TEST DRIVE MEME, FEBRUARY 2017.

[officialnotice]

TEST DRIVE MEME

There was an accident. That's basically the only thing you know for certain. Maybe a car wreck - metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Or maybe there was an explosion. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. You can't can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can remember.

It's also the last thing you remember from before you wake up here.

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone. Instead, you're in a hospital bed – the nursing staff greets you with a cheerful smile.

Welcome to Wayward Pines, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here.

option one       WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES

The hospital staff had seemed very friendly, but ultimately unhelpful when it came to answering your questions, insisting you shouldn't worry about such things, and that it was smarter to just rest until you'd fully recovered.

That was some time ago. You've since managed to leave the hospital – either via escape, or simply by waiting patiently and filling out paperwork until they finally agreed to release you. Now you've found yourself in the small but hearty town of Wayward Pines, Idaho. It's a charming little place, and the people there are all friendly enough, more than willing to greet you on the street, or give you directions if you need them.

Unless you're asking for directions out of town, of course.

Some will simply smile and give you a hearty pat on the shoulder and ask why you'd ever want to do a thing like that? Others will get quiet for a moment, and direct you to the nearest sign posted near the doorway of every building.

Don't bother taking the road, either. Whether you walk or get your hands on a vehicle, you won't get anywhere. The road simply takes you away from town for a short while before looping around and bringing you right back in.

There's no use questioning things, and it seems pretty useless to try to leave. So really, why not stay a while? Everyone's convinced that you'll find something to love in Wayward Pines.

(For the purposes of this test drive, you're welcome to handwave the existence of basically any local business or activity.)

option two             INTO THE WOODS

You've just heard a scream from the woods.

I mean, it could've been an animal. There's bound to be some kind of wildlife amongst the trees, right? But then again, it did sound awfully... human.

Though all of the locals nearby conceal a flinch at the sound, they'll assure you it's nothing, if you ask them. Why, you're probably just hearing things! (But with an anxious undertone of stop asking questions.) If you're curious, though, and brave enough to go see, they won't make any move to stop you from going into the wooded area surrounding the town.

The trees are tall, and their branches are thick enough to block out a significant amount of sunlight from breaking through the canopy, leaving the forest floor a little dimmer and cooler than the streets of town.

Whatever the source of the scream was, you won't be able to find it out here. An experienced hunter might notice some signs of a struggle, and a few faint boot prints, but they don't really seem to lead anywhere in particular.

What you will find, if you walk far enough, is a fence. A big one - at least 30 feet tall, made of metal and concrete. It goes on quite a ways in either direction as well; follow the wall far enough, and you'll see that it connects with the steep, sheer cliffs that surround the rest of Wayward Pines, effectively boxing the town in.

In actuality, you'll probably feel it before you see it. A full 500 yards from the wall, when it's hardly a shadowy smudge through the trees, you start to feel a little bit tired, a little bit weak. Trouble is, the closer you get, the weaker you feel - like the wall itself is sapping the strength out of you, and the closer you get, the worse it feels. Any powers you may have had grow weaker in kind as you make your way to the fence, but even ordinary humans will find their strength sapping away. By the time you're close enough to read the signs and to feel the crackle of electricity radiating from the thick wires criss-crossing the wall's metal surface, you're too weak to stand.

Do you crawl closer still and risk electrocution, or do you crawl away and assess the situation once you're far enough from the fence to be able to stand?

option three         IT'S A COUPLE OF FLAKES

There's nothing particularly insidious about the inch of snow that settles over the town one night while everyone sleeps. Kids run outside to have snowball fights and make snow angels, neighbors wave across to you as they shovel their driveway, the local coffee shop runs a 2 for 1 deal on hot cocoa. Snow crunches under your feet at your walk down the street and the cold bite in the air is revitalizing.

The next morning, there's a few more inches of snow. And then a few more the day after that. By the end of the week the snow is a good three feet deep and the entire experience has lost its novelty. Wayward Pines only has a single street plow to its name, and even when the streets are clear, surprise patches of black ice make travel downright dangerous if you aren't prepared. No special sale on hot cocoa can possibly be worth trudging through knee high snow drifts (even your most consciences neighbors can't keep up on the shoveling anymore).

And the power starts to fail in some of the houses. Sure, the repairman promises to stop by as soon as he can, but you're hardly to first person to call him today and he won't be able to pencil you in until tomorrow at the earliest, and what are you going to do about the cold until then? Maybe your neighbor's heat is still on, or maybe that trek to the coffee shop is looking more appealing by the second.

Either way it's time to layer your clothes, watch your step, and hope that Spring to comes early. And try to ignore that kid double dog daring you to lick a flagpole, it just won't end well.

option four            ON THE NETWORK

Though it's not as high-tech as you might be used to (or hell, maybe you're ren faire and it's centuries beyond anything you've seen), but Wayward Pines does in fact have a network to accommodate its citizens.

Go ahead, post a network post! Just note that the network, at current, is audio-only and can only be accessed from the telephones in each character's home.

( a few notes )

Welcome to our second test drive here in The Pines! Just one important thing to note this time:

Upon arrival in Wayward Pines, characters find themselves struggling to remember entirely who they were or where they came from. Memories return progressively over the next two weeks. You're welcome to play with this mechanic in any of these prompts, but it's definitely not mandatory! For more details on this temporary memory loss, see our FAQ.

Comments

Skye | Agents of SHIELD

[morethan084]

Option Two

[Skye was always too curious for her own good, so despite the way the locals tried to brush off that terrifying scream, Skye ignored their warnings. None of this sat well with her, especially the lack of animals the further in she went. Like they had all run away from whatever might be out there. There’s a part of her that’s regretting this, especially since she has no weapon on her person to protect herself.

The fence is also something that makes her instincts scream at her that this was not good. At first when she starts to feel drowsy and woozy she thinks it’s because she’s been in here for hours and hasn’t had anything since lunch. Except that she’s feeling worse by the second and that could not be normal. Spotting the fence, Skye had to wonder if it was giving off something to make her feel this way. Knees buckling, Skye attempts to reach out and grab onto a nearby tree but her finger tips just brush the trunk of the tree before she’s suddenly on the ground.

This was not good. Honestly she's not sure if she's hallucinating or if she actually heard someone. Either way, she tries to talk as loudly as she can. Dread filling her when she realized she could actually be in danger and her having absolutely no chance of putting up a fight.]

Hello? Is someone there?

Option Three

[Snow has lost all its magic the older Skye has gotten, unless she has nowhere to be. Then it’s great. Not so great when your back and arms are aching the next after trying to help shovel only for it to pile up again. She had just finished talking a hot bath when she gets out of the bathroom and realizes the TV she had left on is no longer on and the light over the stove is out. Shit. She had heard of some of the other neighbors losing power and now it seemed it was her turn to have some fun.

Getting dressed and feeling tense all over again, Skye made her way out of the house. Nearly sliding down the stairs thanks to the stupid ice. Making her way down the street, there were a few close calls either by her sliding towards someone, or them sliding towards her. She just needed to get to Java Joe’s, then maybe her grumpiness would lessen. Unsurprisingly it was busy when she arrived, but when the warm hit her she didn’t give a shit if she had to stand.]

3

[toten_sie]

[ During one of those slides, a rather large hand reaches out to try and catch her. ]

Hey, are you all right?

[ The owner of said hand is tall, very very tall, and dressed in an old style military coat from the early part of the 20th century along with a heavy scarf that covers most of the bottom of his face and a flop-eared hat that also looks military-issued. Despite the scarf, though, the top half of his face is visible enough to show off a massive scar over his nose and cheeks, warm brown eyes, and a fringe of dark hair. ]

It's a bit hard to get around out here. Do you need help getting somewhere?

Amy Elliot-Dunne | Gone Girl

[unfindable]

( i. Welcome to Wayward Pines )

[ They tell her there was an accident. That she isn't badly injured, that she managed to come out of it with only minor cuts and bruises, but she'd still have to stay in the hospital for a few days.

