Welcome To The Village

[number_2]

Who: Everyone who was signed-up for the excursion
What: The Village December Excursion
When: Dec 1st - Dec 23rd
Where: The Village
Warnings: Involuntary capture and confinement including immobilization and restraints, violence, injury, maiming, possibility of death, torture, coercion, gaslighting, mind control, drugging, scientific experiments, and extremely inaccurate depictions of mental health facilities/hospitals, among other potentially triggering themes. Please mark all threads appropriately.




"Good morning, good morning, good morning!" A voice that sounds very similar to Friday's chirps over a loudspeaker outside your character's home. Yes, their home.

Overnight, all the passengers who signed up for this excursion have been transported to their very own personal cottages. They will awake in a bed that is familiar to them. While this home of theirs does not necessarily have to resemble the place they were born or raised, it will be a perfect replica of a place they truly thought of as their home, down to the most minute details.

The cottages are self-contained, the size of a large studio apartment so, in some cases, they may only resemble the bedroom and living room of a person's home with a shrunken-down kitchenette and bathroom adjoined. But the heirlooms of their past are here. A favorite doll? A treasured family portrait? Trinkets you have long forgotten about? All of them will be here, somehow. (All except for weapons, that is.) They are indistinguishable from the real item, down to the molecule.

After that wake-up call, the voice continues on to express that the weather will be warm and sunny, with no rain forecasted. A brass band concert is announced, to start at noon on the lawn next to the living chess set. And once that bit of news is wrapped up, lively marching band music will begin to play. And it will continue to play. All day. From every speaker...including the ones hidden in their home.

Welcome to Your Village

It only gets stranger from here. Characters may be dismayed to find that they are without any of their original clothes or belongings. They awake in conservative button-up pajamas. The closet in their home is full of the latest Village Fashion to choose from. Everything is The Village label brand, including the tin cans of food that stock the kitchen and any of the groceries you could get at the General Store.

Your ship phone rings. When you answer it, you will be greeted, once again, by the voice of Friday. "Your number, please? Of course, you have a number. Look at your badge." If they look down at their chest, they will discover a small round number badge has been pinned to their pajamas. Was that there before? It bears the symbol of a Penny-farthing Bicycle, with a number in the spokes. This is their number.

"No names here," the voice of Friday chides, "Only numbers. Number 2 would like a word with you at the Green Dome. He requests you come for breakfast. Thank you!" Before they can protest further, the line goes dead.


Some Notes:

No matter how many times your character tries to take off and disregard their number badge, they will always find it re-attached to their clothes again the moment they look away and look back.

Your characters still have their phones but now they can only make calls instead of sending texts. They also do not take or store photographs anymore.

If your character destroys or damages anything in their home, or in The Village it will instantly repair the way things used to on the Serena Eterna.

The noise from the speakers can be muffled by covering it with pillows or other creative items, but cannot be stopped entirely. (Sorry Phil)

Comments

Home Sweet Home? | OTA

[ss_buttcrack]

Arrival - Meta
That alarm startles him awake in bed, but for a moment he thinks he might still be dreaming. He can't believe his eyes. Gone is the cruise ship cabin he's gotten so used to calling home. Instead, he's woken up on a familiar sloped bed in his own bronze and gold metal sleeping quarters on Moya. Wait. On Moya?!

He throws off the shimmering blanket he woke up under, excitedly running to his quarter's crisscrossed prison door to check the halls but he stops short when the view he meets through the bars is... not Moya's hallways. Or even space. It's the colorful plant-filled landscape of The Village instead.

"What the frell?!"

It becomes crushingly, painfully clear soon enough, that he is not actually home at all. This must be the start of that excursion he stupidly signed-up for. Get away, it said. Sure. After that unpleasant phone call finishes up, he spends some time inspecting this home away from home. It's uncanny how they have captured every aspect of his room on Moya, down to the smallest detail. Even his voice recorder and other personal items are here. Hell, the recorder still has his last journal entry logged and everything. How the hell did they get that?

Yet, despite so many of his familiar belongings being here, they left him high and dry in the clothing department. God, he looks like his dad in these old style clothes. Stripes and khaki definitely do not accentuate his figure. The sneakers are comfy enough, though, hell give them that. He's dismayed to find that number badge won't stay gone no matter how many times he rips it off. Number 34? Is that supposed to be funny? That's... probably how old he'll be in a few days. If his math is correct. Cute.

Frell it, he might as well go have breakfast with that Number 2 guy and see what kind of shit they got planned for this new adventure in hell. He signed up for it of his own free will, after all. He's sure he's going to regret that.


Home Visits! Open For The Entire Event
He's sure the fact his personally tailored cottage is comforting for him was always intended. Number 2 wants him to feel at home here, obviously, so he'll let down his guard. He should probably fight that urge but... damn, it really does feel good to just sit and imagine being home again. (Though, it isn't quite the same without the constant background hum of engines. Big band music just doesn't have that same ambiance.) Then, quietly, a realization hits him. This is where he thinks of as home. Not Earth. Moya. Frell...

But this isn't really home, is it? It's just a pretty prison full of dangers he's yet to even anticipate. He can't let himself get too comfortable here. That said, he prefers staying in to going out, so if you want to find him, your best bet is knocking on the... well, bars. Or, just wave, because you can see in right through the front door. He couldn't hide away properly even if he wanted to.

Drop by and say hi.

Dropping by!

[professionalriot]

Khakis. Who the fuck wears khakis? Of all the things to be bothered by, he hates these fucking pants.

He pokes his face between the bars and looks around.

"Hello? It's Ash from State Farm. Do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior...wait, that's not right..."

Escape The Village 2 Electric Boogaloo | OTA

[be_seeing_you]

Arrival - Not This Again
His eyes fly wide the moment he hears that voice piping in over the loudspeakers. Dread chills his body beneath the comforter of his queen sized Village bed. He stares forlornly at the ceiling, knowing all too well what he'll see when he finally rises and goes to the window. He's sorely tempted to pull the covers up over his head and go back to snoozing. If they want him so bad they know where to find him. But he can't, because it isn't just him this time. They'll all be waking up to their own versions of a home they recognize. They will have questions and he has some of the answers. He's never been so disappointed in all his life to be right about a hunch. He tried to warn them.

When the phone rings he answers but doesn't say a word. The woman on the line doesn't seem to care or notice, she simply gives him the usual talk about coming for breakfast and then hangs up. That number badge, however, has him very upset. Of course it says the Number 6 on it. But, last time he was here he removed it immediately. This time, it won't stay gone. Curse you Number 2. Determined to make sure everyone knows by the end of this, aren't you?

Still fuming, Number 6 exits his cottage. The door slowly hums open for him just like it used to, so he could never slam it himself. With his fingers dancing anxiously at his sides, he strolls down those unfortunately familiar cobbled streets toward the lawn. Where are the others? Where is Ava? He needs to find them. None of the other cottages seem to be nearby in relation to his. He supposes he should have expected that. But, blast it all, where are they?

