luxflowmod: (Default)
LUXFLOW MOD. ([personal profile] luxflowmod) wrote in [community profile] luxflowmemes2020-08-19 06:16 am
Entry tags:

+ TDM 001.

Welcome to Luxflow's first TDM.

Let's get into it.

ARRIVAL


— You wake up encased.

It’s dark, naturally, but a few tendrils of light slip past the — vines? Why are you tangled up in vines? It gives you panic — why can’t you remember — breath quickening, in and in and in again. Your frenzied movements against the vines let in more light, more air.

And you breathe.

As you exhale, a shaky but sure breath against the rough foliage, a light flows out of you. It’s just a little orb that pours out, past the greenery and into that unknown.

The vines melt away into ash, and you’re left standing in a clearing, trees impossibly tall and swaying in the night breeze. Your breath comes in deep and steady, now, and it occurs to you that you should be panicking still … But then as you look around the clearing, you see more vine cocoons, like yours, and others climbing out of them …

There’s people in the center of the clearing. They’re armed but they’re friendly, and they tell you in short and sweet sentences about the place you’re in now …

“ You’re in the Feeding Forest. ” says one, “ This place’ll eat you alive if you can’t break out of the vines. You must be special, huh? ”

Special?

“ C'mon, we’ll take you back to the city. You’re probably here for a while. We’ll fill you in … ”


SPIT SHINE YOUR BLACK CLOUDS


You're trying to get your bearings, but this City stops for no one.

On the next morning after your arrival, there's a festival! It's near the hole, Heart and Center, in the middle of the place. When you arrive there, you're fooled for a moment, and the place doesn't seem so scary; the colors are bright and the citizens are so cheerful as they dance and cheer on the new arrivals to strange music.

No one really knows why they're celebrating, but the arrival of the strange ones feels like it's heralding something good. Maybe there's unheard prayers that are being answered! Maybe their prayers will be answered! There's drinks and food and song, so why not join in? You can get drunk or high or just chill and take it all in.

Yet as the festivities burn on, the locals all hush at some point late in the evening. Words ripple through the throngs, and it reaches you fast. They're going to heave prayers up to the Setting Sun. But first, the great chasm needs an offering from those praying.

They throw in valuables and invaluables alike; drinks and food and clothes and jewelry and weapons and boomboxes are thrown in without a second thought.

What will you offer? If you choose to at all, you'll feel bereft; if it's a memory or power, a light will flow from your mouth and down into the chasm ...

They're silent thereafter in their prayer. Do you pray, too? If you do or you don't, you can't help but feel intense shame, like someone is laughing at you ... Still, after all that, the party continues on.

You're just a little more unsettled, now, a little more uncertain.


SILHOUETTE SALOON


The Silhouette Saloon is open! Or so the signage around town says. Excessive and garish, these signs point characters down a winding path into a place called the Silhouette Saloon. When you enter, everything goes white and everyone appears merely as shadows ... Pretty on the nose, but it provides a strange anonymity.

The fixtures of the saloon are all shadowed out too, stark black against the misty backdrop of white. You can drink here and be free to tell your secrets to anyone who'll listen. The bartender or maybe one of the dancers just finishing their set will tell you that this place keeps secrets.

If you were to tell someone a secret, or hear one, you wouldn't remember it exactly. You would, however, feel a strange nagging sensation about the person who told it to you. Once on the outside, you might not be able to get through a conversation with them without thinking they're hiding something ...

If you don't tell someone a secret, you'll feel compelled to tell someone one once you're out of the Saloon, where the secret won't be so hidden ... It might be better to tell one in the safety of anonymity then, hm?

But the longer you're in there, the more you lose of yourself. You'll forget your name, your purpose, everything about yourself until you pass out on the dance floor. You'll wake up outside the Saloon, stricken with amnesia. It'll wear off after a few hours, though.


PITY'S GOT AN UGLY PRICE TAG


Besides the Drifters and Givers, a new group has popped up. They're called the Pleading, or called plain annoying. They beg for anything you've got from the roadside, calling you over. If you hear them out, they'll hypnotize you in a way; they plead for anything you can possibly spare their poor soul -- the shirt off your back, a memory, an ability. Their sob story goes from believable to something horrifying and personal to you. They'll tell you your mother won't forgive you if you don't, or they'll tell you that the fate of your very best friend hinges on you giving them your wallet.

What do you do?

