TDM 005: HAPPY SPOOKTEMBER

[erkumods]

TDM 005: HAPPY SPOOKTEMBER

Arrival This time, you come out of the water, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy drawing people in. It's like being suspended between realities and abruptly pushed from behind through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you to the surface and carrying you to shore. Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. Feel free to explore the Island, though there isn’t much to see. Most of the buildings are abandoned and in dire need of repair, and beyond the city lingers a thick fog that obscures much of the wilderness from view. Wander too far into this fog, and you will find yourself mysteriously looping back to where you began, your memories of what you were doing and how you got there erased. With that in mind, it may be wise to stake your claim on a rundown apartment, a tent on the beach, or a bed in the "comfortable" new barracks. Your inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● I. Harvest Hunt As the daylight grows shorter and the muggy heat of the island’s summer gradually shifts to temperate days and chilly nights, Erku’s accessible wilderness explodes with a colorful collection of tempting fruits, fragrant-smelling herbs, and nuts and seeds plumped and ready for harvest. With warnings to beware of monsters, the robots of Erku encourage Islanders to take advantage of the land’s bounty by distributing basic camping supplies to those who are interested in exploring, hunting, and harvesting. They strongly encourage making the journey with a friend! Any surplus foods that Islanders bring home with them can be exchanged for credits with cafeteria robots! Just be careful out there - some of these fruits have strange effects once consumed. For extra protection out there in the wilds, the robots have fashioned crowns of flowers or foliage to wear on their adventures. The sweet and herbal smells from the crowns will discourage most Erku-native monsters from approaching, they assure - this is ancient knowledge from the planet’s long-gone civilization, so it can’t be wrong! What the robots don’t know is that the crowns have a deeper, more ritualistic purpose: after a few hours, the scent of flowers or herbs begins to awaken primal instincts within the wearer. Those who are wearing the foliage crowns feel overwhelmed by an urge to hunt, while those who wear the flower crowns delight in every opportunity to tease, outrun, and outwit the hunters. What happens when the chase ends? Well, that depends on the personalities and the chemistry between the hunters and their prey. While the robots are very insistent on placing crowns atop the heads of any Islander they see, they aren’t stuck on in any way and they are easy to remove, which can prevent or break the hunting trance. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● II. seeds and sap Of particularly high credit value, the robots explain, is an elusive flower known as the skull sunflower. It appears exactly as one might imagine: at the center of an otherwise innocuous, towering sunflower is the gruesome visage of an open-mouthed skull. Don’t worry, the flowers are harmless! Even if it’s strange how the empty-socketed eyes seem to follow your every move. And why is it that the teeth - which, on closer inspection, are actually the seeds of the flower - only seem to chatter when your back is turned? Any Islander who can withstand their heebie-jeebies long enough to collect the petals and seeds from the flowers will fetch a handsome reward in credits upon exchange with the robots. Beware the sticky, blood-red sap that seeps from the eyes of each skull, however. Those who absorb too much through their skin will begin to hallucinate, visions of frightening or emotional events from their past dancing in the shadows. One might even mistakenly imagine that another Islander is someone they recognize from their past, someone who meant something to them - no matter whether that person is alive or dead in the present. The hallucinogenic effects of the sap can last for hours, or they can be shortened by a dip in the public baths. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● III. Tarot Night comes, and in the darkness, a robot sets up a table by the beach. A solitary candle sits in the center, illuminating a deck of cards. F̶i̴n̵d̸ ̸y̶o̸u̸r̵ ̵f̵o̸r̷t̵u̶n̶e̷?̴ The robot reveals tarot cards and will do a variety of spreads to tell your fortune. Each fortune can be distilled into one central theme, which characters will find pervades their life for the next 24 hours. There is magic afoot: it can be sensed, and perhaps even dispelled, if luck is on your side. Though most robots on the island show a capacity for greater-than-average artificial intelligence, this pseudo-psychic 'bot -- M.S. Cl30 -- is less advanced. It only has six interpretations prepared: Always watch your back. - Characters will be compelled to walk, or even speak, backwards for the duration of the day. Those who mishear it as "wash your back" may spend longer in the shower than usual. Fake it til you make it. - Characters will feel compelled to act performatively. They will more readily fall into acts for serious or flirtatious roleplay, or try on costumes that reflect a particular persona they're interested in exploring. Faked orgasms will seem quite realistic. You will receive an affectionate letter from a friend. - Just as it is said, someone will be compelled to engage in correspondence - and whether it turns dirty or not, well, that's up to you! Characters may also quite literally receive an article of clothing with a red letter sewn on the top. What could it stand for? Hold on tight. - Characters who are given this life advice will start to feel rather clingy. They'll attach themselves to someone's side and refuse to leave, or they may find a "security blanket" item and won't let it go. You are a generous, giving person. - Characters will feel compelled to do something kind for someone else. Maybe they'll invite someone to the movies, come over and cook, or do that thing their partner is always asking for. Don't think. Feel. - Even if they weren't before, characters temporarily experience impulsive and hot-headed urges. They will also become very tactile. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● N A V I G A T I O N