Catch Number 6 out searching the grounds of The Village trying to find anyone he recognizes. If he sees your character, he will walk directly toward them, clearly looking like he wants to talk. "Wait just a moment. There's something you should know."

I had to

[myagic]

Rita is looking around too, because simply sitting around and waiting for something to happen doesn't suit her. She'll at least get her bearings in this place.

She glances over when Number 6 approaches--the number 11 is stuck to her own striped shirt and won't stay gone, but the pant legs she cut off to give herself some shorts? Those, at least, are staying changed. "Oh, eyebrow guy. What is it?"

Home | OTA

[redlightgreenlight]

Let me go home - Meta

Valdis wakes before the alarm even rings through the room, familiar scents she hasn't experienced in hundreds of years. The bed is simple, stuffed with straw, and not nearly as comfortable as the bed she had gone to sleep in, the sheets are rough, the blanket woven, course wool. She opens her eyes to the scent of freshly baked bread, breathing it in with a sincere and lonely calm. Maybe he is here somewhere. Maybe this is a dream. But as the alarm rings out through the room, she knows it's just another nightmare.

Valdis flings the blanket off, going to the window where the more modern world exists. Not as modern as hers, but far more than her home with Malachi. She sinks to the ground, tears welling up in her eyes, but wipes them away, now isn't the time for emotion.

Exploring the rest of the house with an iron will, she knows she'll be visiting this Number 2 for breakfast. She has...questions.

Home Is Wherever I'm with You| OTA Throughout the Event

The rest of the cottage has more modern amenities, it seems only the bedroom is based exactly on the home she once lived in. Plumbing exists, so does a tiny old fridge, small mercies despite the pain of what is missing. She'll open the door to anyone who knocks, but will usually hesitate to let them in. If they do come in, she will make tea over the wood stove and entertain to the best of her ability despite the rage that simmers under the surface.

Where I'm with You

[professionalriot]

Ash had gone door to door looking for her. So far all he had found was disappointment. The ache in his chest grew with every house he visited. With a heavy heart he reached out to knock on one more door. After his fist tapped he took a few steps back, ready for the inevitable.

[astrogator]

1. Arrival (OTA)

Lieutenant Tayrey has learned to be mistrustful. So much so that when she wakes in her own bed, with her own warming light display flooding the room, her own station patch collection stuck to the ceiling, her own holophoto affixed to the wall, she does not assume that she's back on the Prosperity. Her life is not that simple. Probability is not that kind to her.

She knows it's wrong because she can't hear the hum of the engines, the sound that was lullaby and comfort to her for years. She knows it's wrong because there's no tang of hot metal and ozone carried on the air. And Tayrey knows where she really is when she sees that the clothes she is wearing are not her own.

There's no panic this time, no sudden terror over the thought of someone drugging and stripping her. She expected this, she knows it's the least of what she has to expect now, and young Ari Tayrey is resolved to be stone. To be iron. It's unsurprising that the sliding cabinet doesn't contain the set of uniforms that it ought to. She pulls out a blue shirt and trousers. The shade isn't right, and they aren't Cardalek-tailored, but it'll do. The shirt she only buttons halfway, before twisting and tying the tails to leave her midriff bare. There on her stomach is the spacer-blue astrogator's star. Eight points for a lieutenant. Let them see what it is to try to play these tricks on a Tradeliner.

She steps outside the tiny cabin, into what looks like, but isn't, a corner of the junior officers' lounge. Even down to the flickering holographic notices. It's empty. That shouldn't surprise her. A table, some chairs, a sofa, a larger holoprojector. No drinks cabinet, which is faintly disappointing. There's her private storage locker, with bags of coffee inside. If it isn't Cardalek coffee, they've managed to replicate the packaging exactly. There's another door which leads to a scaled-down version of the hygiene facilities. Well, she hasn't exactly missed shipside showers, but at least it's familiar. Tayrey doesn't allow herself to get caught up in longing for her ship, her home, because she'd had warning. She knows what this signifies. It's a demonstration. Of power, yes, but more importantly of knowledge. Fortunate, then, that her strategy isn't one of bold lies.

There's a ringing sound. She ignores it. It's soon joined by the louder noise of the emergency alarm over in the lounge. Tayrey walks over and taps a button on the wall. She doesn't speak. Friday does. Tayrey is wearing a badge that certainly wasn't there when she put on the shirt, and that's what unsettles her, that sort of indicator that all this is a badly-programmed simulation. Maybe it is. Maybe she's sleeping somewhere else. 27. Shareholder 27, is it? As if old Company myths bothered her. As if a number of death could bother her, after everything.

'My name is Lieutenant Arilanna Lorenza Kittredge Carrington Tayrey,' she announces to the air, to the hidden listeners. And then the music starts. Tayrey almost smiles to herself, believing it's personal. Yes, yes, they must think she'd hate that, after all the podcast nonsense. She resists the urge to go straight for the holovid headphones she knows are in a wall storage unit by the projector. Instead, she steps out the front door, which slides open for her. Yes, she remembers this place. She steps into the street and looks around, to see if any of the others are nearby.

2. Communication (Positive CR)

Back inside, she's investigating the communications systems. The primitive Earther communicator is barely functioning and shouldn't be compatible with Tradeline technology. She has never made an audio call with it before; she assumed it was for texting.

Even so, after some experimentation she thinks she's cracked it. If you know Tayrey, if she likes you well, you may hear a call that she thinks she's broadcasting widely but in reality is a phone call to you alone.

'This is Lieutenant Tayrey calling all those who love liberty. Please respond. This is an all-systems call. Please respond.'

Arrival

[be_seeing_you]

Lieutenant Tayrey.

[Number 6 walks swiftly up to her. He's wearing his standard Village uniform because it was the only option laid out for him in his closet. This time, he's also wearing a number badge. He looks resigned. It does not feel good to be right about this.]

I'm glad I found you. Have you been harmed?

Natsuno | OTA

[neverleave]

Arrival/home visits
[He wakes up in his old Sotoba bedroom, with its wooden floor, bare walls and shoji window. His desk is at the same spot by the window, with a small radio and open notebooks, half-solved math homework waiting just for him. The living room is familiar as well, with fir-tree furniture just like his parents used to make. It even smells like their atelier.

While the cottage resembles the Yuuki-Koide home, some of the items are distinctly different. A nautical-themed notebook and a coffee mug with a Serena Eterna logo - seemingly generic, but Natsuno knows they are Jade's. Crumpled candy wrappers like that used to fall out off Clarke's pockets when she was hanging out in cabin 109. A 90s video game console that's definitely Tohru-chan's, except Tohru-chan never brought it over to play. Natsuno would always go to his house and stay for as long as he could.

Visitors to his cottage may get the feeling they're being watched, and not just general-Village watched. It's a distinctly different feeling, hungry and jealous, and is that a pair of red eyes glowing behind the closed window?

(Natsuno's cottage comes with the haunting essence of his undead stalker from back home. It probably can't hurt you, but boy does it feel like it's about to kill you if you're being too friendly with him!)]