If someone breaks you out of the grasp of the Pleading's hypnosis, you'll be free.

If you give in, they'll take, and you'll be bereft of what you gave and that will be that.

If you don't, you'll feel immeasurable guilt, mounting more and more with each step ... You might have to be talked out of that guilt, or you might throw yourself into the chasm, inconsolable ...


DIGITAL VEIL ( network )


A question appears on the network. There's no handle attached.

BRUISES OR ROSES OR CRADLES OR COFFINS? WHY WHY WHY? :'D

Answers to this 'question' will be displayed to all; feel free to comment on others, try to gain some sense of what this could mean ... You can also post to the network freely.


QUESTIONS?


Ask below. Have fun.

guitarheroism: (13)

hisirdoux casperan | wizards of arcadia

[personal profile] guitarheroism 2020-08-21 12:07 pm (UTC)(link)
( i. black clouds )

[ camelot had many festivals to celebrate seasons. harvests. coronations and royal ceremonies. hisirdoux had seen them all, even more once he left the timeless kingdom to dwell on earth, watching the centuries pass. this one? definitely one of the weirder ones. douxie wished archie was here. it would feel more comforting to have a shapeshifting dragon-cat on your shoulder. the looks he's getting, oof. reminds him of salem long ago.

douxie raises his hands in the universal gesture of peace, flashing a lazy grin. ]


Sorry, chaps. I've been broke for years. Anyone got a dollar to spare?

( ii. secrets in the saloon )

[ you don't pass nine hundred centuries without accumulating secrets. though not many of his own. keeping the secret of camelot and merlin had been easy. even if it meant lifetimes of dusting and scavenging for a living, moving day to day, hoping the meaning of his master's words would come to him. the fulfillment of his work, his destiny.

but the thought of merlin's passing sobers him quickly in the sudden quiet of the saloon, when the music tapers off in his head and all he can hear is his master's voice.

what a wizard you've become. ]


Am I, master? I risked the world for friendship. Would you have made such a bargain?

[ no. not for friendship, not for love. and . . . not for hisirdoux, his pupil. and more, he tries to tell himself, but the long dark chases away that sentiment. ]

( iii. digital veil | un: paint.it.black )

Personally, I'm more into Guns N' Roses. Cradles and coffins could be a killer song title.

( iv. wildcard )

[ got a different prompt you’d like to do? drop it here or pm this journal! ]
Edited 2020-08-21 12:07 (UTC)
guitarheroism: (12)

( digital veil )

[personal profile] guitarheroism 2020-08-21 12:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Going heavy on the morbid, aren't you?

Silence, right? That's the answer.
snakehead: (Kinda pouty)

[personal profile] snakehead 2020-08-21 11:03 pm (UTC)(link)
For all that Narek is, indeed, bleeding and handcuffed and has clearly been through the wringer, he does maintain an air of forced dignity that would be more at home in his own imposing dark coat and sharp lines.

"My apologies," he says, polite and courteous. "I will endeavor to walk quieter."
the_brat: (vic6)

[personal profile] the_brat 2020-08-22 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
Vic shot the Pleaders a dirty look as they fled from the area. "They had some kinda mind control over you. I haven't gotten close enough to them to get grabbed, thankfully. But figured somethin' was up when you were grabbing for that." She glanced down to the light saber. She wasn't sure if saying she knew what it was would be a wise move or not. "Vic McQueen, by the way."
the_brat: (Default)

[personal profile] the_brat 2020-08-22 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
Why the hell'd this place bring us here anyway?

[She's pissed about it. Trying to focus on things that won't be the Most Depressing. Is it tough? Yeah sure. But she's gonna do it anyway.]
guitarheroism: (13)

( i )

[personal profile] guitarheroism 2020-08-22 08:11 am (UTC)(link)
Me? No.

[ douxie manages a soft laugh, casual. his eyes are bright. ]

Got nothing worth trading off.
enduresurvive: (serious)

Ellie | The Last Of Us 2

[personal profile] enduresurvive 2020-08-22 07:58 pm (UTC)(link)
ARRIVAL

Ellie would like to be able to say this is the first time she's completely lost her shit in a forest, but that would be a flat out lie. But this isn't a familiar forest. It's not the wilderness in Jackson where she hunts sometimes. It's not the terrifying jungle of Seattle that she'll never go back to. It's not even the freezing mountain woods of Colorado, somewhere she hopes she'll never see again. This is...different. She fights her way out of the vines, forgetting in her panic to be quiet, not draw attention. Who the hell knows what's out here in these woods? But panic doesn't give a shit if there's infected out there, or yet another group of people looking to kill her for whatever reason.

