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Characters
Here



madison — unbreakable.





































  • mood



    Determined
















Madison’s eyes wandered over to the voice addressing her. The way the guy was dressed it was like he came from one of those old westerns her dad watches from time to time. Her brows furrowed at the guy, lips partially opened, and nose scrunched in disbelief of what she heard. Purgatory. Madison shook her head and let out a scoff.

Is this boy out of his mind? Purgatory was for the dead, and there was no way in hell they were dead.

“Yeah, no. There’s no way we’re in purgatory,” she said, placing her free hand on her hip and motioning her head the way she came, “I just came from my street, and I’m pretty sure my heart is still beating.”

A wave of uncertainty began to fill Madison’s head the more she thought about. What he was saying about purgatory brought some unwanted anxieties. A feeling she hasn’t felt herself for a long time. Right now she couldn’t let it get to her head. Not now. Not until she knows more, and if he doesn’t know much she doubted anybody else would. They needed a plan and to figure out a way to get a better grasp at things. Maybe talking more to this guy might help with keeping her more grounded.

“Sorry, I'm just trying not to freak. How did you get here?” she asked, gravitating her eyes over as more people appeared towards the area.

Some looked much older than others. She glanced at a group of people who were being familiar with themselves. A girl dressed in a torn-up wedding gown was a new one. Then she came across other things around the camp. Tents, for one. A lot of them. The anxieties she was feeling were replaced with sensibility. Her instincts were telling her to figure this out. To get a better grasp at what they were dealing with. Everything was too weird for her to think this was reality right now. In honesty, it felt like it was about to become a living nightmare. Whatever nightmare this was, she wasn’t going to let it get to her. Right now, Madison only thought of her dad. She gave a nod, reassuring him that she was listening or halfway at least. She only focused on the words that she needed to know. The rest was that western slang she never understood.

“You know, we can’t just sit here. We need to look for a way out of this place or look for some answers. I’m going to look around. You can come with and if not, it's cool,” she offered. In some way, she hoped the stranger would take it, but most likely you wouldn’t trust strangers often either. So she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

Might as well look for a way out. If they were all coming here, there had to be a reason. Madison wasn’t going to just stick around and make a tent or sit idly waiting for something to happen. She just wasn’t that kind of person to begin with. There had to be some stuff around here that could help. Whatever it may be, it was better than just feeling helpless.

She gathered her bearings before going off towards the forest again.

































KNIVES



NEONI










♡coded by uxie♡
 



ruby ─ starstruck.





































  • mood



    horrified.
















Even with her eyes closed she can recognize the flash of bright lights and cameras. Full eyelashes fluttered as she opened her eyes, ready to meet them…her fans. But there was no one around. She was alone in a room surrounded by cameras that captured her on their own.

Ruby tilted her head in both curiosity and confusion. She had never encountered anything like this. The flashes she was all too familiar with but the lack of people was disconcerting. She missed the gasps of awe her presence would evoke. The sound was music to her ears. They were so full of wonder, shock, and…

“FEAR.”

A voice unknown to her. She looked around for the source. Her turns were sharp and coordinated, not something she was used to.

“YOU WILL BECOME THEIR FEAR.”

Are you giving me…a role? A smirk graced her lips. The challenge excited her. Whose fear will I become? No response. A few minutes passed in silence. Frustration began to take over and she let out a huff. How can she give her best performance without more information? And then it dawn on her…everyone’s fear is different. She will have to adapt based on the person. Is this what you ask of me?

“YES. BE THEIR FEAR.”

There was the response she was looking for. The initial feeling of frustration melted away as she began to plot her approach. She rolled her neck and shoulders to loosen her muscles, but the sound of rustling stopped her dead in her tracks. What was that?

“I HAVE MADE YOU THE BEST VERSION OF YOURSELF.”

What did they mean by that?

She glanced around and noticed a doorway leading to another room. She pulled herself away from the flashing cameras and made her way over to the next room, finding herself to be surprisingly light on her feet. The room opened up to be a dressing room. Mirrors lit up by bright, bulbous light bulbs paired with vanities that lined up against the wall. It brought her back to the days she would get her hair and makeup done for filming.

Hesitation held her back from looking at her reflection. She could not shake off the feeling that she no longer appeared the way she had worked so hard to achieve. Whatever had claimed her had created her to their liking. Slowly, she approached one of the mirrors, not entirely sure what to expect. The last memory she had was falling after being chased by birds. What could she possibly look like after such an ordeal?

The creature that stared back at her on the mirror was ghastly. Her dark brown eyes were replaced by cold, beady ones. Grey feathers with dark tips covered her body from head to toe. Her arms were now large wings, and her hands and feet were made of long talons. The only feature that remained recognizable was her face. Her freckles, full lips, and surgically repaired nose remained the same. She was a bird with a human face.

What have you done to me? I was…beautiful…

































we'll meet again



vera lynn










♡coded by uxie♡
 



juno "the medusa" ─ remember me.





































  • mood



    confused, angry.
















"DREADED ONE. AWAKEN."

Juno expected the coppery tang of blood on her tongue when her eyes shot open, the distorted voice still echoing in her mind. She was dead- supposed to be dead. She reached around to run a hand up and down her spine only to find it completely intact. Odd. Juno should have been in two pieces, but instead she stood without issue. The top half of herself didn't slump over, hanging on by mere threads and she couldn't feel the excruciating pain of her organs being mangled. No hands on her body, no teeth biting into flesh, or metal cuffs digging into her wrists.

The space around Juno wasn't a dingy warehouse, but an ethereal landscape that went on for miles upon miles, and she recognized none of it. This wasn't somewhere she had ever been, but she saw plenty about it when researching Greek mythology. But why was she here? To end up in a place like this after death... It felt wrong. She felt wrong.

Then came the voice.

"You will put on the perfect play, my Medusa."

Juno wished she could wring the neck of whoever said that.

"I am Ito Juno," She hissed, doing her best to keep a lid on her anger, "I am not Medusa and I am putting on no plays." Juno didn't want to let a disembodied voice control her, especially not one that so blatantly disrespected her by using a name that was not hers.

"Ito Juno is dead. You are The Medusa and you will do as I say."

Juno rubbed her hands over her face, frustrated; to think she was arguing with a voice from nowhere, but deep down she knew this was all too real; and something she accepted almost immediately, knowing well enough she was at a massive disadvantage. Antagonizing this thing probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, either. It had power and Juno was in no place to fight it, especially not knowing what it was or its goals. Considering the circumstances, it probably had some degree of control over her, so the smart thing would be to do as it said.

"Fine," Oh, how quickly Juno resigned herself to her fate despite how desperately she wanted to resist, "What am I meant to do?"

"Entertain. Kill."

Juno's eyebrow twitched, irritated by the lack of answer but not surprised. She had a feeling she wouldn't get anything more out of the entity that had taken her; at least, not yet. That didn't stop her from asking another question, "What have you done to me?"

"See for yourself, Medusa."

There weren't any mirrors nearby for Juno to use, so she could only assume it wanted her to look at her reflection in the lake. Wordlessly approaching the water's edge, she leaned over and peered into it.

The reflection that stared back at Juno was almost herself, but the glossy black snakes that replaced her hair were new and very much alive; they coiled and uncoiled languidly, brushing against her lower back. Juno carefully lifted one of the many snakes that covered her head and looked it in the eyes, "Hello, little one." The snake seemed to respond, hissing and curling loosely around her wrist. Juno gently stroked the top of its head with her thumb.

"A gorgon." Juno mused, not taking her eyes off the snake. She was beginning to understand what had been done to her.

"Yes."

"You have taken my identity."

"NO, DREADED ONE. I HAVE PERFECTED YOU."

































who is she?



i monster










♡coded by uxie♡
 



nellie ─ repressed alliance.
































Nellie eyes the exchange between Sable and the man with caution, momentarily caught off guard by the brazenness of the girls' way of speaking. No one acted like this at the compound, not without reprimand and a tongue lashing─questioning her own marriage at the ripe age of fifteen had left her humiliated and ashamed. Insolent.

But this wasn't the compound.

"S'okay. You don't need to be saying sorry or nothin'." Taking Sable's outstretched hand, Nellie allows the girl to hoist her onto her feet. She brushes off the back of her dress with both hands, fingers catching onto small twigs and leaves. Wonderful, Nellie thinks discontentedly, knowing the stains will take some time to scrub out with the lack of resources. Weighing her options, Nellie looks to the man that spoke with clear intent in his threat and fights the urge to look down, look anywhere but at him─insolence was to look at men with anything close to contempt.

"None of us seem to know what's going on." A quiver fights its way into her voice, residual anxiety leftover from the act of harming Travis, to ending up here─surrounded by strangers in a forest. From the panicked whispers, to the people seeming to accept their circumstances, to the frightened faces around the camp. . . Nellie spots a blonde girl, staring into the mist with a mask of horror so palpable, she almost steps back herself. Convinced she'd seen something.

Nellie gives Sable an eager look that says follow me and crosses the campsite to the girl, stopping just a few feet away as to not startle or crowd her. Instinct wants to carry her closer, to greet the girl as she would in the compound─to touch the back of her arm or elbow, asking for their attention before opening your mouth and speaking to the wind. Instead, Nellie crosses her arms to caress her own elbows, at a loss on the correct social cues for the given situation.

"Ma'am? You doing okay?" Nellie questions gently, flicking her eyes to the fog the girl is watching so intently and immediately looking away, afraid of what might be lurking in the darkness.

“Hey….does anyone have any idea where I am? Do any of you have a phone on you, maybe?”

Nellie whips around to spot a girl patting herself down, searching for something she no longer has. Swallowing thickly, a doubt creeps into her mind. Is this all an act? She wavers on the spot as her eyes unfocused, blurring the muted colours of the forest into splotches on her vision. Was this what awaited those that tried to leave the compound? A test? Suspicious, Nellie comes back into herself with a stark reminder: the Oregon cliffs were nowhere to be seen through the fog, but something else was at play here. Not everyone might be trustworthy. Maybe no one could be.

She addresses the girl bluntly, "No one knows nothin' apparently. Where did you come from?" There's a stark sting to her words, switching her distaste for the man that had spoken earlier onto the girl in question.

































cry for love



백현










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:










apolline súkeníková















role

botany knowledge; benevolent






location

by the fireplace






outfit

top. bottom. shoes. ; hair in two messy braids, the stragglers draped across her face. not shown is a thermal long sleeve top underneath the mohair hoodie.






mentions

jaxson armeen armeen






item

med-kit, unaware atm









From the shadows emerged a figure she hadn’t anticipated, slipping silently beside her. Apolline kept her gaze fixed on the heart of the fire, only lifting her head up the tiniest bit to catch a glimpse of two open palms accepting the warmth as she had.

She didn’t allow herself to look further, averting her eyes once again.

“I reckon you have no clue where we are.”

His voice resonated, warm and friendly, cutting through the chill in the air. Apolline raised her head higher, Englishman… Manchester perhaps?

If not for the countless seasons of Coronation Street that had aired in Slovakia, she might have missed that minor detail entirely. Funny how the fleeting memory of a childhood television show surfaced in her mind when she could barely grasp how she had landed in this dreamlike reality.

Straightening her back, Apolline shifted her weight onto the backs of her legs, her knees nearly buckling as the denim of her pants scraped against the dirt. “I don’t…” she managed to say, her soft voice struggling to refrain from a tremble. She had studied English diligently, yet the words felt more elusive than ever.

“I’m still hoping it’s some.. ..sick joke.”

A short laugh escaped her lips, almost a comical sense of disbelief on her face. She peaked at him through her hair, catching a glimpse of his face. Moving the mess of blonde from her vision, she made eye contact–her brows furrowed, “What do you remember?”

The pressing question echoed her own fragmented memories. Apolline thought she had been lying in a hospital bed, just barely getting through the first stages of labor. Arden had appeared almost like a ghost, standing silently at her bedside. She recalled the pain, the sweat, the tears, and then—almost like a strange dose of morphine—the sensation of a cold, wet blanket enveloping her. Her mind seemed to shut down at that point, unable to grasp anything else of significance. She wondered if even that memory was real.

She fought against the urge to dig herself deeper into confusion, knowing that her thoughts had the capability to spiral into a descent of madness. Yet, it was agonizing. Here she sat, like a child by the fire, staring into the eyes of an Englishman she had never seen before, surrounded by strangers she had yet to meet, all beneath a dark, sprawling sky.

Her lip quivered. She bit her cheek to steady her expression, feeling her eyes well up with tears again as she awaited his response.





























♪ tomorrow's taken ♪

mojave 3






♡coded by uxie♡

 



Jon - DBT posts.jpg

Diversion

Jonathan
Chen

His eyes narrowed at the girl that addressed him, however it was more in contemplation than in anger. She seemed irritated enough not to lie about knowing who he was, so he could at least believe that part. Which likely meant he wasn't the target, at least, not the only target of whatever this was. That was one mystery quickly solved.

Now, this girl. Easily irritated, sharp-tongued, bordering on aggressive. However, not entirely unreasonable, otherwise she would have tried to get physical. Should be fun to play with. She seemed to him like a big personality, one that was fed off their own self-importance. A look at the girl she was with confirmed as much to him. Speaking of which...

His gaze moved to the other girl and he took note of how she did her best to avoid making eye contact with him. Timid, avoidant, dislikes conflict. She's probably more likely to try and appease than stand her ground. His gaze moved back to the more brazen one. Knight in Armor to the helpless princess? Both of them could be useful to him, however, the more timid one seemed like she would be easier to get in with. A gentle tone and a few kind words should be enough to break through, but he was in no hurry to reduce himself to that.

He stood there in silence, observing and thinking, not saying a single word in response to the woman's aggravations, but instead, taking the time to collect data. In her shouting, she had confirmed to him that this was new to all of them and they were all strangers. There was bound to be chaos and a few people fighting to take control. He'd need to find those people quickly.

As the timid one led the other one away, his eyes moved around the campfire, noticing the tents around. A quick count showed that there were equal number of tents to people around the fire and it didn't seem likely that they would have brought their own. At least, he knows that he didn't. That means that, at some level, there was some organization behind this, some planning. It was likely some government thing or the other or some scheme put together by a corporate tycoon for their rich friends to laugh oer the poor struggling to survive. The concept would make a good book, but he had no interest in being one of the characters.

One thing was clear to him, however: everybody was confused and there were already people looking and shouting for answers. Information, as always, was the goal here. Whoever controlled the information controlled the group. He just needed to be the first to find that information. Or, rather, lead others into believing he found theinformation for them, so they'd owe him.

He needed to test whether the same rules still applied in this odd world - after all, there were people that were dressed entirely out of time. Had they been plucked from some convention and dropped off here? He never quite understood those types, they might be a challenge - especially if they thought this was all part of some convention game and so stuck to the bit. That would be most unhelpful. Right now, he needed to find those that would naturally step into leadership.

The dude shouting for his mother? God, no. Not him. Then there were the caregivers and care-needers. Closer, but they were more suited to being devoted followers than natural leaders. There were two convention-goers huddled round a tent. They seemed to have a good head on their shoulders, but then again...they were convention goers.

However, he managed to spot two that stood out from the rest. A girl with a black hoodie and track pants. There was a fire in her eyes, the same type of fire you'd see in the eyes of someone who knows how to do something about a situation. She was still gathering her bearings, but - if left to her own devices, she'd likely start figuring things out. He'd need to get in close to her before then. Unfortunately, it seemed as though someone else had caught her attention and called her over. Not her then.

The other one was in a flannel and jeans. Not exactly leader-attire, but she seemed like the quickest to start moving and figuring things out. She also didn't seem to be moving with the flock to set up tents - he agreed with that decision. It would seem like she was talking to another convention-goer. Christ, how many of you are there? That was enough to make him want to look for someone else, however, her words fell across his ears and his nature caused him to move toward the two. "We need to look for a way out of this place or look for some answers," she said.

"We", "A way out", "Answers". There's the leader. Convention goer be damned.

He walked up to the two, hands in his pockets and a casual, unbothered look on his face. "You're not so eager to call this place home either, are you? If you need an extra set of eyes and hands, you've got one here." He needed to stick close to this one. She was bound to rise within the ranks anyway, but he needed to make sure he had a hand in her rising.

Mentions: Sable ( angel doe angel doe ), Greta ( lostbird lostbird ), Madison ( CrimsonInk CrimsonInk )




((Note: Thoughts will be crimson and italicized while speech will be crimson and bolded.))​

Dupe - DBT posts.jpg

The Sprout

Modupe
Alistair

When his execution day came, he refused to go out that way. He fought and bucked and to run. He knew it was futile, but at least he could say that he tried. His uniform got ripped and bloodied from the fight with the officers as they dragged him to the chair.

"Get me out of here! Get me out of here! Please, I'll do anything!"

Anything?

The voice hadn't come from one of the police officers and it sounded...honestly, it sounded evil. More evil and sinister than anything he'd ever heard. It was like a venom dripping by his ears. Yet, his fear of death triumphed over his fear of this unknown voice. And so he mentally affirmed, Anything.

As the officers opened the next door, a cold, unholy gust overcame them and the hallway was filled with fog, thick and suffocating. Alarms rang out as chaos rose, but Modupe heard none of it. He was already gone.

He landed on his back in the middle of the exacution chamber. One look was all he needed to know where he was and his whole body was filled with dread. His pleas had gone unanswered. His cries, unheard. That sinister voice he heard earlier had been nothing but his mind playing tricks on him.

His head fell back to the floor, silent tears streaming from his eyes, down and over his ears, pooling at his lobe, before dropping. The stream continued, Dupe completely resigning himself to his fate. It was the punishment he deserved. He waited to feel the belt hold him down. He waited to feel the cold metal on his skin. He waited for death. But it never came. The only thing around him was silence. A deep, encompassing silence...and the feeling that he was being watched.

Slowly opening his eyes, he took another look around the room and realised that he was the only person here. There were no guards, no lawyers, no observers. Nothing. The whole space was empty. Even more haunting, there was no bed or chair for him to be strapped down to. The whole room was empty. He wasn't sure, however, if the bed and chair being missing was better or worse for him.

Wiping his tears, which now felt hot against his skin, he stoof up and dared take a step outside of the room. The whole area was unfamiliar to him and caused him to question where he was at. However, there were still no guards. It looked like the facility he was in, but a few things were...different. That didn't bother him at all though. All that mattered to him was that he was free.

He broke into a sprint, intending to keep running until he either saw city streets or guards. All he knew was that he had been given an opportunity and he intended to take it. He'd made it all the way into the courtyard and he could see the gates, however, for some reason, he couldn't quite see much farther beyond it. That was fine. He'd keep running either way. However, as he ran, he heard that voice again. The sinister one.

Killer...don't run...

The word triggered Modupe and he shouted back into nothingness. "I am not a killer!"

Killer...

"I am not! It was an accident!"

Killer...

"Shut up! Leave me alone! What do you want?!"

Killer...kill for me...

The entity began flooding Modupe's mind with words and thoughts and images of all the things it wanted him to do and the pressure knocked Modupe off his feet. Letting out a desperate cry, he folded himself into fetal position on the courtyard grounds, covering his ears and trying to block the entity out.

"Please! Leave me alone! I don't want to do this! Leave me alone!"

