CURSED - mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cursedmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cursedrp2022-09-01 08:01 pm
cursedmods) wrote in cursedrp2022-09-01 08:01 pm
Entry tags:
- ace attorney: gregory edgeworth,
- cyberpunk 2077: v,
- danganronpa: fukawa toko,
- dceu: harley quinn,
- marvel comics: peter quill,
- mcu: wanda maximoff,
- oc: deely newburg,
- oc: vasiliy yegorovich ardankin,
- oc: wren fulton,
- ofmd: edward teach,
- ofmd: stede bonnet,
- oliver twist: nancy sikes,
- shadowhunters: alec lightwood,
- stargate atlantis: dr rodney mckay,
- stargate atlantis: lt col john sheppard,
- stranger things: billy hargrove,
- stranger things: chrissy cunningham,
- stranger things: eddie munson,
- stranger things: jim hopper,
- stranger things: joyce byers,
- stranger things: steve harrington,
- twd: daryl dixon
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.Roller Rink
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.
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.Mallrats
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.
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.Extra Info
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.
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.
no subject
[ Everything else looks like it's operating normally. There's even a sign for a cafe, cheerily letting them know it's open. What kind of hotel has a wing set aside for creepy abduction experiments? Did someone just book out a whole bunch for their project?
Well. He's not much of an investigator, so walking right in and asking will have to do. And if shit goes down, he's killed so many people this week that a few more won't hurt his conscience.
Probably.
He leads the way (still wary) across the courtyard and into the office, and some tiny useless thought marvels on the shiny clean glass of the door and pristine sticker decals. A world of the past. How much has he forgotten?
Inside, a bored-looking twenty-something with permed hair tied up in a neon scrunchie is chewing gum and flipping magazine pages. Her canned welcome is clearly rehearsed, clearly desperate to go back to her issue of Smash Hit. Daryl says hello, offers their names, and she sighs as she opens a reservation book.
A minute later— ]
Yep. [ She pops a bubble as she digs jangling room keys out a tray, sorting through number tags. ] Here you go. Room service has a last call at seven but the cafe's open 24 hours. Enjoy your stay.
no subject
She follows Daryl close by, looking around. She smiles, to see the bright colors- London was so dingy, comparatively. There's so much to take in, she's likely to spend the next few hours down here, just absorbing and exploring.
She hangs behind him as they enter the office, the girl's hair and whatever she's chewing fascinating. Nancy leans forward to watch her, see the brightly colored glossy photos in the very thin book or very exciting newspaper she's reading.
She accepts the key.] So we don't need to bleed on the door every time we want to leave now? We actually get keys?
[She looks at Daryl for confirmation.] And, ah, miss, I've no way to pay for this.
[The teenager rolls her eyes.] It's free, don't worry about it. [And literally waves her hand before going back to her magazine. Nancy glances back to Daryl.]
Well, then. This is a hotel. I don't think it's too dangerous?
no subject
Courtesy of 'the Mayor'? [ —a guess, to which the girl with the scrunchie confirms with an 'uh-huh' without looking up.
Daryl doesn't like that. But he doesn't like any of this, so. Big surprise. He flips the diamond-shape keychain over in his hand, and the little silver key jingles. Ordinary, like dozens of other motels he's stayed in, before and after. (No fancy hotel living in the apocalypse; electronic locks with keycards are miserable to work around without power. Shitty motels, meanwhile, are immortal.)
He moves away from the desk and towards a hallway going to the cafe before responding to Nancy. Uncertain if he wants anyone listening in, even though Scrunchie appears to be wholesale ignoring them. Then he shrugs. Everything's dangerous, life is fucked up that way. ]
Guess it'd look weirder if we ended up homeless. Think there are more people like us?
no subject
This place was already fancier than any place she'd ever been, save perhaps one or two homes.]
I hope so. [That dream...] I'd rather not be alone in this anymore than we already are. This weird bloody whatever the hell! [A surge of frustration bubbles inside of her. Almost as quickly as it arrives, the surge simmers out.] Pardon. I'm just... [A deep inhale.]
Pardon. [She doesn't need to bother him. What she needs is a stiff drink.] What d'you think they've got to drink in this place? I need a whiskey.
[Don't talk to her about drinking ages. They don't exist where she's from. And if they did, she was of-age.]
no subject
Gotta be, [ he mutters. ] Lotta names in the reservation book.
[ A delayed observation. Hunting and tracking aren't all that different from detective work, mechanically, it's just he so often forgets to pay attention when he's anywhere even a little civilized. Some part of him still expecting to be turfed out for being a fraud of a human. ]
Probably a bar in the cafe. [ Maybe. And maybe they don't card. (Spoiler: it's the 80s, Nancy looks like she could be his daughter, they may not!) ] Looks like it's the central feature in here, might as well check it out. See who else is around that looks like they just bled on a door.
no subject
Right.
