test drive meme #1

[historiadores]

TDM #1

LA LLEGADA

The Museum of Art and History is the largest and oldest in Llave, and contains a grand collection spanning from the time the first humans landed on its shores to the modern day. The building encircles an open courtyard where an art installation sits amidst many of the plants important to the settlers of Llave. Behind the museum is a wide, shallow field of hard-packed dirt lined by large stones, the petroglyphs on their surface worn by time—the earliest known playing field in all of the Caribbean. And further out are the areas where excavations are ongoing, uncovering the pottery, jewelry and artifacts of the ancestors.

After awakening, things move quickly. The museum is closed, and the characters ushered into the courtyard to wait. Any needing emergency medical attention are kept in one of the air conditioned galleries until the paramedics arrive. A group of women with a military bearing take charge of the situation; identified as the Bajari Bara, they question the healthy and able. They cede authority only to the Prime Minister when she arrives. Two more of their group flank the nation's leader, though they step aside when she begins to walk among the new arrivals to speak with them.

Each side has many questions and few answers. Characters are informed they are in Llave. It's October 2020. And efforts will be made to return them to their homes. But how they came to be here and why remain mysteries…as does how they’ll find their way back.

A hurricane shelter nearby is activated for use by the recent arrivals. There, characters are provided with food and clothing, a cot and other basic supplies. No one is allowed out, but through the windows they can see the lush green of the their surroundings. At night, coquí sing them to sleep. Those taken to a hospital will remain there until they are discharged. Each patient is allowed one visitor to stay with them overnight.

Over the next several days, all characters undergo physical and mental evaluations; are provided with their first immunizations; have the next legal steps explained to them; and are taught about Llave. Every character, regardless of age, has a caseworker who checks in with them daily. None have been arrested, they are assured. But they must also complete the quarantine process. To enforce quarantine, at both the hospital and the shelter, the Bajari Bara guard every entrance and exit.

Welcome to Llave.

EL AREYTO

As luck would have it, around the time quarantine ends, all of Llave is in the midst of celebration. Today is the Day of Heroes, celebrated every last weekend in October, which this year happens to fall on the eve of All Saints’ Day. So when the new arrivals venture out for the first time, Nona, the capital, welcomes them with color and music.

The people of Llave have a special love for music and dance, and it shows. All day, groups gather to play, and many more to dance. The songs center around heroes of Llave with the chief of these being Nuna, a beloved figure who is said to have led her people here to freedom. Those performing wear traditional clothes: guayaberas, long circle skirts, palm hats and headwraps, all brightly colored.

From early morning, artisans have set up under tents tables laden with goods. Clothing, jewelry, musical instruments, paintings, and more made from leather and wood, seashells and fish scales, aluminum and copper. Many create right at the table. Most popular are those working on cemís: sculptural objects, said to house the spirits of ancestors. Many carry them as amulets especially on this the eve to the days of the dead.

The food is equally rich and one of the cooks takes an interest in the new arrivals. Those who eat his food find their mood changing depending on what they ate. The tostones he prepared while speaking of his childhood home in Santa Cecilia bring on feelings of joy and contentment. The alcapurrias fried while arguing with a customer about last night’s wrestling match cause those who eat them to feel irritated. And the casabe, a flatbread made of cassava, that he explains he learned to make from his wife who passed, induces a profound nostalgia for lost loves. His wife, recognizable from the photo he keeps on the wall, sits beside those most affected and comforts them until the melancholy passes.

More dead can be found. An old man in a fine guayabera recalls composing the lyrics to a particular song. He points out the man playing the congas and proudly says his great-grandson will soon outplay him. When characters look back to the old man, he’s gone. Those with a sense for it will recognize many dead walking among the living. These next few days honor and celebrate the departed, and the dead have seized the rare opportunity to join the festivities once more.

For those who prefer the sea, the impossibly blue waters of the Caribbean are just a short walk away. Cobblestone and concrete paths line La Bahía de Nona. On one of the larger rock outcroppings jutting into the bay sits a silver-white dog. If called, he will trot over. Up close, one can see his color is due to the sand and salt that has collected on its coat. Though he allows himself to be petted, he does not step off the rocks. A passerby comments that the dog has been waiting for his master to return. How long? The man shrugs. When he was a boy, the dog was keeping watch; now he’s forty-three, and the dog is still there.

EL TRAVIESO

Or perhaps the characters were more distracted by how clean the water was, how clear. Enough so that the sight of a bottle bobbing in the waves seems offensively out of place. Anyone who chooses to snag it out of the water will find it’s a corked bottle of rum, apparently empty.

From a nearby restaurant, someone yells and waves their hands—too late. By uncorking it, they have freed the bacoo. Immediately, everyone backs away. Two cross themselves.

Only one stays long enough to warn, “You have to trick it back into the bottle. It likes milk and bananas. Don’t ask it for anything.”

Turn around, and the bacoo is there.

Short and rugged with large eyes, long arms and legs, covered in unkempt hair and its fingers and toes ending in claws, the bacoo is a strange little creature. Stranger still, it can grant any wish—so long as it is kept appeased with a steady diet of milk and bananas.

A hungry bacoo will pelt walls with stones, move objects, keep its owner up at night, and otherwise wreak havoc until it is fed. A shapeshifter, they can be difficult to locate, much less trap. And a starving bacoo will turn vicious and its pranks malicious.