Mentions: None

 



Ambrose - Dance With Me





































  • mood



    relieved
















A way out... It seemed almost too good to be true. But this girl was determined, the tilt of her brows showcasing her need to do something instead of standing around. Ambrose liked her tenacity. Perhaps he was wrong and this wasn't purgatory after all. He knew upon saying it out loud that it felt weird, but his mind couldn't up with any other explanation. Perhaps they had somehow been whisked away to a different space, but how that would work he had no clue. Though it he thought about it, Ambrose hadn't felt a gun shot. And when he put his fingers to his neck to check his pulse, it was still there. So his heart was beating. It seemed like he was alive after all, then.

He blinked, realizing that he hadn't answered the girl's question. "I was tryin' to outrun the sheriff and his men. Those are some crooked guys, let me tell ya. They got the rest of my crew, and they were about to get me too, until I found myself here. Wherever here is. And yer probably right about the purgatory stuff. I knew it sounded strange, but I'm not sure where else we would be. This whole day has been a real bag of nails." He sighed. Now that this girl had shot down his purgatory idea, it seemed a lot dumber. He still wasn't completely convinced he was wrong, but talking to his crew always got his worst ideas out so he could start cooking up a plan. And this girl seemed like someone quite helpful for that sort of thing. Plus, she seemed nice. Or at least nice enough to not just ditch him in his initial confusion (not that he wasn't still plenty confused). He breezed past some of her more confusing wordage, thinking it was possibly just cultural differences. He wasn't sure what freaks had to do with anything. It had been a while since he'd read Frankenstein.

"Thanks fer offerin' for me to come along with ya," Ambrose added with a small smile. "If there's answers ta find, I sure wanna find 'em. No use barkin' at a knot, after all. I'll go with ya." He started to follow her, keeping his eyes open for any sort of clue or answer that could be found in the darkness. But no sooner had he started to follow her than another stranger approached.

This guy was dressed a little more strangely, in a shirt of light material and what looked like denim. But still not as odd as some others. However, the way he looked at Ambrose admittedly irked him a little bit. He thought his outfit was fine. Was it really that ugly? He also flat out ignored Ambrose in favor of talking to the young woman with him. He supposed he could understand it partially, though, given how she was obviously determined to get out of here. That idea had to attract others with the intention to escape. Because if Ambrose could get out, if there was any chance he could get back to his crew and somehow rescue them--well obviously he would take it. If anything, this girl's determination was filling him with determination too. But this newcomer was interesting. At least he could study the man while he talked, considering the fact that he was deliberately not addressing Ambrose at all.

"Howdy there," he greeted. Even if he was going to get ignored, at least he could be polite and say hello. Well, if he were honest, maybe it was because he was ignored that he was intent on greeting this man. Here was here too, after all. Even if he was feeling higgledy-piggledy, he was going to say something.
































wanted man



royal deluxe










♡coded by uxie♡
 



isabella ─ object of obsession.
































Sable's expression softened as Nellie insisted she had nothing to say sorry for and had to fight back the urge to apologize again. She bit her lip, swallowing the words before they could escape, "If ya say so." Sable trailed off as she helped Nellie to her feet, her fingers twitching. She let go quickly and flexed her hand. The discomfort set in almost immediately, a burning that started at her palm and radiated outward wherever the other woman had touched. She began to shake both hands up and down, trying to expel the anxious energy as it began to build.

In a futile attempt to ignore the worsening pain, Sable looked at the man who yelled at the group for absolutely no reason. She stilled her hands, narrowing her eyes at him as he stared at her and Nellie. Sable hated how he examined them as though he was trying to glean something in the mere moments he spent just looking at them. Did he think he would get any information based on appearances alone? Whatever conclusions he came to, they were likely very far off the mark.

Sable wanted to laugh as the strange man didn't bother responding and instead chose to run off. She certainly could have been calmer about the way she responded, but he was the one who came in swinging and verbally attacked everyone in the vicinity. Her lips curled into a smile as she watched him walk away, "Looks like Bambi is all bark, no bite." Sable hummed, rolling her eyes. She turned just in time to catch the look Nellie shot her, a clear signal to follow; with nothing better to do, she fell into step behind her.

Once across the campsite, Sable stopped beside Nellie to observe the interaction. The other blonde who stood before them had an expression so horrified it chilled Sable to her core, crossing her arms over her chest and squeezing as tight as she could. Honestly, she was too distracted by the ghost of a hand still holding onto hers to pay mind to the conversation. Sable lifted the hand she used to help Nellie and dug her nails into her palm until they left deep half-crescent indents in the flesh. Given her inability to fully focus on the current situation, Sable was grateful Nellie had taken charge of the interaction and used this time to ground herself.

"No one knows nothin' apparently. Where did you come from?"

The sting in Nellie’s words caught Sable’s attention, finally prompting her to look up, intrigued. She wondered if this change in tone had something to do with the man who had been yelling at everyone earlier, but she quickly dismissed the thought, deciding it wasn’t relevant enough to mention just yet- or at all, for that matter. It was a fleeting thought that likely wouldn't come up again. Besides, there were more pressing matters at hand such as figuring out what the fuck was going on and who these other people were. Maybe they could offer more insight into what was happening, though Sable was fairly certain they were just as clueless as she and Nellie.

































ptolemaea



ethel cain










♡coded by uxie♡
 




  • madison — unbreakable.
































    Madison stopped in her tracks listening to Billy the kid, her head whipping back with half her body turning his way. A half-smile formed on her face, happy to see another determined individual who wants to know why they’re here. This guy may not seem too bad after all. Whatever western lingo he was presenting himself, she’ll get used to it. Getting out was top priority right now.

    “Cool. If we’re sticking together, we should at least know each other's names. I’m Madison, call me Mads for short,” she introduced herself, nodding her head his way, “And yours?”

    Maybe getting acquainted with others wasn’t a bad idea. It leads to good help, and they would need multiple heads and perspectives to figure this out. In this situation she assumed to lead until someone proved they were much more capable. Not that she minded. She was used to taking charge, especially in situations that seemed very stressful. It was better to adapt rather than allow the stress to succumb to you, like it was starting to for a lot of these people. In times like these, “soldiering up” is what got you results.

    "You're not so eager to call this place home either, are you? If you need an extra set of eyes and hands, you've got one here."

    The browns of her eyes moved, but her body didn’t. The company of two soon turned into three. A guy, black hair and familiar casual clothing came their way offering their help. Another one who seemed eager to figure this out. His mannerisms seem to be familiar and comfortable enough to feel like he wasn’t a threat. Numbers were growing and that’s what Madison liked to see. However, she knew deep down that she needed to be more cautious. After all, they were strangers in a weird place and they were left in the dark about something. Someone could be pretending to know nothing and seem friendly, but until then she has nothing to prove anyone would do them wrong.

    Her hand slipped back on her hip allowing her weight to fall on her right side. Her eyes quickly looked up and down with a neutral expression, then nodded accepting his assistance.

    “Don’t forget ears too,” she added, “Mads. I was saying that we need to start looking around. This place is weird and it’s weird for all of us to be here. I still think someone has to know something. There can’t just be tents and a fire. We need to look for a phone, a radio, a map.”

    "No one knows nothin' apparently. Where did you come from?"

    Madison raised a brow and turned to the voice addressing her. Her head tilted with her RBF setting in, blinking slowly trying to find the correct words to address her. A quick gaze told her she was a farm girl, maybe? Another looked so pale it was as if she saw a ghost, and the other girl who looked like she escaped hell and back. But what she caught on the most with the farm girl was that same gaze people give when they feel wary. Defensive. While her expression may not show it, her voice did. It was well mannered enough to get her character across, or that’s what she hoped.

    “I came from the woods just passed here,” she began, walking towards the girls and passed the two guys, “but where I’m really from is Cali. L.A. I was just talking to these guys about searching around and trying to figure out where the hell we are. Find stuff like a radio, phone, a map, things like that. It can’t just be tents and this fire. What about you guys?”

    Madison waited to see what the girl would say. While she was eager to get to know people, she was beginning to feel antsy just standing and doing introductions. It was that impatient vice of hers that was getting her to feel fidgety. Her instincts were telling her to hurry up and investigate, not sit around and wait any longer. It was the dreadful feeling of the more they wait, the longer it’ll take to find answers.

































    KNIVES



    NEONI










    ♡coded by uxie♡

 
Last edited:



  • bethany 'the doll' ─ floods of rage.





































    • mood



      exasperated.
















    Gazing at the ceiling, Bethany sees herself─human, naive. Blindly following Vaughn through the revolving doors, a slow and careful pace behind him as he escorted her through the lobby. Her eyes roamed over the interior, catching her reflection off the various shiny metals crafted into abstract shapes. The emphasis on futuristic not to be understated. Ginger hair loosened from its typical knot that day, hanging free and brushing against her arms with every slight movement.

    Current Bethany tilts her head, expecting to jostle the strands into repeating the gesture─to no avail. Her hair, the very essence of its colour, stripped into something dull and not... her. Plastic. Purple. Prison.

    She tries to swallow her unease but that fails too, so she continues her exploration of the lobby until the carpet ends and the tiles begin. It sounds different under her weight. Testing the noise, she moves back onto the carpet─adding a satisfying muffle to her steps. Back onto the tile, a harsh clicking echos. Discomforted, her shoulders drop as she sighs deeply.

    Plastic. Purple. Prison.

    Bethany psyches herself up and continues the journey, her brows twitching with each click of her pointed feet on the tile. She navigates to a room she remembers distinctly─the mannequin room. Rejected models and doll parts were discarded there, littering the floors and shoved into boxes. She pauses in the darkened doorway, the ominous sight of her standing in the midst of dolls horribly disfigured gave her an unnerving sense of dominance. I made it. You didn't.