Recovery time, they call it.

Amy goes along with it for the few days, quietly observing and obediently listening to whatever the nurses and other staff tell her to do -- she's good at this, she feels like she's played this different Amy role before, but whenever she tries to recall the memory that the feeling is tied to, she hits a mental brick wall. And before too long, she's released, collected her things and free to explore the world.

As long as that world doesn't take her beyond the fence, she's been briefly warned.

Wayward Pines looks familiar in the way that most small towns do and while none of the names of the shops she passes register in her mind as ones she knows, there's an eerie feeling that makes her believe she does. The feeling makes her stop in front of a small bakery, staring blankly at the various pastries displayed in the window.

Until something clicks in her head, a sudden rush of anger surging through her as disconnected memories quickly flash through her mind, like a slideshow set to move in fast-forward. One sticks out in particular, though and she whispers softly. ]

That asshole.

[ To anyone that happens to walk by and hear her, she just seems very angry at baked goods. ]


( iv. On the Network )

[ Ring ring ring. Don't those rules say you have to pick it up when it does that? When you do, there's a soft, mildly amused voice on the other end. ]

There's a blizzard outside and you have no heat in your house. What do you do?

A. Throw all of your belongings into the fireplace and set them ablaze.
B. Attempt to fix the heat yourself.
C. Become your neighbor's unwanted houseguest.
D. Ply yourself with wine until you no longer notice the cold.

[ Something about this sort of silly questioning feels natural to her. ]

Network

[morethan084]

[Skye had taken to reading a book, that's how bored she was, when the phone rang. Jolting out of her daze, she reached for the phone quickly.]

D sounds like the best idea.

You've got wine over there?

[What if she wants to become the unwanted house guest?]

jesse custer | preacher

[brokepromise]

» the woods.

[When you get down to it, Jesse never was good at doing what he was told. Of course, folks around here certainly won't say don't go out there or just forget you heard anything — Jesse doesn't think a single one of them would have the spine enough to say it directly — but they don't need to.]

[So, that's why he's out here in the woods. Mind you, he did make an effort to ignore the first scream as implicitly advised. Weirder shit's happened to him that hearing screams sure as hell isn't anything for him to get worked up about. It's not like he lacks all common sense and he can't figure out that some things are best left alone. But it happens again, and again, and again. Was he really supposed to leave things be?]

[He has no idea where he's headed. The screaming's stopped already, and with the way even the smallest of noise tends to carry through the woods, determining where it was even coming from beyond the vague direction of somewhere out there with the trees is an impossible task. But he walks. And he walks. And then he gets to feeling a little funny. He doesn't know what exactly it is, but he doesn't feel quite as full of energy as he did maybe fifteen minutes ago.]

[Before it gets too bad, he decides it's as good a time as any to stop for a cigarette break. While he's stopped, leaned up against a tree, he takes a moment to survey the woods. It's quiet out here. Quieter than it probably should be. The screaming right about now would be preferable to the deafening silence of the woods. Tossing his cigarette to the ground — because he apparently doesn't buy into the bear's propaganda any better than Wayward Pines' propaganda — he grinds it out with his boot, muttering,]

The hell am I doing out here?

» it's a couple of flakes.

[The snow isn't so bad, Jesse decides. It's a nice, refreshing change of pace. It's not like he can't survive some friendly conversation on his way for that hot cocoa, or even pelt some snowballs back at some kids (or some adults) who are certainly up to no good.]

[That's at the start of the week.]

[By the end of the week, Jesse is like most residents of the town: he's had enough. But having enough does not somehow magically grant him the power of electricity. Nor does it motivate the repairman to get his ass over any sooner. Jesse spends about twenty minutes trying to tolerate the lack of heat in his house, but that's about all he can take before he's outside.]

[He's not on his way to the coffee shop. No, he's trudging through the snow to head to the hardware store, and occasionally grumbling to himself about both the clear overcharging going on for sub-par service from the local repairman. He might admit later that he's being a little unfair, but while he's got snow steadily finding its way into his shoes as he wades through the un-plowed sidewalks, he can't exactly be bothered with being fair. Nothing feels fair right now anyway, so why should he be fair?]

woods.

[deshabille]

Oh, something terribly heroic, I think.

[She seems to appear out of nowhere. In fact, she's just appeared from behind the tree, attracted by cigarette smoke as well as the fact that there's really no one else out here. That was certainly part of her reasoning.]

[She looks at him with bright eyes--sharp and curious. She's terribly pale, too. But that doesn't mean much.]

Share?

Prokopenko | The Raven Cycle cw: drugs

[chortling]

Option One

[The only thing that Prokopenko knows for sure is that he should be dead. He's not exactly sure where that knowledge comes from. Maybe the reason is that he woke up in a hospital with just barely any recollection of who he is, no idea where he is or if he should be there at all. He's antsy, like something important isn't quite there. Maybe that's how he usually feels. He wanders aimlessly around town, feeling tempted to graffiti vulgarities on every one of those stupid signs he sees everywhere. It makes him angry -- again, he's not sure why, though. Maybe it's just becuase this is all so inconvenient and annoying.

He knows he wants a hit of something but this doesn't seem like the town that has anything even if he was going to go around asking.]

Fucking bullshit. [ The words are only sort of appropriately sulky for how he feels, crossing his arms as he drops down onto a bench outside of one of the restaurants. Maybe he should get some food since it's actually smelling good enough to make him well aware of the fact he's hungry. ]

Option Three

[ There's nothing more boring than the snow and the lack of drugs. He's being taunted by his desire for coke with some other white shit that is not what he wants to snort. He's bundled up, shivering and cursing the stupid weather. There's obviously not much to do out since he's not the only one meandering around the town looking cold as fuck. ]

Hey! Yo. Come over here.

[ He's completely going to try and get someone to lick a telephone pole for the shits and giggles of it. ]

Option Four

What the fuck is with this snow? Go lick a telephone pole.

Wildcard

[ Hit me with something different if you want. Will match styles/tenses. ]

one

[smudging]

[ It doesn't take long for Noah to become bored with flipping through television channels and skateboarding in front of his own house -- although, when it comes to the latter, it's not so much boredom that stops him, but the same strange unsettling feeling that had been creeping up more and more often. It makes something inside of him coil tightly, bringing on a wave of what he assumes is nausea.

Motion sickness, maybe? Nothing's been quite right since that Accident.

So, where does a 17-year-old go when he's bored? When there's literally only one main street in town (aptly named Main St, of course.) there's very few options, and he's probably on his second trip down it when he hears someone say something, although he doesn't catch what. Perhaps it's meant for someone else, but he's pretty sure he's the only person within hearing distance. ]

Huh? [ He looks around. Nope, he's definitely the only one standing here. ] Were you talking to me?

Alfred Graves | X Company

[sensatory]

Option One

[ The first thing that Alfred had tried to do was leave. Of course, it had been an unsuccessful feat and he ended up back right around where he'd started. There is something about this town that makes him feel uneasy, unsettled. His mind feels as if it is filled with empty rooms that should be full of life or something. He's not sure what he is missing, only that many things are gone.

All that he remembers is that he had been in France with Aurora. She had been in a beautiful yellow dress. They were on a clandestine mission and she said his name like she meant something else.

Now that he's back where he started, he looks around. He's already cataloged everything about Main Street, every little detail. He hasn't met anyone but he's heard them, can recognize several distinct voices. Despite that, there is a feeling of being lost. He knows where supposedly, his house is but as he walks in that direction it doesn't give him the feeling or sense of going home. ]

Option Two

Alfred had followed the scream. He kept going even after the sound had died away, he noticed the way forest ground flora was disturbed. There was a fence, the electric buzz made his ears ring sending an uncomfortable sensation through him. He walked just a little further, catching sight of the sign. He felt tired but he stood there a little longer. It was a strange thing.