Best find a way to trick it into the bottle. Fast.

---

OOC NOTES

This TDM covers from mid-to-end of October. The first prompt lasts approximately two weeks; the second, a day. For now, all characters are restricted to Nona. Any attempting to leave will be gently, but firmly escorted back.

The TDM will also double as the first IC post of the game. Threads between any two or more characters who were all apped and approved will be considered game canon. As such, actions characters take in this TDM will impact the game once it opens. How characters behave will shape the inhabitants’ first impressions of them. Make it count.

Questions regarding this TDM can be asked below, while questions regarding the game at large should be directed to the FAQ.

Thank you for your interest and we hope to have you join!

NAVIGATION • IC COMM • OOC COMM • MEME COMM

Comments

QUESTIONS

[historiadores]

[lordofdarkness]

Just wondering, is there a library they have access to?

[mithrarin]

What are the evaluations and immunizations and so forth like for distinctly non-human people?

[bisexualdisaster]

would someone be able to climb through the window of the hurricane shelter to attempt escape?

[lordofdarkness]

Perfectly healthy, thanks!

[Upon arrival, Nico had been directed and then gently guided, and then slightly less than gently nudged into the hospital. Which is stupid, really, he's not injured. Sure he's pale and tired and hasn't eaten a full meal in, well. A while. But that's just how his life goes. It just be like that sometimes. Not than anyone would hear any of it. No, instead he's being kept in a hospital bed, monitored daily, and even given an IV. It's all ridiculous if you ask him.

Which is why he's not in bed at the moment, having slipped the IV and the room, and even found his clothes to change back into. So long as he can make it out of the hospital, he should be able to make it into at least where the others are being kept in quarantine.

It would probably be a lot easier to do if he could actually pull off the 'I am just a regular visitor who totally didn't escape a hospital bed' look that he was going for, but mostly failing on account of the whole looking like death warmed over thing.

Help him escape? Call a doctor? Try to push him over and see if he falls?]


Day of Heroes

[For all that being here is even more jarring than his daily life has been lately, (which is honestly really saying something) for the first time since he'd arrived, Nico finds himself at peace. Being around the dead can do that for him. He's sitting next to the ghost of a young girl in a brightly colored dress, listening to her chatter delightedly and occasionally offering a comment of his own. After a while of this, the girl runs off with a peal of laughter and Nico rises to his feet again, a rare soft smile on his face as he watches her go.

He turns then to continue wandering, his eyes wide with the festivity of it all. It really is beautiful.

Eventually he stops to chat with another spirit. Feel free to notice the emo teenage boy who appears to be talking to himself.]

[boundwitch]

Do you know you're talking to yourself? [Sieglinde asks, looking the older boy over. She steps closer, with the clicking and ticking of metal spider legs on pavement, curious but with no sense of danger.]

[inkings]

[ still processing that she is no longer an only child has taken up more time than mal expected with part of that (most of it) being spent reflecting on how she has little (no) idea on how to be an actual sister. she had just run out on evie, jay, and carlos (a thought that churns her stomach every time she remembers). now here she is with a new brother who also looks like he's hoping to become a skeleton in life.

a goal that comes closer to fruition than nico knows when she wanders into his room with a change of clothes for him and a chocolate bar she swiped from the gift shop on the way up to find a bed empty but for his iv and a few drops of blood on the sheets.

growling quietly, she turns back around. he doesn't prove difficult to spot courtesy of the entire wing being locked off to other patients. as soon as she spots him, she whispers something under her breath. her eyes flash green. and an invisible line trips him up.

that's for scaring her, jerk. ]

Day of Heroes

[deisolate]

I don't mean to interrupt, mate, but I take it you see the shades too?

[It's been bothering him for some time. Not everyone can see the shades but they certainly are celebrating them. He spoke to a few earlier, talking about family dead and living. There's so much wonder in mortal lives.

Maybe he should be doing more to listen to the shades.]

I’m here for one reason and one reason only

[passesout]

Nico.

[ the call is half a question, but jason is not surprised to see the son of hades here. feels almost expected somehow. in a place that is both known and unknown, surrounded by other dead, of course, nico’s would be the familiar face. no, if anything, jason’s surprise is that he did not see nico sooner, though that too is to be expected.

jason grace died. by some (likely divine) intervention, jason grace is still alive. ]

sieglinde sullivan | black butler

[boundwitch]

arrival
[There's a little girl in the arrivals, a little girl maybe ten or eleven years old, with short black hair and bright green eyes and roughly a million chattering questions.

They're not all answered to her satisfaction, but many of them are, and they set her thoughts racing.]

Hey! You! [She calls from where she's sitting on her cot, to one of the other newcomers. Any of the other newcomers. All of them, eventually.]

Come here! I need to talk to you.

festival
[Sieglinde is out and about, eventually. Which is good, because she was starting to go more than a little stir-crazy in quarantine, and wants to explore.

She has, of course, been assigned to a foster family, but they're going to come and pick her up tomorrow, and today she's utterly on her own. She isn't moving quickly through the crowds, her Arachne Patousa don't let her move with anything beyond a careful walking speed, but she's far more confident with them than the wheelchair she was offered, and they do a good job of getting people to move out of her way.

