cursedrp | IC INTRO #1

IC INTRO #1

A Blood Offering

You wake up cozy in bed at the Saturn Motel. As you observe the room you may realize that it looks a little dated. Or, perhaps from your point of view the lamp and TV are wildly futuristic. Or, like Goldilocks, it may seem just right: close to the world you just left behind. Either way, you just had a very strange dream (see the arrival scenario) and now you're here. And you're not alone: there's a bed next to yours and someone else is waking up just like you are.

You can chat for a while if you like, but if you try to leave you'll find the door is firmly locked and no amount of kicking, punching, or hitting it with an object will do you any good. Instead, there's a letter on the nightstand which reads:

"Good morning and welcome to your new home!

You may be wondering why you're trapped in this room. Fear not, the door will open easily if you offer a bit of blood. More than a few drops but not enough to be a serious wound. A handprint's worth will do, let's say, and it only needs to come from one of you.

I'll let you sort that out yourselves. See you on the other side.

Sincerely,
The Mayor"

And indeed, a handprint's worth of blood pressed against the door will unlock it and let you out into the world. Do you volunteer your own blood? Do you take it from the other person by force? It's up to you! But there's no food in here, so you better figure it out eventually.

Roller Rink

As a celebration of your new lives here (and an apology for the whole blood offering thing - they were just testing something out, really) the Mayor has invited everyone to the Crazy Eight Roller Rink for a private, after-hours party.

Attendance isn't mandatory, but it is heavily encouraged so that you can meet your fellow Cursed and know who's in on the whole secret. It'll help you down the line at some point if your Curse gets out of control and you need someone to wrangle you.

As a reward, everyone who shows up and completes at least one lap around the roller rink (you must be wearing skates, but you can crawl the lap if you can't get the hang of them) will receive a free walkman with a mystery tape inside. The color, style, and mystery tape your character gets are up to you.

Mallrats

Everyone loves the mall! Right? Right! And this group of newcomers is lucky enough to be here for the White Pines Mall Grand Opening celebration! Feel free to walk around the mall and partake in sales galore, check out the attractions, or just get to know the layout of the place.

The Mayor has given everyone a gift card for $100 that can be used anywhere in the mall as long as they attend the Grand Opening.

They also strongly suggest that you familiarize yourself with the mall and its layout, just in case you ever get stuck there for a while and have to compete with others for food and resources. But that probably won't happen.

Extra Info

All the same guidelines from the TDM still apply. You can continue your TDM threads here or start new ones! And of course, you can start making your own prompts in the log or network communities at your leisure.

Our first event will be going up in about a week!

Please do not add character tags to any posts just yet, we'll add them to this post manually.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The look Alec gets makes him raise both eyebrows and stand up even straighter, which is just ridiculous. There is now a full half foot of difference between their respective sight lines. If Alec is a touch smug about that, he'll never say.]

Sticker.

[He points at the offending size indicator on Daryl's brand new plaid shirt, moving slowly and precisely because despite being freshly washed, something about the guy screams scruffy enough to be a werewolf, or something. Better safe than sorry, right? In either case, said sticker might actually be less of a problem in Daryl's load considering the existence of at least some colors and patterns, but having to peel off every little damp shred of dispersed white sticker from the 99% pitch black Institute laundry when he was 14 and unbearably impatient (and actively being laughed at by his siblings the whole time) is something Alec will never forget. He has suffered so much Daryl, clearly.]

You don't want that in there when you turn on the water.

[ It's true, Daryl cleans up badly. Probably would even in an expensive suit and a nice haircut— there's just something about him that says permanently feral. The constant greasy sheen he carries with him in the south has been stripped away by the northwest's comparatively cool and dry climate, but the tradeoff is now he just sorta looks crunchy.

In contrast, he thinks Alec looks like the most flattering possible filter of the guys he would run around with before the turn. Masculine features, dark attire, gnarly neck tattoo, obviously armed. Except he's well groomed and handsome, and his clothes look expensive. Suspicious. Are there universes out there where biker gangs are stylish, high class organizations, instead of meth-adjacent criminal tragedies?

