wentdowntogeorgia: (Disobedience is man's original virtue)
[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia
Lucifer falls.

This is old news for everyone involved. He fell from Grace, he fell from Heaven, and after the so long awaited confrontation in Stull Cemetery, he and his once-beloved brother and the promise of violence, he fell back into the Cage in the body of Sam Winchester.

Now, when he falls, he feels a shift around him like the universe cracking open at the seams; there is the smell of ozone and a lightning-snap that’s louder than even Sam’s fearful internal monologue, louder than the terror that pounds his frantic mortal heart at the sight of Perdition yawning wide beneath him. He is yanked sideways, sudden lateral movement that would be dizzying if he had a center of balance to upset, a rip-tide pulling him in and down and through the rabbit-hole, shadow-thin and darkling deep.

The body that is supposed to be his—that has had his name written over and across and around every fiber of its being since its conception—is suddenly far away, and he is wrapped in the old, familiar skin of a vessel he’d left dying in Detroit, flesh given freely rather than claimed by divine right. And then he is a streak in the sky that hits water and sinks like a stone.

Under the water, cold and getting colder from the seed crystal that is his freezing Grace in its mortal house, he can feel the vast emptiness where Heaven should be above him and isn’t; the universe is silent and it is deafening, a tinnitus ring where there should be angels’ voices. Lucifer grabs two fistfuls of space-time and pulls, moving himself from under the water to standing in the shallows at the bank, and behind him the lake’s surface is already frozen over thick like it’s the dead of winter. The water around his feet is sluggish and barely liquid, filmed over top with a thin frozen layer that breaks and flows around his ankles.

Someone approaches him with a towel, and there is no Hell below him and above him only sky, and he makes no reply; he banishes the water from his clothes with a thought before he puts his fist right through the man’s chest.

[[ooc: So this is going to be the hottest of messes; see mod comment for post instructions and fun stuff like that.]]

[[TW: gore, major character death.]]
aly_brighteyes: (Join the players!)
[personal profile] aly_brighteyes
"You know, when I was employed as a dog-walker, I rather thought I would be walking dogs," Aly observes to no one in particular. She's been sent out on appointment today, for a trial this time but with the potential for this to become a daily engagement. What's on the other end of her leashes today, however, is a bit more unusual than she'd been anticipating.

There are no German Shepherds nor malamutes nor Yorkies for her to walk today. Instead, Aly finds herself escort to a pair of sleek, wild-looking cats. To Aly's eyes, they look nothing like any housecats she's known, but something much closer to the serval cats she's seen among the Bazhir. Simba and Mufasa, their owner had explained, are rather energetic and require exercise much like a dog, which is why they are now on leashes and strolling through Central Park.

Aly can certainly understand why the two cats, rambunctious and energetic, need to be walked but it still seems rather absurd to her.

has_a_horn: (taking you to school)
[personal profile] has_a_horn


There's something new about the city this afternoon. It's not particularly hard to miss. At about noon, a giant scaled figure emerges from the Hudson River, emits a loud screeching roar, and heads for central park.

It's Godzilla, straight out of the 1954 Toho film.

Or, rather, that's what it looks like. Gabriel has a scheme, and this scheme involves in-fluxing a little bit of fun into this city with a grand-scale illusion. His idea of fun might need some work, by human standards, but this is exactly the thing for him at the moment. There are news reports on the radio and television, both in English and in Japanese, but they aren't given by any newscasters anyone in New York might be familiar with, because Gabriel is projecting them.

As Godzilla shakes the water off it's back and walks onto the island, Gabriel pulls out his phone and texts Peter. He really needs him involved with this.

[ooc: Godzilla will make his way across the city, having a good smash. Feel free to run into it anywhere. As this is Gabe's illusion, any interactions with Godzilla will be controlled by Gabriel, even if he's not nearby. People Gabriel doesn't like might want to avoid getting underfoot, or else they'll feel the bone crunching effects of being stepped on, even if nothing has actually happened.]
peeta_mellark: (Hey Girl)
[personal profile] peeta_mellark
Four days in, and Peeta can already feel himself settling into a routine. He's never really thought of himself as adaptable - more in terms of someone who doesn't see the need to make waves, who rolls with what comes his way - but even here, in a completely different world, he's already found a niche for himself. The same niche, really.