She watches the dancers, explores the booths, tries the food, and just looks like she's having a pretty good time.]

puppy
[It's later, but not yet late, and Sieglinde has lowered herself to the rocky ground, detached herself from her metal extra legs and is sitting in front of them. Her clothes are probably getting dirty, but she's much more interested in the dog next to her.]

You're a very good boy, [she says quietly, running her hands through his salt-stiff coat.] I'm sure your master wants to come back to you. He's just lost for a little bit, isn't he.

[She sounds like she wants to believe what she's saying, more than she sounds like she believes what she's saying. It's a story, for a very good dog. She isn't going to tell him the truth everyone knows.]

arrival

[inkings]

[ the girl is no older than celia or dizzy with apparently all of the exuberance of lady tremaine's granddaughter. and she looks alone.

mal pauses in the process of taking stock of her new inventory and looks over. then she looks behind her in case she thought wrong. ]

Me?

arrival

[shiliu]

[ His gaze is scattered and his complexion unwell. Despite the warmth of their quarantine area, he has a blanket around his shoulders, sitting on his cot nearby with a lost expression.

The girl's voice makes him blink once, twice... and then he rapidly rearranges his features into a smile. ]

Is something the matter?

[singlelogbridge]

El Areyto

[It has taken some time, but Wei Wuxian is adjusting.

There are learning curves and pitfalls, and already he's lost sleep wandering the area they're allowed and learning from observation every moment that he can manage, but still he feels overwhelmed with the newness of it all. It's exhilarating. It's a welcome distraction. This world offers wonders he wouldn't have imagined.

He still feels half mad with his need to return to his world and find out if there is anything left to protect, but when he considers it too deeply, he finds he teeters dangerously over the edge of the half attached to that madness. (That should worry him, but it only makes him numb. He's already gone too far, what should it matter now? At least where his is in this place, no one else can fall victim to his mistakes.)

So he doesn't put it out of his mind, but he multitasks.

Today that means wandering whatever festival is taking place and learning whatever he can. He isn't expecting the ghosts. He certainly isn't expecting their brightness and beauty, a far cry from hungry corpses and the bitter dead that have been his companions for so long. It's enough to make the whispers in his head go silent for the day.

After a while of people watching, and indulging in listening to the occasional song, he pulls his flute out of his robe and begins to play along with a man on a stringed instrument he hasn't seen before. He doesn't know music like this, but he's proficient enough to match the tune and his fingers play without calling up any spirits or resentful energies.

In another time, he'd have called it fun. Here and now, it's a rest for his mind and one that's sorely needed.

Please feel free to come and watch him play, throw things at him when he hits a bad note, or join his playing.]

El Travieso

[For reasons that are not his fault (that's a lie, everything is his fault) Wei Wuxian is looking for a banana. The problem is, he has no idea what a banana is. He might be walking around fixing people with a charming smile and asking.

Someone please tell him what a banana is. He knows it's a food, he's not an idiot, he even suspects it's a fruit, it's just he has never seen one in his life send help.]

Ah, excuse me? [Take pity, he's pretty sure he just cursed himself and he really doesn't need the extra curse on his life.]

el travieso

[inkings]

Yeah?

[ in wei wuxian's face, a seventeen-year-old girl with long purple hair wearing an outfit cobbled together from everything purple, black and green among the clothes they were given and artfully torn and painted until she felt comfortable.

this isn't an additional curse, but it sure might be a hex on him. ]

el travieso.

[broadswords]

[ The market is always his favourite haunt, of any place, the herbs first, the fruits next. Nicky has no designs on anything at the moment — just going for a walk. Cataloguing the streets, the houses. For Andy, for Yusuf. And for Nile. ]

[ He turns when addressed, raising an eyebrow. ]

Yes? Can I help you?

[wolfchild]

         NIGHTS

[ the shelter isn't bad.

the girl has meals three times a day and snacks between. she has her own cot with blankets and a pillow. and her clothes aren't new, but they're new to her, and no one insists she wear a dress if she doesn't want. if she's quick (and she can be very quick) the water in the showers is warm. the "toilets" she especially loves, and spent her first day flushing it again and again until one of the people there told her to stop.

the people aren't bad either. no one beats or insults her. they are all very nice, which she initially found more suspicious. the woman assigned to her asks a lot of questions: who she is, where she's from, about her family, about her scars. the girl prefers their guards. they talk mainly amongst themselves, but they will answer her questions too. soon, she is japing with them and they are showing her new fighting stances. keep practicing, her favorite guard, who one day showed her her macana, tells her. maybe when you're older you can join.

the nights are the only parts she mislikes. she sits near a window and stares out between the metal slats at the green outside. the frog's song was annoying at first, but it's almost soothing now. she stays until they're told lights out, then she sneaks out of her cot in her new to her pajamas with weird smiling animals on the front of her shirt to the window again.

"are there wolves here?" she asked the bajari bara once. there aren't. too hot, she was told. but between the sweet coquí songs— ]

Do you hear it too? [ she asks without looking behind her, only sensing the presence.

the fine hairs on her arm stand on end. the sound vibrates through her…the mournful lonely howling of a wolf. ]

         ANIMALS

[ as soon as they are given freedom to explore —

she has dashed into the streets.

she has rarely seen so much vibrant color packed into one place. and the sounds. and all the curious things! she forces her way to the front of the crowd to watch the dancers and listen to the musicians. she visits each artisan's table one by one, often lingering to watch how skillfully they weave, carve and paint. she races through cobblestone roads, filling her air with good ocean air.

she lingers longest by the dog. she offers it food from her palm, and pets its salt-roughened coat. she tries to urge it to follow, but it only buts her hand and returns to its watch. a strange expression flits across her young face, a melancholy much too old for her. ]

I know what that's like, [ she tells the dog. ] Waiting.

