco can now properly begin bunching the fabric of his shirt up and lifts until nearly all of his back is exposed, arched to make it easier to spot. right at the middle going up, carmilla would be able to quickly locate the two stitched areas: a few inches of incision across each shoulder blade. ]

—I don't know what the other side is. It hasn't beeped.

[grice]

[ words never rang more truthful. falco tries to secure the wince in his features, but it still settles down to sympathetic and aware on the same personal level. so much that, after a small pause as he held and curled his fingers into one another, ]

Did you have to start early, too?

[sunborne]

It’s been quiet here, mostly. No one has bothered us and everyone is getting a breather. [ thank god for that. daylight is still smarting he had to leave his baseball bat behind in the undergrounds, meaning he has no go-to weapon.

much as he wants to go back down and get it, he knows it’s probably not the best time to do so. not when they don’t have confirmation about how many dopplegangers are there and what else is hanging out with them.

just as he plugs in and switches on the coffee maker — it hisses and groans, like it’s (rightfully) angry at his presence — daylight sees the bag of sugar nearly topple over. ] What about you? How have you been? Got a chance to talk to your friend yet?

Wrathion was absolutely losing his shit when he realised you were missing, buddy.

[ oh yeah. he is going to snitch on wrathion. ]

[shalamayne]

Good. I would not put it past those here to do something when we are at a low point but I am grateful that for now they're holding back.

[ Anduin has seen armies come back from fighting before now, he's even been there himself. It's a time to lick wounds and to gather themselves back up for the next round and here it seems to be no different. He just knows that not everyone here is used to such things and even he's feeling tired at the thought. How many more will be hurt before they find a way home?

The hissing coffee machine gets a glance, Anduin unaware that the contraption is about to be this town's next victim.]

Friend? Oh, Wrathion, yes. He helped me out of that place and for that I could not be more thankful.

Losing his shit...?

[ Blond eyebrows raise at that comment, Anduin can get the gist of it but it's not one he's heard before. That and if Wrathion lost his cool in front of other people, that is worth hearing about.]