Who knows. Pale eyes track the other man's hand, and finally, he notices the sticker. Huh. He'd snipped the tags off, but didn't do much of an inspection. ]

Thanks.

[ He picks at one edge until he can strip the whole thing off, and then shoves his laundry into the machine. The crank sound on the setting dial is loud, and dated. Flashbacks to rare trips to the laundromat in his youth. He dumps the recommended amount of powdered detergent into the slot, hits start, and then sets the little box down near Alec. A nod, pointing to it. He's free to use the rest, if he'd like to save a quarter.

Daryl drags his remaining items near to the large single basin wash sink; leather can't go in the washer, and his jacket and vest are both horrendous. The angel wing patches on the back of the vest are so stained they're almost camouflaged entirely. Lucky him, the trendy goth store had both desalter and balm. ]

You look like you had to donate to get outta your room at first, too.

Edited (feathers?? ok) 2022-09-06 21:43 (UTC)

[That's certainly an interesting way to phrase... all of this. Alec makes a noise of acknowledgement (and gratitude, honest!) at the offer of detergent, and starts emptying his own basket into his chosen washer. No need to separate the load, he'd honestly love if the neon pieces dull some during the cycle.]

It wasn't me. [Alec was too paranoid and V got tired of waiting on him to admit to the futility of their situation, so. Regardless of Alec's reluctance to give into the demands of a strange dream and stranger note, blood was indeed donated to get them both out of that room.] I try not to put my blood into magic I don't understand. [What a weird way to thank someone else for bleeding so he could be out here, doing his laundry. Listen. Would Alec have liked to starve in that room trying to think up other ways to get out? No. But it's still galling to have been in the situation in the first place, let alone have to acquiesce. Shadowhunter pride, and all.

When Daryl just has the two pieces left, the vest in particular catches Alec's eye. He distractedly finishes with the detergent and sets his machine to start, leaning his hip against it so he can see what the guy is doing while he settles in for the long wait. He probably should have brought a book, or something.]

Why angel wings? [Normally, he's not one for small talk. But normally he's also not stuck in the 80s with no responsibilities and, regrettably as he's discovering, no actual hobbies either. Sorry to Daryl, who now gets to deal with the only thing he has left: his nosiness.]

[ Daryl huffs something, just a grunt of acknowledgement, but there's something that indicates he's amused by that. Huge guy, carrying a bow and arrows, wouldn't bleed on a door. Kinda funny. ]

My blood's out there plenty already. [ This, too, seems almost like he thinks it's funny. There'd been no hesitation once he realized there was no other way out of the room— if someone was waiting down the hall, cackling menacingly over their Saw trap video feeds or whatever-the-fuck, he was fine with playing along to expedite an opportunity to beat that person's skull in.

But that hasn't happened. They're just here, which is far stranger than being captive rats in a maze.

He wipes down the leather with a damp rag and just a little handsoap, the water coming away brown and thin. Grease, grime, dirt, blood. Previously camouflaged flakes of gore become soft in the the removal process. Could also just be mud, though! Totally normal! ]

Mm? [ A question he hasn't received in a while, and it wins a brief glance over at the younger man. ] ... Had a bad wreck, a long time ago.

[ Not the deepest biker symbolism, but it does its job. Both a sign of mettle and pride, having survived something catastrophic that should have killed him, and a hopeful good luck charm. Once upon a time, its large wing patches and the laces up the sides had been a high point of the harassment he endured form his brother. That looks like a girl's, little bro— Tryin' to tell us something, Darlina— What a pretty little angel—

Stubbornness made him keep it. His excuse had always been it was simply too expensive to buy a new one and too much of a pain in the ass to modify, and nobody calls the Hells Angels pussies for being angels, so maybe fuck off. (But maybe, privately, it is pretty, and maybe he does like it.)

Anyway. That's all. Nothing divine, just coincidentally thematic. Sorry Alec. ]

IC INTRO #1

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject