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.

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[ He shrugs one shoulder, about pizza. Yep, that is indeed why he shoved it all into his face, and why he can feel the faintest echo of karma nausea, though he knows he'll be fine. If he can eat worms and half-rotting frogs, he can handle some grease an high fructose corn syrup.

This poor kid, meanwhile. Whatever Fukawa's been through has clearly been hard on her, regardless of how disastrous it may seem. Daryl hasn't always been patient and open-minded about other people's experiences or their perspectives, but he's learned some bitter and embarrassing lessons over the past few years.

So it's easy to be honest when he says: ]

I promise.

[ Even aside from the fact that he's not a burst-into-laughter guy, he's more interested in listening and considering the whole 'from different realities' thing than he is with judging the content if whatever she says. Maybe he'll look silly if she lies and he believes it, but that's not exactly going to dent his reputation or self-worth. ]

[He seems like he means it. And really, he's so reluctant to let more than four syllables out at once. A genuine laugh might blow his lungs to bits.

Fukawa's mouth twists. Then she relents with a sigh, a hand to her head. This was going to be a gold medal headache, she could just tell.]

F-fine then. I don't know all the details. [For a number of reasons. Let's not open too many cans of worms at once, now.] But, basically, it was a sort of civil unrest. The kind that spreads like a virus. I think it started with a video? There was a st-student council meeting at this prestigious academy, and they were all f-forced to kill each other.

Um... [Okay, this part gets a little murky, and she's only an intern so she's not privy to the breadth of the information. She doesn't think she needs to use every detail. It's a complicated story, but surely she could break it into bullet points?] I...I th-think that tape of the murders was spread online. It caused an outrage, and the other students b-began to revolt. And...then the tape was manipulated. It would make you do crazy things. Some kind of subliminal messaging techniques? But, the r-result was, nearly all the remaining students killed themselves.

And from there... [She flinches. Starts biting at her thumb. There's a hangnail that needs working loose, anyway.] Well, it got online, and more people saw it, and they started revolting all over. And eventually, it was everywhere. P-people just succumbed to Despair. They started doing depraved things, overthrew their governments, destroyed their homes. The air is so polluted now, there's been tons of d-damage all over. I was just in a city where the k-kids all turned on the adults. They've been slaughtering them for fun, leaving th-their bodies in the streets.

[She could go on. There was the specificity of what happened to her, her classmates, their so-called sanctuary in the school. How that became the grounds for further bloodshed. It's not vital though, it's not the reason the world went to pot, and she can feel her throat closing up just thinking about it.

Fukawa pushes at the plush top of her chicken sandwich. The bread springs back up. It's getting cold, now.]

St-stupid to think it's all because of some b-big breasted, psycho bitch. She c-couldn't keep her insanity to herself. She wanted to t-take everyone down with her. Set up all the dominos and just t-tipped them over, like it was all some big game.

[ Jesus Christ. This is a lot.

Not just to listen to - which it is - but the heavy content of it all. Daryl doesn't think subliminal messaging or mind control, nor the abuse of it, is an altogether far-fetched notion. The CIA tried damn hard with MK Ultra ultra, its predecessors, and whatever secret followups were going on, lost to time with the collapse of society. And that's just one period of time, in one country. In one world. (Man, what a trip to consider.)

Mostly, he just thinks it sounds sad. Starting with kids like that. His expression doesn't change much, but there's a flicker of regret.

Life's hard enough, at that age.

... 'Big breasted psycho bitch', though, that is uuuh, something. Daryl briefly remembers a strange moment, one he hasn't considered at all since it happened: way back in the farmhouse before it burned, just trying to get some water out of the kitchen while Andrea bitterly asserted that no one would be making such a fuss over who was fucking Lori if she weren't so pretty. Imagine if everyone looked like that, then there'd be no use fighting, they'd just divvy us up, and Daryl hadn't known what to say. He thought everyone looked fine, and had not factored such a thing into the tension surrounding poor Lori's personal life and her desire to be free of having to trade control for safety. The vehemence of her accusation had caught him off guard, like the content of Fukawa's remarks do now, at the end of that. People care so much about the strangest shit at the wildest times.