Around
[It's all very messed up, of course, but Natsuno knew what he was signing up for. Whatever the asshole franchising this dimension has in store, Natsuno is determined not to complain. He explores the village, sticking his nose wherever he can (and noting what he can't).

He's also carrying a chair everywhere. It's something you'd fine in a boutique shop, made of a single piece of wood, all smooth lines. A replica of the chair his father made for him, the one he never got to use on account of getting murdered. Natsuno decided to bring it back to the ship and since he doesn't know when or how this excursion ends, he'll just have to keep it close at all times.

He will absolutely smash the chair into things if he has to, though. Stuff fix themselves anyway.]

[myagic]

Natsuno!

[He's the first person Rita searches out, of course, with trepidation turning just a little to relief. Yeah, they had an idea of what they were signing up for, but she can still be glad he's here and not a mounted head on a wall. She jogs over to him; there's a Number 11 pinned to her striped shirt and the edges of her short shorts are frayed, indicating a very recent and quick "tailoring" of the provided pants (as if she was going to go around in something so stifling!), but she also has no blastia or spellbook or premade sigils.

And she might be relieved to see him in one piece, but still, the first thing she has to say-]

What's with the chair?

Rita Mordio | OTA

[myagic]

1. Arrival and Home Visits
[It's kind of surprising, how quickly she recognizes the place. It's been almost two years on the boat, and even before that, she'd barely been home in months, busy instead traipsing around the world with her friends. But it is, unmistakeably, her lonely and cluttered hut in Aspio, albeit with a few more signs of life than usual: multiple teacups set out (okay, some of them are lab beakers doing double duty as makeshift cups), a bit of space cleared on the floor for people to sit. As signs go, they might not be much to most people, but they were a big change in Rita's life. But she doesn't want to be here. If this is really home--yes, she wants to go back, but not without Natsuno. In that respect, Friday's announcement actually comes as a bit of a relief. Right--it's just part of the excursion meant to throw them off. An effective one too, but what else is in store now?

The wooden door to Rita's home is still affixed with a hand-scrawled simple sign: Keep Out. Seriously. --Mordio. However, if someone comes by, they'll find an absolute disaster of an open-concept living space: the lower and upper floors are separated by a ladder, and besides the massive vein of crystalline ore that runs diagonally through the entire hut, almost every available surface is littered with books (some of them so old they're falling apart), blastia parts, and magic-science experiments.]

Hm, be careful what you pick up. It's been a while, so I don't really remember what's safe to touch and what's not.

[Or, maybe tea is offered, and she nonchalantly points you to a shelf.]

I think there were tea leaves there somewhere. Just watch out for the toxic plant samples, too.

2. Village
[This could be a form of torture in its own right already, between the annoying music and the terrible clothes. She's done as much as she can with the latter: she took scissors to the pants and now they're frayed short shorts so she has some proper airflow, thank you very much, and she is going to wear mismatched socks. Matching socks are so boring. There's probably not a whole lot to be done about the music, though, since being annoying is probably the point. That won't stop her from grousing a little.]

Is that noise ever going to stop, or are we supposed to be annoyed to death on this one?

2.

[theweakhavepurpose]

[Deputy Pratt is looking the picture of sanity right now, hasn't slept, long hair in disarray and dark circles around his eyes. He's clutching a metal pole with a four pointed star and cross on the top of it, rusty and chipped.]

I keep smashing them and they won't fucking stay smashed.

[He's not sure what Rita can do about that but he's also not thinking rationally.]

Phil Connors | ota

[goodweather]

i. arrival

It's so familiar that at first he doesn't register anything wrong at all. The quilt. The uncomfortable, tiny bed. The lighting. Every day for thirty or three hundred years, it's the sort of thing that reshapes who you are and in that way makes you a part of it, makes itself inescapable. He dreams of it. In a lot of ways, he'll never leave.

He only remembers when he shifts and feels something in a limb he isn't supposed to have.

Phil bolts upright, heart hammering.

The wings. The voice of Friday. No wake-up call, no radio. One eye busted, the other too sharp. Talons sharpened as wicked as fishing hooks. That's all where it's different. Different. Phil takes a deep breath, shakes his head. The room is an impeccable replica, down to the strands and masses of dust in the cobweb he spies in the corner, to the stain on the far wall. He supposes it's easy with a bit of magic. God, he hates magic.

His weapons are gone. So are his earplugs. Oh. The clothes are all different too. Phil gets dressed in something that's just barely passable for his vanity (a hideously striped dress shirt, decent pants, and sneakers, plus a badge that reads 0202), then steps out into the sun and slams the door behind.

And starts walking, looking just a little too unfocused. The music isn't terrible, he's more than used to it after Punxsutawney, but it's everywhere. Where's Darcy? Where's Erin? Where's Ava? Where's his friends?

ii. home

Phil's space is both desperately small and outdated, and not terribly bright to boot. He's rarely there, but it's not as if the doors lock. It's not as if there's much in there.

The size of it does make it easier to see when he is home, though.

i

[saltwaterlungs]

There is suddenly a presence on the side of his good eye.

"You think there's a single evil motherfucker in the universe with good taste in fashion and music?" she asks, dry and quiet. Darcy's dressed similarly, only not in a striped shirt, because if anyone makes a mime joke at her she will beat them to death with her fists and that will be a huge bummer for everyone.

Flan | OTA

[yourexoduslaughing]

Town Square, Day 1

Shortly after she wakes up in what is a perfect recreation of her old apartment (right down to the bong water stain on the floor and the couch with a missing right leg that was replaced with various books), Flan decided to see just how big the world is. After all, the most fun part of the expeditions she's gone on so far have been getting to stretch her legs a little and zip through new airspace.

Still in her PJs, she makes for the furthest point her mind can find-

-and not much longer later, around the time that others would be going for their pre-breakfast talk, a huge white orb rolls into town, an air of menace about it only made worse by the threatening noise it makes. As it moves over the ground, it leaves behind a now unconscious Flan with a bruise developing on her face, number pinned to her PJs despite everything.



Home - All Event Long

Flan's door is open often, and she's quick to invite anyone passing by to come in and hang out with her. The apartment inside, though rather chaotic, is also obviously the home of someone who has never worried about money in her life. Even missing a leg, the couch is incredibly comfortable, as is her bed, stacked high with pillows and blankets. The bong-stained rug is a well-worn Persian that's very comfortable to lay on, and that's where you can usually find Flan as she stretches out and occasionally goes through yoga poses in the most flexible village clothes she can find.

New friends are invited to grab a seat and relax, go run the popcorn maker, yeah the village popcorn is actually pretty good all things considered! Very good friends are invited to crash in the bed and just hang out until they're sent back to their own 'house' for the evening.

Town Square, Day 1

[astrogator]

Ari Tayrey has no intention of playing along and attending this breakfast. She's leaving her ersatz starship accommodation to go exploring again when she hears a strange noise. As soon as she catches sight of that great white blob, she ducks behind a wall and keeps very still. There's no reason it should be coming for her, but there's no reason to draw its attention, either.