Comments

[grudged]

[...well, that was kind of like flipping the board. If in an insufferably bratty sort of way. Unfortunately for Garma, Char was well-accustomed to dealing with brats, so rather than try to dodge at close proximity he just catches Garma by the thigh and presses inward. And if he thought they were close before, now they were crotch to crotch as opposed to face to face. Oops.]

You really don't know when to quit.

[His breath cascades down Garma's neck. Warm but not so welcoming, more like a monster about to devour its catch.]

You really are begging for a bruising, you cocky little shit.

arrival;

[earps]

Wynonna’s been shacking up in one of the apartments further inland since she first got to the city, but part of her still likes going to the beach even in spite of the various horrors that have walked out of its depths before. These days, she feels confident in being equipped enough to take on whatever she might run into — or at least put up a good fight long enough to turn tail and hide back in the city where there’s plenty of available hiding spots. Still, the thought of something popping up out of the water runs through the back of her mind as she sits in the sand, knees drawn up towards her chest in and one hand bracing back behind her, and one second the ocean in front of her is empty and the next she can make out a figure walking out of the shallows — coming closer.

She straightens with a start, unsure if she’s just seeing things, but then the outline grows closer and closer still and eventually she scrambles to her feet, one hand strafing toward the holster at her hip even if she doesn’t go for it right away. It’s not another driftwood zombie, that much is clear, but maybe it’s just someone who decided to go for an evening swim?

“Uh, hey,” she calls out, shifting her hands to hook thumbs in the back pockets of her shorts with a corresponding hunch of her shoulders, all while trying to determine whether she has a potential threat on her hands or not, and clearly the way to do that is via... awkwardly greeting them?

[earps]

[ She’s wrestling with her instincts, the one that feels more like her wanting to stand her ground and fight versus the one that overrides it all and tells her to run, to put as much distance as she can between herself and this woman, to just stay one step ahead for as long as she can — even if she’s starting to think she might only be avoiding the inevitable.

She feels waterlogged, dragged down by the weight of her own clothes now that she’s half-soaked through, and as she shifts position between the heavy thicket of bushes and the thick trunk of a tree, bracing her hand against its weathered wood, she freezes at the sound of a voice piercing through the idle of the forest.

It would never have occurred to her to try and mask her scent in some way but now that it has, it might be too late for her to do anything about it; she attempts to gently peer through the brush, lowering a few branches with her fingertips to make out any sign of movement as she tries to narrow down proximity with that voice coming closer and closer, but maybe she’s going to have to run again and she can’t give herself away by speaking now. That’d be even more of an obvious clue than the apparent racing of her pulse.

She takes a deep breath and then another, trying to slow her heartbeat, but there’s also something in her that starts to consider the possibility of being caught and whether that would be so bad; keeping a low crouch, she tries to quietly maneuver around the tree to brace herself against the other side, leaning into it for support as she primes her muscles in anticipation of needing to run again.

The more seconds that pass, the more her pulse quickens again — this time in anticipation of what could happen if that woman rounds the corner and finds her pressed in here, trying to make herself as small and undiscoverable as possible. ]

[apodictic]

It's your call. It won't be difficult. But I recommend you keep him. With him alive, there are three of us for Zeon here, compared to .... give or take five Gundam pilots, their respective mobile suits, not to mention their allies. The numbers aren't good, but the numbers are never good for Neo Zeon anyway.