Since he has little else to do, he's been spending a majority of his time in the kitchens. The kitchen staff - an assorted crew (some would say motley, but he's too kind to even think it) - welcomed him into their fold when they found him in the kitchen a few days ago. His competence and efficiency were welcomed, too, especially since they made things easier for everyone. In short order he was baking massive batches of bread and attempting to teach the others some of his techniques.

So even though he still feels strange in his new clothes and his new surroundings, Peeta also feels strangely at home, flour under his fingernails and the persistent smell of fresh bread following him around. Since sleep is still difficult (his body hasn't quite adjusted to the time difference between worlds), he chooses to work the morning shift in the kitchens. It's what he's used to, anyway, and that much more routine makes things feel the slightest bit more normal.

It's near the end of the morning rush that he finally emerges from the kitchens, plate in hand, to see to his own breakfast. Spotting a familiar face at a nearby table, he makes a beeline in that direction.

"Hey, Daine."

wildmage_daine: (a whale needs me)
[personal profile] wildmage_daine
Daine wakes up with an unfamiliar weight on her chest and her mind ablaze with copper fire. For a moment, that's all she can see even after she opens her eyes, but a few blinks bring the world into focus… or they should. But her view has been obstructed by a mound of off-white fluff.

Daine, Daine, Daine! Sarge has, from the sound of things, been repeating her name for some time. Perhaps that's what woke her. Daine, they're everywhere! He doesn't sound upset, just excited, but it's still enough to wake her fully. In a moment, she realizes that the unfamiliar weight on her chest is, in fact, a rabbit. And that there's another rabbit on her desk, and three more huddled under the bed where Sarge can't reach them. Molly probably could, but the terrier is sitting over by the door.

I can smell more outside, she says.

"It's all right," Daine says automatically, mostly for the benefit of the rabbits beneath the bed. Sarge might not mean them any harm, but his enthusiasm can be daunting, especially for prey animals. Moving slowly so as not to spook the creature on top of her, she carefully lifts the rabbit off of her chest. "Odd's bobs," she mutters. This is far more fur than she thought a rabbit could have. Daine sits up and finally takes a proper look at the creature… and finds it impossible not to grin. If she couldn't tell it was a rabbit by the feel of its mind, she'd never believe it. It looks like a toy.

"Hullo," Daine says, brushing some of its fur aside until she uncovers one of its eyes. "What's your name?"

Puffbucket, the rabbit replies, quite seriously. I think I'm lost.

You're not the only one. That came from the auburn animal atop her desk. From beneath her bed, there's a timid chorus: Us, too.

"All right, let's get you all up on the bed. Don't worry about the dogs, they won't hurt you." She first sits on the floor to coax out the three beneath the bed, whose names turn out to be Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur; unaware of the reference, Daine accepts the names without blinking as she lifts them up to join Puffbucket. The rabbit on the desk introduces herself as Agent Scully, which does strike Daine as an odd choice (why call a rabbit 'Agent' anything?), but she merely shrugs and puts her with the others. "You'll be safe here. I'll go get you some food, all right?"

Broccoli? Puffbucket asks, lifting his head.

"I'll try," Daine promises. Truth be told, she mostly just wants an excuse to leave that won't upset them. They will be perfectly safe in her room - but the same can't necessarily be said for all the other rabbits in the base. And it feels like there might be an awful lot of them.

Instructing Sarge and Molly to stick close, Daine opens her door and peers out into the hallway. "Oh, my," she murmurs as she takes it all in. There are at least a dozen rabbits out in the hallway, some huddled together near the wall, and others lolloping along the stone floor like low, mobile clouds. "They really are everywhere."

[OOC: Consider this Daine's open rebel base post. If you'd like to have any of your characters bump into her here at some point during the day, have at it!]
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
On the morning of May 6th, 2013, the citizens of Rift York will awaken to find themselves with a new and unexpected roommate. Or two. Or five. The good news: these new roommates don't eat much, they're quiet, and they're pretty adorable. The bad news: no one asked for their homes to be overrun by Angora rabbits.

The rift isn't in the habit of giving people what they ask for, though, so you're just going to have to deal with these bunnies everywhere until the evening of May 8th, when they will disappear as mysteriously and suddenly as they arrived. In the meantime, you might consider them a goodwill gesture from a rift that isn't always so kind. The rabbits seem to be most heavily concentrated in areas where rifties are staying, after all. While Manhattan at large might not appreciate the full extent of the bunnypocalypse, the rifties will find the creatures quite difficult to avoid.



Feel free to post your character's reactions here, or to make your own entries under the event tag. The event will be running for the next two days in-game, or through January 19th in real life. As ever, backdating is allowed and encouraged.
bluesuit_handy: (.surprised | you have to be kidding)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
Andrew is snooping, but he's not getting very far with it. The trouble with absurdly powerful, government-sanctioned entities is that getting inside the base of such an organization tends to be a bit more complicated than showing up with a forged Health and Safety ID card. Of course, he could probably get inside very easily if he simply went up to the front doors and announced himself, but somehow he doubts he'd be likely to come back out without making a grand production of escaping, and he doesn't want to be too late coming home and make James worry.

The other trouble with Romac is that they're too smart to have anything interesting going on outside. After quite a bit of loitering -- more loitering than is probably wise -- all Andrew's seen is fairly ordinary people going in and out of the building. Disgruntled at their failure to be even the least bit interesting, Andrew finally gives up in disgust and decides to walk to the rebel base in order to say hello to a few people and use their private library.

He makes it less than halfway to the park before disaster strikes. Later, Handrew will be mortally embarrassed that the crisis didn't come about because some Romac agent spotted him and decided to make trouble, or because he had to run to intercept an alien, or even because someone got it in their head to mug him. No, this disaster occurs simply because neither Andrew nor a certain speeding taxi driver happens to be looking in the right direction at the right time. As the meta-crisis steps out into the intersection of Lexington and 59th (against right of way, if he'd bothered to notice), there's a deafening screech, an impact, and Andrew quite unexpectedly shatters.

The reflex to use his power when surprised likely saves his life. Twelve tiny Andrews are scattered across the road a moment later, all of them stunned to one degree or another. As they recover and realize what's happened -- and hear the yells of a few people who saw -- they all take the same course of action:

Run.

Unfortunately, very few of them run in the same direction. There's no plan or pattern to it, and very quickly the Andrews scatter to the four winds -- or at least to the four corners of the intersection. There are a few shouts (even New Yorkers tend to notice when someone explodes next to them) and one person even stoops and tries to grab one of the four-inch-tall Andrews, but he has quite a bit of experience in running for cover.


[OOC: Let me know where you want to encounter one or more Andrews, and I will write up an explanation of how he got there. The accident occurred at E. 59th St. and Lexington Ave. (the game map might help you here), and the Andrews have gone in every direction. Some Andrews will take advantage of the nearby subway entrances; depending where he enters he could do as he intends and go northwest, or he could get on the wrong train and go northeast, which would take him past Romac housing. Really, anything is possible -- though he's trying to get to either the Rebels or the TARDIS, he could get lost in any direction, or stay stranded near the intersection. Just write a tag indicating where your character encounters an Andrew and I'll work it out (or you can PM me or ping me on AIM if you want to hammer it out together). He'll be staying in twelfths, since merging into sixths would make him a foot and a half high, meaning he'd be still too small to get around without trouble but too big to go unnoticed. There might be multiple Andrews traveling together, so let me know if you want two of them.]

UPDATE, November 14: Nine Andrews are accounted for so far. One Andrew each currently reserved for Lucy, Spike, and Topher, meaning no more Andrews are available.
jennifer_strange: (neutral - soft smile)
[personal profile] jennifer_strange
It's fortunate that Quarkbeasts are so obedient, and doubly fortunate that this one seems to be unusually good natured. It's made it relatively easy for Jennifer to convince Romac that he can be safely taken out into public, provided he's adequately disguised.