He doesn't stay too close, he noticed the way his body was feeling drained and his mind tiring quickly so he retreated back. It was a curious thing. It would be hard to find out more in a town like this where everyone was either in the same situation as he or were complicit in whatever this was.

There was a tree close enough that he sank down against it, wondering when his breathing had become labored. Everything about this wall made him feel on edge but the reasons were just out of his grasp, another thing that was unsettling.

Wildcard

[Hit me with your best shot.]

[unfindable]

[ From her vantage point on a nearby bench, Amy had noticed the man trying to leave, watching him follow the one main road out of the town only to end up coming right back up it a few moments later and confusion briefly flashes across her face. The staff at the hospital had warned her about trying to leave, but she'd yet to actually try it herself. She was still acting as the silent observer, playing along with the role of 'obedient townsfolk' until she had figured out exactly what was going on.

Things just didn't feel right, things hadn't felt right since she'd woken up in the hospital a few days prior. Her memories felt... incomplete, like there were giant pieces missing from them and the more questions that she asked, the less answers she received. It frustrated her, made her blood start to boil. If she wanted answers she'd have to get them herself.

So, she gets up from her spot on the bench and follows after the man, eventually catching up until he's only a few steps behind him. ] Excuse me, [ Her voice is soft. Gentle, even. And the touch that lands on his shoulder is even softer. ] what was down that road?

Joseph Kavinsky 〉〉〉 The Raven Cycle (cw: drugs)

[mitsubishis]

one 〉〉〉

[ Listen. Some people have regular priorities. They worry about shit like getting home to their families or finding a road out of this idyllic M. Night Shyamalan-esque horror town. At the very least, they spend the better part of their long hours in recovery wondering how exactly they got there.

Kavinsky wastes no time with such concerns. Something far more pressing occupies him: the acquisition of mild-altering substances.

Before he's even officially released from the hospital, Kavinsky leaves his bed behind and goes trawling the halls for everything a shitty teenage thief might find interesting. Scalpels get swiped and tucked dangerously into the waistband of his boxers. Mystery pills disappear into his mouth. He picks a half-empty energy drink off the counter of the nurse's station and slurps it while he goes in search of the real treasure, peeking from door to door. There's got to be some oxy around here somewhere. Or a nitrous tank, maybe? ]

two 〉〉〉

[ It sounds like there's some crazy shit going down in the woods. Sane people head in the opposite direction of hideous screaming, generally, which means Kavinsky's walking right towards it. He's not a brave kid, this one. Not stupid, either. He's merely apathetic. His state of well-being did not matter to him when he first woke up in this place and it doesn't matter to him now.

He enters the woods without hesitation or proper hiking equipment, idly wondering if he'll stumble upon a murder scene. That would be cool. A lot cooler than a regular old bear attack or something. He's pretty sure a murder's super likely, though, because most of the citizens here seem brain-damaged in one way or another. Then again, so is he, but at least he hasn't lost his sense of curiosity along with his memories.

Sadly, Kavinsky doesn't find a murder scene or even a disemboweled deer. He finds a big fucking wall. Sure is a lot of wall. For a short while, he walks along the perimeter, thinking he might eventually find a guard tower like the kind they have in prison. Instead, his limbs become wobbly and he starts getting that mooshy roofie feeling. It's not a pleasant sensation at the best of times, and especially not when it's freezing and he's stumbling around in the wilderness.

When he can't hold himself upright anymore, he slurs out a curse and faceplants right into the dirt. ]

wildcard 〉〉〉

( Anything goes. Kavinsky is literal garbage and I'm sorry about that. )

2

[sensatory]

[ Alfred had followed the scream and looked over the wall. He didn't stay close to it long, moving away and toward a tree to rest. However, he sees the teen stumbling around and falling on his face near to him. He sighs to himself. The sense he gets from the kid isn't a particular pleasant one but he can't just leave him on his own either. ]

Do you need some help? [ Alfred questions from his spot sitting against a tree. First things first are to check if he's conscious. He can tell from here that he is still breathing, hearing the slight puffs of breath and seeing the slight movements of his back with each intake and exhale. ]

nancy wheeler. stranger things

[perfecting]

into the woods;

【 The scream sends a chill down her spine.

two images flash before her eyes, a cold, dark world within a tree, a monster without a face and a name that remains on her tongue, that she wants to scream ( Barb, Barb ).

Nancy knows only that name and that maybe, somehow, Barb is in the woods and she could find her. She arranges her bag on her shoulder and walks in, pushing leaves and twigs out of the way and yelling out for a name she cannot associate with a face.

( this is how you might meet her, a skinny teenage girls, walking and yelling just tat one name ).

Or perhaps you meet her when she reaches the fence, cleaning dirt off her knees and her cheeks ( she has fallen a moment ago, weak, limbs heavy ).

she will fall, once more, when she reaches the signs and she'll frown at them and try to crawl a little closer, trying to throw her bag against the fence. 】

it's a couple of flakes;

【 she has given up on getting her heat back.

instead, Nancy is wrapped in a pale blue wool coat and a scarf, hair pulled behind her in a ponytail, cheeks rosy from the cold.

it doesn't bother her. she remembers something, she realizes, a distorted picture that reminds her why she's doing ok now. she had known a far more terrible cold.

( there it is now. a cold, dark world and she is hiding behind a tree from someone, from something - )

if you're around shoveling, she might try and be social and speak up from where she sits by her window - 】

No one but you is trying, anymore.

network;

【 when she picks up the phone, her voice is trembling.

she steels her nerves and clears her throat but comes out short and ends up with an unsure, 】

Hello?

【 And you might hear a mumbled 'this is bullshit' about 10 seconds late. 】

two.

[coy]

Hey! Don't! [ caroline comes out of no where, blocking the bag from hitting the fence and moving towards the crawling girl. the wall's sapping-ness doesn't seem to affect her the same way. while her limbs feel heavy and she feels weaker, she's not forced to her hands and knees.

she moves, carefully, towards the girl, offering her hands.]

I heard you scream... Let me help you get out of here.

Dominique DiPierro | Mr Robot

[ask_alexa]

Option 1: In town
Dom's sitting at a table by the window in Java Joe's, a hot Americano and a scone in front of her, watching the passersby outside. Looking for—something. Someone. The itch to ask questions, to study, to investigate—it never stops. It's annoying, but it's also comfortable. It's as if it's the thing she was always meant to do.

Maybe she was a journalist. Or a detective. Or just a nosy bitch all up in everyone's business all the time; anything's possible.

As people come into the shop or pass her table, she glances up at them, occasionally meeting their gaze just a little too directly—as if they're someone she knows. Which she doesn't. It's another thing she can't seem to stop doing.

Option 2: Into the woods

When she heard the scream, Dom's hand went instantly to the place where a gun shoulder holster would be—a reflex as smooth and unthinking as an eyeblink. She'd think about that more, but the urge to see if someone's in trouble is stronger.

Now here she is lying in the ground, barely able to lift her head. That's what you get for following some random-ass boot prints, she thinks. She scrabbles a little in the dirt, trying to scoot herself backward. Maybe if she goes back the way she came, she'll be okay.

Kenzi Mailkov // Lost Girl

[onteamdyson]

[Option one]

[Kenzi hates hospitals. Like, hates them. You don't even understand. Waking up in a hospital bed with no idea what got her there is probably number three on her top ten list of worst fears, preceded only by waking up in a coffin or being forced to sit through an entire Carrie Underwood concert wearing pink cowboy boots and a denim skirt. What? It could happen! And that possibility, however slim, is downright horrifying.

Getting the frick away from that place had been priority number one, and she'd accomplished it fairly quickly. Now, instead of being in a scary hospital with zero idea how she got there, she was in some kind of charming, quaint, CREEPY town with zero idea how to get out. This is not the big city she's used to. Do people actually know each other here? Hi neighbour, can I borrow a cup of sugar? Gross.

The first two people she tried to interrogate were completely useless and sufficiently creepy. The sign they pointed her in the direction of was even creepier, so nothing's really sitting right with her at the moment.