[ saying this knowing char's feelings regarding zeon as a whole, which, if angelo knows his history -- and he does -- isn't at the point where he needs it to be. that single-minded purpose distilled into a mask, the utter perfection of duty that carries out the will of the people. not his captain, at all. ]

It is a hassle, Char. [ dryly making checks and balances while garma isn't around, which is fine, but also angelo is rather relieved that he didn't address him as his captain again. he's slowly catching himself, which is the issue here more than, well. betraying garma, even if garma had been very nice and pledged his support and loyalty to him and his cause. ] Though I must admit, so many people have such feelings and memories about you and your relation to the Zabi that "Char Aznable", as an entity, is just unknown to me.

[ mineva, in particular, speaks about him ... differently. it seems to him that garma is the one who has a better measure of him, though angelo can't really say about the other zabis. ] Their projection of such hopes onto my Captain is .... well, while useful, completely irrelevant, and hinders his cause more than anything else. [ angelo says it with the resentment of a newtype. ]

[suchmiracles]

Kurt isn't surprised to see someone else on the beach. It's not difficult to see the edges of a city over the tops of the trees, suggesting that someone has inhabited -- or currently inhabits -- the island. He is a little surprised to discover that the other person is human, or at least human-looking. It raises his hopes that he's somewhere not so far from home.

He tucks the towel under one arm and waves to her with the hand holding his wet t-shirt, hoping to appear non-threatening at least. He's used to strangers having a moment of confusion when they first meet him, used to that wariness, so much so that it doesn't bother him any more to see it in another's face.

"Guten Tag," he replies, assuming the spirit of the greeting will come across if not the meaning, running his fingers through his hair to try to keep it out of his eyes. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I've just, ah.. arrived."

[instrumentalized]

[ Well. At least as long as Char is insulting him, it is easier to get rid of his rose-tinted glasses, to remember that this isn't the Char he's always admired, because that Char is nothing but a figment of his own imagination. This is the real man, who holds nothing but disdain for Garma, and whom Garma wants nothing more than to hate in return. He has to forget everything he's ever thought about him, every dirty little teenage fantasy that might have suggested a position just like this. ]

You're such a brute.

[ He tries his hardest to keep his voice stable and it's--- well, it's stable enough, just a good bit higher in pitch than it'd be if he were relaxed instead of tense enough to break. ]

You can't mangle this body any worse than you already have.

[ Though the Augur was nice enough to restore his appearance to him, Garma remembers what the flames felt like, for those last few terrifyingly long moments. ]

[slavophile]

( Right, they are out there in the open.

It's easy to forget that, he realizes, giving a look around them. Looking back, he's met with a soft kiss. One that, like Kirk assumes, isn't unwelcome.

The hand in his hair is also welcome. It feels good and reminds him of when he let someone do that with him. In the beginning when he didn't push them to arms' length.

Something unfamiliar and familiar all at the same time. Here and now, months after picking up the work his sister and their team did. In a different dimension. He's kissed by a space captain. )

I don't think it's that lucky. ( Not from him, anyway. William didn't get lucky. He made his moves. He earned his money. Except for his angel investor. That was not him. ) Where do we go on the island of small robots and flower crowns to ... do what we want to do with each other?

[slavophile]

What? ( He knows her fidgeting, her glances, her - I'd rather go for two rounds in a fight club than have this conversation look.

His hands come up, like, 'yes, blurt it out,' but then he's at a loss, because that does not quite compute. but, does time travel ever. )

Only practically? Because of the crisis?

[grudged]

You made me this way.

["You" in a general sense, "you" referring to his wretched hellspawn as a family. For a moment that flawless mask cracks and he sounds really and truly angry, like he really was going to chop Garma down like a stalk of wheat. But he regains control, if loosely. Still a brute, just one with a better handle over his own temper.]

And you wanted it this way. Don't deny it.

[And so Char asks for the final time:]

Are you going to run?