It passes by, and she's relieved until she sees Flan there on the ground. Tayrey rushes over, crouches down beside her. She's still breathing. That's a start. 'Citizen Flan? Flan, can you hear me?'

She's not as frail as she was after her injury; she'll probably be able to carry Flan to safety if she needs to - but she's hoping not to have to put it to the test.

ava ota

[decohere]

i.
Knowing her husband's suspicions of what the next excursion entailed, having visited the place briefly through one of the cracks in his memory... doesn't quite prepare her for how surreal it is to wake up in a prison of her own she thought she escaped years ago.

The single room that makes up the entirety of the space is small, without windows nor decoration, flat grey walls and flat grey floor and no furniture beside the cot she's laying upon. A flickering overhead fluorescent light buzzes just as she remembers, and that might irritate her if it wasn't drowned out by the more familiar low hum of the quantum stabilization chamber that takes up the majority of the space. That took up the majority of the hours of the majority of the days of the majority of the years of her life, spent inside the glass walls with nothing but her own thoughts to keep her occupied.

Ava stares up at the ceiling blankly for awhile and contemplates screaming in agitation to the marching band music, but knows she must get up. That there's things to do. Nothing much in the room to tear apart, but a town outside to burn down if she must. The cot's far more noticeably uncomfortable now that she's had a far nicer bed, she has no blanket and only a flat pillow, no Peter to curl up next to. It's the thought of her husband waking up alone in this place, that he needs her, that finally motivates her to move. And throwing her legs over the side of the cot she steps upon an old stuffed bear.

"Ah..." she's surprised as she picks it off the ground, brushes off the imaginary dust. This poor worn out bear has been through a lot, as Ava's sole childhood companion. She gives Polarity a small hug, even knowing it's only been replicated to mess with her. The bear has been lost for decades now, after all. She sets it upon her pillow and prepares to leave the chamber, when she hears a phone ringing. And realizes with surprise that it's the ship phone in her pocket, answering it immediately.

Unfortunately the call is indeed not her husband. And brings her attention to the number badge that she cranes her head to read upside down. 137... she snorts slightly, but refuses to give them any credit for being clever.

"Breakfast then..." Looks like she won't have to search very far to break this Number 2's nose.

ii.
It doesn't take long for Ava to realize her powers aren't quite working as usual. When she runs directly into the side of a building. She looks around, slightly embarrassed, hoping nobody saw that. But knowing unfortunately this place has cameras everywhere, she shoots an irritated glare in the direction of where she estimates one must be hidden.

Also she's still wearing her pajamas. Because she took one look at her clothing options and outright refused.

ii

[redlightgreenlight]

Valdis has chosen to wear the offered clothing, if only as an attempt to melt into the background and go unnoticed as she explores. Getting the lay of the land seems more important than dissent at this time. She happens to glance Ava walking into the side of a building. Actually into, not through.

"Are you alright?" she asks.

Open

[professionalriot]

Home (Open):

The voice over the loudspeaker wakes him up. Groaning he grabs for a pillow and pulls it over his face. Soft. It's so soft and silky. The bed...Shit. This is his bed. He pokes his head out from under the soft cloud of a pillow. Not just his bed. This is his bedroom at home in New York.

His home looks like something take out of the pages of a magazine. Perfect. White on white. High end and very expensive. Nothing personal, because his life at home is maintained by his personal assistant. Everything has clean lines and is very modern. Boring. Completely devoid of personality. It's a place to sleep and eat. Home has never been a building to him. It's been people. His home in Tribeca keeps him close to his found family and the pack. As close as he can be anyway. Ashley could never live with them. No one liked the attention Ash's money and status might bring. And he couldn't live under the same roof as Oni after everything that happened between them.

It's easy to figure out this isn't actually his home. Too small. The view out the window is not the city. In the closet clothes hang that he would rather burn then wear. He finds food in the kitchen with the same labels on everything as the clothes.

The Village. That doesn't sound creepy at all. he does like that he can actually go outside and walk around. Put his feet on solid ground. Which is where you might find him, in his pajamas laying on the grass plotting the death of who ever is playing that fucking music.

Headed to Breakfast? Wandering the Village? (Open):

After finally deciding he would wear the clothes in his room he heads out to wander and find his way around. Maybe he's hungry and he wants breakfast with a side of answers to all his questions.

[number_2]

Wherever he is right now, Ash can feel eyes on the back of his neck. He knows someone is watching. But, no matter how hard he searches, he won't find the source. Eventually, the feeling goes away, but it may leave him unnerved for the day.

Just when he thinks there's nothing more to it, he'll discover his home has been ransacked. For some reason, it hasn't repaired itself. Everything is a mess. A few things may be broken. But, the most concerning thing of all is the message written in black paint on his ceiling.

BE SEEING YOU

Have fun cleaning up. Or don't.

Deputy Pratt || OTA

[theweakhavepurpose]

1. Home Sweet Home - Arrival
Pratt has been on the Serena Eterna for over a year now, and yet he still sometimes finds himself waking up on the floor just because he'd gotten so used to sleeping not on a mattress. So in one aspect the fact that he's still on a bed is actually pretty good, the downside is he wakes up and immediately spots the deer heads across from his little cot. Then the stenciled inspirational quote over the door. THE WEAK HAVE PURPOSE.

He barely glances at the accumulated radio equipment before he straight up shoulder slams through the double doors, knocking them right off the hinges and landing in the front lawn of... wait, a front lawn? He hasn't quite registered the fact that gardening wasn't one of Jacob Seed's strong suits, regardless of how fitting the name would have been. Pratt just wants the fuck away from here, which is why he scrambles to get up and eats shit in the dirt a few times before backing away, panting and wide eyed.

2. Music Makes the Heart Sing - Duration of the Event
After establishing that Jacob doesn't appear to be hiding in the safe or under the floorboards of this place, the main problem with it (other than everything) is that every single speaker of Jacob's radio equipment is playing that damn marching band song. Which is annoying at best, but the fact it could switch to say, something a little less classical and more 1950's style, at any time is setting him on edge.

So catch him almost daily trying to throw that shit out the front door and throwing a fit when it just manifests itself back into existence.

"WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK???"

He's having a great time.

2.

[abhorrently]

"Will you shut up?"

The woman glaring absolute daggers at him is bracing herself on a fence, waiting for her strength to return, but full of no less bloodlust for it. If she has to conserve it all to have a good shot at whoever's in charge, she will, but at the moment, the larger problem is men throwing fits.

"All you're doing is adding to the damned noise."

I got a number on me | OTA

[saltwaterlungs]

Won't make it through the high noon sun (Home)

Having gotten used to sleeping in a double bed, they nearly fall out of bed when they wake up. Blearily they blink, wondering why their alarm didn't go off when-

The sight of familiar photographs across the room chills them to the bone.

It's their room. From home. More or less- their wardrobe, their old bed with the sheets tucked into hospital corners, the plain rug on hardwood floor, all of it.

"No," they hiss softly, staggering up to slam the wardrobe open-

Oh. That's not the edgy, chic wardrobe Darcy painstakingly put together back home (with Avery's funding and assistance), no school uniforms. Just. Questionable fashion. They're not back. They're not...