To that end, she's put together a rather horrifying little ensemble for the poor creature. He's wearing a mauve winter coat, faux-fur-trimmed hood hanging over his eyes (which is sort of a pity, as they're a close match for the color). Little black booties keep his paws warm, and his claws hidden. He looks ridiculous, but at least he doesn't look like a Quarkbeast at first glance. Someone would have to really stare if they wanted to pick up on the fact that the few exposed bits of his legs are covered in scales, not fur.

Of course, if he opens his mouth, there's no disguising the fangs.

If you ask Jennifer, the most ridiculous element of the whole ensemble is probably the leash; the aforementioned fangs would make short work of it if he decided he wanted to run off. Until the titanium alloy chain arrives, though, all she can do is rely on his general obedience and his willingness to stick around. Which, to be fair, was enough for her former Quarkbeast. So long as no one pulls a gun on her, there should be no cause for worry.

She keeps her head down as she walks him around the reservoir, relying - perhaps a little too heavily - on the native New Yorkers' tendency to ignore others. It's probably too long a walk for their first real outing, but so long as no one panics, it'll serve as proof that she knows what she's doing.

[ooc: it's a big reservoir, so Jennifer could conceivably run into more than one person.]
beastisbeauty: (Default)
[personal profile] beastisbeauty
Bruce is in Central Park, taking notes on the rift and comparing to some data he brought with him, when it happens. There are people nearby, but they are ignoring him. After all, there isn't much to see, just a blandly dressed, professor type, reading from a stack of papers. He blends in well enough, something Bruce is grateful for. There are two, pretty ladies nearby, wearing exercise gear and talking about cameras on their cell phones.

Except, suddenly, the two ladies are either talking gibberish or in a language Bruce is unfamiliar with. He looks up, puzzled, and sees the ladies eyeing each other in confusion. One of them asks something, based on her tone, but the other shakes her head, frowning. Bruce shakes his head, since it isn't his business, and stares back down at his data sheets. They are meaningless. What was perfectly clear English moments ago, now looks like something typed by hitting buttons randomly on a keyboard.

"Excuse me," he calls out to the women, hoping one of them will be able to understand him. He gets up, taking a cautious step forward, but the women both back away, staring at him and each other warily. The taller woman turns and begins running away, putting distance between them. Bruce swallows, his heart rate rising quickly. If language is breaking down and no one can be understood, even writing...

Bruce moves down the path to an area where there are signs, posters and bulletins he read with easy disinterest earlier in the day. They are nonsense. Bruce tries to imagine what is happening, but nothing comes to mind, save someone might have drugged him! That is not good, though the breakdown of communication would be utterly worse. He shudders, feeling the Other Guy wrestling for control. Bruce fights.

Bruce might have won the conflict, but a man comes up to him and begins shaking him, speaking at him in a quick, pleading tone, his eyes wide with terror. Bruce shoves him away, but the man keeps coming towards him, his voice raising, becoming faster and harsher, until he is screaming. Bruce shakes his head again, tries to tell the man he can't understand him. The stranger grabs Bruce's arm roughly and that ends things. Bruce shoves him hard and moments later, it isn't Bruce. It's Hulk. Hulk roars and pounds the ground, waiting for things to start making sense again. The man is already gone, fleeing when he saw Bruce transforming.

[OOC: Sorry for length. Any and all are welcome.]
edgar_sawtelle: (Questioning)
[personal profile] edgar_sawtelle
Edgar doesn't realize anything is wrong at first.

He's been spending a lot of time in the base, and when he wakes up early that morning he has already decided to get out into the park for a while. It's barely light out when he leaves, and he doesn't pass anyone in the hallways. It's cold, so the park is empty too, aside from the few dedicated joggers here and there. But they stick to the paths and Edgar prefers to lose himself in the wooded areas. If he doesn't think about it too much, he can almost believe he's back home there.

Edgar sits on a stump and watches the sun rise while Almondine trots around, smelling every tree she can find and darting after things Edgar can't see. The sun is caught in the tops of the trees when she finally struts over to him, looking very satisfied with herself. He smiles and stands, clapping a hand to his leg to call her on as he heads back to the base.

It's once they're back in their quarters that Edgar realizes something's amiss. Having filled Almondine's water dish, he sits on his bed and grabs one of the books he's borrowed from the library from the table by the bed. He opens the book to where he had marked his place with a folded piece of paper and settles in to read a little before a late breakfast.