She's not sure if she's screaming or she's just imagining it. It doesn't matter.

Finally, it clears just enough for her to look around. There are...fuck, are those people in the trees? In...in cocoons? She looks back at the vines she just escaped from and realises that she's not the only one.

"What the fuck," she says, half under her breath, words rushed together. She starts at a noise - a snapped twig, a bird, a rabbit, a shambling clicker, something she completely made up in her head - and forces herself to move away from the creepy cocoons and towards what she (thinks she) heard. She reaches for a gun that isn't there, but somehow these strange (and armed?!) people talk her down and take her back to the city. Once they're reasonably convinced she's not going to start shooting them, one of them hands her a backpack. She recognises it, but she doesn't go through it here in front of them.

Catch her on a bench somewhere mostly out of the way, going through it. The second you approach her, she's likely to turn that handgun on you. Is it loaded? Maybe. Maybe not. As soon as she realises there isn't a threat, though, she lowers it and looks down. "Sorry. Hard to not feel jumpy when I woke up like two hours ago covered in vines."

Alternately, find her wandering around the place, trying to get her bearings. She's less likely to pull a gun on you like this, because she's less likely to spook. But hey, you never know! She's obviously highly on edge, gripping one strap of her backpack with white knuckles.


BLACK CLOUDS

Ellie largely avoids the festival. What the fuck, right, a celebration of people being kidnapped and wrapped up in vines? Yeah, no thanks. Besides, she's just...not sure how to be festive anymore. The past few months bled it out of her. Waking up in that terrifying forest today hadn't done her attitude any favours, either. She still has a sense of humour under there, sure, but this is just a weird thing to be celebrating, feels like.

Someone shoves a drink at her and she hangs around by herself, not drinking it. It's hard to escape everything, so she lingers, not wanting company and not wanting to be alone, either. You can find her like this, staring into her cup, trying to decide if it's safe to drink or not.

Later in the evening, apparently everyone is just throwing shit into a chasm. Ellie can't even manage to be shocked about it, because of course they are! Why the fuck not, at this point. So she just watches them, disapproving scepticism clear on her face.

She catches someone's eye. "What? You don't think I'm going to join in this weird culty bullshit, do you?"


DIGITAL VEIL

bruises because i'm used to them and i'm sick of coffins

ps this is a terrible question



[ I vastly prefer prose but I'll match format. Please see Ellie's opt out page here for possible CWs you might encounter with her. Please lmk if you would like to avoid TLOU2 spoilers! ]
Edited 2020-08-22 19:59 (UTC)
tasteofink: art commissioned; do not steal. (« 05. )◟)

DEMYAN REYES | OC | OTA

[personal profile] tasteofink 2020-08-23 12:45 am (UTC)(link)

SPIT SHINE YOUR BLACK CLOUDS


( Demyan holds aloft his knife, a ritual blade made of obsidian, with an ebony wood handle. He looks towards the person next to him, and speaks: )

Should I offer blood or throw the knife in, you think?

( He sounds just a bit dazed, maybe hypnotized ... )


SILHOUETTE SALOON


( Drinking seems like a good idea, until it isn't.

It makes him a little more liberal with his words, but when he speaks his secret to the person seated next to him, it's interspersed with eldritch words, incomprehensible.

He pauses.
)

Iä, iä ... I didn't make any sense just then, did I?


PITY'S GOT AN UGLY PRICE TAG


( Demyan is positively in tears, holding onto the Pleading's hand as they speak to him in hushed tones. He gives them the belt off his pants, then the money in his wallet; anyone watching would know that this creature of compassion is being preyed on ... Help him? )


DIGITAL VEIL


coffins. just nail me the fuck in and let me sleep.
sougyaranbam: (07)

digital veil | un: evil.monk

[personal profile] sougyaranbam 2020-08-23 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
yikes. that's kinda fucked up
sougyaranbam: (09)

ii.

[personal profile] sougyaranbam 2020-08-23 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
Master?

( Kuko hears the person next to him speak aloud, to someone who might not be there.

This place is fucked up and strange and his head is swimming.
)

I've heard worse reasons to risk the fate of the world, either way.
guitarheroism: (12)

[personal profile] guitarheroism 2020-08-23 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ douxie blinks, before glancing at the man close to him. then he chuckles, a low cultured tone. it feels older. ]

There probably are. It's just not something Merlin would do. He'd never risk the world for one person. For friends.