[ hopping onto the rock with him, she sits down on the sun-warmed stone. the dog lies down next to her, his mournful gaze set on the horizon. she pets him as the sun continues beating down overhead.

maybe get her a hat. ]

( ooc note: if neither of these work for you, pm me and I'll set up a starter for us! )

nights

[boundwitch]

[They are the same age, Sieglinde has noticed, and that is unusual. So many of the other newcomers are older, children as small as them are rare.

The other girl moves, after lights out, and Sieglinde isn't sleeping either so she moves after her, out of her cot and crawling on the ground to settle behind her.]

What are you listening for? [She asks, hushed, straining to hear past the constant call of frogs.]

lan wangji | the untamed

[quietroom]

▶ LA LLEGADA

[ The shelter is odd. After a year in seclusion, seeing only healers, his brother and his son on occasion, is disconcerting and frustrating. Too loud, after the silence of his home, and filled with too many people, especially for Lan Wangji, who dislikes groups of people at the best of times. And this is hardly the best of times.

He doesn’t have a protocol for this, almost suspects it’s a fever dream even though the wounds on his back are a year old. But without a protocol, Lan Wangji defaults formal and careful, looking at other people from beneath the sweep of his eyelashes, parsing his words carefully, greeting people who greet him with a bow.

The caseworker, as she calls herself, asks questions, and he presses his lips together when they probe too closely to topics he refuses to discuss. But she’s patient, and her smile sometimes reminds him of his brother, and so Lan Wangji softens, gradually, enough to dignify her with simple answers, on occasion.

Sometimes, closer to the evening, he’ll summon his guqin, pluck a few notes on it, although he’s polite enough not to do it often, not wanting to disturb the other people he’s trapped with, especially since they can’t get out. And sometimes, after he’s done, he eyes the guards, wondering if it would be possible—

No, sneaking out is beneath him still. There’s no good reason to do that. ]

▶ EL AREYTO

[ Music is a language that transcends barriers, and Lan Wangji, whatever else he might be, is a skilled musician. The festival finds him sticking close to the musicians as much as possible, putting to memory the songs they play. He doesn’t summon his guqin to join in, unsure of a welcome, unwilling to ask for the moment, and unsure he can get his instrument to match these sounds.

Later, when he has a moment, Lan Wangji finds a secluded spot and attempts to mimic the sounds he heard earlier. Maybe even indulges in a few other songs, ones he knows by heart and diligent training.

Eventually, even he has to eat. None of the food looks familiar, and he carefully skips over anything red, or seemingly spicy, or heavy with scent. Casabe seems safe enough until he takes a bite. Melancholy is actually not unusual for him: he’s had a year of grief, a year of mourning for a lost love who didn’t even know it. It’s just that he’s always been good at hiding his emotions, and for once, he can’t, an expression of deep sadness on his face as he turns away from the cook, seeking shelter behind a nearby tree, the sleeves of his robes fluttering in the breeze as he struggles for composure. Don’t talk to him, don’t talk to him— If someone does, his eyes are red, his voice almost watery. ]

[ ooc: if neither of these work, pm me for a starter, or leave your own ]

[singlelogbridge]

[Lan Wangji might not give into the temptation to play, but Wei Wuxian has always been more impulsive. It's a quality he would have spoken of proudly up until recently. Still, he doesn't regret it this time, the music flowing from chenqing a startlingly playful sound in comparison to the dour notes the instrument is used to. He matches the other musicians the best he can and even manages a smile or two as he does, his eyes brighter than they've been in months.

The music is unfamiliar, but someone accustomed to the sound might notice. They might recognize the sound of it. Someone who has heard it often enough might know the instrument of destruction for what it is.

He doesn't see the person standing behind the tree, doesn't pay attention to much at all. Wei Wuxian keeps his eyes closed and plays on.]

Jon Snow ✥ Game of Thrones

[northerndragon]

La Llegada

[Weeks, he was held on Dragonstone, kept from his sword and his ship and his home. Weeks he had not had to spare, weeks in which every day made the survival of his people seem like a narrower and narrower possibility. But he had gone there with a purpose; he had gone there seeking aid. In the end, he had achieved what he had set out to do -- and much more.

He has no purpose in this place. He cannot think of what good will come from him waiting here. He should not be a prisoner here, even if the imprisonment is soft enough.

The people who come and talk to him, who prod at him like maesters -- he doesn't understand that either, or what good will come from it. He is compliant because he's at their mercy, and maybe for other reasons, and because they claim it's only temporary, and because they are not unkind, but he isn't happy about it.

So after one walks away from him and he has struggled back into his shirt with a cloudy face, he turns his head and looks at a person nearby.]

What gives them the right -- [(his mouth is tight with irritation)] -- what do you think they want from us?