[grudged]

[Disposing of Garma wouldn't be difficult, but as for the rest of this situation... it was a bit generous to call it something like a mess. Apparently, Angelo knew everything. And from the sounds of it, Garma knew everything too. Which meant he was about to deal with a very angry Zabi, and even if he wasn't an overt threat, he could cause trouble and kick up a fuss.

On the other hand, Angelo raises a good point. An ally was an ally, and hadn't he worked behind enemy lines his whole life? Better hapless Garma than a vicious Gundam pilot, plotting to destroy them all. No Gundam would ever be a friend of theirs, he knows that much. So ultimately Char agrees without comment, Garma will live, at least for now. Until he makes a move.

As for the rest, Char perks up a bit. Who was Char Aznable? And why did Angelo care so much? That passing interest has him tilting his head towards Angelo.]

You seem pretty protective of your Captain.

[He doesn't mean it as an insult. Quite the opposite, he strives to understand.]

But you shouldn't worry about it. There's nothing to know, after all.

[slavophile]

Okay. That I can work with. Your story needs work, though. It would not pull any investor support.

( There's a twinkle in his eye as he smirks, squeezes August's shoulder and slides forward on his stool. )

I'm rusty, so tell me if I'm doing this wrong.

( He doesn't mean it. He's being cute and coy. When he leans in and finally lands a kiss on August's lips, not his cheek, it's clear he knows what he's doing. It's slow at first. His hand comes to his cheek then. )

[instrumentalized]

[ 'This way' is nothing but a hollow reenactment of what Garma might have wanted. It had never mattered that much, either, where Char was physically, as long as Garma could lay claim to his friendship, his affection. Now he has his body so close that he can feel the heat radiate off him, but he holds none of his heart. It's meaningless, entirely. ]

... I won't run from you.

[ Even the flower crown that is still loosely lodged in his hair can't convince Garma that running is a good idea anymore. It's misplaced pride, maybe, that makes him want to belatedly stand strong and accept the reality of Char's presence. It's all kinds of foolish feelings, but it doesn't matter. If he ran, he'd be outrun. Simple as that. ]

Show me. Show me your real self.

[ However ugly and awful it may be. Maybe if it repulses him enough, eventually, Garma will be able to forget his longing. ]

[slavophile]

Well, you're doing a great job. I get it. It quiets the mind from the bigger questions, like, if my sister helped reset a timeline and ended up in a separate life, did my life ever really exist in the first place? Did it never happen? You know. Just that.

( He nods to himself, letting him fill the awkward silence that must be setting in. )

I get it. Is what I mean. Find the familiar. You have diners, I have ( He holds his wrist up. ) this. ( Tech. ) You're used to ending up other places?

tw//ref to sexual abuse and war crimes

[apodictic]

Even a vessel needs a steady hand to take care of it.

[ thinking of a rose, in palau. thinking of a unicorn and how brutal it was. the way his captain worked to get banagher to their side, to make him understand, to no avail -- he is angry at a lot of things, angelo remembering things that made him hate humanity even more. mineva telling them that that is not the real char aznable, as if that was the end of the discussion. his captain, his purpose, and the mask.

and here char aznable is, saying that there is nothing to know. is he too young to know what's coming for him? axis, perhaps, was nothing more than an inconvenience to him at this point, not carrying with it everything that it had become when it made a weary trek to the planet, only to be turned away last minute in that brilliant display of light. angelo looks at his hands, the way they were locked over his knees. ]

I care for the Captain, because he rescued me. When Side 3 was caught in the aftermath of rioting Federation soldiers against Zeon forces, my family and I suffered for it, before the rest of them died. And there are many other things that happened in between -- you know. [ perhaps he would understand, more than garma would. ] You know how deep these grudges go and how animalistic people can be.

I was in a state in Side 3 where I .... existed. Becoming nothing more than filth, a whore, living in the gutter and among the company of terrible adults, until the Captain came and took me away. I owe my life to him. He gave me a reason to exist.

That is why I have to go back, but this is also why you have to be protected. My Captain cannot exist without you. [ and angelo ... may not understand the circumstances behind full frontal's creation, but he understands enough. ]

tarot

[lucere]

[Just when Cor was surrounded by beasts, several bolts of lightning blasts through the darkness leaving angry red embers in its wake. The telltale stink of charred flesh lingers in the air as the many monsters writhe in agony. While the spell itself wasn't meant to kill, another round of lightning would certainly do the trick but Regis isn't interested in doing that. Instead, the old king stays his hand in favor of helping an old friend.]