[ though. though he did it briefly for hisirdoux. one single moment where merlin chose him. and it cost him everything. ]
prodigism: (pic#10792288)

( III )

[personal profile] prodigism 2020-08-23 06:03 am (UTC)(link)
[ Haise, no. You shouldn't think like that and as if hearing the others inner turmoil a familiar voice will speak through that darkness creeping and surrounding the other as he stares down into the chasm.

If anything Arima knows those thoughts all too well. The self hatred he felt for his own life and actions and inability to make a change, well, they weighed heavy upon his own mind too. And even now it's taking everything he has to no succumb to them. He has much more important matters to focus on, like making sure Haise is fine.

A strong hand will grip the other's shoulder tightly. ]
Haise. That's enough.
hopesong: (Dance With Me)

Kate Denson | Dead By Daylight

[personal profile] hopesong 2020-08-23 06:42 am (UTC)(link)
[ARRIVAL.]

It's definitely a new way for her to enter a trial with an unknown killer. A new ability, she thinks. One that is for wasting precious time that could have been otherwise spent on getting a generator running to power the gates and get out. It's a harsh blow to her confidence, but she's never been one to give up so easily.

She's quiet as she fights her way out of the vines, strength hardened by- days? Weeks? Months? Maybe even years, at the mercy of killers who would love nothing more than to hang her off a hook and sacrifice her to the Entity that's taken to ruling her life. She manages to get free with some good fighting, and once she's out, she's quick to hide behind a tree, chest heaving rapidly from both exertion and fear, but logic tells her that she's safe, for the moment. Her heart might be hammering, but it's not ringing in her ears, an early warning to deadly danger. Whoever it happens to be, they're not here yet. And- her guitar is here. Her only link to her home. What happens if she loses it? Would the Entity return it? Just the thought of losing it sends a deep anxiety to the pit of her stomach.

The trees here, they're different. They don't feel... oppressive. Even just the sounds are different, there's no low, rolling fog that obscures vision slightly. Kate can't help it, can't help putting her hand to the nearest tree, even though her instincts are screaming at her to find a generator. She'll stay like that for some time, until a sound startles her, makes her duck behind the tree in a flash like a frightened animal and squeeze her eyes shut. Her mind is already keenly aware of the killers who don't make her heart ring in her ears, and they're always the worst to go against. No warning, only being stabbed.

She stays against the tree, in an attempt to hide. Granted, she's probably already been seen.

Alternatively, once everything sinks in, she'll extend the effort, the feeling that she's- maybe not safe, apparently, but she's more safe than she has been in so, so long, and she'll extend a hand to anyone who looks confused, or maybe in need of help, or even just some kind of conversation.

"How're you holdin' up, hun?"

[BLACK CLOUDS]

When morning, an actual morning, not just the dusty twighlight of Glenvale hits her senses, she feels overwhelmed again. Her body hasn't yet adjusted to needed sleep, to needing food and water, and she feels a little delirious for it. But she's holding on, and she's doing her best with a countdown back to zero.

The festival proves a good pick-me-up. She might not have a clue what's going on, but that doesn't mean she can't put on a show too. She hasn't put on a show in what feels like forever, isn't sure if they want some random person to put on one, but the good feeling is contagious, and the fact that she's out of that hell realm...

She strums her guitar, in a moderately populated area, and starts to sing:

"It's been a long dark night,
And I've been a waitin' for the morning,
It's been a long hard fight,
But I see a brand new day a dawning,
I've been looking for the sunshine,
You know, I ain't seen it in so long,
And everything's gonna work out just fine,
And everything's gonna be all right,
That's been all wrong."


She'll sing several country sounding songs, only some of which are her own making, but the first one... Never has Mrs. Parton been a bigger channel for her feelings, no other song she knows of could properly convey her feelings in the moment. She'll also take requests from anyone who wants one.

[NETWORK]

Roses. Haven't seen them in a long, long time. Seen more than my fair share of bruises and coffins, though. Not too sure how much I'd wanna see a cradle where I came from.
enduresurvive: (oh come on)

un:savagestarlight

[personal profile] enduresurvive 2020-08-23 07:07 am (UTC)(link)
haha yeah it's pretty grim isn't it?

sorry about that
enduresurvive: (hm.)

black clouds

[personal profile] enduresurvive 2020-08-23 07:50 am (UTC)(link)
Ellie has been suspicious of the festival, but she follows the familiar sound of guitar music anyway. It's been awhile since she heard anyone else play. Actually, the last time...no. She forces herself not to think about that, and swallows the panic that threatens her.