It takes him a few seconds to realize that he can't read what's written in the book. Frowning, he flips through the pages. They're all written in some sort of gibberish. He checks the spine to be sure it's the same book he was reading before, but there's no help there; whatever's written on the spine is just as unintelligible. Slightly concerned, Edgar checks the other two books he borrowed. They're also indecipherable, as is the small stack of scrap paper - used for communicating - he's collected over his time on the base, and everything in the small notebook he's been using as a sort of journal.

Almondine can clearly sense his growing confusion and she noses his arm. Edgar strokes her head, then signs to her: /I can't read./ Or he tries to. But the shapes his hands form don't make any sense, the motions they follow meaning nothing to him.

Edgar stares at his hands as if they belong to a stranger. He can feel his breath quickening, panic rising inside him, and he isn't sure whether he's going to collapse into the desk chair or start running.

He clasps his hands together so hard they hurt.

Bewere

Apr. 7th, 2013 07:40 pm
stronglikebear: (annoyed | seriously dude?)
[personal profile] stronglikebear
Yuri sighs as he trudges down the corridor. He's been feeling grouchy the last few days, his temper shortening and his hunger growing. In other words, he feels just like he does every month. Even though he's just had dinner, he finds himself thinking longingly of breakfast.

He also finds himself thinking of Daine as he checks each of the doors he passes, making sure for the fourth or fifth time that they've been put back together right. He made her promise not to come visit him -- or at least, he told her she had as good as promised and that he'd hold her to it, even if she said no such thing herself. She should never have come to see him the first time, and he won't have her on his conscience because she came again and got hurt or turned. Caught up in his thoughts, he isn't careful enough with the second door, and burns himself on a spoon. Without making a conscious decision to do it, he lashes out, hitting the door so it swings and rebounds off the wall, rattling the silverware. Sheepishly, he sticks his fingertip in his mouth and hurries on -- he has time yet before the transformation, but it's getting harder to keep his head.

He's several steps into the room with the cage before it registers that he's not alone. Freezing in the middle of the room, he lets out a huff that's halfway between annoyance and despair.

"Get out."
fucking_ebay: (thoughtful | cold daylight)
[personal profile] fucking_ebay
Allowance day comes around only twice each month -- twice per month Peter has the cash he needs to live it up, if only for a night or two, before poverty comes crashing back in on him. He's been thinking, since he had that awkward dream, that he wants to ask Lucy to celebrate allowance payout with him by going out to dinner -- but in the waking world this time, instead of just asking some figment of his imagination.

Right now, though, he could no more pay for a nice dinner than he could sprout wings and fly. The week and a half he's spent in hiding after Gabriel's interruption of his show hasn't made him any richer, and by now he's spent every penny he had. On the bright side, he's looking unusually dashing in his new leather coat, which he bought to make himself feel better after that whole fiasco. He tries Lucy's flat first, since she's usually got something to eat in there, but she isn't home and he's not about to risk teleporting across the island by trying to appear on the other side of her door. He does manage to get hold of her via text, but she doesn't seem interested in feeding him for once, and he finally gives her up as a lost cause and going back to his own flat for his magic gear. He doesn't relish the thought of going back out into the park after what happened the last time, but it's busk or beg at this point. He spends a while looking around to make sure Gabriel isn't present before going to his regular spot to draw up a crowd.

--


Luke Smith writing equations

For once, Luke feels useful. School's out for the evening, and he's busily mapping rift radiation with some of Topher's equipment. He's doing his best to make a spiral outward from the eye of the rift, though certain things have made that difficult. He's avoiding the actual eye, for one thing (he's been warned about the rebels who often wait there for new arrivals, and doesn't want to spend so much time at Bethesda that he starts getting recognized). For another, the lake is sort of in the way of his spiraling. His path describes a sort of zig-zag instead as he none too discreetly fiddles with the blinking device and takes occasional notes.