She knows she should call someone, but ... can't quite remember who? Someone important. Whenever she tries to picture the face, all she can see is some fuzzy, fragmented image, kind of like those pixelated faces on COPS when they don't sign the consent form. Shit. Maybe the third time'll be the charm.

Kenzi stomps over to the nearest person and shouts,]

HEY! You, with the face! Any chance you know where the bus station is?!

[Option Two]

[Screams in horror movies are usually a clue that you should run the other way. Despite Kenzi's extensive horror movie knowledge, she makes the biggest mistake a young, super attractive, non-blonde heroine can make. She runs TOWARDS the scream! Idiot. Nice move, Kenzi. Way to let your stupid moral compass make the decisions before your self preservation kicks him. Wow.

She's mentally kicking herself as soon as she gets through the treeline, moving cautiously over twigs and rocks and all kinds of nature junk. No sign of a massacre.]

Hello? ... If this is some kind of hunting accident, Please do not shoot me. I'm not a deer!

[Deer don't talk. This isn't Disney. She holds her hands up defensively just in case, you never know what's hiding behind the trees.]

Also, if you're a bear or a wolf, do not even think about eating me! I'm way too cute to be a substantial meal!

[What? Doesn't hurt to believe in the possibility that wildlife understands human speech! Okay, she's panicking, shut up. This was a mistake, but she's gonna keep going for a while. Nothing better to do in town.

Oh, and... right, also someone might be hurt or dying. That's also a legit reason. Whatevs.]

ONE!!

[theworstmagician]

[ It's your lucky day, lady! You're talking to one of Hollywood's up and coming, future leading men! Or, at least, he's pretty sure that's what he is? Except he doesn't really remember the specifics of his career or anything. He just knows he's a star, or SHOULD BE a star.

So when some cute chick stomps over to him and addresses him by FACE, Marty shoots her a delighted grin. ]

You recognize my face, huh? [ THAT IS NOT AT ALL WHAT SHE SAID. ]

caroline forbes » the vampire diaries » tw: talk of blood

[coy]

option two.

[ the scream sends a spike of fear through her. it's so loud. too loud. in fact, everything feels louder than it should, feel brighter, smells stronger. everything feels more and she doesn't know why. but that sound cuts through the trees and she whips her head towards the direction it came (or thinks it came).

there's a little voice that tells her to walk away, not to go, to avoid danger. it's a voice she once to trusted, at least she used to. however, a bigger voice tells her to go, to help, to find out what it was since the other people in the town aren't being helpful. someone could need help. someone could be hurt.

she cuts through the forest, getting deeper before she calls out--] Hello? Is anyone out there? Are you okay? [ she doesn't pay attention to where she's going and she scratches her arm, wincing and sucking in a sharp breath as she looks down at the blood on her arm.

normally? caroline's the sort to shy away from blood but for some reason, she feels drawn to looking at it. in fact, she feels her stomach twist, in hunger, not nausea. she licks her lips for a moment before she shakes her head, brow furrowed. and normally? she'd have focused on that feeling if it weren't for the fact that the gash on her arm slowly started to close, flesh and skin threading back together before her eyes. ]

What-- [ the vampire who forgot she's a vampire gasps out loud.]

option four.

[ caroline's in her home, settled because... she's always been here, right? it's been her home for a while now, right? and yet...]

Is there something going around? A flu maybe? I feel sort of... off. [ she murmurs.] Maybe it's a migraine. [ what with the light and sound sensitivity she's experiencing. except she can't seem to stop eating, as in all-you-can-eat-buffet appetite. and nothing helps.]

4

[sensatory]

[ Alfred looks at the phone when it rings. Of course, he can vividly recall the sign that says `ALWAYS ANSWER THE PHONE IF IT RINGS.` However, this is the first time the phone has rung, he is sure of that. He would surely recall if he had ever answered this particular phone before, wouldn't he? ]

What exactly are your symptoms? [ After all, the things that she listed are anything but descript. ]

Rachel Morgan | The Hollows

[smuttywitch]

option one
[while Rachel feels like she should have fought harder for something that wasn't clear as mud from the people at the hospital, she just wanted out. Being in the hospital scared her more than not knowing where she was or what had happened. It remined her of being a little kid. She didn't know why, really. She'd just been sick a lot, and sure she'd gotten better, but that didn't change the fact that hospitals sucked dishwater.

So when they finally let her go--right when she'd been thinking of trying to find a way to sneak out, although she doesn't know how she could ever do that--she all but runs out the door. She has an easy time promising with a simle that she's not even thinking about the woods. She just wants out.

She's been half-running through town for a little while, trying to get that cold disenfectant smell that makes her feel helpless for a reason she can't explain out of her nose, when her feet seem to stop of their accord in front of...

A pizza parlor. She's not even hungry though. But before she even knows what she's doing, she's raising her right arm and looking at the charm bracelet there. She'd curled that arm in tight when she was in the hospital, irrationally afraid one of the nurses might take it away while they were examining her. Now, she remembers why]

Kisten. [the word is a gasp, a sob, almost a curse all rolled up in one. She finds her other hand gripping the side of the building, forehead scraping against cold brick, as the memory hits like...

Like something she feels like she should have a word for, but doesn't. It doesn't matter, because it wouldnt' change the fact that it hurts.]

option three
[Ivy would have planned for this rang through her mind, out of the blue, as she very grumpily put on the heaviest clothes she could find which still seemed to do nothing to keep out the change. The hell? Yeah, she remembered her roommate...friend...but she didn't know why she would have known how to deal with this any better than Rachel herself.

Whatever. She was getting some hot cocoa in her now.

Or she would, if half way there her stupid boots--which seemed to be great for running around and looking hot but apparently had crap traction--hadn't gone right out from under her and sent her to her ass]

Crap on toast. [she grumbled as she tried to stand, hoping no one had seen that]

wildcard
[have the hotheaded doesn't-yet-recall-she's-a-witch anywhere else you want!]

[angelic_archer]

[The boots remind him of someone, but Alec figure out why. A highly inappropriate innuendo drifts through his mind - not related to the redhead, but someone who always made him sigh fondly - as he hurries toward her.

The snow and ice should be slowing him down but Alec moves across it easily. He briefly wonders about it. Is he used to the weather? No, that doesn't seem like the right answer, but he's not sure what else coudl be. Offering her his hand, Alec gives her a wry smile.]

I haven't heard that one before.

phosphophyllite | houseki no kuni

[metamorphisms]

( 1 )

[ he was exhausted.

it was about as simple as that. his mind, his body, his everything. not only because his memories were a mess and what he could remember was faint, jumbled, or overwhelming loud but because-

everything was wrong. well, not everything. everyone. and they didn't seem to mind that he was something else. his appearance was glaringly not... what? human. human, that was... no. he couldn't remember.

seated on a bench on a quiet street- finally -phos sighed. he looked at his hands, clenched and unclenched them. and sighed again. eventually he got tired of his own sighing. ]

An accident. I still... [ it was so frustrating. that hospital experience, something he didn't even want to think about- he had thought everything would become better, clearer when he got out but it didn't. eventually he flopped back on the bench, his eyes staring up into an obnoxiously pretty sky. the sun glinted off of his hair and the warmth of it, if just for a second, made the entire day seem a little less exhausting

maybe he'd just sit here forever. but no, he couldn't. he had to do something. ]

The best I can hope is that... [ he groaned. ] I don't know. How could I? I'll just have to keep looking. [ looking for what he didn't know either, but it would be better than sitting there the rest of the day. as he started to stand he realized he could hear footsteps and was instantly on guard. he wasn't looking forward to dealing with any more friendly locals. ]


( 2 )

[ it was getting clearer. and more unpleasant. every ounce of phos's being screamed leave but no one was cooperating on that front. he had no leads. no real information other than getting information was a no-no, which meant he wanted to know exactly what was going on in wayward pines even more. and more importantly, how to get out.