EL AREYTO

[This is better. Still strange, still not his home or any road to it, but better. He understands that it's meant to be like some sort of feast; as far as it has any resemblance to anything in his experience, it's a little like a harvest feast in the way it might be celebrated by the smallfolk or in a town... but not like a harvest feast at Winterfell. That's all he has to compare it to.]

a song about nuna

[He listens to the song and, watching the dancers, he slips reluctantly into a contentment he hasn't felt in a while. He's not the only one taking it in. So he turns his head, a look of interest on his face, and asks,]

They have stories like this where you come from? It reminds me of Nymeria, but she's a hero way down south, the hero of the Rhoynar down in Dorne. My little sister always loved her. Loved Visenya, too, but Visenya isn't much like this Nuna.

[He also remembers wishing someone would sing songs like this of him one day. That's a fool's dream. If someone is singing songs of you, how many people died in the making of the tale? How many couldn't you save? What was lost? There has turned out to be much less glory in glory than he thought there would be.]

eating casaba

[He is in love. Apart from thoughts on his situation -- the way he's washed up in this weird place -- his mind and heart have been filled with Daenerys; he cannot shift it and would not want to. It's a joy he never sought or thought to have. It's larger than both of them.

Yet now he finds himself thinking of a different woman, one long dead. He sees a flash of red hair and his head whips around so his gaze can follow it, but then he realizes it isn't her, and his face falls.]

I don't know if she would have danced with the dancers or made fun of them, but I know she would have loved this. She would have wanted one of those little clay dolls, to remember her people.

[He has such a sad face to begin with that, when real sadness shows on it, it's as if something terrible has happened.]

WOOF

[Jon pets the dog, telling him that he's a good boy, scratching behind his ears. This brings a smile to Jon's face. You probably aren't going to tag this prompt, but it was important to let you know.]

EL TRAVIESO

[He had retrieved the bottle -- one so large is unusual -- exactly because the water is otherwise so clear that he was drawn to it, but now that he's uncorked it and the creature is right there, he isn't sure what to do.]

I don't know how it came out of the bottle. Gods know how I'm meant to get it back in.

[He pauses, caught up by something, surprised and frowning. The bacoo would have been enough to do it, but it's not the cause.]

-- What in seven hells is a banana?

[Note: Canon point might depend on who else apps, but for now, the end of S7 sounds about right.]

eating casaba

[bananaclip]

[ She'd barely noticed him until he spoke up, watching the dancers. When he does speak, Dayna looks at him and nods along, as if she knows exactly what he means. When he finishes speaking she replies: ]

Who was she? Someone you cared about, I'm sure.

hades / lore olympus.

[aionc]

LA LLEGADA.

[ his appearnce causes a stir, understandably so as he hadn't even a moment to adopt a more human friendly form, so when hades arrives it is in all his tall, blue skinned glory. there is barely a moment to chat his breath before he is hurried to the hospital, worried questions fired this way and that. human beings don't have blue skin, after all, which is great cause for concern.

concern hades becomes fed up with incredibly fast.

thus is the god of the dead no longer confined to the hospital room given to him, choosing rather to exit both it and the hospital at large by use of his powers. they have already seen him what harm is there with the use of his godly powers to free him from this gods be damned hospital─ which is to say there is a tall, blue-skinned man in a very nice suit popping in and out of existence in an attempt to flee the hospital and its staff.

for the record, he is sorry for any heart attacks this exit strategy may or may not cause. ]

EL AREYTO.

[ frankly all of this has been somewhat overwhelming, though he would be hard pressed to admit it. stranded in a version of the human world that sits on par with olympus and the underworld, unable to return to the underworld, to his home, his dogs, to kore. recieving no signl, or connection, regardless how many times he attempted to get in contact with any member of his family or staff.

it's... yeah, it's been a lot.

so when he spots the silver-white dog out by the bay he goes to join it, sitting down on the rocks with a heavy exhale, hands burying themselves in strands of silver-white hair. ]

Sweet Zeus, how did I get myself into this?

[ someone help this poor, lost, two thousand plus year old god. ]

WILDCARD.

[ what is says on the tin yo. ]

ok I lied I had to hit this up first

[inkings]

Zeus is a lot of things. ‘Sweet’ isn’t one.

[ kind of an overexcitable pain actually. like a child on sugar. and that was without the little tidbit coming out that she is his niece by way of hades.

mal steps onto the rocks, glaring at the sun. the isle was hell, but she at least never risked burning just by standing outside. she slathered herself in sunblock prior to leaving the shelter and currently holds a very purple, clearly handmade parasol with her. after a moment where she debates whether to be nice at all, she shifts it so hades and the dog also fall under the shade.

following a brief (very brief) meeting (immediately after which she turned around and walked away) she hasn’t sought him out. enough to deal with trying to keep nico in his bed with the iv in his arm. enough to deal with trying to wrap her head around coming from a mother who never loved her and a dad who abandoned her to a brother who follows her around like a puppy and a dad who apparently doesn’t know either of them and claims the very concept as impossible.

enough to deal with knowing things were finally starting to fall into place.

the sunlight glints off of her engagement ring. ]

Dayna Jurgens | The Stand

[bananaclip]

i. la llegada —

It's a good thing the people here have thought to pay attention to the needs of the injured, because Dayna certainly is that. Last thing she remembers is driving her head and neck down into a protruding piece of broken glass, and indeed, she is bleeding profusely from these areas. She cries out in pain as she realizes she's still bleeding, looking for anyone who can help and holding just one item—a fresh banana.