--



Andrew comes down the stairs to the subway platform just in time to see his train sitting at the station with its doors open. With an exclamation of annoyance he bursts into a run, dodging (and quite possibly knocking over in his haste) slower pedestrians as he sprints for the train. He could wait, of course -- Daine isn't even expecting him, so it'd hardly matter if he was late from having to wait for the next train. Waiting really isn't Andrew's style, though, so when he sees the doors begin to shut he puts on one last burst of extra speed, turning sideways to slip between the too-quickly closing doors.

"Wait!" He's too late, and the doors shut hard on him, pinning him halfway inside. Andrew winces at the full-body pinch and squirms and -- there! He's inside! Meanwhile, Andrew stumbles back from the doors, pushed back out onto the platform. He scowls at the doors and at the...oh bollocks, that's a very familiar head of hair. The Andrew inside the train realizes belatedly that something's wrong and turns to look back at him, and they share twin looks of panic as the train pulls away with half of him inside it.

--

OOC: As with Krissy's post in this format, each character is open to one thread on this post. Andrew is up for two threads, as you can tag either the Andrew on the train or the Andrew on the platform. Each Andrew is about 4'7" tall.

All threads taken.
edgar_sawtelle: (Default)
[personal profile] edgar_sawtelle
Lying there in the semidark, Edgar stares at the solitary lit lightbulb at the far end of the kennel and thinks about being alone. Hay in the bales that comprises his makeshift bed pokes at his back through the thin material of his shirt, but the sensation doesn't bother him. It makes him feel more aware, makes the situation seem more real. Bending his knees, he puts his feet flat on the bale and digs his toes into the stiff hay. Almondine shifts beside him, and he runs a hand down her back until she goes still again.

He listens to the sounds of the night, sounds of the barn settling around him and of the creatures outside scuttling around its borders like foreign territory they dare not trespass. The sounds normally soothe him, but his mind is too busy working over all the changes the day has brought to let them lull him to sleep. Just across the yard and seemingly a thousand miles away, his mother sleeps restlessly, the medicines they picked up earlier hopefully running their course. Edgar can't remember the last time they've been apart; certainly not since his father died. In the barn, dogs rustling in the darkness, he is truly alone for the first time in months. The thought is like a surge of fresh air after being trapped under a blanket.

He is alone, and it feels good. He is going to take care of things, all by himself, and that feels good, too. He won't be reliant on anyone, and that feels best of all.

He can do it. He can take care of the kennel and the dogs and his mother and everything will be just fine. A grim determination fills him, along with something like hope, or maybe peace.

Edgar closes his eyes and watches lights dance across his eyelids. Somewhere in the dark to his left, one of the dogs whimpers and another answers it with a short, puppy-like howl.

/Quiet,/ he signs in their direction. /Go to sleep./

The whimpering stops. Almondine noses his open palm, and Edgar lets his hand run over her head and shoulders before burying it in the fluff on her chest. She nestles into his side once more and with a final sigh lays her head against his leg.

Edgar falls asleep with the smell of hay and dogs surrounding him, the buoy of possibility lifting his spirits higher than they have been in a long while.

When he wakes, the first thing he notices is that Almondine is not beside him. More than the lack of warmth or the weight of her body, her absence, the sensation it produced, is a subconscious realization before he even opens his eyes. The sun blinding him from directly overhead is his second observation.

/Almondine,/ he signs. He claps his other hand to his thigh without sitting up, then uses it to cover his eyes against the sun as he signs again. /Almondine, come here./

Then the fact that there is sun on his face finally makes its way into his groggy mind and he sits bolt upright. There is no way sun could be hitting him in the face. He is in the barn, by the kennels. Kennels he can no longer smell. Somewhat trepidatious about what he might find, Edgar drops his hand and glances around in utter bewilderment. He is lying in browning grass amid a stand of trees. The sky above him is overcast, the thin clouds reminiscent of early winter. But it's summer, he thinks. The chill in the air belies the thought and he pulls his legs to his chest, tucking his bare feet as close to his body as he can.

Glancing around at his unfamiliar surroundings, he spots Almondine slipping through the trees.

/Where were you?/ he signs.

Almondine watches him with serious eyes, and Edgar feels his heart pound once, heavily, against his ribcage. When she lies down nearly on top of his feet, Edgar lets her.

It's cold and he has no idea where he is. Or how far he is going to have to walk.

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The Big Applesauce

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