he could almost hear a voice chastising him as he entered the woods, not one of those random passerby's but the voice of someone he knew. clearer, the memories were getting clearer but... he needed to focus. phos wasn't exactly able to be stealthy in a place like this after all, he simply stuck out too much. the best that he could do was shoulder on before someone came and stopped him from investigating the eerie noise that had jolted him out of his explorations. well, assuming someone did try to stop him. he might just be feeling paranoid but really, with how people had been acting, he doubted it.

it wasn't something he noticed right away, but as phos traveled farther he realized that he was feeling weaker. his body, already heavy, began to sag. and just when it seemed like the trees were finally going to part-

his body collapsed. he yelped. it wasn't a quiet sound, not just because of him shouting either- his body just didn't sound like a human's as he fell, instead it was the thud of something more solid. the cushion of the forest floor was nice and all but... he struggled to rise onto his hands and knees. if only he wasn't so heavy. ]

I'm not getting anywhere at this rate. [ he grit his teeth and was finally able to stand-

...but when he walked forward a bit more he just fell again. dammit. he made a loud groan of frustration.

this was just embarrassing. ]


( wildcard )

[ anything else you might want! just pm me/plurk me at firecrotches ]


[ ooc: i'm so sorry about the tl;dr psa phosphophyllite is a strange gem person so if you need info on him please check out his journal or feel free to ask me about him!! ]

oops, ( 1 ).....i h*cked up

[sulfide]

( Good things don't happen when Cinnabar panics. Unfortunately, that's his state as soon as he opens his eyes, in a hospital bed (that he can't truly identify as a hospital bed in the first place), blinded by a cacophony of memories of some sort of explosion or catastrophe. Some might have a problem escaping the hospital, but he's got an advantage -- an advantage that makes him feel embarrassed to look at.

Nothing about this environment is particularly familiar to him, but at least he won't get lost. Silvery trails of liquid litter the ground behind him with jagged stars of the stuff surrounding him. It's not as bad as the state he left the hospital in, essentially flooding the room, but his predicament is enough to be noticeable. Cinnabar doesn't know where to go, why he's here, why he was told he needs to recover when he doesn't feel broken -- aside from his memories, anyway. His body is all together, he feels it's all his, so why are his memories so disjointed?

He's wandering, completely lost as to what to do but taking in everything keenly -- Cinnabar's body feels on edge after seeing and avoiding acting with so many locals, locals who look so different than him, who he knows he should dodge at all cost. Nothing rings a bell, until he turns down a street and sees someone he initially tries to duck to avoid. No, no more of these peach-coloured people...

...Except this one is pale and glints and that sea-foam green colour actually does stick out in his memory. He doesn't know who this person is but the image is in his mind. Cinnabar knows them; somehow, someway. )

Who -- ( Ah. He's on the other side of the street, and Cinnabar knows that it's not a good idea to go near. He still doesn't know what could really happen. It's not a question, but more like a loud demand that's shouted from the adjacent sidewalk. ) Who are you?

Julia Wicker | The Magicians (TV)

[hedgebitch]

option two

Julia has never been one to take no as answer. When Brakebills told her she was going to forget magic she cut into her own skin to make sure she would remember. That is one of the memories she's allowed to keep here. She remembers magic. That she loves magic, though something feels tainted by that now.

There are a string of names. Fillory. Brakebills. Marina. Reynard. Why they're significant she isn't sure, but it's enough to make her suspicious of this place. When she hears a scream a shiver runs down her spine and without thinking she runs towards it, looking for answers, looking to help them if she can. She walks through the woods, further and further away from the town even as her body begins to grow weary from the action. The fact that none of the townspeople cared about such a chilling scream is alarming to her.

Everything about this place is alarming.

She sees the wall and gets closer and closer until she can't walk anymore. She doesn't move forward but she doesn't give up either, she crawls away just enough to pull herself up to a kneeling position, trying to asses the situation in front of her. She could try using a spell to break the electricity but she feels cut off from the magic she usually possess. Which means she needs a plan b.

She's open to suggestions. If you tell her this is dangerous and she should give up she'll probably fight you on it. She knows it's dangerous. She just doesn't care. Julia has always been reckless, diving into action and worrying about the consequences a few minutes too late.

four

[Julia debates playing her hand this early, but she has to test to see what other people know. What they think or believe -- she follows her gut as she always does, and what comes from doing so will come. She addresses the network from her phone at home.]

Do you believe in magic?

wildcard!

hit me with your best shot.

four

[singly]

[ The phones are weird: just like everything else in town! Isn't that message just plain interesting enough to reply to, though? ] Sorta, yeah. [ A beat. ] But what kind of magic do you mean? [ What comes out of her own world, some of it could be called magical she supposes, so she can't help but ask. ]

the witness | original

[bearswitness]

[ a: network ]

[ He hasn't had very much luck with the network. And not just because the whole telephone thing is new and strange to him, no, it hadn't taken him that long to pick up on. The trouble is that it doesn't work for him. One has to have a voice for a phone to work. He even tried pressing buttons for a while, as he'd gathered that pressing buttons makes a loud, annoying tone in the other end — but that didn't work either. The Witness has always sucked noises out of the area around him, and this phone is no exception.

This wouldn't really be a problem, he'd usually be happy to ignore something so useless to him. But today is special. Today he has a feud that needs settling.

So instead he's on the hunt. He's taken to the streets, and this orange-eyed intensely staring man with the scarf pulled up to his nose will approach anyone who makes eye contact for a second — or even anyone who won't, for that matter. Anyone who attempts to ignore him will get fingers snapping in their face for attention — not that that it makes any sound, but the action is clear enough. He wants something. From you, specifically. Care to humor a stranger? ]

[ b: the fence ]

[ Now here's something interesting. It's not pleasant, but it's interesting. He's never felt something drain energy from him so thoroughly like this.

The wise thing to do would probably be to back away as soon as he'd realized what the cause of his weakness is. But the fact is, the Witness doesn't often get to experience new things. So instead he heads toward it. He heads toward it even when he begins to feel weak, even when he wants to fall to his knees and just stay there. Even when it forces him to a standstill, he still doesn't back away. No, he prefers to stand as still as he's able to, gathering will and reserves, and finally lurch one more step forward.

It's slow going. He's gone from a slow but steady walk, to a lurch forward every few seconds, to one every five minutes or so. But he's still standing, and for some god forsaken reason, he's still inching forward. He could probably use company. Or at least someone to make a case against this unfortunate impulse of his. ]

[ c: the snow ]

[ He's been walking out in the snow for long enough at this point that some kindly soul in a coffee shop ran outside and pressed one of their buy-one-get-one hot cocoas into his hands. At first he'd been deeply irritated, sure that this was some kind of cruel joke. And, honestly, he's still deeply irritated and sure it was some kind of a cruel joke. But he'd also quickly learned that the warm cup is pretty pleasant to hang onto.

So now he's turned into a lone figure walking through the snow, clutching a completely untouched cup of hot cocoa. He's as silent as a reflection while he's at it, with not even his footsteps crunching snow underfoot, no matter how deep the snow or how crunchy the ice happens to be underfoot. ]

a.

[deshabille]

[Well, this is interesting. Usually Mal is the one walking up to random strangers on the street and curiously harassing them. Hello, friend. She gives Scarfs McSilent a quizzical look.]

Hallo. Get your fingers out of my face, please, if you want to keep them. How may I be of service?

lydia martin | teen wolf

[banshe]

option one.

[ This wouldn't be the first time. Wandering through the streets barefoot and finding warmth only in the sheer layer of a hospital gown, Lydia can sense she's done this number before. The details of it aren't vivid for some reason, but she can feel a sort of rhythm to her wandering feet, like there's muscle memory in the idea of being lost and trekking through the streets. She isn't entirely sure she's always worn clothes like this either.

Most of them stare like she's a wild animal, and maybe she is, with her tangled hair and dirty feet. Some even pick up the pace to lengthen the distance away from her. But none actually talk to her, even when she tries to wobble her way towards them.

