[identity profile] bandagesplz.livejournal.com
[goodness gracious, Accord. there seems to be a mess in your lobby. little bloody fingerprints on the floor, on the lampshade, a nice smear on the wall there, all leading to the source of the mess--there's a boy sitting on the floor, back to the wall, his knees tucked up against his chest. he's maybe twelve, thirteen years old, and his black shirt and pants are looking tattered and worse for wear, but that all sort of takes backseat to the fact that he is bleeding profusely from the face.

h-hey, at least it's not as bad as it looks? he's scratching nervously at his skin, mostly his cheeks and under his eyes, getting blood all over his fingers and... to be fair, his wrist bandages bled through a long time ago. strangely, anyone who is in this room can also hear... little frightened whispers coming from him, but he never moves his mouth. they aren't spoken aloud. they're in your head. creepy, right?]


Monster didn't mean to get lost. Monster tries, honest...! Oh, oh... Monster doesn't want to make him angry, Monster is sorry...

Lost, lost... Where is Monster? It whispers so strange... Monster has never met it before...


[so come on, help a brother out? even if anyone with the ability to sense darkness can tell that this thing is pretty darn full of demon-monster-darkness stuff? he promises he'll be nice...!]

✝ 002

Nov. 13th, 2011 05:07 pm
[identity profile] birdmetaphor.livejournal.com
Goodness. I leave for two weeks and suddenly I've got half a dozen new neighbors. It's enough to make a guy feel like a stranger. Hah--I look forward to meeting you all, one way or another.

And as everyone has no doubt noticed, wishing things up with magic isn't much of an option anymore... but there is a bright side. The city on the other side of the tram has all the works--functioning society, class differences, people that look at you funny if you act like a psychopath in public. It's fun.

Here's the deal: we've got small fry, mob bosses, murderers, even rumors of monsters in the less reputable parts of town. Back home, I was an... well, information broker would be the closest term, I think. I helped head this organization called the Stray Dogs. It was a collective of people with applicable skills who would go out and take on whatever jobs the police would hand over. A lot of bounty hunting. Sometimes they go solo, sometimes they team up, but whenever they take down a mark and get paid, the money's distributed to he group and everyone gets paid. Get enough people doing that, especially with some kind of support structure behind them? It'll bring in pretty good earnings, and keep everyone in steady work.

[it's a little more complex and slightly less legal than that, but hey.]

If anyone's interested in that sort of thing, let me know. We can discuss whatever you think needs discussing. I've got a whole pile of leads to start on, so I'm sure we could find something that fits.

Filter to Michael )

❦ 02

Oct. 19th, 2011 04:14 pm
[identity profile] heresyandlace.livejournal.com
[Tek has managed to locate the most comfortable seat in the library, and has been lounging there for some time, surrounded by a cluttered wall of the oldest books he's been able to find. The world is still numbed and surreal, but... he's at least beginning to get used to it. Eventually, he clicks open his grimoire and begins to speak]

You know... they say that while you are able to read in your dreams, the text is actually meaningless if you really look. The words themselves are merely shapes, oftentimes nothing but gibberish, and yet... your mind somehow understands what they mean.

[he takes a breath, thinks for a moment, and continues with something a little different. His words sound different now--breathy, a language with curled syllables--though somehow still understandable to anyone listening]

It's an interesting thought, at least. They say it is because the god of dreams himself is illiterate, and so must trick the dreamer into believing that they are actually reading. [and then another language shift, this one harsher, with halting sounds] They also say that it is possible to trick him back. If you put enough thought into what you are doing in a dream, sometimes it becomes too much, and you wake up.

[and then another, going from hard consonants to something lilting, words flowing from his mouth like water] There is disagreement over whether this is due to the god not being particularly bright and simply failing keep up with the dreamer, or whether he is actually exceedingly clever and grants wakefulness to someone whose intelligence he appreciates.

[the following language is a little trickier, and he resorts to reciting a popular proverb] You never appreciate how many feathers you have, until you molt.

[and, finally, hesitating at every word--] Little boy. Three... blue bowl. I... have lost my dog. Where do... no. ...Where is your home? Thank you.

⚒ 1

Oct. 7th, 2011 01:48 am
[identity profile] fleabit.livejournal.com
[It's a beautiful morning outside of the Tower.

Or it would be. If anyone could see more than a bit in front of them. The sun's breaking over the horizon a bit, just penetrating the fog enough to shine a bit of light on two women. One is pale and tall, with wild and tangled hair, on her back snoring still. She's in cheap pajamas provided by the inn she was sleeping at, the buttons not quite done right. They also seem a size or two too small for her.

The other woman is about a foot shorter than her companion, curled up next to her. Her skin is a bit tanned and she's in nothing but her underpants, her hair tied back behind her. Something about the way the ground feels jolts her awake first. Last they checked, they didn't pass out on someone's freshly watered lawn.

You know. If either of them actually knew what a lawn was.
]

Whuu? Where's I at now? [Glances around and blinks, not recognizing the green under her] Oh. What in Hades' name? Ah Raggy Raggy, git uppa!

[Raggy growled a bit, bolting up with a start, eyes wide as she looked over at her friend.] What? Raggy up! Raggy up! What Dirty Miri want? Raggy dream of jerky and--- Rrrrrr, bright! [She immediately buries her face in her hands and gnashes a bit, flailing in place.] What Dirty Miri do now?

[ooc: Joint intro for Raggy and Miri! Each girl will respond to you separately. Forward dated to sunrise.]

ARRIVAL

Oct. 5th, 2011 09:40 am
[identity profile] orz-woeisme.livejournal.com
[ Wakey wakey, you're in Accord!

No matter if you were snuggled in bed, raiding the fridge or doing some early-morning reading you're now suddenly starting to wake up outside of the massive Clockwork Tower. Maybe they woke up alone or with someone else; either way the first thing they'll notice is the slight chill of early-morning dew...and a permeating fog that blankets the island.

It's dark now. Sunrise is in one hour.

Welcome to the Clockwork Island, travelers!


ooc; make your own sections & tag in as you please! THREADHOP EVERYWHEREEEEE ]

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