    She tries the light switch. Nothing. Passing through the rows of shelves stacked high─seven of her high─Bethany catches onto a glint of light cast across the floor, flickering. It's not until she's less than ten feet away that it dawns on her. I've seen and heard that flicker before...? The rhythm─It grips her, this terror and she turns on her feet so fast she almost topples into a box of doll legs. Out of breath, Bethany's hand comes to clutch at her chest where her heart should be. Soothing the racing... no, not racing. The steady jolts that burst through her chest, mimicking a heartbeat.

    "That's not funny." She speaks out loud for the Entity to hear.

    The atmosphere hums back at her, lights flickering faster in response. Her eyes are drawn over her shoulder, at the crack in the door that leads to her old dance studio. Broken mirror shards lay in pieces across the floor, reflecting the glint she had seen.

    "I don't want that here." Bethany snaps, voice rising in desperation.

    "IT'S PART OF YOU."

    "Not anymore."

    "DANCE."

    Her eyes roll skyward, exasperated as she releases her grip on the shelf and chest─the jolts have ceased as her anger overpowers fear. "I cannot. Look at me."

    No response. Disapprove of me, hangs on her tongue─or, the metal tab acting as a tongue─and as if the Entity can hear her thoughts, a rising hum emanates from the toy factory in a crescendo that leaves her gaze flying around, searching for the source. Everything snuffs into darkness, save for the room─the catalyst of it all. Huffing at the Entity's indignant display, Bethany steels herself and heads for the room.

    A picture in time, Bethany tip-toes across the floor to avoid the shattered glass. Then shakes her head as she realises it won't hurt her, not anymore. Plastic. Purple. Prison. A mantra to commit to mind whenever she errs towards the side of her non-existent humanity. The dance studio has ample room, a myriad of memories for to latch onto─but only one matters. The floor to ceiling length mirror is almost entirely splintered, shards of glass lay in a heap at the base with a shocking mixture of dried blood. Had it spilled or leaked from the orifices in the suit as the nails and rods pierced her body? An explosion, she recalls vividly.

    "IT'S PART OF YOU." The Entity repeats, coaxing a reaction.

    She has none to give. Not for it. Maybe for the souls it intends to drag into her space, rifling through the fractured remnants of a short-lived life. But not for it.

































    cry for love



    백현










    ♡coded by uxie♡
 



Marcey - Clairvoyance





































  • mood



    I'm Terrified!
















Marcey stood near the outskirts of the group, her heart still racing from the strange events that had unfolded. Her mind swirled with uncertainty as she scanned the faces of the others. None of them seemed to recognize this place either, their expressions mirroring her own confusion and apprehension. She had no idea how she’d ended up here, nor why the fog that surrounded them felt so unnatural, so suffocating. All she knew was that she wasn’t alone, in more ways than one, and for the first time in a long that was more terrifying than comforting.

Marcey watched as a woman approached her, her movements hesitant but deliberate. Marcey could sense the woman's caution, the tension radiating from her body as if she wasn’t entirely sure whether to trust her or not. The atmosphere felt thick with suspicion and uneasy and Marcey wasn’t sure if that was because of the people around her, or if it was something else... something more sinister lurking in the fog.

“Ma'am? You doing okay?"

Marcey stood off to the side, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, a chill running through her. She wasn’t used to being in a place that felt this wrong. Her gift had always given her a sense of control over her surroundings, a way to tap into the energy of a space and understand it, but here? Here, it was different. Her usual ability to sense the presence of others felt muffled, like something was actively blocking her from reaching out. It made her stomach twist in knots.

She didn’t respond right away, still lost in whatever thoughts were keeping her gaze fixed on the dense fog. "We're all going to die here..." She muttered under her breath.

Then, another voice cut through the uneasy quiet, breaking the tension in a way that was far from calming. “Hey….does anyone have any idea where I am? Do any of you have a phone on you, maybe?”

Marcey turned toward the girl. A phone. The absurdity of the request in a place like this made Marcey’s heart race even faster. There was no signal here. There was nothing but this strange, unsettling fog and the eerie feeling that seemed to blanket the campsite. She bit her lip, unsure of whether to speak up. The others didn’t seem to have the answers either and that scared her.

“No one knows nothin' apparently. Where did you come from?"

Marcey flinched slightly at the sharpness of the woman's words, her own internal alarms blaring. Tension rippled through the group and Marcey could feel the anxiety heightening with every passing second. She glanced around, noticing how everyone seemed on edge, as if they were ready for a confrontation at any moment. Was it just the overwhelming uncertainty that hung in the air?

“I came from the woods just past here,” the girl who asked for a phone began, walking toward them with an air of authority and defensiveness. “But where I’m really from is Cali. L.A. I was just talking to these guys about searching around and trying to figure out where the hell we are. Find stuff like a radio, phone, a map, things like that. It can’t just be tents and this fire. What about you guys?”

Marcey’s heart leapt in her chest at the mention of searching around. The last thing she wanted to do was go wandering in the woods, not with the fog closing in around them. Yet, a small part of her couldn’t deny that they needed answers and standing around wasn’t going to get them anywhere. She looked over at the woman and then at the girl next to her that looked like hell, who had remained silent but seemed to be observing everything closely, her hand digging into her palm as if trying to ground herself.

The woman hadn’t responded yet, and Marcey felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, her voice soft but steady, though the tremor in her hands betrayed her nerves.

“I don’t think you're going to find what you’re looking for,” she said quietly, her gaze shifting to the phone girl. “This place… it’s not normal. I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s something wrong here. I can feel it.”

She glanced toward the fog, her eyes narrowing as if trying to see through the thick veil that surrounded them. The fog was alive somehow, oppressive, like it was watching them, waiting for something. She could feel many things lurking within the fog. Marcey didn’t want to be the one to say it, but deep down, she knew that whatever answers they wanted to look for, they weren’t going to be easy to find.

The more they lingered in this place, the more dangerous it would become...

































Rises the moon



Liana Flores










♡coded by uxie♡
 



Jon - DBT posts.jpg

Diversion

Jonathan
Chen

Jon's gaze moved to the convention-goer and he had to foce himself not to roll his eyes. Even using cliche cowboy phrases? How committed to this bit are you? However, if this was the game, he would play it. After all, the best games are the ones where you have to get a little uncomfortable in order to win. "Hi, friend. Apologies for the rudeness; got a lot on my mind, you know?"

His gaze moved back to his chosen leader as she introduced herself. "Jon" he replied to her. He would be civil, it would only help him out in the long run. He was going to mention something about the flashlight he had in his pocket in place of his knife. However, he heard another voice rise up. One that he'd heard not even five minutes ago.

He wanted to groan, wanted to roll his eyes, wanted to express his annoyance at the person he'd already found to be a nuisance coming here of all places. However, he had to be careful how he came off to his chosen leader. He couldn't afford to make himself seem volatile any more than he already head.

His eyes moved to the blonde annoyance and his gaze travelled up and down her body through narrow eyes. With useful people here, I have to make myself seem civil. Even to you. Does that mean I have to apologise for earlier? Ugh, God no. But I also can't simply ignore you...unless you ignore me. Actually, yes. Kindly ignore me so I am justified in ignoring you.

Thankfully for him and his plan to ignore the blonde annoyance, someone else joined the conversation. Again, he fought the urge to narrow his eyes. So many people joining their little group might interrupt his plans. But this many was still fine. This many, he could still control.

As the newcomer spoke, he nodded in agreement, pointing a finger to her to acknowledge her before taking his own turn to speak. He looked back at his chosen leader, at Mads as he began to speak. "She's right. This place has its own rules. For example, going through the fog is out of the question - was the first thing I tried. You could walk foot-to-foot and you'd end up right back here. And there's also this."

He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out the flashlight. "I didn't have this on me ten minutes ago and I definitely never picked it up. Only had it on me when I got here." He would have gone on to speculate how something similar may have happened to everyone else and they should try seeing what everyone got. He might also have mentioned how it was swapped out for the contents that had been in his pockets. He couldn't say all that though. All that would be too helpful and might have pulled him deeper into a leader's role than he'd like.

His job here was to start the thought. Mads seemed competent and smart enough to finish it. Secondarily, if they all kept loading her with information, she'd eventually get overwhelmed and have to delegate. His job was to be an effective team member and a support for her until that time, to sow the seeds of his usefulness in her. In addition to that, however, while he'd need to wait for her to finish thought that he'd start, he figured it would also help his standing with her and the others if he showed himself standing in support of her.

"Like Mads said, the least we could do is share names with each other. With no phones and nowhere to leave, I think we can afford at least that much. I'm Jon."

Mentions: v Ambrose ( hotsauce hotsauce ), Madison ( CrimsonInk CrimsonInk ), Marcey ( Bluesky_101 Bluesky_101 ), Isabella ( angel doe angel doe )
 



jack dollard ─ wake up!





































  • mood



    weary; but feeling exhausted

















There was a lot happening around them, but Jack tried his best to keep himself grounded, not allowing himself to be distracted. “I don’t—” understand, he wanted to say, his eyes drifting downward to the messy stacks of unmade tents by their feet. I think we're expected to stay. We shouldn't want to stay here.

Instead, he bit back his words, knowing it was best to follow until he had some ounce of control over himself—his head spinning, eyes threatening to shut. Get it together, pull through, he thought, pleaded—prayed. Jack wasn’t much of a believer, but in this case, he was ready to speak to anyone above who was willing to listen. He heard the stranger ask if he was alright, her concerned voice ringing in his ears. And although he appreciated the question, it didn’t feel right having her waste her worry on someone like him. “I’m fine,” he answered, his tone short but distant as he glanced around warily, untrusting of everyone except the stranger before him. “You don’t have to worry about me—”

Jack unconsciously leaned into the warm touch, his mind drifting elsewhere. It wasn’t until he heard her mention being a mortician that he jerked back, recoiling from the warmth as if burned. Bodies. Death—dead. A soft noise built in his throat, but it never quite escaped. He drew his shoulder away, taking a tentative step back. You work with dead people, he thought bitterly.