Kate's playing is...good. No, it's better than good. Ellie doesn't listen to a lot of country music, but there's enough people around Jackson that do that she's heard some of it before. She can't put a name to this one, but it's definitely familiar.

So she lingers nearby, managing the smallest of smiles. Even in this weird as hell situation with a bunch of other kidnapped people, it's nice to just have music. The fact that she knows it is a bonus.

After the Dolly song ends and there's a lull, Ellie comes up to Kate, hands in her pockets. She's maybe a little further away than just being polite, but it's an effort, at least.

"Hey. That was pretty good. You just do country?"
cooperatives: (𝟏𝟒)

[personal profile] cooperatives 2020-08-23 10:53 am (UTC)(link)
There isn't really much of a choice, is there?

( it's not a question that he hasn't heard himself--the echoes of it, deep in his head, of someone begging him not to erase them, of knowing that there's little else beyond whatever it is he has for himself now. it's funny, really, that he might consider himself a coward in some respects: he's not afraid of putting himself out in front of his teammates for an enemy, but the thought of cursing himself by his own hand is laughably terrifying. he just can't bring himself to do it.

the wine tastes different, on a tongue that's shared some strange secret--he swallows and hopes it will go down all the same. his companion looks like she could use one herself, though he doesn't want to offer, wondering if there's a reason she's sitting here listening to him. maybe she's lonely, too. )


I can't bring myself to do it, and if the hands of others can't do it for me either, I'm a little trapped.

( a thought then, sharp-- ) Do you regret it? Being alive.
cooperatives: (𝟐)

[personal profile] cooperatives 2020-08-23 10:55 am (UTC)(link)
You don't think they'll...

( he's almost uncertain he should say anything at all--it feels oddly like there are ears all around them, listening, even though his tone is muted and his lips barely seem to form the words. )

...make you?

( a glance at his companion, and then at the hole beyond them. )

I'm sure you've got something on you. In you. That they would accept.
cooperatives: (𝟏)

[personal profile] cooperatives 2020-08-23 11:02 am (UTC)(link)
( the hand that falls on his shoulder is strong, a squeeze that's determined enough that his eyes snap open, focus first on the swirl of darkness so close to his face that seems to promise an end to his suffering--and then, slowly, they lift, round and worried and full of too much emotion, like he's forgotten how easy it is to hide behind his smiles, his gentle kindness, his sweeping promises. his eyes lift and they find arima there, and the feeling of knowing that he's there is so alarmingly overwhelming that he can't quite articulate it in words. )

But...

( he doesn't know how to explain the feeling: how to describe the pervasive weight of guilt, settled so low in his chest that it seems to urge him down to the ground, as if he can't pull himself off of his knees any more than arima's touch can shake the emotion. one of his hands lifts, clutches at the fingers curved over him, as though arima is his lifeline, his rope to keep him sane. )

I've let everyone down now. I couldn't give it up, they asked for it and I couldn't give it up, and I've...

( his gaze swings to the chasm, again. )

I deserve it, don't I?
guitarheroism: (12)

[personal profile] guitarheroism 2020-08-23 11:13 am (UTC)(link)
[ hisirdoux could manage a spell like that, but it'd be visible and easy to spot. and while his identity is no huge secret, there are greater, more infernal powers he's hoping to avoid.

he rubs the back of his neck, considering this. ]


I guess I could throw in one of my arm bands. But the stuff in me, that's the most important. I'm not giving that up for anything.
hopesong: (Lithe)

[personal profile] hopesong 2020-08-23 11:46 am (UTC)(link)
The first thing she notices about this new-comer is that she reminds her of Jake, in the way that she's hanging out just a little further than necessary.

Ah, well. That's fine. She misses him dearly, can only hope that he might show up here too, along with everyone else. She smiles wide, genuine, lowering her guitar a bit as she's spoken too. Another music lover is always good to her.

