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.

reydacted: (Default)

Rey - Star Wars

[personal profile] reydacted 2020-08-20 04:53 am (UTC)(link)
1. A city in the black clouds
[ This place is odd. She cautiously reaches through the Force, searching but is met with something totally unfamiliar. It seeps through her skin and sits in her gut, alien and unsettling, and it's enough to cause her to draw back into herself.

She observes intently, watching as items are offered. Ceremonies and superstitions were plentiful on the desert planet where good fortune and water were in short supply and value in equal measures. First its things, which she doesn't find that strange, but her eyes widen as light begins to pour out of their throats.

A memory surfaces-- a ship leaving, an echo of I'll come back for you sweetheart --she feels it level in her chest, rising from her heart to her throat. The memory is painful, but precious. It was the foundation of the lies she built around herself and wore like a shield on Jakku. It let her survive, and she can't bear to let it go as foolish as that is. ]


No--!

[ She gasps for air as if drowning, her arms clasping around herself. She stumbles backward awkwardly, undoubtedly bumping into people. She mutters apologies but then forces her way out of the crowd. As she breaks out she can't quite catch her breath, laying her hand over he chest panting. ]

What is this place...

2. Secrets in the Saloon
[ Drinking isn't exactly the hobby she's most prone to participate in, between a life where keen senses were vital to survival and the thinking that it's a habit that her parents chose over her. No, that isn't what drew her here or what makes her stay in her seat at the bar.

This exchange of secrets is a game, and Rey has never been in short supply of those. The opportunity to unload some of them in the safety of this dark place compels her to lean over to a stranger that's been sitting there for awhile. ]


I've been fighting in a war-- [ She pauses, almost in disbelief that this is the one that's falling out of her mouth. ] --But I've got this connection with the enemy's leader. No one knows I've talked to him.

3. No good deed
[ Maybe it's easier to be generous when you know what it's like to have nothing, to have fought for every scrap and spent more nights than you would wish on anyone plagued by hunger pangs.

She's drawn to the pleaders, and the hooks of their hypnosis are sharp and deep. She's entranced, but she's so new here she's got nothing-- The pleader is quick to point out that this isn't true. Her lightsaber, the silver hilt shining, hangs at her waist. She nods. Of course, of course they can have it.

Rey feels as if she's having an out of body experience, watching herself unclip her saber and begin to offer it to the pleader. ]

4. Wildcard
[ Something else? Feel free to hit me with a different starter, PM me, or hit me up on plurk [plurk.com profile] colster ]
the_brat: (vic4)

No good deed

[personal profile] the_brat 2020-08-20 05:03 am (UTC)(link)
Vic had been lucky to not get caught up in their ways, yet, but noticed Rey there. Offering whatever it was at her side- wait was that a lightsaber? Lou would lose his damned mind if he were here! She put a hand on her shoulder and tugged her back "Hey! Doesn't seem smart to ditch somethin' like that" She said, hoping to snap the other woman out of it.
cooperatives: (𝟔)

sasaki haise | tokyo ghoul:re

[personal profile] cooperatives 2020-08-20 10:11 am (UTC)(link)
I. BLACK CLOUDS.

( it doesn't seem right to do it.

standing at the edge of some gaping hole, haise looks down into the darkness at his feet and wonders what could be there: something so great that it swallows all of these silly little offerings, envelops them in shadows and then forces them to disappear, or perhaps it's that the ground beneath the hole is so far away that there's no sound, no indication of anything hitting rock or dirt or stone and shattering. it makes him feel uneasy to look into it--funny, given how easily he can look at other things, can see blood spattered across skin or flesh torn by mutated genes and not be troubled. this gives him a different feeling--that stomach twist of falling, but not really falling.

he doesn't have anything to throw into it. he feels like he should, for the sake of those around him, like the quiet will swallow him whole if he doesn't. but he can't lose his weapon, he can't bear to part with any bit of his uniform--what else does he have left? he could sacrifice his identification, but there's something about it, about his name printed there all neat and type-blocked, that makes his chest seize. he can't give up a piece of himself.

his eyes, round and worried, seek out a companion. anyone to help him. and then, in a soft, hesitant voice, he asks--)


What did you put in? Anything?