Soon, the museum staff finds her and lays her down, puts pressure on her wounds, keeps her stable until the paramedics come. She's ushered to the hospital, stitched up, and bandaged with clean dressings. She's stable, but she's not free to go, not yet. The doctors warn her she could have died from the extent of her injuries, but here she is, confused and disoriented about the fact that she didnt, and that she has somehow arrived here. Dying was certainly her aim when she caused those injuries upon herself, after all.

She spends her time in the hospital wandering, eating her meals, and sitting in bed watching 2020 television. And as soon as she's free to be discharged, she joins the rest of the residents of the hurricane shelter to wait out quarantine there.

ii. el areyto —

Dayna wanders the market, examining the many items available for sale and considering buying one of the many typed of food available to eat. She smiles when she sees a group of young children excitedly chattering as they rush by, on their way to somewhere or other in this festival. She can barely believe all this, and the time period she was told she's been transported to is the most unbelievable part of all.

"It's really amazing," she remarks to someone. "Who would have thought society could rebuild to this extent in only forty years?"

Afterwards, after eating a satisfying lunch comprised of the various foods she's found to eat, she makes her way to where the dancers wheel and spin and frolick. She's fascinated, and she sits down to watch.

"Aren't they beautiful?" she finally says as an icebreaker to someone.

iii. el travieso —

Dayna was simply curious about the bottle. She didn't mean to cause any problems by uncorking it.

And then the bacoo is there and she realizes she's royally fucked this up.

Then the person from the nearby shop speaks to her.

Bananas. Of course. She rolls her eyes and turns back to the bacoo.

"I guess that means I can't just ask it to go back in," she says.

Well, time to figure out how to do this.

ii

[heterochrocatic]

Catra is leaning up against a nearby lamppost, looking fidgety and awkward in shorts and a faded t-shirt that looks a bit too large for her. She had the clothes she had arrived with, yes, but you could only wear them so many times before they needed laundering.

"...Not my society," Catra says with a roll of her eyes. "I'm not from here, if you hadn't noticed."

hellboy | hellboy

[hellnah]

LA LLEGADA

[ One of the new arrivals sticks out like a sore, 6'11'' red thumb; you'd be forgiven for first assuming he's in a particularly elaborate costume— so did the Bajari Bara— but more than a cursory examination will quickly confirm otherwise. Which leads, unsurprisingly, to a more thorough examination by their new hosts.

Hellboy weathers the attention patiently, for the most part, if wearily. He's taken to the hospital, though his wounds have already healed, and he cooperates with noninvasive tests, and answers most of their questions plainly. At least, the ones that aren't too personal.

After they've satisfied their curiosity to such a degree that he's released into the shelter, he makes a single attempt to march past the posted guard. When it proves unsuccessful, he lets it be. He can see how they regard him, and he's not interested in doing anything that might confirm whatever assumptions some have made about him. It's only a few days in quarantine anyway, and to be honest, restless as he feels, it's probably not a terrible idea for him to take advantage of this weird little intermission. Been a hot second since anything's tried to kill him.

So, he naps, and he eats. And whenever he's not doing that, or answering his caseworker's many questions, or learning what he can about the island, he's helping out around the shelter. Got an issue and need a mediator? Or some big red muscle? Trying to reach something on a high shelf? Looking for someone to lend an ear, and you don't mind if it's a bit pointy? He's your guy.

At night, he leans on a window and listens to the choir of little frogs, expression as impassable as ever. If you happen to be up late as well, feel free to join him. If a mutual silence begins to feel a bit awkward, he'll fill the void himself, ]

Pretty noisy out there. Wonder what they're talking about.

[ When he speaks, he has an accent distinct from the locals— he was raised first in New Mexico, and then, everywhere else. ]

EL AREYTO

[ He attracts a different sort of attention during the celebration. It starts with a couple compliments on his "costume", but it soon snowballs into small crowds of admirers trailing after him. He's much more interested in perusing amulets and finding something stiff to drink than attempting to explain that no, he really can't tell you how he 'made' the hand, or got the tail to move like that for the dozenth time, but, well. It's a nice festival, and he does at least agree to feature in a few selfies. Especially with any children who weren't immediately scared off by his presence.

He hasn't got a face built for smiles, but he does his best.

Come, see what the fuss is about. Or maybe help rescue him. ]

[ When he's able, he finds a quiet spot at the edge of the festivities to hang with a couple old dead folk and smoke. It says something about him, probably, that he keeps ending up in the company of ghosts. He's not interested in examining it, though. ]

Wanna hear about the time I fought a sea-witch?

EL TRAVIESO

Cut that out.

[ A rock bounces off Hellboy's horn, thrown from a nearby tree. He can neither see nor hear it, but he's pretty damn sure the bacoo is laughing at him. At least it's not raining trash down on him (kinyamkela.)

Hellboy didn't get this far in life by ignoring locals' advice about their resident spirits, though. So he asks absolutely nothing of the bacoo, and turns to you instead, ]

Hey. You got any bananas or milk?

[ He knows how he looks, having just admonished a tree a moment ago, empty rum bottle in hand. But you better not start laughing at him too, alright? This is embarrassing enough.

Another rock smacks his ear. Ow. ] —Geez!

WILDCARD

[ come at me bro!! ]

el areyto

[inkings]

Only if we can compare notes.