"That depends, hun. It's my specialty, but I've been known to dabble in other genres from time to time. I take requests, if you've got one." She can't help but hope so, because a new person with a fresh taste will do wonders for her, she thinks. It's hard to focus without the sounds of the campfire and her past company, but the music helps to steady her nerves.
coinages: (— you can watch me corrode.)

rufus shinra — final fantasy vii remake

[personal profile] coinages 2020-08-23 03:09 pm (UTC)(link)
CLOUDS.

[ It's never advisable to lose something valuable--even more when everything has a price. There's always some kind of intrinsic benefit, some of practicality and some of pleasure; he can remember things being taken away from him for this very reason, possessions lost to the whims of his own tantrums and his father's nasty punishments, and maybe that's why he declares everything within the realm of his power as his own things: people and items alike. There's not an item he owns that he is not entirely unwilling to part with, and as his icy eyes scan the people around him, tossing in clocks and flowers and precious jewelry, he almost thinks them mad.

Who would do such a thing merely for some festival? Who would be that ridiculous?

He stands, stubbornly resistant, refusing to even level his shotgun with the width of the darkness there, refusing to even waste one bullet on it--but some things are taken as involuntarily as the stuffed bear he'd lost once he'd "outgrown" it, and a memory of this toy, of that one particular instance of his father's cool rage and cruelty, wrapped into one, comes past his lips like icy breath; it falls, a light that goes dark into the chasm, and Rufus has no idea how it happens or why he's suddenly without it.

Just that the first person he sees staring at him will be met with the snap of a mirror of that cool anger--]
Can I help you?


SALOON.

[ It's the taste of dirt in his mouth. Dirt or sand, he can't quite tell--but he hates it all the same, hates that when he pushes himself up onto his elbows, he can't quite remember why he's there in the first place.

His white clothes are sufficiently scuffed, coat unbuttoned and hair a wild blonde mess around his temples; and he can't remember why he's wearing them, either. He can't remember where he is, or why when he gets up onto his knees, there's the sign of some garish bar or something similar--what even is a saloon, his mind spits at him--in front of him, of doors he can't remember being tossed out of, and the frustration of it all makes his lips press together, pursed and angry and a tiny, tiny pinch afraid. Amnesia?

He tries to dust himself off the best he can. There's a gun at his feet, and he doesn't know that he wants to touch it; guns are dangerous things, especially when wielded by someone unworthy of them. He nudges it faintly with the toe of his boot and then, with a sigh, bends again to haul it up.]


Excuse me. [ He asks, of the first person he manages to see.] I'm sorry to have to ask this, but do you... know who I am?


PITY.

For your trouble.

[ He's used to those that beg--even enjoys it, in a sense, especially when he's comfortably laced into a thick leather chair, listening to some hopeless employee prattle on about how they'll do anything to spare the reprimand.

The ones at his feet now are not so dissimilar, though they crave attention as much as they crave money and whatever else they may glaze their eyes on--he doesn't much care. Better to give them something before they take advantage of much more; and his pocket is full of his coins, silver enameled things meticulously carved, enough that he only feels a jolt of displeasure when he thumbs one out and flicks it in the direction of the beggars.

And what do they want? Well, of course--they want the rest of them.

Rufus takes an immediate step back, a firm line of irritation settling in, and shakes his head. He needs a decoy, and fast: so he reaches for the first person he sees, passing by, and hooks his arm in through with this stranger's to offer them a demanding sort of smile. ]


You. Yes. Walk with me. Away from here.


NETWORK.

Bruises, in the right places. Why choose anything else?


ooc:
( got a different idea? feel free to hit me up via PM or just post it below, i'll roll with anything! )
enduresurvive: (twist)

[personal profile] enduresurvive 2020-08-23 07:30 pm (UTC)(link)
One corner of Ellie's mouth pulls into something that could be a smile. At least Kate took her request seriously. She seems nice. Ellie wants to think that there are still nice people around, and they're not all like the fuckers she's dealt with recently. On a fundamental level, Ellie doesn't hate or distrust people as a whole. Trauma responses are a weird thing, though.

"I mostly know stuff from the 80s and 90s. So, like, a long ass time ago," she says with a shrug. A lot of her music, she got from Joel. She's expanded her tastes some, but recorded music can be hard to come by so it's pretty piecemeal.

"I don't know. Uh, Nirvana? Do you know them?" She didn't get Nirvana from Joel. She also doesn't yet realise that her time, her world...that's entirely different from where other people are from. No one has clued her in on that just yet. So it feels like she's asking for ancient history, besides being terribly different from country.
funguy: (pic#8447283)

joel miller | the last of us

[personal profile] funguy 2020-08-23 07:52 pm (UTC)(link)
i. BLACK CLOUDS.