Darcy answers the call from Friday (saying 'nice' aloud when they see their number is 69) and makes the decision that if the Shitlord wants them at breakfast, he will have to drag them there.

Luckily their old DS is in one of the drawers of their room. They're playing Nintendogs in their pyjamas. Fuck you.

Well I am my father's son (OTA throughout)

Every morning at wake-up like clockwork, a wheeled cart of medical supplies from the living room gets hurled out the door.

Aside from whatever exploration or other activities they might find theirself otherwise engaged in, Darcy can be found in the kitchen (they say a frying pan should ideally be heavy enough that if it met someone's face, the frying pan would keep going. That's probably why his inherited copper pans feel light as a breeze here, wouldn't want anyone getting a concussion.) or poking around in his room, looking over the trinkets from home and trying to get the camera on his phone to work.

[not_the_last]

There's a wordless, startled exclamation from outdoors, on the third or fourth day here, as the wheeled cart crashes onto the sidewalk.

(Was Cassandra up and out of her house early? Was Darcy a little late with the cart-hurling this morning? Who's to say.)

Just a little pinprick | OTA

[ossie_oswald]

Can you stand up? (home)

Ossie sees absolutely nothing wrong, at first. The cottage here is just the same as the interior of the cottage back on the ship- which is to say, a lovely little replica of his flat in London. The only hint of something odd comes when he hears the beep of a car horn outside, instead of the gentle rustle of wind through rose bushes. He turns over to see no Giles, no warm spot where his love had been laying. Indeed, it’s all too much like his flat in London- which is to say, no evidence that Giles had ever laid with him. None of his belongings on the bedside table.

The phone call elucidates things. The excursion, then. Well. Dimitri seems convinced that Ossie isn’t a coward, he intends to prove it. So Ossie gathers a garishly colourful outfit from his wardrobe, puts on a straw boater that is certain to give Giles a hernia, and goes to find him. Because he needs breakfast and tea. There is absolutely no way he’s making it himself, even here. His number- 241- sits neatly on the lapel of his jacket, and he makes no effort to remove it.

I do believe it’s working (ota throughout)

Unlike many of his shipmates and compatriots, Ossie. Is simply not investigating.
No poking around, no rummaging, not even an acknowledgement of the cameras. They have all been presented a peaceable little village, there is simply no reason to act as if it is otherwise. Ossie can be found relaxing on the chess lawns, taking his tea at the café, getting groceries from the shop, and enjoying a nice day at the beach.

[makesomedeals]

Not acknowledging something is wrong is the first step towards making it so nothing actually is wrong. And occasionally leads to disassociating in the woods, but that's neither here nor there.

Maximilien despises the clothing, but having himself a little meander around the well manicured garden seems like an appropriate way to pass the time until they're back on the ship and he can glue his favorite suit onto his body so he's never separated from it again.

"Having a pleasant day?"

Watson OTA

[lightconductor]

Watson lingers on the step outside his new cottage, looking absolutely furious, and smoking a cigarette and absolutely not looking back into the open door behind him. It's a snug little room with a decidedly 1880s look to it, a nice little place for a bachelor or two, and it's entirely too familiar to bear at the moment.

And the familiarity infuriates him.

"The cheek. The unmitigated gall," he mutters.

[pineapplesalmon]

Relief breaks through César's grim expression. He's learned to deal with smoke well enough that he thinks he can walk up to Watson and kiss him immediately before he can fully process the angry expression.

And then he has to break it off to cough, turning his head from Watson.

Gwen Stacy OTA

[thismaskismybadge]

You can fight just like you've been taught (arrival) [cw: implications of anticipated police brutality]

Gwen opens her eyes to an array of watercolours and for a fraction of a second so small as to be infinitesimal there is a sense of I'm home.

And then the panic kicks in.

She throws herself out of the familiar bed, gets her legs tangled in the familiar blankets, trips over the familiar clutter on the floor, then immediately scrambles back to her feet as adrenaline takes over her system. She can't be here, she can't be back in her room, she can't be back in her world, if her dad is home he'll— he'll—

She cannot be here.

She doesn't hear movement. That's good. That's okay. She just has to leave. Get anywhere else in the city but here. Go on, Stacy, get out the window, get out of here—

It's only after a full twenty seconds trying to force the latch she can't find the key for that she really gets a look at the outside world and realises something is very, very off.

The watercolour only goes as far as the walls. Beyond them, it's a world like any other plain world, like the boat, if from another era. Not her world. Not home. The room is just... a mimicry? What? How? Why?!

Gwen grabs a pot of makeup brushes and pens from her vanity and throws it at the wall with a frustrated shout. It cracks. The contents scatter across the floor. Gwen storms out into the rest of the cottage before it can fix itself.

It's just like home, except for the missing door to her dad's room. His police jacket is draped over a barely used dining chair. There's an old pizza box on the coffee table, old drink glasses that hadn't been put away. Blankets and disturbed cushions on the couch.

It's like the day she left never happened.

The phone call doesn't make her feel any less sick with fury. '65', her universe's designation, is pinned to her chest like just another way to turn her life into a sick joke and she tries to rip it off a dozen times before she gives up. She throws every glass she can at the wall, more than once, but it doesn't make her feel better.

Rage bubbling in her chest, she grabs her father's police jacket and rips open the front door with every intention of throwing it out onto the grass to rot— only for the sight of the trans flag on the chest to rip her heart out of her own.

In the end, she can be found sitting against the door to her cottage. The jacket is around her shoulders and she's curled into a ball.

First Shouji vanishes, and now this. Grief devours the anger whole.

It won't undo the life you've got (OTA for visits throughout)

Gwen's cottage fits the necessary pieces of her old apartment inside it with ease. Her bedroom, filled with all her old belongings (except, of course, anything as useful as her webshooters). The family room, with its worn out couch and stuffed TV shelf and dining table so full of things it clearly hadn't been used in months. The tiny nook of a kitchen.

To enter it is also to enter a living painting. The colours and clarity shift and change in accordance with the time of day and any visitor's mood. Sometimes everything bleeds together so much you can barely make out objects, even though you can feel them just the same. Sometimes everything is cut into stark contrast.

Gwen's used to it. You probably won't be.

She's used to taking care of herself, but it's still hard to will herself to eat most days—she's more likely to if she finds herself with company. She struggles to sleep at all, and it only gets worse the longer they're here. What also gets worse the longer they're here is her restlessness, rage, and desire to get the hell out of here.

(Sometimes this manifests in her playing her drums as loudly as possible. Sorry, neighbours.)

But so long as they're stuck here, she can be found in the cottage at various points of the day. Being out and about isn't much better, in the end.

arrival because César needs to get over his fear of teenagers LOL

[pineapplesalmon]

César's specifically looking for people who look like they could use a friendly face. ... Gwen certainly looks like she could. She's practically oozing with teenage angst? grief? sadness? Something upsetting.

He looks over the scene properly, trying to put to use some of the things he learned from Watson's books about Sherlock Holmes. To notice what he sees.

Gwen's number is 65. Policeman's jacket. Shoulders wider than hers. Trans flag patch. Her place is likely her place. And she's young enough that she still lives with her parents, likely. Hmm, he had no idea her father was trans.

Well, César isn't Sherlock Holmes, and he's married to Watson, so he can't get perfect deductions. The concept of parents wearing the colors of their kids is mostly foreign to him.

His smile is sad, understanding. "I miss my dad, too."

In Nottamun Town | OTA

[not_the_last]

arrival (not a soul would look up, not a soul would look down)

She opens her eyes to a square of warm sunlight on her wall, and knows even before she sits up that something is wrong.

It's her wall. Her bedchamber, built of white stone, dressed with wall-hangings, furnished with costly wood and polished brass; her bed, with its down-stuffed pillows and fine linen sheets and embroidered quilt, with the faint dip in the mattress that always made it just a touch difficult to roll over. She'd been meaning to have that seen to for months, and there had never been time. She should really speak to Arla about it.

Something is wrong. This is not home.

-----

And of course it's not. It's the excursion; somehow she's here after all.

Her cold rage grows with each discrepancy she discovers: the absence of the dagger under her pillows, the shabby new contents of her wardrobe, the tiny otherworld-looking kitchen corner jammed into the sitting room outside her bedroom. The armor-stand in her room is possibly the worst insult, as the armor on it proves to be a solid piece with the stand, unremovable, carved and painted to resemble her mother's armor.

The phone call is startling, and jogs her fury into something else entirely, some recognition. Number Two; something about that is familiar, in a way that sets the back of her neck to prickling. Like the sense of something being off, the familiarity is something she can't quite bring into conscious focus.

It takes her some time to find something in the wardrobe that she's willing to wear. A few sewing essentials are clearly in order; she'll see what she can find in this place.

exploring the town (ten thousand stood round me yet i was alone)

In a pale blue knit shirt and darker blue slacks, and a matching darker blue cape over her shoulders, and a button that reads 12 pinned to the cape, Cassandra emerges from the improbable copy of her rooms in Castle Whitestone and into the village. She will not smile at or speak to any of the locals, but will be happy to talk to anyone from the Serena Eterna.

On the first few days, find her wandering around town, or sitting at one of the little tables down by the beach -- or perhaps eyeing the surrounding woods with a speculative look in her eye.

home visits (they talked all the while, not a word did they say)

Possibly the most upsetting thing about this imperfect copy of her home is that it isn't entirely upsetting. It's comforting on some level, to sit in her sitting room and read one of her own books, to lie down in her bed and know she's alone in the room. Even if that dreadful music never stops. (Even if she knows perfectly well that being alone doesn't mean no one is watching, or eavesdropping.)

And ... there are a few people she would rather like to show her rooms to, even if they're not quite right. If she's ever talked with you about wishing you could see her home, there's a strong likelihood that she'll invite you to take tea with her there. Not, of course, to discuss anything that she doesn't want overheard, but perhaps just for the sake of company.

Even without an invitation, feel free to knock on the door and say hello.

Exploring

[mistertwister]

Okie wanders the Village absently, dressed like a cartoon mob goon, labelled by his button as 46, sky hidden behind the Mask. He's pulled out of his own morass at the sight of a familiar, equally fashionable face.

"Hey you," comes the voice from behind her. "How's your vacation treatin' ya?"

Siffler, OTA

[teethoftherisk]

Home?

Siffleur wakes up in a bed, in his own body, and it's a relief. He's only been back for half a week now, so he's still getting used to being here instead of sleepwalking through memories that weren't his.

He turns over, ready to go back to sleep, comforted by his mother's scent-

Wait. His mother's scent?

He sits up, eyes wide as he looks around at a room he hasn't seen since he was small. It's just as he remembers - the double bed with the brown patterned comforter, the squat TV stand with the ice bucket and plastic cups set upside down by it, the soft chair in the corner, and the bathroom with the door partly open, and the windows covered in thick brown curtains. The bed smells like his mother and old cigarette smoke, and he sees her shoes by the front door, and her jacket hanging off the chair.

Siffleur doesn't answer the phone as it rings and rings and rings, his hands clutching the comforter as he looks around at a place that dominated his early memories.



Home - OTA

Mostly, he hangs the do-not-disturb sign on the outside of his front door so people know he's not around. But sometimes, he can be found with the front door open, stretched out on the carpet in front of the TV while smoking a cigarette.

Home

[angrycrabnoises]

When Karkat sees Siffleur’s door open, he slinks over.

“I TOLD NEPETA WHAT YOU SAID TO ME. SHE STAYED BEHIND THIS TIME. I DON’T THINK I REALIZED HOW LONG THIS WAS GOING TO BE THOUGH, SO NOW I MOSTLY JUST FEEL LIKE AN ASSHOLE. AT LEAST SHE’S NOT HERE THOUGH.”

Haunted (by) House | OTA

[mistertwister]

Arrival

Okie screams. He’s in his bed, looking out at his room. The boxing gloves Earl got him, his old school backpack, all the old Western posters. He sees a hole in the roof that isn’t there. He sprints out into his living room, sees the photos on the wall, the fireplace, smells the memory of brick dust and blood.

This is a nightmare, has to be. And every time he has this nightmare, it ends the same way. He walks out the front door of his cottage, still in his pajamas, and braces himself to see the broken body of his brother.

Welcome

Okie answers the phone in a daze, changing into whichever clothes he finds that look most like Mr. Starr’s. Too out of it for truly rational thought, breakfast with Number 2 seems like a perfect excuse not to be in this crypt of a house. And so Number 46 heads for the Green Dome.

Home visits! Open all event

The inside of the cottage is simple, quaint. Family photos on one wall, a plain tv with a beat up dvd player, fireplace in one of the walls. A tote bag of gardening tools hanging from a coatrack by the door. Kid’s drawings magnetted to the fridge. To anyone that doesn’t know the ghosts this house knows, it looks like a perfect, happy home.

Arrival

[be_seeing_you]

"Okie!" Like any good father, he recognizes his son's voice immediately. He sprints up the road looking for which cottage it's coming from and arrives just in time to see Okie walking out onto the front lawn in his pajamas.

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

What a nice surprise, bring your alibis | OTA

[configuration_birdwatcher]

1. My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night (Arrival)

After a break in their consciousness that would be mysteriously sourceless if it hadn't also happened at the start of multiple previous excursions, Bastion reinitializes on a faded rug to a larger-than-normal sequence of error messages and Friday's cheerful voice on the other side of a wall. They're in a familiar worn and barren wooden room, but the fact that they're wearing custom-tailored pajamas is another reason it's unlikely that they've been sent back to the Black Forest.

They have mixed feelings about the prospect. Back here instead of some Overwatch installation, so they can roam as much as they want, but if an unfamiliar human spots them the outcome would be anywhere from having to abandon their shelter and flee the area to death at the hands of the local human military. And if Bastion has even a single friend in the world, they're all back at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. There's an empty bird's nest up in a corner of the rafters.

They try the door at the back of the room, which sticks in the frame just like it always did and then opens onto a kitchen built and furnished in a completely different style from the rest of the building instead of the stairwell that was there in the original. There's also a bathroom they don't need and a coat closet filled with outfits made to fit the proportions of a Bastion unit. There do not appear to be any working electrical outlets, which is accurate to the original building after an omnic deployment craft hit the power lines on the way down, but not a good sign for their ability to keep watch if this excursion lasts longer than three or four days. Less, if they frequently need to use Configuration: Tank or their self-repair system (the source of several of the errors in their log, reporting impaired power draw and ammunition anomalies).

Their phone's ringing. In the chest pocket of their absurd pajamas, instead of the dashboard mount they use to carry it around normally. They fish it out and have an unhelpful conversation with this realm's Friday duplicate. They're number 128 here, apparently. The call cuts off before they can ask for clarification or directions. Bastion hasn't specifically made up their mind against meeting Number 2 for breakfast, but if Number 2 wanted them to go directly to the Green Dome then Number 2 should have told them how to get there, so they're going to wander around until they see someone they want to talk to and then maybe if they've come across the Green Dome in the process they'll keep that appointment. They step out one of the sets of double doors and into a street that doesn't look anything like an abandoned town in the German countryside. Still wearing the pajamas, because they don't see any reason to change.

2. There she stood in the doorway, I heard the mission bell (Home Visits)

Cottage 128 is not one of the more hospitable in the Village. There's not much in the cottage, just a few end tables, three different analog clocks (which weren't clock radios originally, but have proven to be what the broadcasts are coming out of) and several armchairs, and Bastion never tried to rearrange the furniture in their past life; even the overturned armchair was already on the floor when they moved in. They wouldn't have fit in the chairs before Friday or the Erda made their body smaller and lighter for life on the ship. There's a few piles of books, such as a children's encyclopedia of Greek mythology. The best bet for a cozy visit would be to set up the armchairs in front of the fireplace and light a fire with the ample supply of wood piled next to it.

Bastion might join you, or they might be busy rummaging around in the kitchenette trying to find something they can unplug. Which they're not going to, since none of the appliances run on electrical power, even the ones that appear to be hardwired into the wall.

Ruby Rose OTA

[littlefairytale]

This place was beautiful and mine (arrival)

Not for the first time in her life, Ruby startles awake so suddenly that she topples right off of her top bunk onto the floor with a comical THUD. For one drowsy moment it's so familiar that she instinctively raises a thumbs-up and says, "I'm okay!" to reassure her roommates...

And then she opens her eye, and the half-vision shocks her back into reality at the same time as the sight of the room she's in throws her back in time.

Her old dorm room. Just the way she remembers it. The unstable bunk beds, one propped up on stacks of books and her own hanging from the ceiling by haphazardly hammered hooks. The curtains with the re-sewn slice down the middle. Her and Yang's unmade beds. An open book Blake was half-way through reading. Weiss's hoard of cases, her tea set. The corgi pillow, their slippers, their pyjamas...

And Ruby, four years older with all of that innocent naivety beaten out of her by time and hurt, sat there in the middle of it all feeling all at once at home and out of place.

Excursion. Right. Okay. Brace herself for worse to come, then.

The phone call ends and Ruby pulls on her own cloak over the village clothes, '31' pinned where her emblem may usually be, and heads out to find people she knows.

But now it's just a bottom line (OTA for the duration)

Ruby splits her time between wandering around the village trying to get a sense of the place, visiting people from the Serena Eterna, and sitting around her own cottage. Inside her cottage, she at least has a pair of her old headphones and plenty of books to read. She's still not actually great at cooking for herself, so she mostly has to snack or make things that are simple enough for even her to manage.

The longer they're here, the more uneasy she gets. She'll take any and all company gladly. Just be careful not to knock one of the beds over.

This place was beautiful and mine

[be_seeing_you]

"Ruby," Number 6 calls to her from down the cobbled road. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

He's wearing a matching badge with the Number 6 displayed upon it. His scowl grows when he sees her's.

Karkat OTA

[angrycrabnoises]

1. Waiting For The End To Come. Wishing I Had Strength To Stand. (Bedroom)

A young troll stands in his respiteblock - familiar gray room that by all accounts should no longer exist. It was, as far as this troll remembers, destroyed along with the Land of Pulse and Haze upon which it had been transported to at the end of the universe - his universe, to be precise. Although he already was bestowed with a name half a sweep ago, he now finds his name placard replaced with something much stranger.

Just a number. 612. The date of his wriggling day. The date that his planet was destroyed.

Prisoner 612 rips the badge off his clothes and attempts to slash furiously at his new name, only to find that his Strife Specibus is non-operational. If he wishes to utilize a weapon, he will have to pick it up and carry it like a normal person.

More annoyingly, he now notices that the badge has somehow reattached itself to his person. And only then does he notice the pajamas. Black and gray striped shirt with gray pants and a red (eurgh) cape.

He doesn’t know where he is, but he does know why he’s here.
Number 612 curses his own foolish decision to sign up for an excursion that he KNEW was going to be yet more inane psychological bullshit. But he had seen Nimona sign up, and he wasn’t going to let her go alone.

He gets the call and decides he will have to go find this Number 2 and give him a piece of his mind.

When he has the chance, Number 612 can be found here in the room resembling his respiteblock, trying to remember a time when life was simpler, when the biggest thing on his mind was quadrant crushes and friend drama. Before that first meteor descended.

2. This Is Not What I Had Planned. It’s Out Of My Control. (Around)

Outside, Number 612 fuck you it’s Karkat can be found stomping on any of the speakers blasting marching band music. It immediately replaces itself, but the act of destruction is at least temporarily satisfying.

You might find him there, or you might find him on his way to the Green Dome. He is climbing up entirely too many stairs and is being quite careful, considering he once dropped a friend down a flight of stairs and has no intention of having that scenario repeat itself.

2

[yournewsidekick]

"You want any help?" asks Nimona -- human-shaped, if dressed as ridiculously as everyone else in this stupid place. "Bet I can -- "

She holds up a hand, intending to shift it into a gigantic fist perfect for smashing a bunch of speakers, only to have a bouquet of pink flowers sprout up between her fingers instead.

"C'mon, seriously?!"

BREAKFAST

[number_2]

Note: There will be 3 phases + a prompt for those who don't attend breakfast. Each will be posted under this header.

Warning: Anyone who enters the Green Dome will be locked in until this section concludes.

SKIPPING BREAKFAST

[number_2]

But what if your character skips going to breakfast? They'll have to be hungry until lunch, unfortunately. But they can also take the opportunity to explore their new home.

This Village is very small. There is an outer district lined with cottages with an Old People's Home adjacent to it (say hi to your new neighbors.) Then, there is a quaint cobblestone road that leads down into a town square.

There are people about, all dressed in that same garish garb as what your character found in their closet. Something your character might start to realize, with horror, is one or two of those faces may be familiar. Might even be people they know. Or knew.

If those people recognize your character in return, they won't be so quick to admit it. Sometimes their eyes look to a corner, or to a place behind you, as if they fear they are being watched. If they say anything besides meaningless pleasantries, it's with a forced smile and strained tone of fake cheerfulness. Be careful, they warn, you don't want to seem "Unmutual."

(OOC: You can insert any characters you want here and NPC them within reason. These were former passengers on a previous voyage. How did they end up here?)

Klaus Hargreeves - OTA

[busball]

Arrival

Klaus wakes up confused. Nobunaga is usually not this loud and the bed is usually not this small. They reach out, mumbling a little complaint about it being too early for waking up and roll in an attempt to escape whatever it is only to fall on the floor. "Ow."

It's only when he opens his eyes and looks around that he finds himself somewhere he's not really that excited to be. Sure, it's his room. It was his and Ben's room once. He frowns a little, looking at the familiar pictures on the wall, everything else. Did he end up back home after all?

"Nobunaga? Are you here?" This could be a memory, but Ben's not around. They try to focus their power. If this is a memory, then would they have their old abilities?

It doesn't work.

But then the phone starts ringing and they feel a sense of relief for a brief moment. Maybe it's Ava or someone else. But it isn't. It's someone asking for his number? "First of all, rude. I don't go by-" The correction makes him frown and there's an eye roll as he say, "Number Four." Stupid dad. It isn't until he looks down and sees the pin that he realizes something.

"Ah, shit." He needs to find Peter.

Out and about

Klaus is looking for Nobunaga for at least some of this. Texting him whether it gets to him or not. But otherwise, they're looking for the people they know, the people that know them, and trying to figure this place out.

Out and about

[astrogator]

Tayrey's out on a brisk walk when she sees Klaus. Of course they gave him Number 4. Of course. She sighs inwardly, but then gives him a wave.

'Peace and prosperity!' In a place without much of either. But some things don't change no matter where she is.

eddie's arriving fifteen minutes late with starbucks | ota

[thefreak]

i. it will all make sense in the morning

( Eddie wakes up, not to the familiar trailer that he shares with Wayne, and not even to the more expected claustrophobic cabin that he's become accustomed to, but to something far more sinister. At first, Eddie thinks it's a dream. Or maybe a hallucination?

His childhood room. From before his mother passed away and before his father practically abandoned him with his stupid scheming and subsequent disappearing act.

Except there's just one thing wrong... )

Where the fuck are my clothes?

( Hell, he would even take the floral print nightmares that was the Tommy Bahama nightmares. Nope, instead, he's got clothes that somehow make Steve's polo situation look fan-fucking-tastic in comparison.

Refusing to wear them, he bolts outside in search of the first person he can find, not to mention recognize. Still in pajamas, he has failed to take notice of the number twenty pinned on his clothes. )

ii. is there anyone out there

( If it looks like Eddie is trying to delay going down to breakfast, well...that's exactly what he's doing. He's miserable. At least back on the ship, he had a cabinmate, but now he's on his own, and the place is just reminding him of his shitty childhood.

By now, he has gotten dressed. His hair has been pulled up in a ponytail, and he feels ridiculous, but he's a man on a mission. A man on a mission to find answers (and maybe mostly Steve) to verify that he isn't just having a complete and utter meltdown (or, you know, was sent back in the Nothing because that would kind of suck, too.) )

ii.

[inhairently]

( Steve isn't having a meltdown, a freakout, or anything adjacent as he heads nonchalantly back towards the cottages with a bowling pin in one hand. He looks more at home in his Village-issued khakis and striped shirt than anyone ought to, and apart from the serious expression he's wearing he seems otherwise unbothered.

His face lights up when he spots Eddie, and he breaks into a smile. There's no doubt in his mind that they're both incredibly stupid for signing up for this shit, but maybe they can have some fun and relax before things inevitably go to shit. )

Hey, Eddie, ( he greets as he approaches. ) You headed to the breakfast?

ava ota pt2

[decohere]

i.
She breaks into her husband's cottage in a fit of rage, doesn't bother being sneaky about the fact with a rock smashed right through a window. If the door's unlocked she doesn't even try it, doesn't care. Maybe there's something she can salvage of his.

ii.
She can't sleep. Knows she should, to preserve her strength and clarity of mind. But the worry over her husband, the constant itching unease beneath her skin at knowing she's being watched at any possible moment, makes it nearly impossible. Her cramped room replicating the one place she never wanted to go back doesn't provide much comfort. Just reminds her of how trapped she is. Always trapped.

Curfew is at 10, but she chances outside around 1am, to sit just outside the door upon the front step designated as hers, gasping roughly for air to fight down the rising panic.

iii.
Ava sits with her legs hugged tightly to her chest, toes curling into the sand, staring out at the reflection of the sunrise over the water. The morning light hurts her tired eyes, but she doesn't look away. Thinking of the story her husband told her, of building a raft to escape this place, making it all the way to London... only to be returned as a nasty birthday surprise. Remembers him doing the same again on the island, witnessing that final moment before the tiny raft blipped out in the distance.

Building a raft would do her no good here, only takes her further away from the man she loves, but he was the one supposed to come with a game plan. She's doing him no good at all, sulking helplessly. She rubs sandy palms against her face, trying to properly focus. She needs a plan. Needs a plan. Needs...

She stiffens hearing somebody approach. Her inability to go invisible nullifying the one method of escape that she usually relies on when she's trying to hide how miserable she is from others. But surely everyone knows by now anyway.

iv.
She can't eat. Knows she should, but the appetite never comes. The constant stress is nearly nauseating. Peter is strong, she knows many aren't concerned for his wellbeing as she is. He's survived this for a year, after all. He'll be returned in one piece to the Serena Eterna at the end, like everyone else. He signed up for this, knowing better than anyone the risks. A day or two without her won't break him...

But every moment in the clutches of his enemy is too long. She doesn't know what he's being put through, keeps imagining the worst. Imagines he keeps expecting her to come rescue him, is probably being taunted that she hasn't. Isn't. Won't. Without her powers, it'll take considerable more effort.

She knocks and knocks and knocks at the green dome building.

iii.

[astrogator]

Here's someone who doesn't know. While others were at breakfast, Ari Tayrey was out playing lightning kalixtri with an old woman who may or may not have once been a Tradeline captain. She's been warned, she isn't totally naive. Captain Sinclair of the Keturah Line could well be nothing more than an agent of Number 2. Still, even kalixtri with a pretend Tradeliner seems far preferable to anything else in her life lately, so she finds she doesn't really care.

She kept to herself, after that. Tayrey didn't ask to be here, doesn't want to be here, and plans to preserve her mental equilibrium. Besides, she'd arranged to meet Peter in a secluded spot on the beach at sunrise, for an update.

Trouble is, he never showed up, so now she's walking along the coast, in case she was waiting for him in the wrong place. It's then that she spots Ava. She's unsure of whether to approach. Ava is clearly very unhappy, and she might want privacy. Tayrey stands for a moment, uncertain, not wanting to disturb the other woman but not willing to just walk on by, either.