Anyway. Doesn't matter. What an odd tangent for his brain to go down, even for a second. He almost fidgets. He hasn't thought of either woman in a while. He wonders if dead people would appear here. ]

Did you want to fight?

[Not even the end of the world can cure an inferiority complex. The mastermind was a beauty, and Fukawa's spent too long holding the short end of the stick to not fault her for it.

As her revulsion had been to him, his lack of response is a balm to her. She can't tolerate coddling, detests pity, and desperately wants the moment to be over with. As long as he believes her and doesn't press on old bruises, she'll happily see the back of the subject.

He's not quite finished, though.]

Want to? [Her contorted expression gives him all the answer he needs.] Of c-course not! Do I look like s-some meat-headed brawler to you? Even if I was, who would want to fight under such sadistic conditions? Do you like cutting swathes through the undead?

[There is a pause though. Something potent that quiets her ire. Makes her pick another patch of sandwich loose.]

Although...what we want and wh-what we have to do are two different things, now. There's no other way to survive. You have to move forward, no matter what. [Fukawa sighs heavily.] N-not that I'm much good at that either. Don't expect too much of me, if you're looking for muscle or something.

[Syo was the best bet there. But setting her loose in a world of peace, with neither Komaru or Byakuya-sama to hokd her back? It sounded risky at best and disastrous at worst.

Best to get the lay of the land first.]

Wasn't that. Just wondering how you were gettin through it.

[ Adds context to understand her reaction to being here, and her reaction to him. Insecure or not, it takes some degree of toughness to walk right up to a stranger and scold them for being gross. She's got nerve, which is invaluable in a dystopian situation.

So it doesn't surprise him to hear that she's done what she's had to do. He understands that. (All those people in that outpost; sometimes he still hears a buzz in his ears, tinnitus blowback from so much automatic gunfire indoors; it's easier than you'd expect to shove a knife through the temple of a living person, and the resistance is so much different than doing it to a corpse; this is all I'm good for after all.) ]

I'm sure this place is some kind of fucked up, one way or the other. But at least we get a breather before whatever it is kicks in.

[ An opportunity to sit down, and eat pizza. ]

Oh.

[Her ears tinge pink and she averts her gaze again. Right. That would be the logical assumption. Not, "Are you having fun out there, bud?"

God, she's so stupid. Her and her big mouth.

Still, she chooses to fidget in her seat rather than apologize. He's a very steadfast sort, he doesn't look put off by her bluster. That's nice. It might be a by-product of his situation. How rattled could you get by some idiot teenager when there were zombies around every corner? And that wouldn't count other threats, like lack of resources, competing survivors, perhaps a nomadic lifestyle. You wouldn't last a week if you were the sensitive type.

It's why she smiles when he draws his conclusions. Still sheepish of course, but she's grateful. In Towa City, it's just her and Komaru, and she's the senior of the two. They get by just fine, their strengths and weaknesses nest neatly together, weaving a veneer of competence neither could achieve on their own. But boy, life would be so much easier with a reliable adult around.]

Oh, I'm counting on it. That b-blood trick was just the start. And now the supernatural is on the table, too? Anything could happen. [She grumbles and, to her own surprise, finally draws a fry from the box. She passes on the ketchup and pops it in au naturel.] M-maybe we should raid a church, or shrine or something. St-stock up on holy water while we have the chance.

[Thanks to Bram Stoker and his ilk, they all had a handy compendium of classic monster how-to's. And if they really are in America, she'd wager the threats will lean on Western folklore.

Good, because yokai were all capricious pricks.]

What's holy water do?

[ Daryl has definitely seem some vampire movies, but they've all got different rules; he knows, between the outbreak and having seen a chupacabra once (shut up, everyone he knows, he definitely saw it and it was definitely real, how can you think it's not when there are zombies) (they're not called zombies on the show but I can't go around not calling them zombies) (they call them 'walkers') (get it, because of the show name), that 'supernatural' is just a placeholder.

Like when people worshiped the sun. They just didn't know.

But maybe there's a practical use for holy water. He can't imagine what, since god isn't real and the way to end reanimated corpse is to physically destroy its brain, not magic spells, but. His sphere of awareness is small.

Across the food court, a toddler squeals in its father's arms, and Daryl ticks his gaze over to the sudden sound. Nothing noteworthy, though, and his attention drifts back to Fukawa. Wondering about her life, and if she's got anyone left. If curses are real, and why they were each pulled in.