II. SILHOUETTE SECRETS.

( the wine doesn't feel right on his tongue, even if it does wonders to help still his nerves; the liquid, swallowed down, seems to take his heart back with it, nestling it down where it belongs. he's hungry: it's some odd, nauseous feeling he's had since arriving, and he can't quite puzzle out how one goes about getting food or why anything he's had so far hasn't made him feel any better.

alcohol is the next best guess. his lips close around the glass, another mouthful, and he doesn't realize he's got company until he sets back down again, folds his hands carefully in his lap and sits almost too politely, straight up on a bar stool that's meant for slouching. )


I thought I should die. ( the words come, oddly enough, from a voice that sounds cheery enough to share the secret--distant and strange, his gaze focuses on the white space behind the bar. ) If it was going to turn out this way, I should die and get it all over with.

III. CHASM SEEKER.

( no. no, no, no--but what if it's true? what if the rest of his squad is here, desperately searching for him, needing him, and he's nowhere to be found? what if giving up his weapon is the only real way to bring them back to him? shouldn't he be the leader he's supposed to be?

not that one, the sad voice had told him, when he'd brandished his sword in question. the one begging him to give something up. the one inside of you, of course.

there's a part of him that can't quite reconcile with that monstrous part of him: the one that bursts from his body in anger, all red tentacles and gripping hatred, seeking out blood or violence or to protect himself, he's never been sure. it's not something he wants to think about; the result of some faulty operation, but he's still human, isn't he? so why is he so reluctant to give it up?

on his hands and knees, he waits, rocks, a head of black and silver hair mourning the guilt that overtakes him--close to the edge of that giant hole in the middle of the place, he thinks all he would have to do is take a deep breath, throw himself over, and rid himself of all this suffering.

the squad would do better without him too, right? )


IV. NETWORK.

White roses. Nothing red. I don't like the way they look... Ah, there are so many beautiful flowers in the world, aren't there? No need for just red.


WILDCARD

( want to do something completely different? feel free to hit me with a starter, or send this journal a PM. tiny info on this guy: haise is a ghoul that doesn't know he's a ghoul... and as such is a member of the ghoul police, essentially. he's about 22 years old! )
the_brat: (vic11)

Vic McQueen | NOS4A2

[personal profile] the_brat 2020-08-20 04:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Spit Shine

[Vic wasn't sure what to make of everything happening. The sudden stop in their celebrating to pray and make some sacrifices into that chasm. The locals seemed happy about the arrival of everyone here, though, so maybe... Maybe those prayers she was hearing worked? Was that throwing stuff into it thing part of the processs?

Even if it was, what did she have to surrender? Would her prayers even reach back home? Her heart was pounding in her chest. She could hear it in her ears. She still had to save Wayne. She had to stop Charlie Manx. She had to.]


I don't know what I have to give...

[It came out as almost a whimper before a memory hit her. Willa, Drew, and a few other kids from their school had gone to Rhode Island. They were checking out RISD. She gasped as she felt the memory taken from her, hands going over her mouth after it was gone. Almost in the blink of an eye, tears in her eyes. It was such a trivial memory, but it was one of the good ones. One of the only good memories she had in recent year.

She fell to her knees, eyes wide, entire body shaking. The New England girl had no idea where to even begin processing that.]


What the frick was that...?

Silhouette Saloon

[She had been trying. Trying so hard to avoid anywhere that involved anything even remotely to do with alcohol. For Lou, for Wayne... For everyone. But this place... This place was messing with her way too much. She couldn't handle it. That's what led to her decision to even go in. Of course, she wasn't exactly expecting more weirdness to follow.

She would wander around the saloon for a bit, biting her lower lip, not getting a drink, just exploring. Feeling she was losing small pieces of herself. She had to get something off her chest, but the young woman didn't even know where to begin. She just clenched her jaw and stalked her way to the bar, taking a seat and ordering a drink for herself. She'd pound the first down before ordering a second, about to take a drink before sighing.

She stared down at the drink in her hands, debating what to do next. Watching the condensation drip down the sides of the glass.]


I've got a special ability to use a bridge no one else can to find lost things... To find anything or anyone... And I can't even find my own son using it...

[The tone was distant. It was something she was ashamed to even admit to. She was supposed to be strong. If she couldn't be that for Bats, who would be?]

Maybe... Maybe I'm just full of myself and this is punishment for me bein' a shit mom, though...

All About the Price Tag

[Vic had gotten caught by the Pleaders. They were begging for anything. Her wallet, which she didn't have, her jacket which was all she even had for protection. It was something Lou had given her. There was a reason for everything she couldn't give up.