I thought you put such foolery behind you, Marshal.

[It takes a moment for Regis to come into view but once he does, he can't help but smirk despite the trepidation. After all, it's been years, hasn't it? Regis doesn't mean to give him a fright but after learning from others about a man in all black daring to venture into the night with only a katana at his side, he couldn't possibly linger in idleness any longer.]

It's unwise to relive the past, you know.

[grudged]

[He adores him, Char concludes. But makes no further comment on the matter, simply filing it away for future reference.

And there was a lot to unpack. Char was a smart man, borderline brilliant; he could connect the dots on what truly happened to Angelo, what a whore meant. He absolutely understands, although respectfully doesn't reply to that either. This was Angelo's burden, his wound to bear. It would always exist, as with the wound inflicted upon himself by the Zabi family.

Char was a smart man but not particularly empathetic, couldn't afford to be. Nonetheless, he feels the slightest twinge of guilt for Angelo, a pretty person with such sorrowful eyes.]

Isn't it painful?

[Echoing his earlier question, observing Angelo with a muted expression.]

Such a reminder, sitting right beside you... a stranger wearing someone else's face.

[grudged]

[You can't order me around, Char grouses to himself. Not anymore.

And yet Char has effectively boxed them both in. No way to go but forward, no other path save straight ahead. He leers a little at Garma's challenging tone but ultimately does not reply or retaliate. Even though it was tempting to tell him there was no real self, never had been and never would be, not since the day a filthy Zabi plotted to kill his father. And succeeded.

His foliage crown doesn't help his maddened state. So in the end, he obeys the order anyway—by biting Garma on the neck, deep enough to bruise. How ugly, how awful, how repulsive.]

[apodictic]

The circumstances surrounding my Captain is more complicated than it seems.

[ and char can get the feeling that he is not welcome to it, at least not right now. angelo can speak of his own past freely because he'd thrown it away. all of his life is devoted to his captain. but full frontal deserves a lot of things. ]

It is painful.

That being said, who you are and where you are going, the choices that the Red Comet makes -- all of it is necessary. All of it will lead to the inevitability of my Captain. It is your nature, after all.

[ angelo isn't really deceptive or subtle by nature, but char can glean, perhaps, that what he's waiting for is the inevitability of time and age from char. that is: data being distilled in the horror of a psychoframe, which can only happen through time. that much, that certainty -- he knows it well from his captain, knows it well from this char.

the reality is, however, if his captain's description of things is anything to go by, then char aznable hasn't really known any sort of contentment or happiness for a while. and even those who claim such memory of him disputes it; is uncertain; can't really lay claim to the man they thought he was. at least angelo's task is fairly clear -- to serve his captain, nothing else, to act as he would approve, to do as he would bid him to be. ]

[instrumentalized]

[ Garma inhales sharply and exhales by hissing in pain, though he certainly isn't flinching away from the assault now that he's made his proclamation.

Char might notice he's not the first one to have left bitemarks on Garma's delicate skin, though whatever bruises existed from an earlier encounter have almost completely faded by now. Garma is a little grateful that Char can't claim this part of him for himself, not completely, but it's not enough to keep him from reaching up and digging his fingers into Char's back to alleviate the pain and then all the other emotions that come with it and that he'd prefer not to name.

This is all wrong. He never wanted it like this. It was all meant to be so soft and safe, not a beast and its prey.

Yet he reaches higher still, to pull Char back by the hair at the nape of his neck, but only so that - if he succeeds in his manhandling - he can crush his mouth against Char's. ]

harvest hunt a

[leatherdaddy]

[ Gladio doesn't find the herbal crown altogether unpleasant -- sure, soft stems poke through his hair, causing his scalp to prickle or itch when he moves, but the scents that come from it are a nice change. It smells herbal, obviously, reminds him of the wilderness he's so fond of.