Not any of his business, though. Daryl tries not to make a habit of asking people questions that he wouldn't want to answer, himself. ]

You know. [She waggles a hand vaguely.] It's s-supposed to have repellent effects? They use it in stories all the time. Some Christian texts claim that it can d-drive out demons or cure illnesses, and in Hinduism it purifies the soul and combats evil. In Eastern Europe, they thought if you sprinkled it over a c-corpse you believed was a vampire, it would destroy it.

[All this useless trivia might finally see some practical use. Not that she's a fan of horror. Not in the slightest, it might be one of her least favourite genres. But mythology and all its derivatives? That's the sort of ephemera she'll have knocking around her head until she goes senile.

Still, having to consider gathering wooden stakes and garlic is enough to make her senile. Fukawa pulls a face.]

Though I hope we won't have to take that crap seriously. I'd rather eat glass. This whole set up is a joke. If it w-weren't for the trick with the door...

[Or with time-travel. She lets the thought settle between them unspoken.]

[ Caveman logic, wondering at the immediate use for something, and if it might actually be real, instead of indulging in the fantastical potential. He still can't shake the instinct that the blood offering in the motel that first day was something just to fuck with them, and that there was somebody watching. Literally, through pinpoint camera lenses he can't find, not from on high.

Rusty gears in his brain turn. Hrm.

(Daryl's favorite genre is drama. He won't tell, though.) ]

... It's all weird.

[ Understatement of the century. ]

Reckon we should be ready for anything, though. Trying to argue about whether or not the thing trying to kill you can be real or not just means you're gonna be dead, right?

[(Drama is great but if you ask Fukawa, Romance is best.)]

I'll say. [Understatement indeed. They're not flush with choices here, are they? She thinks back to what Vasiliy said on the roller rink, how there might be someone trapped with them who's an expert on these matters. Astrophysicists, paranormal investigators, maybe a literal sorcerer. She damn sure hopes there is. So far she has a frilly Shakespearean fop (who she will later learn is an ancient sea captain), an EMT, a zombie hunter, and herself, a prodigal schoolgirl novelist turned freedom fighter. Not a lick of intergalactic know-how among them.]

Y-yeah. No matter how ridiculous it is, it's better to face the truth than deny it. Or hide from it. [Fukawa takes another bite, a touch bigger than before. It's nice, this frankness he has, this anchoring ease. Daryl's still a stranger and a much older man, there's no world in which Fukawa would implicitly trust him. But she feels better now than she did skulking around the mall alone. He just gets it. The unease, the pessimism, the knowledge of what the worst could be and how close it is to happening. Everyone else is always telling her she's crying wolf.]

Um...I g-guess if we're stuck here, I'll let you know if I see anything. Or find some d-decent information about this Mayor asshole, or the curse. You're staying at the hotel, right?

[ Trust is a strange thing. Daryl realized, very late in life, that he'd never actually experienced it until a year and change into the apocalypse— not from either direction. Sitting in the dark with a flashlight, reading a book about adult survivors of childhood abuse, slowly sorting things out in his head. He trusts a few people in his family (his real one, not his blood one), and he knows they trust him, and it's been staggering to be in his 40s and experiencing an ordinary human emotion for the first time.

She's smart to stay on her toes. Keep people at an observable distance, and watch out for herself. You never know. Hell, Daryl doesn't know with her, even. His placid demeanor doesn't mean he'd ever be shocked if she pulled a knife on him.

No one's predictable. Humans are animals. That's just life. ]

Yeah. [ Unless the blood thing turns out to be a daily gig. That it looks clear so far is no promise it won't take an abrupt turn sometime. ] For now, at least.

[ It's the 80s, it can't be that hard to hustle a place to stay and undocumented income to make it work. He was a teen in the 80s, just beginning to learn about the outside world past the dregs of Appalachia, getting his first shitty tattoos, but he remembers it well as the last throes of truly easy layperson criminality. Interesting. ]

We should all make sure we talk, probably. Case some shit happens to one of us.

Edited 2022-09-12 07:56 (UTC)

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IC INTRO #1

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more spoilers, whoops (for real this time)

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