It's a struggle to speak out, feeling a scratch in her throat — had she been screaming — and a soreness in all her muscles. But as she paces up along the gravel of the road, her eyes find someone's back, someone who isn't so quick to get away from her like the rest. Maybe it's because they hadn't noticed her yet or maybe it's someone who could help. ]

Hello? Excuse me, could you — I need some clothes.

option two.

[ Something about the pitch of the scream draws her in. It's a tingle that vibrates through her spine, flowing forward to her chest and pounding there. Something isn't right and she knows it. She feels it, as naturally as it is to breathe.

She could ask but she's learned that no one will give her answers. No one ever knows anything, or at least pretends not to know. But Lydia knows better. She can feel the course of trouble like a direct call into her head. It always calls for her, even when she doesn't always know how to answer the call. This scream — it has to be calling her.

So she trails on, ignoring the glances turned her way as she steps cautiously into the woods. Something tells her she can find it. Because she always does. When something peculiar occurs, when the supernatural arises, when death is near, so is she somehow. Leaves crunch from her boots as she wanders past each scattered tree, unsure of what she's looking for. That's when she pauses — wait. Had she really heard the scream? Whose scream was it? Was it her own — ?

A rustle of leaves nearby prompt her large eyes to widen further, twisting her body to turn to the source. ] Someone there?

one.

[offkey]

You and me both, lady.

[ Peter doesn't quite whirl around, but he does pivot on the spot because he's pretty sure it's him being addressed. And if it isn't, well, no harm done. He's made a fool of himself here plenty of times in the past hour alone that his ego can probably take another hit.

But ... then he gets a look at present company, and his expression grows a little serious, brows furrowed, hands hanging at his sides - totally harmless, right? Right.

This girl could probably use more than clothes, if Peter was being perfectly honest. Conditioner and soap might help. And maybe sleep. She looks tired the way he probably looks tired.

Man, this place sucks.

His heart does go out to her though, and a teensy-weensy part of it might be due to the fact that the girl's tangled red hair reminds him so distinctly of someone he can't quite recall in face or in name. It's just one of those ... gut feelings.

He gestures to his current attire, a couple of items he may have snagged from the hospital lost-and-found, because no way was he going to go wandering around town with his bare end hanging out. ]

Plaid's not really my style.

bellamy blake | the 100

[skaikrudad]

(option 1)

[ Maybe if he was younger - if he hadn't aged so much in such a short amount of time thanks to traumatic events back home - he would have demanded to be released from the hospital before being deemed fit enough and probably fought his escape. But something tells him the wisest thing to do is not make a scene. So rather than argue with the hospital staff, he waits patiently and fills out the relevant paperwork until they finally let him go.

He knows he's made the right choice in not attracting too much attention at the hospital when he reads one of the many foreboding signs on almost every doorway. What the hell is this place?

Luckily, Bellamy manages to get hold of an abandoned car, managing to hot-wire it (Raven would be so proud). It's not quite the Rover he's used to driving, but it'll do. He spots your character on the side of the road looking just as lost and confused as feels, but still determined to leave this place despite what the signs say. Picking up a stranger is generally a bad idea but strength in numbers, right? Besides, he could use an ally.

He parks in front of you, rolling down the passenger window. ] Hey. Need a ride?

[ Not that driving will take them anywhere but back to the town in a loop, but he doesn't know that. ]

(option 2)

[ Bellamy definitely can't ignore the screaming coming from the woods - and his memories of his past still haven't returned to explain why he feels the need to save whoever's out there, as though he's responsible for the deaths of many. There's a deep, unexplained sense of guilt he carries with him that won't go away.

Feeling on edge, he reaches for his gun at his holster that isn't there (he remembers owning one, needing it to protect himself, but it not being on him when he woke up makes him think it was confiscated - from the same people who wrote the signs). He can't find the source of the scream, but he does find the huge wall, caging in the populace of the town like animals in a zoo. Or maybe humans within a prison.

He needs to take a closer look - only by doing that, something odd starts happening to him. Suddenly he feels like he has no energy, overwhelmed by dizziness, and he practically has to drag his legs to move forward. It makes no sense when the hospital staff told him he was perfectly healthy, unless they were lying. It feels like what's happening to him has something to do with that fence, which should stop him from moving closer... but this is Bellamy Blake.

His knees give way from how weak he feels, his body meeting the ground with a thud, groaning at the impact.

Somebody drag this idiot home. ]

option one.

[ouzel]

[ At first Cassian is startled that this car is stopping ahead of him; is he going to get picked up for wandering the road, are the rules that strict? But hey, no, it's someone offering him a ride and he relaxes.

Just slightly, anyway, as he walks up to the passenger's side window. ]

Sure. Where are you headed?

cassian andor | rogue one

[ouzel]

uno.

[ When he decided to investigate the roads out of town, he didn't borrow anyone's car; he borrowed a teenager's bicycle instead, enjoying the feel of controlling acceleration based his on physical exertion, the wind in his hair, the pervasive emptiness of the road.

Well. Enjoying for a moment, before it started to feel odd, and creepy. Why wasn't there any traffic? Shouldn't there have been more people, a highway, something?

And then the road turned back into town and Cassian was left feeling a little paranoid and a lot tired.

Come bother the grown man slowly riding a bicycle through town, won't you? He's looking at everything like he fully expects something terrible to happen. ]

dos.

[ There's something weird going on, obviously. Weird in that everyone is just pretending they didn't hear that, but also weird in that he's...not surprised, somehow, that they don't help him. Or that they don't stop him.

He doesn't find the source of the scream. Cassian keeps walking.

Until he starts feeling tired, and, well, that's not too weird. What's weird is that he can feel himself get better if he goes in a particular direction, back to town, knows he worsening when he goes in the opposite direction.

He's on the ground when he spots the signs, feeling sick and overwhelmed all at the same time. Is this even fucking real?

He might just stay there a while to see if it improves over time. It doesn't, obviously, and he isn't sure what time it is when he finally decides to start crawling his way back towards town.

Help a guy out, won't ya? ]

tres.

[ Snow.

Pretty familiar stuff, actually. The power going out isn't even that much of an issue, except it's really frigging cold and Cassian decides he'd rather go get coffee. Hot chocolate. Something other than sitting in the icebox his house is slowly turning into.

So feel free to run into him on the way (literally; ice is not fun to walk on, no sir), laughing at the kid and his double dog daring, or in the coffee shop pouring copious amounts of cinnamon into his hot chocolate. ]

dos.

[ofthelion]

[ sam flinches as the wave of nausea threatens to upend her stomach in a nearby fern, but she holds it back, maybe by sheer stubborn willpower along. samirah al-abbas will not give in to puking -- that is magnus' job. besides, she has a job to do already.

(it's a self-proclaimed job, honestly, because there is no need for a valkyrie here, but she can't stop what she was meant to do! at least not until she retires and goes to college and gets her pilot's license and marries amir. she has plans!)

her current job, however, comes in the shape of a guy crawling through the forest floor away from the wall she knows it hidden behind a tangle of trees. she's taken to hovering right on the edge where she doesn't crumple to her knees, pushing herself as far as she can go to test the imaginary line of the sickness, but obviously this guy did not get the 'abandon all hope ye who enter here' memo. she doesn't seem surprised by this as she moves forward, green hijab practically camouflage in the muted woods. crouching down, she tucks her hands under his arm pit and gives a mighty heave to coax him to his feet. up y'get. ] Don't just sit there.

[ gonna get saved by a teenage girl. ]

Shyvana | League of Legends

[cinderhulk]

a; welcome

[Her head has felt a bit... off since the supposed accident, or whatever occurred. Shyvana has the lingering sense of something just not being right, but there's no real evidence beyond her instincts. True as they might be, there's nothing she can really do about it as it is.

No, all she can do is find her way out of this silly little town.

The problem is that she's been marching tirelessly for the past few hours trying to find a way out, and nothing has been particularly evident, to the point that she knows she is being led into circles.