[She feels like a hangeroner, following Daryl around like a lost puppy. But he's the only person she knows, now, and there's a connection there in waking up in this weird place.] Not a bad idea. [Plus. A drink.] See who's bleeding. [She touches her lip, where it's split, frowns. That could be a lot of people.
Cafe. Bar. She knows these places, however, and when they arrive, she's quick to spot the best place to drink.] What'd you like? Looks like they've got- oh! Plymouth gin! That's what I'll be having. [And she's going to drink it straight.]
no subject
And now they're here, wherever the fuck this is, whatever the fuck is going on. ]
Knock yourself out. [ He nods towards it, but hangs back. ] Not my scene most of the time.
[ And definitely not now, when anything could be happening. He's a bad drunk, all his self-loathing and resentful demons rattling the locks on their cages whenever he has more than a beer or two. He looks around, though, and sees a few equally confused, dazed faces, and at least one other bandaged hand. Yup.
Is this real? Still a concern. Ugh. ]
no subject
[And she is going right to that bar. And going to order a drink. And it's all going quite swimmingly until... They ask her for an ID so she can prove she's of age to drink. Not knowing what in the hell an ID was, or the drinking age or anything of that caliber, she points at Daryl.] That's my da, it's for him.
[Apparently, things are lax in the 80s, and Nancy is wandering back to Daryl with what she was told was a Gin and Tonic.] So what in god's name is an ID? They asked me for one, at the bar. Went and said this is for you, so if you don't mind having a sip and smiling at the bartender t' keep up appearances, yeah? [She pushes the drink toward him. Simply being near liquor was improving her mood, and that little sip she'd had on the way back? Doing wonders for her headache.
Not that she'd ever been incredibly emotional stable, even before the introduction of alcohol to her diet.]
no subject
Really, he doesn't care. There was unsupervised alcohol in his house from jump, and all his would-be substance problems started early. He's just glad that anything past drinking and cigarettes scared him too bad to get into. (Definitely got called some slurs over it, but fuck, you watch enough acquaintances have their teeth fall out or vomit blood while unconscious and you just pass. No thanks.)
Daryl snorts a laugh and takes the tumbler, raising it up in a mime of drinking it before returning it to Nancy's possession. No smile, but the bartender is already busy ignoring them, so. That's fine. The last time he had anything was at Aaron and Eric's, a couple glasses of red wine over home-made spaghetti, probably the best meal he'd had in years. Somewhere else, now. A world away. ]
There's all kinda annoying rules about how old you gotta be to do shit, [ he says. ] Smoke cigarettes, drink alcohol, operate one of them cars. So folks get a little card with their birth date on it. Reckon you'll have to get a fake one.
[ A beat, then, ] Reckon I'll have to get a fake one. Damn. Mine's long gone.
[ Even if it wasn't, it was issued in, what, 2005? Womp womp. ]
no subject
Oh, that's awful! [She glances over at a car, wondering if she wants to learn to drive one.] Y'see, breaking rules and laws was never really anything I've paid much mind to. Back at home... Well, we did all of that since we can remember. [She's not going to pour out that she is a criminal and a thief right here and now.]
Of course it was all pipe tobacco or cigars. [She'd heard the term cigarette before, from some posh Frog she stole a cigarette case from.] I got my Bill a beautiful snuff box, once. [She touches her swollen eye, winces, but smiles wistfully.] Do they still have those here?
no subject
Well, that sucks. Why are people always this way, to each other.
A bit of a delay on a response, again. A bad habit of his, being too reticent, his social inexperience pushing him to the edge of awkward somewhat consistently.
But: ]
Yeah.
[ Or close enough. Daryl's a smoker, but he's not well-versed in anything offbeat. Chewing tobacco was popular where he lived in the sticks, but he could never handle the spitting, somehow. Surprising given how gross he is in general, but everybody's got their lines. ]
If I find someplace that does good fakes, I'll make sure to get you hooked up. With the ID card.
[ Should be like 100% easier for her than him, given the accent. Nobody in America knows what the fuck a real ID from the UK looks like. ]
no subject
Good, good.
[She's working on the gin and tonic. Straws are fun.]
Thank you! I appreciate that. A good forger's hard to find in any day and age, I imagine.
no subject
[ If they're stuck here. He's talking like they are, because he doesn't know what else to do— he has no plan except see what the lay of the land is. If he can go back to sleep and wake up back home, then that's what he'll do, but the problem of what the fuck is going on feels too complicated for him to really look at in his own head. He needs a minute.
To that end, he points at a table in the cafe. ]
Why don't you hang here for a bit. Get something to eat, see if you can pick anybody else out in our boat. I'm gonna see what I see outside.
[ Is this a town? A city? Is there a wall just past the parking lot, and zombies on the other side? Is he just going insane??
Gotta figure it out. ]
no subject
You know where to find me, when you're done. Be safe, won't you?
[She looks at him optimistically. Then, she's going to finish her drink.]