wildmage_daine: (lion calm)
[personal profile] wildmage_daine
There is a lioness on the Great Lawn, and folk are looking right past her as if she's no more exotic than a golden retriever.

Daine's a little surprised, though perhaps she shouldn't be. Once she realized that something was wrong - that she might as well be invisible for all the attention most two-leggers would pay her - she'd been thinking of ways to test just how bad it was. And she'd already been visiting the People in crow shape (they, at least, still acknowledge her as if everything's normal). So she'd thought of taking the sort of shape that might at least earn her a startled glance or two - something big and exotic and obviously out of place. Not to cause a panic or anything, just to see if anyone noticed.

And so far, they really haven't. She's hardly invisible - the lawn is crowded enough that folk have needed to skirt around her, and they've all managed it without treading on her tail or anything. They see her, they just don't care. Or something. She hasn't quite worked it out, yet.

Well, since no one seems to mind her presence, at least she can stay here, basking and thinking on her own little patch of grass. Maybe a little later, she'll go for a wander to see if she's more noticeable on the move.



[ooc: feel free to run into Daine on the Great Lawn, or elsewhere in the Park. I can be flexible re: getting her places if it makes things easier for other characters.]
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
EVENT: THREE DAYS OF RAIN

 photo anigif_enhanced-buzz-16559-1384361137-46_zpsbd7d3155.gif


At seven o'clock on the morning of Tuesday, July 30th, it begins to rain. It's not a drizzle or a downpour, but a steady, soaking sort of rain that puddles on the sidewalks and saturates the ground. The storm seems to park itself over Manhattan for the morning, and reluctantly rolls out to sea shortly after noon.

An hour after the skies clear, any rifty who got caught out in the rain may start to notice something unusual: namely, that they're escaping the notice of others. It's as if the rain has washed something out of them, and they're slowly fading out of others' awareness. Afflicted rifties are still corporeal, visible, and audible - they're not ghosts. But as time goes on, they'll continue to slip beneath everyone else's notice. By the evening of the 30th, they'll find that others' eyes tend to slide right over them, and afflicted rifties will have to grab people by the shoulder or raise their voices just to get a little acknowledgment.

Over the next two days, the effects will only worsen. Unless a significant effort is made by both parties, afflicted rifties will find themselves relegated to the background, their voices on par with the ambient sound of traffic, their faces as noteworthy as any given brick on a wall, their touch the equivalent of a sudden draft. Those who were not caught in the rain will still remember their fading friends, but they'll have an increasingly difficult time physically focusing on them.

On the bright side, afflicted rifties will be able to perceive one another with typical clarity, allowing them to easily interact with one another, if not the general population. The network will also be less affected than the rifties themselves, so text messages may be more easily perceived than speech (though by the end of the 31st, text alerts from afflicted rifties will be less noticeable than usual).

Most importantly, the weather isn't done with them. There will be occasional, sudden cloudbursts over the course of July 31st and August first, and another little soaking will reverse the effects of the initial storm. By evening of August first, everyone should be back to normal.

[OOC: Initial reactions to the fade-out can be posted here. Other shenanigans can go up in their own posts using the tag 'event: three days of rain.' Whether your character is affected and for how long is up to you, though it's safe to say that as the first of August draws to a close, rogue cloudbursts will be difficult for any still-afflicted rifties to avoid (we're not saying a tiny raincloud will spontaneously coalesce above the heads of afflicted rifties regardless of whether they're outdoors or not, buuuut we're not saying one won't, either). Backdating is, as ever, allowed and encouraged. And since this takes place over three days in game, forward dating will also be allowed if you want to get right into day three terribleness.]
jane_eyre: (investigative | startled | fascinated)
[personal profile] jane_eyre
Today Jane is alone. Adele in school, Bertha in the doctor's care, she is free to do as she pleases. And today she pleases to wander.

The forest that once seemed so forbidding and full of terror is now friendly and familiar. It was here that she came to realize the awful truth about Thornfield and it's master - may he to the devil and his name be struck from the record of her mind - and it was here that she felt she truly came to know herself. Jane Eyre of - not of Gateshead, not of Thornfield, but of the moor.

She stands a moment in a clearing, listening to the rustle of wind amidst leaves, feeling the spring of moss and dead leaves beneath her feet, and closes her eyes, opening herself up to the world of spirits Helen had once told her about. She fancies she can feel it now, a light tingling just out of reach, if she could only grasp it -

Her hand presses forward into the dusky fog, fingers wrapping around the invisible life beyond, when behind her eyelids the light changes, bright and hot, and the smell, the gentle give of the earth, and the sounds - all of it gone, replaced by things new and, indeed, frightening.

She opens her eyes and beholds the new world around her, solid stone beneath her feet, unfamiliar, overwhelming smells in the thick hot air, and cacophony. Voices, yes, but things stranger still, beyond her understanding, a distant rush and roar, a tapestry of noise she cannot even begin to mark.

She feels herself sway, near into a faint, and catches herself just barely, bracing upon the lip of a great fountain behind her, an angelic statue staring down.

"Oh," she whispers to herself. "Oh, saints preserve me."

What unholy nightmare is this, what strange netherworld has she stepped into? It feels realer than anything she has ever dreamed. For many moments she rests at the fountain's edge, frozen and quite, quite alone.

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