Life seems to be returning to Erku, and frankly? This kind of hunting and gathering is right up Gladio's survivalist alley. Maybe it's the crown (it's definitely the crown) or just the mission he's on, but the Shield feels a bit more bad ass than usual. A feeling that gradually becomes more bestial as hunter instinct starts to assert itself. Gladio quiets, says less and shows more teeth, his smile turning almost predatory as he stalks his elusive prey.

He was no longer hunting for worthy prey, but to prove his own worth. Cor the Immortal, a man he looked up to not just for his legacy, but for his mentorship and prowess in battle. He's never fought a more skilled opponent, and age hasn't slowed him down in any way discernible to him -- so wide is the gulf of experience and expertise between him. If he catches him, that'll be one more badge of honor he can wear, one less rare opportunity to win Cor's approval lost. ]

I'm in my element, Cor... can you really say the same for yourself?

[ Abandoning his goal of gathering more of nature's bounty in exchange for credits, Gladio pursues Cor through the foliage, watching for signs of disruption -- a snapped twig, a footprint. ]

Arrival> Library

[spacedisaster]

[ Peter has been looking for information, and the library seemed a good place to start. He wanted to know who ruled the planet, what vehicles were available, and if they had any star maps. Instead, he accidentally got an awful lot of erotica downloaded to his bracelet device for his troubles. Which okay, maybe one day he will be interested in reading out Ravished By The Piano Tuner Albertasaurus out of boredom but now really wasn't the time.

After a groan, he is ready to leave and keep looking for a way to contact his friends but the tablet Jim is holding catches his attention. It's not because he wants to spy on the man's way of entertaining himself but because Peter didn't know they could get a proper tablet instead of just the bracelet. He can't stop himself from commenting about the activity that is currently being performed on the screen. ]

I don't recommend that one. It's terrible for the back unless you lean against something support.

[unvarnished]

[How low can he go? Until he reaches Jim's collar, anyway, and then he stops. August moves up again to Jim's mouth and pressed a kiss there again. He brushed Jim's hair, bumping against that crown. With one sweep he knocked the crown off Jim's head]

That's better.

complimentary crowns for you and me~

[noneforyou]

[ By this point, Xue Yang is well-aware of what any tasks the robots decide to ask the populace to help out with will probably lead to. It's why he doesn't remove the foliage crown that's placed upon his head before he's nudged towards the wilderness. Gathering supplies of this sort is one of the things he's decent at anyway, so he might as well follow along and find out how it's going to attempt to convince him to fuck someone this time.

The pouch he's brought along has been filled with a good collection of herbs by the time he comes upon the patch of skull sunflowers and the person already standing there harvesting them. Xue Yang is about to ignore her and set to work himself when she suddenly turns, and when their eyes meet, Xue Yang finds his attention has zeroed in on her.

She starts to flee and he feels a surge of instincts, the likes of which he hasn't felt since transforming himself into a cat. Hunt, something shouts inside of him, and with the flowers now completely out of mind he takes off after her. ]

[unvarnished]

You don't say. Well, maybe you can help me.

[He smiles, scooting forward. There really can be no "wrong" in this, in his opinion. Even if it's a bit sloppy or awkward, he'll still like it. It's been a long time for him so he'll take anything.

August lets out a delighted little gasp at the kiss. Oh, yeah, William knows what he's doing. He kisses back, trying not to be too eager about it]

Arrival> The beach

[spacedisaster]

[ Peter isn't standing that far away from Kurt, having also been washed ashore and having zero idea of how he got here. His wet, curly hair is also getting curlier, his shirt is sticking to his chest, and wearing a wet leather isn't helping. He takes the offered towel from one of the robots with as much grace as he can manage while looking like a drowned rat, and listens do their nonsense explanation about this new world. ]

A glitchy teleporter? Really? [ Asking the robots for further explanation give him no results and once he's fitted with the bracelet, they consider their job done and leave him to his own devices. With a sigh and an eye roll, Peter takes off his jacket and wet shirt, then turns his attention to the person next to him. The Guardian doesn't seem faced in the slightest by the fact that Kurt is blue and kinda furry. It's not a bad look on him and Peter had an affinity for people with colorful skin. ] Not the best start of our day, isn't it?