Swallowing his words, he chose to observe her instead as she walked away, taking note of her slightly skittish behavior. He watched cautiously as she moved around the campfire, assisting a fellow he’d seen get straight to work on building a tent. He didn’t move to follow at first, content where he was—back near a tree, his front facing forward as he took in the sight of everyone else. Jack briefly overheard a couple of people to his right talking about keeping warm, someone shouting out for their mother (which he sympathized with), and then, well, everyone else. He shuddered once he realized how many of them there were, feeling uneased by the idea that no good would come from this at all.

It wasn’t until the same gentle pair of eyes met his darker ones again—encouraging, kind. Damn. Exhausted, Jack caved, pulling himself away from his makeshift corner as he approached the much smaller group. Perhaps making a tent would be for the best, the call for sleep loud and practically begging in the back of his head. His sneakers made a squelching noise, the dirt and leaves caking the damn thing as he took a spot on the ground.

He hoped his social cues were still up to date; this was the biggest crowd he’d been around in—well, a long time. Jack bit the inside of his cheek, rubbing a hand over his face to seem somewhat presentable. He felt so out of touch, the anxiety slowly returning, growing, festering. He grabbed a few noticeable belongings on the ground, hoping it wouldn’t be nearly as hard or complicated as welding a pipe together.

The silence hung in the air between the crowd, and Jack couldn't stand it.

"My name is, um..." This was all too much for him, especially with his head as foggy as it was right now. Knees on the cold ground, he clenched his faded jeans, feeling the dirt seeping through the denim as he briefly squeezed his eyes shut, a headache beginning to blossom behind his eyelids. What the fuck is happening?

"Jack. My name is Jack," he offered tiredly, sighing. "What about you guys?"

"I'm guessing you don't know where we are either?"

Jack froze as he heard another voice approaching, the fabric of the tent rough against his hands as he glanced up towards the source. Her footsteps halted in front of them. The frown on his face deepened, his eyes flickering between the man with glasses and the woman he had accidentally grabbed earlier. “No, not really,” he offered weakly, fighting back the urge to put his walls back up, feeling overwhelmed. “It doesn’t…feel normal though, right?”

































cry for love



백현










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:



floyd ─ adrenaline.





































  • mood



    irritated & confused.

















The call of a voice reached his ears just as Floyd was being swallowed by the mist, though her exact words—not that he would be listening—were lost to him. Then, as he left the warmth of the campfire, it felt as if someone had put earmuffs on his head. Those capable of dampening every sound, leaving Floyd with nothing but his own thoughts racing through his brain. A fate that would have been bearable if it weren't for the fact that his vision was already filled with nothing but an endless ocean of muddy blackness. A true deprivation of the senses. And if the ground hadn't given way under his boots and his footsteps hadn't left a trail behind to follow, Floyd would have believed it if someone had told him that he wasn't moving forward a single step.

There was nothing ahead of him, no landmarks, no signs, and glancing back, Floyd saw that the light of the fire had left him as well. Yet his feet continued on, without a moment's hesitation, for to stop now would be to allow regret and dread to set in. Loneliness was something Floyd was usually used to, but comparing situations from his past with this case, which resembled a forced abduction, was rather pointless. Especially when his gut instinct continued to warn him of creatures ready to pounce on him if he dared to stray even an inch from the path.

At least Floyd was familiar with the constant need to look over his shoulder. Of one misstep that could spell doom. It wasn't something he wanted to think of as a consolation.

The situation was already a hard pill to swallow, even if it wasn't his first unfortunate rodeo. After all, his life had been a glorified train wreck with his 'home' bouncing from country to country every few months as he dodged threatening letters sent adressed to a false name. He had nothing left to lose, but the campsite was still not the holiday Floyd wanted. However, something whispered to him that he better start appreciating the temporary peace the tents offered.

It was then, just as the wispy tendrils gave way to a surrounding forest, that Floyd suddenly felt his shoe hit something solid and, looking down, he saw that it was a book. One meant for children, to be precise. Even when covered in mud, the colourful cover and cartoon-like characters made it easy to decipher its intended audience. I could have sworn this wasn't here a moment ago.

His eyes narrowed. Was the fog playing tricks on him, or had he really miss it?

Floyd bent down and picked up the book, letting it dangle between his fingertips. So that he would get as little dirt on his hands as possible. He might be wearing gloves, but he wasn't about to soil his only pair so quickly. Not without finding a reliable water source. Something else to worry about later.

Upon closer inspection, there was nothing remarkable about it, and opening it only revealed sentences in a language he couldn't understand. Floyd sighed as he leafed through the book, hoping that there might be something hidden in the paper or a clue to this damned place. But the more his eyes scanned the pages, the more he was struck by the profound realisation of the book's uselessness. "You'd think a magical mist and mysterious forest would contain more than just scraps for the dustbin," he muttered frustratedly, slamming the offending item shut.

































necromancin dancin



bear ghost










♡coded by uxie♡
 



  • greta ─ spine chill.
































    Jack. No longer a stranger. My name is Jack. It suits him, Greta decides as she mimics his kneeled position, observing him from the corner of her eyes. He seemed out of sorts, more so than others—his voice thick with sleep and pinched brows as if drawn together to combat a worsening headache. She thinks of his reaction to her admission, her job title, wants to say I know, right? I'd quit if I was able—but figures that's too forward, not when the flash of offence had coloured his pale face as she likened him to a dead person.

    With deft hands, Greta unfolds the material of the man's tent and casts her unsure gaze around the campsite. Where should I set up? It was troubling for her line of thought to settle on the inevitability of their stay, but she hadn't the faintest idea how to go about leaving—she refused to venture into the mist. Her eyes settle on the spot where she had left the flashlight, repressing a shiver at the idea of traversing the darkness with only a beam of brightness to illuminate the horrors within. Not happening.

    "Greta." She responds to Jack's request, her eyes focused down on the task at hand. Her lips part for a moment, eager to pry and ask a question when the girl she had beckoned over finally makes her way with a question—"I'm guessing you don't know where we are either?"

    “No, not really,”     Jack responds with a frown, chocolate eyes flitting between the man with them and herself. “It doesn’t…feel normal though, right?”

    Greta stills, hands frozen in the air above the tents fabric as her fears are confirmed. She wasn't disillusioned or so naive to believe their ending up here was anything normal, especially how she was quite literally yanked by black mist only to end up. . . here—but she wasn't mentally prepared to dwell on the implications. "Definitely not normal."

    Swallowing down the rest of her fears, Greta raises her eyes to make eye-contact with Jack. "How did you get here? And. . ." She looks to the girl and man knelt across from her. "Both of you. Where were you before this?" Her story no doubt would've landed her in the nearest institution if she wasn't kneeling on damp ground, but she tells it anyway. "I was pulled through a mortuary chamber. That black mist—" She gestures vaguely to their surroundings, the dark smoke encasing them in their very own enclosure. "It brought me here."

    You sound mental. A voice—sounding suspiciously like her father—pipes up somewhere far into her subconscious. In other circumstances, Greta might not be so forthcoming, not when every wire in her mind begs her to trust nothing and no one. She watches timidly as Jack and the man work at constructing the tent, slowly but surely.

    Second-guessing herself, Greta's hands falls to her lap, her fingers too weak to hold onto the material and appear helpful as doubts creep in. "Sounds crazy, but I am telling the truth."

































    cry for love



    백현










    ♡coded by uxie♡
 



ROWAN MUNDAY





































  • mood



    struggling with denial- and tent building

















These plastic sheathed poles connected here- this velcro strap probably attached into place there- so then that meant this zipper-

From where Rowan was crouched, he sat back on his heels and raised a hand to palm some beading sweat from his forehead. It certainly wasn’t from the temperature, the campfire providing nothing but an illuminating source of light and shadows. He knew he was in denial about... whatever the fuck this was. There shouldn’t have been a dark forest full of people just as confused as he was. Everything should have been razed to the ground, a barren wasteland that would be lucky to be graced with any form of life.

The survivor took a steady breath before he could plummet into a swirling spiral of dejected defeat because it wasn’t over, it had only just begun. If he could only just get this damn tent together first-

The soft fall of approaching footsteps caught his attention and Rowan cast a look over his shoulder just in time to see Greta advance towards him and offer a take in hand with a promise of assistance. That was a blow to pride, but the survivor gave a warm smile all the same, swallowing that feeling and forcing himself to nod in acceptance.

His gaze cast beyond her and to whom she had been speaking to just before. Subconsciously, notes were being taken about who exactly in the gathering group of people were beginning to take action and who were still standing around either making conversation or wallowing in some form of despair, self-pity, or frustration. It wasn’t taken from some form of meanness but rather to know who might be more dependable than others in a time of need.

Which didn’t sound any bit nicer but that’s why it remained unspoken for at least that moment.

”My name’s Rowan,”
 The survivor finally spoke up as he rose up to a standing position, wiping dirt from his hands off against the rough material covering his legs.
”Nothing about this is definitely normal,”
 He further confirmed his own truth, one that he didn’t think was so far-fetched to believe in.

It wasn’t exactly easy to take in the variety of people who had collected around the fire. Some looked relatively normal, others Rowan could only guess came straight from some sort of convention or LARPing event. Any other possibility was far from his mind.

”All of this,”
 Rowan continued, gesturing vaguely to their surrounding of trees,
”Shouldn’t be here.”
 He didn’t see the need to elaborate further. Surely they would know even if their respective places of living had not been affected by the catastrophe of nuclear detonation. The selfish action of those in power who would rather watch everything burn than to retain a sliver of humility and restraint.