[ mal wanders by holding a cup of shaved ice flavored with a syrup that has already stained her lips and tongue bright red. still not as bright as hellboy, though, with her purple-blue hair and purple sleeveless dress reaching her ankles, she is drawing plenty of attention by herself.

she takes a seat nearby without fear. her mother was the scarier one. just one morning with maleficent was enough to make anyone lose their fear to all else. but it's her dad she has to thank for her current awareness of the dead. once she's comfortable, she holds up her cup to them, ] Santé, [ and takes a sip through her straw. ]

Catra ♦ She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

[heterochrocatic]

1. LA LLEGADA

[ Catra has been slowly growing more and more aggravated as time goes by. She's been hurried along to this shelter--more like a prison, she thinks--with everyone gawking at her, poking and prodding and asking "What are you? Where are you from?" constantly. Then of course the blood samples, the check-ups, x-rays, more questions. It was enough to drive her out of her head.

And since she can't sneak out (she tried), she's stuck here. She's sitting on her cot amidst a sea of similar cots and similarly oddly displaced people, tail curling and lashing in agitation as she tries to work out what to do next. She shouldn't be here, for one. She was on Horde Prime's ship. Or she should have been? Instead she was here where everyone stared.

She hated them staring. Which means, unfortunately, that someone who just happens to catch her gaze even if they're not staring at her gets an angry snap. ]

What are you looking at?

2. EL AREYTO - ELLA BAILA

[ Being let outside on her own was a relief. A huge relief. She no longer felt so confined or or caged, but it brought with it all sorts of strange new problems. It seemed like a paradise, here. The weather was pleasant, the people were friendly, even if they still stared and asked intrusive questions about her obviously non-human countenance. There was even a festival underway. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Part of her just felt even more alienated and out of place. This wasn't her home (if she even had one any longer), these weren't her people. Why should she bother being happy? The energy of it is contagious, though.

In spite of herself, she finds first her tail and then, eventually, the rest of her swaying in time with the energetic music. It's not quite enough to overcome her melancholy, but you might catch her dancing through the crowds, even laughing along as she finds herself in a swirl of energy and movement. There's a freedom here, too, she's realizing. No one here knows her or cares about what she's done. How liberating. She might even be coerced to into grabbing one of the other newcomers and dancing with them to the infectious beats of the energizing songs. ]


3. EL AREYTO - QUÉ MELANCOLÍA

[ At some point of course, one has to rest, to drink, to eat. She might be found sitting and scarfing down some casabe. If one finds her like this, her tentative grip on her good mood seems to slowly slip away until she finds herself sprawled out, fighting back welling tears. The crushing weight of being alone, of realizing that she has lost the one person in the universe she knew for sure she loved, seems to finally hit. It overcomes her, to the point that even her usual prickly instincts don't suffice for her to shove away the support of the dead. Or of the living. If someone decides to check on her, she just looks defeated. Stares at them with weary eyes. ]

I lost her. I don't know if I ever really had a chance.

( If you have a wildcard or another idea, feel free to throw them at me. You can always PM this journal if you have questions! )

3

[bisexualdisaster]

[This is a lot more emotions than Alex was expecting to deal with during a party, especially from someone he doesn't know, but he gamely sits beside her and offers her a bottle.]

Sucks.

[He'll let her keep talking if she wants, but he's not going to immediately press.]

Alex Claremont-Diaz | Red, White, and Royal Blue

[bisexualdisaster]

La Llegada

Alex does not like being cooped up. It's barely been a day before he's all but climbing up the walls. He wanders from room to room, throwing himself down next to anyone who looks remotely approachable, or even better, someone who looks grumpy and standoffish and like he could goad them into a fight. It's a terrible, stupid idea. His lacrosse days are long behind him and he's never been exceptionally physically imposing. But he's bored and anything is better than that. He even attempts to get out the window, but he finds himself stymied by the metal slats too close together to let more than an arm through.

Finally, he just sidles over to one of the exits and gives the Bajari Bara his most charming smile, the one that tends to make congresswomen and more than a few congressmen give him his way. "Don't mind me, I'll be back before you know it. Just gotta--" he tries to push his way past.

It's possible he could use some back up. Or someone to drag him back inside and out of trouble.

El Areyto

If there's one constant about Alex, it's that when there's a party, he is the life of it. And this especially. It might not be his dad's homemade Mexian food but there are enough similarities to bring him some comfort and keep him enjoying himself, or at least drinking and dancing and ignoring any homesickness he might be feeling. Instead, he pulls anyone who looks willing into a dance, grinning and singing along to Spanish songs he's only just heard.

When he sees the ocean, he whoops and yanks off his shirt. The key and ring on the chain around his neck gleam in the sunlight as he runs for the water.

Wildcard

[Got another idea? Throw it at me! Or message me at antivillain to work something out!!]

la llegada.

[inkings]

Mal takes a third option: popcorn.

A bag freshly popped in her hands, she sits on the floor cross-legged to watch this slow-motion train wreck. Her green eyes glitter with obvious amusement. With entertainment scarce, this is a whole sitcom.

"You learn the hard way, don't you?" she calls only after he's been thoroughly rejected.

Mal's purple-blue hair frames her face in loose waves. Her clothing is the same as theirs except she has taken the extra step to spray paint her her purple shirt and dark jeans into something more her style. A large and extremely rare purple diamond sits on a dragon-shaped gold band on her left ring finger, distinctive for being her only visible piece of jewelry.

heero yuy | gundam wing

[heeroism]

arrival;

﹙ old habits die hard or not at all. he wakes with the acute awareness that he's somewhere unfamiliar — the smells, the sounds, the humidity, the heat. it's not where he should be. it isn't, certainly, where he went to bed.

assessments are made before he so much as moves. doesn't open his eyes. he hears the tap of fingers against glass, and there's a painted styrofoam rock digging into his hip. he can hear an hvac system, smell paint and the astringent of a facility kept spotlessly clean. there are no immediate disturbances in the air around him, which means he's alone by a somewhat variable definition, and when he cracks his eyes he sees the source of the tapping. a child, perhaps three meters away, watching him wide-eyed. heero frowns, but relents — gets to his feet. he isn't bound. he hasn't been drugged. too clear-headed. no specific points of soreness that would indicate an injection site, and his lungs don't have the burn from chloroform.

the child tugs on the hand of their guardian. the guardian, who'd been reading a plaque, looks up and sees him.

he's in a museum display, he realizes. something documenting the early days of man. there's a maintenance door hidden behind some oddly realistic looking scrubs, and he starts for it, only to have the door opened before he gets there.

he doesn't fight. there isn't any point. better to observe, and use being unknown to his advantage. they have no reason to believe he isn't anything
more than a student who climbed in here on a dare, though he hardly volunteers the cover story.

what follows is irrelevant.

he's sitting on a cot shoved up against a wall in the hurricane shelter, arms folded, eyes closed. to all appearances, he may as well be asleep. but should another person be brought in as well, he'll give them time to acclimate, and then get up to bring them something from the rations. ﹚

You need to keep your strength up. Eat something.

﹙ it sounds perilously close to an order, which is rich coming from a teenager that barely tops out at 5'5. ﹚

the ocean swell;

﹙ he had never seen the ocean before he came to earth, and there was a sort of poetic irony in the fact the first thing he did was crash into it. how many critical moments followed with the smell of salt in the air, the lap of water at a foreign shore? it was a year ago, nearly to the day that he dropped wing zero into the water after his duel with wufei, and thought that death was preferable to the endless march of memories.

but now, he is sitting on a low retaining wall near the water, skipping the occasional rock out into the still and shining sea. that silver-white dog is sitting beside him, watching the rocks richochet and sink. every once in a while, he reaches down to ruffle its ears very gently.

he'll hear your character approach, but doesn't turn to face them. instead, when they're near enough: ﹚

He doesn't bite.

﹙ it's a sad story, isn't it? a dog who waits forever for its owner, ever faithful, ever loyal, ever lost. ﹚

The Ocean Swell

[singlelogbridge]

[He's been here long enough to have heard the story, more than once in fact. The dog is waiting for an owner who will never return. It's enough to soften even his heart towards the creature, but even knowing it will not leave the spot does not convince him to go anywhere near it.

It's a very nice view of the ocean here though and he's feeling brave enough (or apathetic enough, he isn't sure) to push forward. Wei Wuxian is so focused on tracking the dog's movement—or lack thereof—that he doesn't even see the person sitting but a few feet from it, and he jumps at the sound, his heart racing in anticipation of barking that doesn't come.]

N-no, I'm sure he doesn't, but I'll keep my distance all the same. [He tries for a casual laugh and is sure he misses the mark, his nerves coming through instead. It's silly when he thinks about it, with everything he's been through, but his instincts don't seem to care about whether his fear is rational or not.

He risks a glance at the boy—maybe a few years younger than him but with eyes that look older—and manages a sheepish smile.]

Mind giving me a head's up if he moves my way?

jiang cheng | the untamed

[zidianing]

Day of Heroes
Jiang Cheng makes his way along the streets of Llave in the early morning. Might as well familiarize himself with the city if he's goign to be stuck here a while. His brow creases and his lips turn down into a deep frown as he looks over the different wares they have out. It's similar to their festivals back home. Vendors, colors, decorations. He scoffs. Not as grand as their own celebrations at home but...he supposes it is nice.

Nice to keep them prisoners in. It's all he could do to not whip out Zidian and break a few things. He clenches his fist and clenches his jaw to make sure he doesn't do anything he might regret later.

Wildcard
[OOC: I'm open to suggestions!]

Wildcard!

[singlelogbridge]

[There's no rhyme or reason to when The Appeared show up on Llave. No schedule, no alignment of stars, nothing so specific. They show up when they show up, with no pattern to discern in their arrival. And unless they show up with the ears of a cat or strangely colored skin, there's no way for Wei Wuxian to even know that they're part of the Appeared, so he hardly pays attention to such things.

And he isn't expecting to need to.

So it's to his complete and utter shock turned horror when he happens on a figure clad in Jiang robes on one of their escorted days out, the sun hot on his shoulders making sweat gather at his nape.

For a long moment he only stares, his heart racing in his chest, the sound so loud in his ears he can focus on nothing else. Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng is here. Jiang Cheng.

His heart sinks into his stomach and he takes one step forward and then another, all the while wondering if Jiang Cheng will even look at him. If he'll have anything to say. It's his right though, Wei Wuxian knows. It's Jiang Cheng's right to scream whatever obscenities he wants to at him. It's his right to hit him. To use Zidian. Will he? Wei Wuxian wonders. (Was he there? At Nightless City? Did they fight?)

He's close enough be in his view now and he pauses his steps, waiting. When he speaks, his voice is soft and it does not tremble.]

Jiang Cheng.