A furious snarl is let out, and one might find a few flames lingering around her person -- then her yellow eyes meet yours.]

You there!

[yeah, you]

Tell me how to leave this place, and I won't break your legs.

[friendly, right?]


b; network

To all of you whining and shivering wherever you are in the cold: the snow has no affect on me. It is as weak as your resolve. As such, I'm willing to go through the blizzard and get you supplies, should you need it.

You're welcome, of course. Simply let me know what you're looking for and it will be done, easily.

A!

[flowerida]

[ Butch blinks, glances side to side before placing a hand on his chest. 'Me?' the gesture says, accompanied with a wide-eyed look.

Seeming somewhat unconcerned about the fact that he might just be getting his legs broken soon by a flaming dragon lady, the man plants his hands on his hips and glances down the path. Then the other way for a good measure, looking properly thoughtful for a long moment.

Eventually, he just shrugs blithely. ]

Well, ma'am, I'm afraid wouldn't have the slightest darned clue how to get out of here!

Grace :: OUAT :: Option 1

[allineedisyou]

[Dried leaves crunch beneath Graces feet as her eyes fix on the black smoke gathering in the distance. It moves like a shadow, shifting and skirting between the trees as it makes its way through the forest. Fear twists in Graces chest as the darkness approaches; like a beast swallowing everything in it's path. Her feet root to the ground as it reaches her surrounding her thoughts and world in darkness.

A soft pained sound echoes from her throat as her head turns to avoid the obtrusive light. She blinks trying to remember what has happened and where she is. Her thoughts are vacant and yet she slowly begins to recognize one thing: fear. Grace bolts up in the hospital bed, ignoring the startled expressions of the staff.]

Where am I? What happened?

[Her voice is frantic and high pitched as she watches the expression of those around her settle into a smile. There smiles do very little to calm her. The room is white and clean while a strange smell clings to the air. She can't remember but this places feels unfamiliar to her. She pulls at the covers, only vaguely noticing the white nightgown like dress she's wearing. It feels like a dream and yet the wall feel solid as she rests her hand along it's tiled surface.

Compelled by her feelings, Grace escapes the hospital and tries to find some place that feels right. At first she's running but after a bit her pace slows and she begins to walk. Her dark gaze flicks through the strange town and the strange people who live in it. She's unsure of what to think and the most alarming part is that she can't seem to remember her name.]

[ooc: Feel free to run into her in the hospital or anywhere in town or in the forest. She is wondering around and looking lost.]

[royalpassport]

[ Most days, Jefferson's at the tea shop, because it keeps him busy and in the company of others, which in turn keeps him from fixating on the increasingly invasive fantasies in his head. The problem now is it's getting more and more difficult to push the delusions back. There's this constant refrain in his head, and try as he might, he can't shut it up for long. (The fantasies are what's real; it's everything else that's a lie.)

Sometimes, he wonder if he should perhaps go back to therapy. But what if that ends in him being locked up? So, for now, he passes his time in the tea shop, doing his best to focus on mundane little tasks.

He's in the middle of wiping down a table when some movement catches his eye, just outside the shop window. A white gown, a little girl, a face that...

Jefferson stares at her as she walks past, eyes wide as he can feel that familiar ache in his heart-- loss of somebody he can't remember, some daughter he's been told he never had.

Right. He doesn't have a daughter. He doesn't. That's not her; that's just a child who's alone and wandering and no, no he can't leave her to wander, whoever she is. He drops the dish cloth down on the table and quickly rushes out of the shop to call after her, ask her if she's all right and where her parents are and if she needs any help-- ]

Grace!

[ That's not what he meant to say-- it's as if it's automatic, like a reflex. But as soon as he says it, it all makes sense. That's her name. That's Grace. That's...

Oh god, how could he have forgotten her name until now? ]

Sam Seaborn | The West Wing | Option One

[fidelis]

[ My name is Sam Seaborn. I work for the President of the United States.

It makes sense when he says it to himself. It sounds real when he says it aloud. There’s no reason to suspect that it isn’t true, except that he can’t remember anything else and when he asks if the President is in town he gets indulgent laughter and people saying “Take it easy, Sam.”

My name is Sam Seaborn. Fact.

I work for the President of the United States?

He’s sitting in a diner, staring into his coffee, trying until his head aches to remember anything else. ]

I work for the President of the United States, [he mumbles, and then buries his face in a long drink of coffee, feeling naked and idiotic at the same time.]

[dragoness]

You sound pretty sure of yourself!

[ a call comes over from a few tables away, the voice easily heard in the mostly-empty diner. having been in this same position less than two months ago, one would think that eliza would be more sympathetic to those in need of a little support while they get settled.

maybe someone else would. not eliza. she doesn't quite get that whole "sympathy" thing. or empathy, for that matter.

she leans forward in her seat on the counter (on, because she can't be bothered to do anything normal for once), claws curled around the edge and the tip of her tail flicking like a cat's on the hunt. for once, her horns are hidden behind a giant pink-and-white striped hat. ]

But are you sure that's real? There's a lot about this place that'll mess with you.

wanda maximoff | mcu

[magija]

.• hospital

[ The beeps remind her she's awake. It's like a siren ringing to alert her of the wires she's connected to, of the straps that keep her down tight against the bed. They say it's for safety. They've always told her that. But her safety or their own, that was always the question that brought her to reality.

She knows she's awake because in her dreams she isn't tied down. She's running through dark streets, worn hand-me-down shoes soaked from puddles, and her hand clutched tight within the fingers of a laughing boy. They run and run, fast as they're able, and they never stop —

— until she wakes.

Normally, it's the result of a nurse checking on her vitals, of an IV replacement, or something else that doesn't make a difference to her in this prison. But when her heavy eyelids spring open this time, it's to be told of a visitor. Visitors, when did she last have one? She can't remember.

But her groggy voice mutters as she gazes up to the ceiling. ] Let them in.

.• snow

[ She hears the irritated shouts of a man shoveling out the snow in his yard but a serenity courses through her as the chilling air brushes over her cheeks, red with the cold. Her boots crunch over the stray patches of snow on the street that's been scraped clear of most of the white, like an open pathway left for her to stroll through as everyone else worries about scraping their ice off their car windows.

Most curse it, but she likes this snow.

Standing in the midst of an empty street, she glances around at all the piles of white. Pensive for a moment, she raises a hand slowly, giving a swishing wave of her fingers as a flickering red light emits from them. It floats through the air, bouncing on the wind to the rhythm of a melody in her head before it swirls down into the snow, lifting up a scoop of it just as a solid hand would. The red light molds the snow, round and round until it forms a ball.

Wanda smiles at the floating snowball, letting it register memories she can't quite recall, before she jolts her head to look at the standing figure nearby that watches her. ]

SNOW

[fidelis]

[ Sam is utterly captivated.

He was going stir-crazy in his little house that he can't recall, its layout which is entirely unfamiliar. The clothes that look like they should belong to him feel like a stranger's when he puts them on. He can't shake the sense of wearing someone else's skin, which is part of what drove him outside.

Just in time to see those red lights start to dance.

It's her sudden motion that snaps him out of his own trance, though not so far that there isn't awe on his face. ]

That's... How did you do that?

kate bishop | marvel 616

[quivers]

➼ nothing creepy about frolicking through the woods at night

[ It's not sneaking, geez. What's wrong with a little snooping around the woods when you hear wildly weird screams that may or may not have a bit of a suspicious air to them. Besides, maybe she's just taking a late evening stroll. You know, in dark clothes, a bat, and a flashlight as she treks through the woods alone. It's totally not weird, shut up.

Kate's just curious, and when the curiosity builds up, she can't help her feet. She has to know. And while curiosity kills the cat, Kate's not a cat so she considers herself relatively safe in that matter. Even if, okay, she might get in trouble for this. Not the point.