[ There’s no escaping the celebrations. Strange music and desperate cheer leak out even beyond the city center. Though he’s drawn close several times during the day, the crowds both fascinate and spook Joel, who is much more comfortable observing from the less populated side streets. He lurks for a while, an obvious tourist among the eager festival participants.

The quiet that falls in the evening is a bit of false security. He draws closer, curious as music changes tempo and the mood shifts – and then he’s left staring sort of horrified at the sheer waste that unfolds. Everything and anything tumbles down into that deep chasm, and as the enthusiasm of the locals rises to a crescendo, he turns to flee. ]


What the fuck?

[ Not looking, he rams himself right into whoever was standing behind him. ]



ii. SILHOUETTE SALOON.
[ Tired and confused and tired of being confused, a few days after his arrival Joel finally feels his control bend as he turns to follow the signage. It’s the promise of a drink that draws him to the Saloon at first, though the strangeness of the establishment nearly chases him off. The stark white and black is jarring – but hell, so is the rest of this world. At least here there's booze.

Hypocritically, Joel resents the silhouettes for their anonymity – he’d rather be able to see the face of the person serving him his liquor – but this is the sort of place where people come not to socialize, but to drink. And… It’s nice not being seen.

Even nicer is whatever he’s been served. Warm whisky drops his guard with every sip, and though he is glad for the empty seats beside him and drinks in silence at first, Joel is almost eager as he turns to the first person who comes to stand at the bar by his side. ]


I feel like I should miss it more, you know? I lived there, but… Jackson never really felt like home.



iii. PITY’S UGLY.
[ An unsympathetic man by nature, Joel’s first response to the beggars is to ignore them. This works for a while, but they line the streets he’s been roaming in surprising number. He finds them a pathetic nuisance at first, but with how strange everything is to him here, seeing needy people is almost familiar.

They’re bolder than the vagrants from Boston – Joel ends up drawn to a small family of them when a young girl points to his pocket and asks for a bit of the jerky he’d forgotten was in there. That, he has no problem offering. But at once her neediness turns from his snack to his entire jacket, and as he’s shrugging it off and draping it over her shoulders, the girl’s father points to his broken watch. ]


No. [ For a second it seems like Joel might come back to himself, taking a shaky half-step back, but at once the girl is pleading again, her hands around his wrist, tugging at him with teary eyes, needing his watch.

His hand moves to unclasp it for her. ]




iv. ANYTHING GOES.
[ None of the above interest you? Hit me with something else. Brackets and prose both welcome. Let me know if you’re avoiding spoilers for tlou2 and I will be happy to oblige – current canonpoint is very slightly post-tlou1. ]
Edited 2020-08-23 19:58 (UTC)
notathreat: (12)

Black Clouds

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-08-23 08:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[This is some kind of fever dream. Some kind of nightmare. This whole place is a twisted, slow-moving dream, some circle of hell that nobody taught her about. The cordyceps finally exploded over her brain, and this is what she's left with. She's struggling somewhere in a corner, hallucinating things that never were and never will be.

Ellie's managed to ignore most of that so far -- but seeing Joel's back -- the very back she remembers seeing every single day for more than a year, following through everything, has caused what she's distantly sure is some kind of disassociative break.

She's had episodes, but nothing like this.

So Ellie stands and stares, and concentrates on her breathing, in and out, willing this to go away, and at the same time desperately wanting to see.

And then he turns, and Ellie half expects his face to be a fucking ruin. Instead, it's whole, and his eyes-]


Holy fffu-

[He hits, and she grabs, staggering back holding his sleeve, barely managing to keep her feet enough to steady them both. The world spins.]
prodigism: (pic#10792126)

[personal profile] prodigism 2020-08-23 08:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Those words...they reflect his own misgivings and thoughts he often has about himself. Letting people down, not being strong enough, thrusting such an impossible task upon Haise, no, Kaneki to be an unwilling successor to his and Eto's plans. But he's never once thought of the other letting people down, if anything he's the one who has let the other down.

He blinks, surprised almost, at the feather light touch of the other's fingers curling around his hand. ]


No. If anything you are their support and anchor. I can't say for certain if you do or don't deserve it. That's something that you...have to figure out on your own. [ But if they're going to be honest here... ]

Then I deserve it as well.

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