Even as they had told her that Lou and Wayne would want to know she was doing good wherever she was. That she wasn't being selfish to people who could potentially help her get home. To where she could save everyone. Where she could stop Charlie Manx.

That had her violently pulling away from them, though. Eyes wide, jaw clenched as she stared at them for a moment before turning on heel and leaving. Still hearing their pleads. How it's what her family would want her to do. How they won't forgive her for not helping the less fortunate. That had her stop briefly. Maybe not exactly for the reasons the Pleaders wanted, but the words after 'forgive her' had been muffled in her mind. Tears welling in her ears.

She just made her way, subconsciously, almost, to that chasm in the middle of everything. She stared at it, feeling that it was her only escape from that overwhelming guilt she felt in her gut. The only way to properly move onward from what those guys were saying as true. And as she seemed to make her final decision, a murmur of words was said.]


This is for the best...

Network

Cradles. Never been much of a flowers girl, I ain't dyin' any time soon, and I've had my fair share of bruises. Rather not deal with those again.

Wildcard

[Come at me with something else! If you wanna discuss something, hmu [plurk.com profile] mellzyvee]
Edited 2020-08-20 16:38 (UTC)
notathreat: (3)

Secrets in the Saloon

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-08-20 04:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[Something's so fucked up about all the whispering here, but it's so... easy to listen. To get caught up in problems that aren't hers, to hear about the lives of others, the things that they don't want to say.

Ellie's secrets are still so stuck to her tongue, but a couple more drinks could wriggle them free. Nobody knows anybody here, nobody has any stakes. But she's so used to playing everything so close to her chest, even this place is gonna have to work on her.

So she's been sitting there a while, working up the will to leave, some deep part of her knowing that if she stays, the compulsion of confession will get to her.

The girl saves her, though -- young and with that familiar scrappy survivor-air to her, and Ellie looks up from her drink. She's barely out of her teens herself, and has the scars of something war-torn, too. Like knows like.]


People're complicated as fuck.

[Ellie says it with an old hurt, an old understanding, but nods at Rey. There's some reason she needs this off her chest. Ellie's fine with being faceless. Just ears. Her voice is quiet, no judgment here.]

What kind of connection are you talking about?
notathreat: (10)

II. SILHOUETTE SECRETS.

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-08-20 04:58 pm (UTC)(link)
But you're alive.

[Ellie is ears tonight, ears and steady eyes, faded scars and old bruises nearly healed. She herself feels halfway there, a figure in a worn and torn jacket, a bow across her back, looking like she's been on the road for years. Her hand where it curls around her glass is as scarred as the rest of her.

Maybe none of this is real, but it makes her feel like less of a ghost to talk to the other wayward souls.

This one, chillingly, sounds like something that would come out of her own mouth.]


Why d'you think you keep on going?
snakehead: (injured)

Narek | Star Trek (Picard)

[personal profile] snakehead 2020-08-21 12:49 am (UTC)(link)
Arrival
If there is a less graceful entrance to this place he'd love to see it. Truly, his ego has taken quite the beating over the last forty eight hours, and stumbling into an unfamiliar city on an unfamiliar planet but still damnably restrained in the federation-issue magnetized handcuffs around his wrists? His day could be going better. He could probably get them off if he had the right rools, but who knows what he'll have access to here? Yes, he is special though, thank you, or at least he'd always loved to believe that. So, green blood still trickling from a cut on his scalp with several bruises, Narek tries to not look like a lost tourist as he looks for something to get his hands free.

Spit Shine Your Black Clouds
Narek has managed to get the handcuffs off of himself one way or another, so sure, he'll celebrate, though he looks perfectly relaxed and cheerfully friendly he makes a point of touching neither food nor drink unless he sees someone else try it first and observes them long enough to make certain it's safe. When it comes time to offer up prayers and objects to whatever the pit represents?

Fuck it. There's a certain satisfaction in throwing the handcuffs into that chasm, even if he instantly feels the guilty loss of wasting a potential resource. His mouth is a thin line as he watches them vanish into the darkness along with the other offerings.

Silhouette saloon
Narek is a cagey bastard and he's pretty sure he's in hell. It seemed great at first, exactly his type of place, to sit and listen to other people spill their secrets.

Narek is made of secrets and they're threatening to choke him, vanishing into the same fog a little bit at a time until he finally has to grab someone by the arm and hiss out a whisper he no longer remembers the reason for, but knows it's a terrible truth just the same.