At the very least, the survivor didn’t think he was dead and so he would make the assumption that that fact applied to everyone else here. Unless of course as soon as he opened that vault door he had instantly succumbed to a force that would leave his corpse withered and charred. But that would mean nothing here mattered, if one was deceased did strife really exist anymore?


































slapstick



foxing










♡coded by uxie♡
 










John Øst















role

hysteria, malicious






location

the dreadworks' basement






outfit

a disheveled workman's uniform, white shirt underneath






mentions

none






weapon

cutting torch









Once agonizing, the intense burning on his skin, dulled by the morphine, gradually morphed into a cool, gentle roll through his veins. His heart, which had once pounded fiercely, now beat in lethargic rhythm and his lungs barely stirred. With his eyes closed, an unexpected sense of peace washed over him. John fell into a deep sleep, a true sleep—granted to him for reasons unknown, yet he didn’t care. It was everything he had been searching for over the past year.

“ENJOY YOUR DREADED REST?”—a grizzly voice called out, jolting him awake from his slumber. His eyes darted around, searching for clues to alleviate his confusion. He was back in the factory, though it was night–the moonlight peaking hazily through the four-paned clerestory windows.

As he began to move through the factory, a sense of urgency welled within him, compelling him to dart from room to room. Each space bore an unsettling familiarity, yet the atmosphere shifted with every step. Charred burn marks marred nearly every wall and corner, a testament to past destruction, yet the building itself stood resolute.

As he passed the furnace, a smoldering heat enveloped him, suddenly erupting into a fierce blaze that sent him flying backward. The crackling of the fire echoed like a sinister laugh, the flames hungrily licking at the metal frame with fierce intensity. Fear seized John, his mind racing with paranoia. Why am I here? He bolted across the floor, desperately searching for an exit. Yet, as he fled, the crackling grew louder, gradually blaring in his ears until he finally reached an opening.

Before he could step foot out of it, an invisible force knocked him back once more.

“What is this?” John shouted, scrambling away from the unseen presence. In that moment, he caught sight of a peculiar glimmer—a reflection resembling a maze of mirrors. There he stood, grinning widely at his own image.

“REST ELUDES YOU, IT IS ONLY BUT A FLEETING ILLUSION. MY WORK IS YOUR PURPOSE NOW,” the ominous reflection declared, its voice a chilling echo of his own.

“What do you mean?” John shouted, scrambling to his feet. He stepped back, nearly stumbling as he struggled to navigate the disorienting maze of mirrors.

“IF NOT FOR ME, YOU’D HAVE SPILLED ALL YOUR SECRETS…”

My secrets…

A flash of memory engulfed him—hospital sheets, his body swathed in gauze from head to toe. The piercing glare of police lights, officers looming, and his wrist bound to a cold metal frame.

It all felt like a haunting dream he couldn’t shake.

With a deep breath, John closed his eyes, feeling his way through the labyrinth. When he finally opened them, he found himself back in the main room. In the gleaming surface of a lathe machine, he caught a glimpse of his true self, his brow furrowed in horror.

The entire situation felt like a twisted riddle. All he wanted was to retreat into sleep, the oblivion he had somehow found before awakening. Yet the memories clawed at him, offering no solace about how he’d arrived here. A sense of a higher power loomed overhead, an oppressive presence he couldn’t ignore. He glanced up at the grimy panes of the ceiling, the fans whirring ominously above him.

drrrr, drrrr, drrrrrr,

Suddenly, a surge coursed through his veins, his heart pounding with renewed intensity. John’s eyes widened, recognition dawning; this sensation was all too familiar. Had he smoked during this time? No, he realized, he had only been lost in a deep sleep just before this.

He cracked his neck and popped his knuckles, caught in a strange blend of clarity and confusion. While his body felt alive and alert, his mind spun with questions, racing through the labyrinth of his circumstances for answers.

“WELCOME TO YOUR PERPETUAL HIGH. READY TO WORK?”

…

“TO KILL..”

John felt uncertain about what this all meant, yet he sensed that the answer was immutable, now carved into the very fabric of his reality. His gaze drifted across the main room, curiosity bubbling beneath his apprehension.

He hesitated to engage with the strange entity, hoping that by remaining silent, it might tire of him and simply fade away. John had had his fair share of hallucinations, but this one felt entirely different. Either way, the oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on him, amplifying his desire for escape, yet the unanswered questions loomed like shadows, refusing to be ignored.

To kill…

Retreating to a once-familiar seat, he activated the machine, watching it hum to life. Ah, much better. The rhythmic noise provided a momentary sense of calm, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in his mind. It felt unsettling to actually find comfort in this confusing hell scape, yet the return of a high urged him to seek solace wherever he could, propelling the feeling. All he wanted now was a sense of stability to accompany that fleeting rush.

Besides, he couldn’t exactly place memories prior to this at all.

To kill…

The words echoed once more in his head. Kill who?

“ALL IN DUE TIME..”

A new found clarity drove him to venture throughout the building once more. This time, finding an exit. The clouds now inched past the moon, casting a shadow over him for a second while he looked out into the distance–fields of dead grass seemed to surround the perimeter passed the towered metal fencing. His eyes narrowed in on a door at the side and approaching it, revealed it could be opened. Inside was a chaotic jumble of metal scraps, engines, and an array of familiar pieces. John felt his face twitch into a near smirk as he trailed his finger over the dust collecting over one rather large piece of old equipment.

With quick resolve, he sank to his hands and knees, sifting through the debris for items that sparked his interest. Collecting them all in a single pile, he noticed a particularly intriguing item. Pulling it out from the remains, he realized it was a masterfully crafted cutting torch, one different from the others he’d seen before–something in it’s design prompted him to take it with him as he left the room.

Trailing down the basement, a surge of energy had him nearly running down the steps, illuminated by a torchlight welded into the wall. He’d nearly ran straight into the charred remains of a skeleton, it’s entire structure rid of any discernable form except for the shapes of bones–human. Eager for more tools he could find in the other strange nooks of this fabricated factory, he ventured further–deciding to leave the grim discovery alone. His mind raced, fixated only in what more inspiration lay hidden in his new home.

Now arrived, in the dimly lit basement sat four tall, metal cages in the middle of the long room.

He grit his teeth, scanning them only briefly before observing the cans of gasoline lined on the other side of the wall. Potential.. Anxiously, tension in the grip he had on the cutting torch had him nearly shaking.

His eyes returned to the pile of bones across the foot of the basement while his own bones felt cold and achy.

The pieces were starting to come together.

To kill…





























♪ permanent daylight ♪

radiohead






♡coded by uxie♡

 







  • astrid ─ parental guidance.



































































    • mood





      nervous, paranoid






























    As she stared at the flames, Astrid’s mind whirled. Thoughts of her daughter clouded her head as she wondered what this place was and if Clementine had been with her when she arrived here. However, it seemed the more she tried to remember, the more elusive her memories became, until she couldn’t remember much other than Clementine and the scene unfolding in front of her – the fire, people yelling across from it, and the people nearby who were building tents.


    The idea of building a tent right now was preposterous to her as she even know where she was – and it seemed like most of the others didn’t either, if the man yelling across the fire was anything to go by. Why build a tent, something that felt like it had at least some expectation of staying here to it? Unless this was all some kind of elaborate prank on her, or she’d been kidnapped – but what good would kidnapping her do?


    Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice that caused her to jump, and she looked over, taking the person in. From their lab coat to their piercings, they were a bit of an enigma. Were they some kind of doctor, perhaps? Maybe she’d been back in the hospital, and they were the real person in all this… Though they did seem a bit young to be a doctor.


    Are you alright? they had asked. Astrid swallowed hard and realized what she looked like – arms wrapped around herself, trying to make herself seem as small as she could, shaky and afraid. If this was a dangerous situation, she was making herself seem weak, an easy target for… whatever. Still, the panic that had welled up inside her hadn’t gone away.


    Trying to relax, Astrid dropped her hands to her side and tried to put on an air of normalcy despite the situation she found herself in. The tense energy in her hadn’t left, only transferred to her free hand making a fist at her side, digging little half-moons into her palm.
    “Um… I think so… I don’t know. Do you know what all this is?”
    She vaguely gestured to the people and the woods around them.


    “I think I got… lost or something, I don’t know,”
    she continued exasperatedly, pressing her fingers on the bridge of her nose and sighing. Trying to remember if maybe she’d gotten on a bus in a haze, perhaps trying to run away from her life only to end up here. It seemed very unlike her, but she’d seen herself going off the deep end before and… that version of her could do anything.


    Even so, how had she gotten her hands on this old first aid kit? She looked down at it in her hand at her side. Through her hazy memory, she’d definitely remembered a suitcase. Had she been mugged or something? She somewhat remembered an unknown assailant but… no, that was before she’d somehow come here. She touched her eyebrow where she vaguely remembered having a scrape and the skin there was smooth, not even a scar.


    Surely there was more to all this than she could remember… and perhaps this person in front of her had the answers she sought, but if not… She looked out into the fog and wondered if perhaps she was meant to go out and seek the unknown on her own. The thought made her shudder.



























































    rabbit heart





    florence + the machine

















    ♡coded by uxie♡
 




  • madison — unbreakable.
































    “This place… it’s not normal. I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s something wrong here. I can feel it.”

    Madison’s eyes narrowed in how carefully to take the girl's words. Right now, she can see the obvious fear in her eyes and the nervousness in her mannerisms. A sweet doe ready to run into the woods. She could agree that something wasn’t right, but she also didn’t want to cause a panic in everyone either. Before she could even reply to the girl with the pink shirt, the Oregan girl fled like a bolt of lightning.

    “H-hey!” Madison called out, her body jolting a foot forward to go after her. Only she held herself back allowing her to go. This is what she was worried about. The panic that was quietly dissipating into everyone’s fear of the unknown, whether they believed in that fear or not.