Of course, her flashlight has to go and flicker just as she wanders within a dark grove of trees. The light strobes fast until it goes out all together, forcing her to stop in her step. ] Aw, futz, come on. [ With the solid bottom of her palm, she begins to beat against the plastic flashlight, the large battery shifting with a rattled disturbance inside.

Finally, the light flickers back on but as soon as the wave of yellow illuminates the darkness of the night, the immediate presence of a silhouette makes Kate jolt up with a high scream. ]

➼ madonna is not the musical genius of our age

[ She's always been decades behind when it comes to music. It's probably why she's been ragged on about trying to play up the cello at parties. But whatever. Kate hardly lets a little criticism shroud her judgement (despite all the judging she does).

The plus side to working at the record store is that there's less of a chance of her getting kicked out for rearranging the albums in her own preferred order. Those current popular hits that usually get put on display in the front get scooted to the far back, with Kate putting more her vintage icons up front and center. Sure, she's gotten scolded by the boss over it before, but she'll argue her case for it every time if she has to.

The bubble of her gum pops as she slips a Hall & Oates album in front of Nirvana, her attention drawn to the bell that alerts her of an entering visitor. Conjuring up a smile, she puts on her best customer service face. ] Aaaaand welcome! Can I interest you in some Springsteen today?

woods

[toten_sie]

[ It deeeeefinitely doesn't help that the silhouette is over seven feet tall and clearly built with the muscle to match. As soon as she screams, though, he lets out a (rather deep) squeak of surprise himself and stumbles back, his flashlight bouncing around on the forest floor before rolling over to illuminate his face. His very startled, very human, and kind of goofy face. ]

Sorry! Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to scare you, I was just-

[ Some focus fills his features, and he's glancing around the woods, clearly looking for both the source of the noise and whatever might have caused the damage. He's still looking as he starts pushing himself up before turning his attention back to her with an apologetic sigh. ]

Are you all right? I was just trying to find the source of the scream I heard...

[ And yes, there's a massive hand being held out to help her up if she happened to have stumbled in the midst of her jolt. ]

Randel Oland | Pumpkin Scissors

[toten_sie]

[1] welcome

[ Randel was no stranger to hospital stays. There were times when he thought of the bed in the clinic as being more familiar than his little camp under the bridge. If he didn't need to keep his cats fed, he wonders if he'd end up there at all between Section III's missions and his injuries. So while he's in the hospital, he's pretty content to heal and listen to the nurses (who thankfully don't seem to have nearly as much of a fixation with his urination needs as Nurse Rosetta) and keep his questions to a minimum, especially when he notices the fear in their eyes. Yes, he wants answers, but he won't let other people get hurt in order to get them.

Once he's out of the hospital, though, he lets those long legs of his get to work, walking around, getting a feel for the place. It's entirely outside of the realm of anything he's ever known or seen, even given all the traveling he'd done in the army. Definitely nothing like where he grew up. It's closer to some of the places out near the edges of the Imperial Capital, though not nearly as large and ostentatious.

He's seen a few people glance nervously at the signs, though they don't bother him nearly as much as he figures they probably should. He's lived through enough war, enough martial law, to know what it looks like. Though the rules themselves are where he starts to get a little curious.

And goodness knows, he has no idea what to do with the house. All it does is make him sort of wish that the Tumbleweeds were here, so that he could give it to them, since it's nicer than any place he's ever stayed at. Sometimes he sleeps there, but just as often he's to be found dozing under a bridge or on a park bench.

...well, mostly on the park bench. These things aren't made for people to sleep on, let alone seven-odd-foot tall people.

He's been pondering what to do, since there's no war here that he can see, let alone war relief, and his skills are... well, as his brother had always said, he wasn't good for much. But he at least has a strong back, so- ]

Could I maybe help you with that?

[2] into the woods

[ That... was a scream.

It's the first thing to break the idyllic peace in this place, and he reacts to it like the soldier he is, immediately reaching for-

Well, he doesn't have his gun or his shears, so his hand lands shakily on his lantern.

Not yet. Not yet. That could just make things worse.

He sees the looks, all of them telling him not to go, but he can't just ignore that, can't ignore someone, anyone, man or beast, in pain. He can't just leave someone to be hurt and his feet are running into the woods, through the brush, ignoring the sting and slap of the flora as he pushes past each bush and tree. His muscles are already aching by the time he can see the fence, and the sign.

Well, that's... that's certainly not encouraging.

He doesn't head for the fence, since he has no intention of dying, but his hand stays on his lantern as he starts looking around for someone, anyone, where the noise might have come from.]

Hello? Hello? Can you hear me? Do you need help? I can't find you! I'm here to help!

[3] a couple of flakes

[ At first, Randel had been out, doing what he could, putting the shovel he'd found in the garage to use to help clear drive ways and walkways. Once the snow continued, he'd done what he could, offering to bring people things from the shops since he's tall enough that the snow walking wasn't nearly so bad for him as for other people and besides, he's never really used cars much except on missions.

When the power goes out, he sighs a little, but given that he's lived most of his life without the convenience of electricity, it's just a matter of rearranging and resettling a few things to make due and weather it out. It only occurs to him that some of the others, some of the people who seem like they've had all these things their whole lives, that they might not know what to do or how to handle the cold.

He's never regretted growing up in District Zero, but this is the first time he's really appreciated that it might have given him something that others don't have. So, shovel in hand to help him in particularly rough spots, he sets out to check the house next door, to make sure that they're all right.

...hopefully not scare the living bejesus out of them when the giant man knocks on their door from out in the dark and the storm. ]

Are you all all right in there? Are you doing okay with the storm?! Do you need anything?

Manon Blackbeak - Throne of Glass

[windcleaver]

option two INTO THE WOODS

At first, the screams from the nearby forest were a mild annoyance. What was one more human that met its end in the grand scheme of things? She typically delighted in the sound, basked in it, and sometimes was even the cause it. Oh, Manon knew the screams of humans so well that it sounded like a sweet song to her.

However, the music started to sour when the locals denied the sound. Clearly, the sound was there and denying its importance to them just seemed foolish. Were they just afraid that they would meet the same fate?

Whether it be curiosity or boredom, the mentality of the locals seemed too strange not to look into. And so the Witch strode into the nearby wood with a sword at her side. It didn't take her long to a place where some disturbance had taken place.

She knelt down to the ground and examined the dirt.

option four ON THE NETWORK

Manon watched the image on the device with attentive curiosity. The images seemed to shift and flicker without particular reason. It was strange.. like some old forgotten magic. She lifted a dagger and pressed it curiously against the front of the device. "What is this?"

Victor Frankenstein/Dr. Whale | OUAT

[beyondmagic]

//A couple of flakes...//

[The repairman is a useless individual on a good day. Why make individual stops to each and every house when you can just reboot the grid and be done with it? The grid. Victor isn't much a fan of the grid. The city uses it to track your meter and charge you for something that can be generated by nature for free. Ridiculous. Victor doesn't need to wait for the repairman.

Which is why he is currently on the roof, in the snow, precariously straddling the snow-covered shingles with a makeshift tool belt around his waist, extension cords around his neck and shoulders, and something... large... and metal... in his hands.

Please, for the love of god, someone stop him.]

[royalpassport]

[ Stop him? Hm... Jefferson seems content to watch, instead. There's just something about Victor, draped in extension cords and fiddling with tools, that Jefferson finds fascinating. Perhaps it's because he seems utterly mad right now, and that's certainly something Jefferson can relate to.

So, bundled up in gloves, a wool coat (Kenzi was right when she speculated that he had several), and a scarf, Jefferson stands in Victor's driveway and watches him at work. This scene is familiar in a wholly peculiar way, like... he hasn't seen this, exactly, before, but it seems to fit the doctor, all the same.

A world in black and white flashes in Jefferson's mind, and for once, the strange visions in his head don't seem to be particularly upsetting. Instead, he quirks a smile, looking up at the man on the roof. ]

Is there ice up there? Try not to slip. You might break something.

[ HELPFUL. ]