"... I thought I was doing the right thing."


Digital Veil
What a juvenile little riddle.

I've enough bruises for a lifetime and more. I've no need of roses, real or imagined. Cradles are equally useless for me, but coffins I can put plenty of use to.

How about this one? Say my name and I disappear. What am I?


WILDCARD
[Idk throw something else at me? Will match format!]
snakehead: (Kinda pouty)

Price Tag

[personal profile] snakehead 2020-08-21 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
Not so fast-

[Narek has seen how those mind controlling little cretins work by now. It had seemed almost that the girl managed to pull herself put of their grasp, but seeing her heading straight to the chasm, well.

Narek grabs her by the arm, Romulans stronger than Humans in a straight size by size comparison and having no problem using all of that to drag her away from the pit by force if he must, but he's going for gentle if forceful at first, snapping his fingers in front of her face.]


Hey, look at me, here- wake up, they've put you under some mind control - what's your name?
the_brat: (vic11)

Re: Price Tag

[personal profile] the_brat 2020-08-21 01:04 am (UTC)(link)
[Vic was startled by the pulling and looked to the man in front of her, still looking distraught, but managing to register what was being said.]

I- Vic McQueen. I-I should've helped them. Given them somethin', at least.

[And she's running a hand through her hair. Not processing the 'min control' part of that much yet.]
snakehead: (Looking down)

[personal profile] snakehead 2020-08-21 01:17 am (UTC)(link)
No, you shouldn't have, Vic McQueen. They had some sort of psychic control over you - I've been watching them do it to others.

[in his defense he didn't understand what he was seeing right away, but space is full of mind controlling aliens so it wasn't hard to reason out. He's going to keep hold of her until she seems back in her right mind as well to make sure she doesn't either head right back to the chasm or worse, to those little psychic shits.]

If you'd have given them what they wanted they would have asked for something else until you had nothing left.
the_brat: (vic3)

[personal profile] the_brat 2020-08-21 01:29 am (UTC)(link)
What if-what if they're right about what my family will think of me, though?

[Hey she pulled away but she's got enough self crushing guilt to destroy herself without the Pleaders help, even.]
alwayswithscissors: (063)

Silhouette Saloon

[personal profile] alwayswithscissors 2020-08-21 01:33 am (UTC)(link)
Dean had been there long enough to hear some secrets, biting the inside of his cheek as the urge to spill his own was being brought closer and closer to the surface. He frowned as he was grabbed, looking the guy over "Pretty sure a whole shit ton of us thought the same thing, pal. In whatever reality we're from."

He sighed, free hand rubbing his forehead a bit. "More I think about it, though, the less I'm thinkin' I was..." He lost both his brothers. No way was that the right thing.
snakehead: (injured)

[personal profile] snakehead 2020-08-21 01:40 am (UTC)(link)
[Let's face it Narek isn't short any self crushing guilt either. He's just got a lot more years and a much heavier cultural bias that you need to live with it because death is too easy.]

They aren't. I've no doubt they aren't.

[Like, no offense, but you're human so that seems like a pretty safe answer, accounting for what he's learned about Human Culture as a whole.]

They'll be proud of you for being strong against their manipulations.
snakehead: (Leaning back)

[personal profile] snakehead 2020-08-21 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
It's awful and he's hating every second of this. Even as things slip away from him like water through a sieve, he gets the same feeling. He believed he was doing right. But still. But still.

It all turned out so wrong.

"... I lost my sister."
alwayswithscissors: (007)

[personal profile] alwayswithscissors 2020-08-21 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
"My brother and half brother are both trapped in hell." He responded before looking to the bar and gesturing for them both to go over. Sounded like a drink could do them good, at the very least.

He wasn't sure why he was feeling compelled to share, but the least they could do was have a beer or something over this depressing set of topics, right?
the_brat: (vic5)

[personal profile] the_brat 2020-08-21 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
All the shit I've put them through- This probably wouldn't even phase it anyway...

[Hey. Somehow thinking of the worse things she's done is helping her get out of this. And she's shaking her head]

I hate this place.
snakehead: (Explaining things)

[personal profile] snakehead 2020-08-21 02:41 am (UTC)(link)
[Any port in a storm, as the saying goes. If it works, it works.]