    Taking in a deep breath she gave the scared girl back her attention. Taking a few steps forward she closed the space between them, lowering her voice from a stern sergeant to something more calming. Her arms crossed on her chest and took a moment to find the words.

    “Hey, listen to me,” she said softly, “Look, I know that things aren’t right here. I know. But you can’t be saying that stuff about dying or anything. It’s causing people like that Oregan girl to make irrational decisions, and we can’t be having that. We need everyone to work together to figure this out. You’re scared. It’s okay to be scared. Take a breather. Meditate. Something. If you need someone to talk to or something, come to me. I’m Madison. I’ll check on you later, aight?”

    Hopefully the girl took what she said to heart. Madison knew she had other things to focus on than to play babysitter, but she also knew that people need to talk at times. Turning around she returned her attention back to the rest of the people in the group.

    Catching on about that guy, Jon, introducing himself and talking about something she’s also been questioning. The weird items they were holding. Between him and the cowboy guy, she felt practically relieved to have other people who were capable or showing themselves to be. Maybe that other girl who seemed to be observant may seem capable as well. Never underestimate the quiet ones. Madison took note to get a chance with hearing her out if needed, but right now she was focused on starting to get things done. Approaching back, she held up her med kit.

    “Yeah. I can tell y’all I didn’t take this shit with me when I was trying to get home. But whatever we have will prove useful. Look, I’m going to start looking around. There’s no way it’s just this campsite. I’m heading East. Western, you’re with me. Jon, try to get a perimeter check. I’ll be back in 30.”

    Taking charge right away, Madison waited for him until moving what seemed like east of the camp. Past some unattended tents, she continued on to something weird and supernatural in sight. The closer she got to it, the closer she was able to see some train tracks. A train? What if…?

    “I’ll be damned,” she muttered.

    This sparked some hope in Madison as she continued forward. The fog, that obsidian mist that makes her stomach churn in its sight, began to open and allowed them to push through. Holy shit…

































    KNIVES



    NEONI










    ♡coded by uxie♡

 



jaxson ─ diversion.





































  • mood



    concerned and slightly on edge.
















“I’m still hoping it’s some.. ..sick joke.”

The words struck him to the core. He closed his eyes for a moment, appearing deep in thought. He still had no idea where they were and what was happening, but he could not deny the underlying sense of terror that surrounded him. Everyone here was taken and brought here for something. For what? He hoped he did not stay long enough to find out. Their best case scenario was if this ended up being some sort of sick prank.

Opening his eyes, he caught sight of hers looking back at him. Studying the look on her face, he sensed the question coming before she opened her mouth. It was then that he could pick up more of her accent. He racked his brain, trying to pinpoint where she could be from.

“What do you remember?”

Shame and embarrassment began to overtake him, and he found himself no longer being able to meet her gaze. He glanced down at the dirt and dead leaves beneath his feet. His thumbs twiddled over each other as he thought about how to respond to her question. The sound of the truck horn filled his ears and for a split moment he was back in the middle of the street, waiting for his inevitable demise. He remained silent for a minute, listening to the crackle of the campfire. A small part of him was relieved that his bruised cheek was away from her sight.

As he mulled over his response, he saw her lip quiver from his peripheral. A pang of sympathy hit him and he made eye contact with her once again, picking up on the tears welling up in her eyes. He had just met this woman and he still felt the need to comfort her. His gaze softened and a soft sigh escaped his lips.

“I was trying to help someone and I ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Thought it was over for me…but now I’m here.”

He did not want to go in full detail of what had happened, feeling it would not help both his and her nerves, and fear at the uncertain. “The name’s Jax by the way. Wish it was under better circumstances but fancy meeting you here.” A crooked smile graced his lips as he reached a hand out in greeting, an attempt to bring some familiarity and hopefully take the edge out of their situation.

A soft voice suddenly caught his attention, and he looked up to see a dark-haired girl holding a quilt timidly. “I-I found this…you can have it, it’ll keep you warm.” The quilt was a welcome sight to the cold musician, but he knew immediately that he was not the one she was offering it to. His companion appeared to need it much more than he did, and it seemed the other girl could sense that too. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you…” he smiled at her before reaching up for the quilt.

The material was slightly course to the touch, but the thickness of it indicated the warmth it could provide. It reminded him of the sort of quilt a nan would knit. He passed it over to the woman next to him, opening it up so he can drape it over her.

































bitter sweet symphony



the verve










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:



nils 'the conductor' ─ thanatophobia.





































  • mood



    disoriented, frustrated, and tired.
















Overwhelming silence fills Nils' stomach with dread. Pungent rot permeates the air. A headache pounds against his skull. He flinches at how the mud beneath his knees squelches once he dares to move an inch. Pressure lingers in his lap, but the last time he peeked through his fingers, nothing was there. He lifts his head from his hands to look around, bloodshot eyes wide as he scans his surroundings again.

The small graveyard is enclosed by spiraling barren trees. Disease infests them, gnawing away at their darkened bark bit by bit. Clouds of black mist teasingly swirl beyond those opposite from him in the distance. Waterlogged grass tells of a heavy downpour, but it must have stopped before he arrived.

That damned voice 'welcomed' him here not so long ago, whispering promises in return for favors like it always did. This was the first time he ever yelled back. Anger and fear ripped through him as his questions spilled out. Why should he agree to this? Why should he continue to believe it? He had been desperate to go home, but not like this. He just wants to see him; he needs to make sure he's okay.

Please. Trembling fingers repeatedly run through his hair and tug harshly at his scalp. I can't. Scratchy woolen fabric burns his arms. His heartbeat quickens in his chest. He needs it off. OFF—Nils hurls his service dress tunic as far away from him as he can. He glares at the pathetic heap, wishing he could destroy it.

A strange sensation stirs within and coaxes him to shift his attention. When he realizes he isn't alone with this being, his eyes light up. One crow curiously stares back at him from its perch on a blank tombstone. Two more dwell in an overhead tree branch and CAW as if they’re greeting him. A chuckle of disbelief escapes him. He hasn’t seen one of them in a while; their main bird companions on the field had been the messengers.

"..Hello," Nils' voice sounds hoarse when he speaks. He regrets trying to swallow as his ragged throat radiates with pain. The feeling has been a burden since he regained consciousness, clearly worsening after his bout of protests, but he can't quite remember what the original cause was. A hollow ache persists in his chest no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. He sighs and shakes his head before standing up.

Another CAW. "Hold on a moment," Nils pats down his pockets to check for a leftover biscuit, to no avail. His disappointment is palpable as he holds up his empty hands, "Sorry, I haven't got anything for you tonight." The crow on the tombstone tilts its head before flapping its wings to fly over. It rests on his shoulder, seemingly unbothered by his failure to provide an offering. The ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He has a feeling the others will follow to keep him company as he tries to get his bearings.

DO NOT FRET, MY CONDUCTOR.
​
His heart almost skips a beat when a faint but hauntingly familiar melody begins to beckon from the distance.

THEY WILL FIND PEACE IN THE END.​

































the chairman's waltz.



john williams, itzhak perlman, yo-yo ma.










♡coded by uxie♡
 



maggie hatfield - adrenaline.





































  • mood



    rattled
















Maggie’s hand was still frozen midair as if she’d been holding onto something, but what? She couldn’t recall—her mind seemed…stuck, like she was scrambling for answers that lied on the bank of a river, but she was wading through a heavy current trying to wash her in the other direction.

Big, hazel eyes blinked in an attempt to focus on her surroundings. She was standing in a patch of woods, and her heart dropped.

I’m still at Gideon’s. I never got away.

Yet, that couldn’t be the case. She’d been home again, hadn’t she? The coolness of the glass sliding door soothing her flushed skin as she pushed her way inside to…

A dark, abandoned house—a hollow shell of the life she’d known before, as lonely and desolate as the cabin she’d fled from.

Something wasn’t right.

I must be dreaming, she told herself. This can’t be real.

The girl scrambled to her feet. Dried blood trailed down her legs and arms, caked onto her tanned skin, but Maggie didn’t seem to notice as she forced herself forward. She couldn’t see where she was going—the fog between the trees was thick, laying like a blanket over the forest floor—but a warm glow emanated from a clearing just ahead. A campfire, and Maggie could only hope that the promise of help came along with it.

Maggie stumbled out of the haze. For whatever reason, it seemed allergic to this particular area, though it clung tightly to its edges. Like a cage.

The space was littered with broken-down tents, and scattered throughout them was, perhaps, the strangest collection of people that Maggie had ever seen—their clothes seemed to be from all periods of time, but they had one thing in common: none of them seemed to be faring much better than her. The overwhelming sense of defeat hung as heavily in the air as the fog, tired bodies hunched together for warmth and comfort.

Fear prickled at the back of Maggie’s neck. These weren’t the woods outside Gideon’s cabin. This was something much worse.

Maggie approached the nearest group, huddled around a tent—one of the members had long, dark curls; two of the others were men, one of whom looked exceedingly exhausted, even for the company he was currently in; but it was the woman standing closest to her with hair cropped to her chin that Margaret reached for. “Excuse me,” she started. “Where—”

Suddenly, the fog descended upon their cluster, ensnaring them in its cloudy grasp and creeping up their limbs as if to swallow them whole.

Maggie fell back, startled, as she scurried out of harm’s way. Her heart pounded so ferociously that she could feel it in her throat; the young woman waited with bated breath for the same fate to befall her at any moment, yet it never did.

Then, just as quickly, the haze retreated, leaving behind no evidence of the others ever having been there at all, and the silence that followed was stifling.

“What was that?” Maggie asked, though her question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular. Only a few others remained in the clearing, but she doubted they could offer her any sort of answers, unless…

How long had they been here?

































(don’t fear) the reaper



Blue Öyster Cult










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:



floyd ─ adrenaline.





