I imagine it hates us too.
snakehead: (face touch)

[personal profile] snakehead 2020-08-21 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
Certainly, why not? It looked like they probably had real liquor here too, though whether it will do anything for Narek's biology is up in the air.

"I lost my brother last...year? And my sister, she. She just died, I think. I didn't save her," he's fairly certain it was something that she chose that led her to that fate, but he still feels guilt over it. That he lived and she didn't.
reydacted: (tfa48)

[personal profile] reydacted 2020-08-21 03:52 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's not the shell-shocked face of disbelief that she had come to expect as she plays the eventual confession of this secret over in her mind. No accusations of how she's a monster, or how she's jeopardized the effort and safety of her friends, or questions if she's been manipulated. There's no chastising about how it was foolish to let herself believe that anything but hurt could come from it.

No, this other girl just offers empathy and understanding. There's a balm in that kindness that Rey couldn't have anticipated. She relaxes a little in her chair, finger tracing idly around the rim of her glass. ]


It's probably going to sound mad.

[ No, it's definitely going to sound mad. Not even Rey had been able to find anything about it her ancient texts. ]

It's like... a mental connection. But more. He could be across the stars and we could talk like we were in the same room. We could see each other.

[ Reach out and touch each other, but the compulsion to share more seems to be curbed for now. ]
notathreat: (2)

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-08-21 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
Try me.

[The ghost of a smile settles on Ellie's lips, can't quite reach her eyes, but she can see the way the other girl relaxes, the way the weight just falls off his shoulders, like this secret is one that's been eating her alive.

A million impossible things have already happened today. Nobody can agree what color the sky is. The idea of a telepathic connection across "the stars" sounds up there with the rest, but there comes a point where acceptance is a form of survival. Ellie lets her drink coat her tongue while Rey talks, listening.]


... so, how d'you feel about it?

[No questions about how it works. Ellie gets the feeling that asking would be beyond useless, along with why them. The hows and whys aren't always the most important thing. Not when it's people, and not when it's a secret that can only be unloaded in a place like this.]
reydacted: (tros61)

[personal profile] reydacted 2020-08-21 04:12 am (UTC)(link)
Rey stumbled as she's pulled back, but it seemed to do the trick. Her eyes widen and her grip tightened on the hilt, drawing it back to her chest.

Obviously the Pleader was visibly displeased with this and started shouting, but Rey grabbed the other woman to get them both out of danger.

"Thank you," she breathed, "I don't know what happened."
reydacted: (tfa89)

[personal profile] reydacted 2020-08-21 04:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ There are a thousand different questions Rey has expected to answer if she ever had to come clean about it, but explaining her feelings on the matter apparently didn't make the list.

She wants to say that she hated it. That it scared her. And while those things were true at first they quickly became not so true. It had been a source of confusion and comfort but also pain. She considers what she wants to say at first before she looks back down at her glass and shrugs. ]


I don't know. Not sure it matters.

[ Because ultimately doesn't the objective fact of how utterly unwise it was overrule the fact that it made her feel a little less alone in the universe? ]

It's strange to say these things aloud.
notathreat: (1)

[personal profile] notathreat 2020-08-21 05:03 am (UTC)(link)
[Seems to Ellie that that's what she needs to say aloud, but she doesn't say so. Ellie's beyond twisted up when it comes to feeling things, even more twisted up when it comes to saying them out loud.

Some things are just too sad; sadder than she wants to put on others. Even if this place keeps secrets, there's a terror that comes with being seen.]


Someone I know says it's good to get your thoughts out, that when they're all out, you feel better. I think that makes them sound like they're food poisoning.

[Ellie presses both her palms to her glass, pain flickering across her eyes. She wants to, and she knows it's more than this place, pressing her to talk.]

I love somebody who did something awful. Doom-the-world levels of awful. And he did to save me.
loihtija: (Default)

Feeding forest

[personal profile] loihtija 2020-08-21 11:26 am (UTC)(link)
Standing in the middle of the trees, Grey has his eyes closed, his breathing even and quiet, listening to the forest around him. It doesn't speak the way a forest should, at least in his humble opinion. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one damn bit.

Neither does he like the scuffling steps that come towards him. Someone obviously walking in an awkward manner, not quite like he should, halted, restrained perhaps.

His brows furrow. And finally he opens his eyes to stare at the man. Imposing in his dark coat and frown shadowing his gaze, he gives the bleeding, handcuffed man a long quiet stare, then ventures simply: "You're loud."

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