  • mood



    cautious & alert.

















Floyd had felt someone following him, but he didn't know who. Yet, as the woman passed him to continue on the path he clearly remembered her; her skin warmed by the sun and wearing a dress that acted like a beacon against the dark background with its lack of colour. Though now that he was so close to her, Floyd could also see the dirt clinging to the fabric from her previous fall, and small red drops mixed in with everything else. Normally a slight cause for suspicion, were it not for the fact that it was the least of his concerns at the moment.

Just like him, she had stumbled across something, and as he drew closer while she picked it up, Floyd could tell it was a matryoshka doll. Another phenomenal find. Are there no weapons around? He was still clinging to the nail from the campsite, but Floyd wished for something more substantial.

"We ain't the only ones, at least." Her voice broke the silence of the forest and he looked at her again. Meeting her eyes, or at least where he thought they were.

Floyd wanted to scoff, but not ready to antagonise anyone just yet, he stifled it in his throat instead. "Not sure that's as relieving as you think." He pursed his lips before marching down the path. Following her footsteps while glancing around; scouting the trees and the ground for anything useful. "Worry about finding enough food, or it'll get real nasty in two or three days. Might be enough to change your mind then." A way out would also be more than enough. But that was a wish better left unspoken; false hope could be deadly.

"Anyway, got a name?" he asked like an afterthought. As if Floyd had just remembered how cumbersome it would be to leave her nameless in his memory. Naturally, he skipped the polite part of giving his own name first.

Meanwhile, the forest around them was changing the deeper they ventured into it. The surrounding undergrowth became thicker, almost impossible to pass through, and the path rockier and more difficult. Parts that would go uphill, and down the next. Occasionally Floyd spotted more objects in the distance, too large or complicated to be carried by two. The empty frame of a painting, a broken shelf, to name but a few. Things that seemed to have no clear connection or purpose. A pattern that seemed to repeat itself with each successive item he noticed—annoyingly so.

Defeated, Floyd sighed. "Maybe it's time to head back before we get lost." A suggestion. Also an unconscious wish. His limbs had begun to ache again, excruciatingly like rotten wood. Will it rain?

But just as he spoke, Floyd noticed a change in the path before them. It was ending. Straight to a set of gates, wide open and welcoming them in. He paused, stopped in his tracks, trying to make out what lay behind them. It seemed to be a building, a house, or something similar. Judging by the small glimpse of wooden planks peeking through the foliage. Cautiously, Floyd turned to the woman, raising an eyebrow as if to ask, "Shall we? Do we dare?"

































necromancin dancin



bear ghost










♡coded by uxie♡
 



Ambrose - Dance With Me





































  • mood



    panicked, confused
















Ambrose's head was spinning. There were so many people, so much names and information given that didn't make any sense. It seemed like everyone here was from the United States, too, as far as Ambrose could tell. But they were all from different parts. There was no way somewhere in Oregon, Arizona, and California was so close together. He didn't even have time to get a word in before the next person spoke, eyes wide as he listened in on the conversation. Things must be way different in the Northern states to where he was from, since everyone else seemed cued in on the same dress, mannerisms, and speech patterns. It made him feel briefly envious before he got that thought out of his mind. What was important now was finding a way out of this place, and hopefully learning how they got here and where exactly here was.

He did admittedly feel bad for the Oregon woman, since she had freaked out quite a bit at the blonde girl's words. To be fair, the blonde was quite ominous. But maybe that was her way of understanding the situation and dealing with things. This weird place had surely put them all in a feeze. At last, Mads broke away from the others, inviting him to join her. Ambrose smiled, relieved, and glad to be able to speak without fear he would end up talking over someone else (or someone would talk over him).

"The name's Ambrose, by the way," he said as they started to walk. "Everyone's jaws was wobblin' back there; couldn't get a word in edgewise." He chuckled, swiftly realizing no one had been laughing when he'd said similar things before. Was he just that unfunny or, as he was beginning to suspect, was his dialect that different from theirs? They were all clearly speaking English. And American English at that. Or so Ambrose guessed.

As they continued, it seemed as if Madison was able to see something in the fog, guiding them both forward. He was fine to do these sort of things himself, but having another person with him, especially one as confident as Mads, helped. But as they got closer, the fog seemed to thicken, shrouding her from view. After several moments, the mist lessened to its original state, but his new friend was nowhere to be found. That sent a chill into Ambrose's bones, acid creeping into his stomach. There was no way she could have gone far.

"Mads!" he called, eyes scanning the area in around him with increasing nervousness. "Mads, where'd ya go?" He thought for a moment. "Holler if ya hear me! I can't see ya in the fog!" He waited for several moments, walking around the area, but not straying far from he last saw his companion. "Mads? Mads! Don't tell me ya cut and run! That ain't funny, ya hear?" After several minutes of more failed searching for her, he realized how close he'd gotten to being back to camp. Embarrassed at his failure in even doing something as simple as a perimeter check, he walked over to the guy from earlier. Jon. Maybe he would know what to do.

"Yer gonna think I'm cracked, but Mads disappeared! We were lookin' fer a way out er somethin' and then the fog set in and she just up and vanished!" He frowned, furrowing his brows in thought. "If she found a way out so soon, surely she'd holler. What do ya reckon we do? I tried searching and callin' her name but the closer I got to where she was, it only led me back here somehow." Ambrose tried to keep from panicking. He was usually pretty good in a crisis, but today had been one of the worst he'd ever come across. He was completely out of his depth here, not having any knowledge about this place or these people. God he felt like a chucklehead.


































wanted man



royal deluxe










♡coded by uxie♡
 



Jon - DBT posts.jpg

Diversion

Jonathan
Chen

John didn't enjoy being told what to do. He didn't enjoy taking orders. But his face betrayed nothing of the sort as Madison spoke to him. He needed her to think he was useful...indispensable. The fact that she trusted him to do something on his own proved that he was already well on his way there. She took to the role just like he hoped she would. Now, all that was left was for him to help her build comfort within the role and trust in him.

He nodded, meeting her gaze with a determined one of his own. "Will do. I'll keep the minutes, if you're not back in 40, I'll come looking." He also gave Ambrose a well-meaning nod as he walked off, not wanting to ignore the lad against lest he sour relations that could be useful one day. It seemed Ambrose was another person he might was to keep an eye on, after all.

He walked off to check the perimeter. It was something he was familiar with, something he had done several timed for his gang and something he had commanded others to do several times more. He didn't enjoy the feeling of being a lackey again, after everything he'd built for himself. But if he'd done it once, he could do it again...faster this time. Especially since this group of misfits wasn't half as large as his gang.

He remembered that walking into the fog would only return him to the center and wasn't really in the mood to push past it to find out if that stayed true. Doing such a thing was more danger than he'd be willing to take on if he didn't know it would directly benefit him. That was the kind of thing he'd encourage someone else to do and see what happened. Instead of that, he walked around the area outlined by the fog, keeping his eyes peeled on the floor for anything interesting as well as on those within the area.

He needed to know what roles people were filling. He could make use of them on his rise to the top as long as he knew where to place tham and that, to a very large extent, depended on what roles they naturally fell into. After all, it's easier to manipulate people into doing what you want if you make sure that they're comfortable while being manipulated. Like a frog in a pot of water - it will stay there as long as it's comfortable. If you increase the heat too quickly, it will sense it and jump out. But slowly, patiently, painstakingly increasing it a little at a time and letting the frog get comfortable each time you increase it, it'll be dead long before it realises anything has happened.

Little did Jonathan know that something out there was thinking the same about him.

All of a sudden, the fog started...behaving. It moved and it moved with purpose. Jon jumped away from it, trying to make sure he didn't get surrounded by it, but there was little he could do. The fog came in from all sides and he was temporarily surrounded by darkness. A few seconds later, it faded away again.

The first thing he did was to check himself. He patted himself down, feeling to make sure that nothing had been stolen from him - like he had anything to steal other than the flashlight - which he still couldn't explain how he got. After realising that he was fine and nothing had been taken, he began looking around and that was when he realised.

Half the group was gone. Just....vanished. From the looks of those that they had been around, it was as if they had vanished mid conversation, maybe mid-sentence. Whoa. Hey! Hey, hey, hey! What's going on here?!

He had started freaking out, but he couldn't allow for that to happen. The situation had gone from bad to worse and Madison wasn't here. It wasn't necessarily that he needed her, but now the others didn't have someone to rally around. He knew he would have to try and rally them together but that was difficult to do while trying to stay in the background.

While his mind ran, looking for an answer, Ambrose came running up to him talking madness. Madison disappearing made sense, it had happened to half the people here as well. However, Madison specifically being one of the people to disappear created a problem for him. There was now nobody's shadow for him to hide behind. And there was no clear indication when - or even if - she'd be back. This was officially the worst case scenario. The best he could do was fill in the gap acting as though he intended for her to return.

He took a deep sigh and collected himself, processing his thought. He was going to make this work.

He placed a hand on Ambrose's shoulder, offering a warm smile. "It's okay. She'll be back, she's got a good head on her shoulders. Right now we need to make sure we don't lose ours and keep everyone else from losing theirs as well."

His eyes scanned for the best person to start with and saw a girl on the floor, clearly startled from the random disappearing. He gestured with his head over to her, indicating for he and Ambrose to head that way. Approaching her carefully, he knelt down and stretched out an arm to help her up. "Hey, I'm Jon. Quick, we got to stick together before that fog comes back for more. If we're all together, even if it comes back, at least we'll still be with each other and I bet our odds are better together than alone." He looked back at Ambrose, holding out his hand for Ambrose to grab as well. "Right now, we gotta try our best not to get separated. Not even a little bit."

Mentions: Ambrose ( hotsauce hotsauce ), Maggie ( lvcid lvcid )
 
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