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 In the 1700s, all that was here was forest, as far as the eye could see. Then a few intrepid loggers arrived -- they set up a camp, cut down trees, sent the logs down the river, ate what they could hunt or gather or fish from the land. They prospered, brought their wives and families, built a trading post, then a village, and finally a town. This is the legend proudly proclaimed from the town hall, from the ugly mural that was on your elementary school wall, from more sources than you can recall. Rugged men in old fashioned shirts and fur hats, posing with axes. Their happy families gathered around the fire. This is Tall Pines! This is your history! Never mind that less than half the town has any direct ancestry to those original settlers anymore. Never mind that the story has always seemed a bit… sanitised to you, even as a child. If things were as wonderful as your history teacher told you, where had the ghost stories come from? The starving loggers that are still said to wander the woods in the winter. The spirit of the battered wife that supposedly roams the streets at night, looking for her body buried somewhere in town. The peaceful native band, poisoned in their sleep from fear or spite or some mad impulse on the part of the settlers, who still sometimes bang on doors in the dead of night, begging for help. You don’t know about those ghost stories. For most of your life, you’ve dealt with scarier things -- the jobs drying up, embittered teachers who can’t get anything better than this place taking it out on you, the rampant alcoholism, the racism, the homophobia, the double standards that seem straight out of the loving 1950s. And that’s just the normal poo poo. Maybe those ghosts aren’t real, but things aren’t quite right. Strange howls beneath the trees, a sense that you’re being watched if you stray too far out of town. A pervasive wrongness about the town hall, that sturdy, well lit old building you’ve spent way too much time in growing up. The way the logging mill was plagued with problems for so long -- lost limbs, crushed appendages, accidental deaths. The last one was finally, finally enough for the owner to pack up shop and leave it sitting abandoned and ominous for the past three years. Most of the locals blame the union. Then there’s you. You’re not normal. Maybe not even entirely human. And you’re trapped in this miserable little town, with nothing to do and nowhere to go and trees and trees and trees all around for miles. You can’t decide which possibility is worse: That no one understands what you’re going through in this town… or that something does. -- The vicious cycle continues -- can Gaz run a Monsterhearts game that she doesn’t burn out and let die? One more try will tell. This is a Monsterhearts 2.0 play by post game about being in a town in the middle of the woods. Most of you know the drill by now -- you’re a teenage monster. And not just because you’re probably a terrible person. All the core MH2 skins are available, as well as the Chosen and the Serpentine, links below. I will likely run applications for about a week starting tomorrow, ending on Tuesday, July 4th, looking for no more than five participants. This game may contain highly sensitive content, such as bigotry, emotional/physical abuse and other issues that might affect a teenager in a run down small American town. If you’re uncomfortable at any point, please speak up, and we’ll do what we can to make you feel comfortable. Your wellbeing is more important to me than stupid elfgames. You can contact me through PM, or over IRC. I’ll try to be in #swampthings for the duration of the game. Resources: Reference sheets and core skins The Chosen The Serpentine -- NPC List Students: Barnes, Rowan: Hot guy, creeps Anne out Carver, Alice: In Anne's gang, used to be a delinquent Crawford, Tom: Local shitheel, likes to fight Fields, Wren: In Anne's gang, likes birds Hale, Clara: In Anne's gang, parents own a bookstore Jansen, Lana: Susie's best friend Louise, Benard: Likes music, has anger issues Owens, Cassie: A tough girl who fights too much and gets in trouble. Beats up people who give Robin a hard time. Pinewell, Sarah: Super religious girl, very fervent, very weird, runs a church youth group School Staff: Ms. Elliot: School nurse Mrs. Fields: School counselor, Actually Gives A poo poo Other: Borowski, Greg: Proprietor of the local music store Haas, Theodore: Some rich bastard Sladen, Art: Drifter, punk enthusiast, jerk Gazetteer fucked around with this message at 17:34 on Jul 12, 2017 |
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Jun 26, 2017 21:24
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Interest post; probably going to go for a Hollow.
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Jun 26, 2017 21:37
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E: Next post, queer ghost!
Double May Care fucked around with this message at 00:22 on Jun 27, 2017 |
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Jun 26, 2017 21:40
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 Want to know a secret? You'll have to promise not to tell anyone about though. And keep in mind that if you violate that promise I will show you why it's such a bad idea. I can promise you that much. Ok here goes. See I'm not the real Sarah Crawford. Oh sure I wear her clothes, I eat breakfast with her Mom on a morning I go to her school and her face is the last thing I see when I go to sleep at night. I do her homework and I hang out with her friends but that still doesn't make me her does it? See Sarah the real Sarah had a hobby, she liked to go hiking in the woods around this lovely little town. But one day she made a mistake she went a little deeper into the woods than is probably safe for a young lady on her own. These woods are old primal, fierce they were there long before man and they will no doubt be there long after you. In the heart of the woods she found the three stones, arrayed in a rough circle and in a moment of curiosity she stepped between them. It was a long step and she soon found herself Elsewhere. Believe it or not I was the first person to find her. I was not as some unkind souls in the Kings court suggested "sleeping off my hangover" I was merely resting my eyes a short distance away when I saw the stones shimmer. They'd stood dormant for as long as I can remember but that had clearly changed. Out stepped the most unusual and interesting thing I'd ever seen. An actual real life human! I mean I'd heard the stories but I didn't think they were real. She was so confused the poor thing. I suppose Faerie is like that for one unaccustomed to navigating it so I offered to guide her in exchange for her stories. And such stories she had to tell! Of computers that communicate from one side of the world to the other. Of cities so vast you could spend days or weeks there and not see all of them, of schools and learning new things every single day of a landscape seemingly fixed and unchangeable. It all sounded so different from my home and I began to feel a curious longing to see this strange and wonderful world. She likewise found my home to be equally enchanting so we quickly made a pact. I would take over her life for a year and a day and she would assume mine. Of course I could not go as myself to do so would invite unwarranted attention. So I needed to pass for human to be able to move amongst them freely. Such magics are possible but they are expensive well beyond my meagre resources, So with reluctance I approached the King. Surprisingly he approved of my deal it seems he too had heard of these strange human lands. I could go he said, he would support me he said but I would be required to aid him while he was there. A few minor endeavours he said. I was delighted. I was thrilled. Sarah's reaction to the glamour was hilarious. I wish I could have took a what do you call it? Photograph? of her when she saw the results. I looked just like her even down to the tiny scar on her ankle, and when I bade her good bye in her own voice she seemed equally shocked. It's been a couple of weeks now, and I'm just starting to get my bearings in this crazy human world. I'm going to have so much fun here! quote:Name: "Sarah Crawford" Ferrosol fucked around with this message at 22:20 on Jul 2, 2017 |
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Jun 26, 2017 21:43
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 Omar Harris, the Infernal https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0KywHkPQWes I tried to be a good Christian you know. Went to church every Sunday, tried to obey the rules set out, prayed to God. But He never really answered. Never heard anything from Him. Never got anything. I was just some nobody at school, you know? Didn't have anything, didn't stand out, didn't get invited to the good parties. Not great. And I wanted God to change that - I thought that being a good boy would get me what I deserved. But it didn't. It took someone else for that to happen. You know. The other guy. When I heard him talk to me, I almost thought I was going crazy. I just knew it wasn't God, the voice...it's a little hard to explain. But the voice somehow let me know who it was on the other line. "Hey there kiddo", he said to me. As if he were a relative dropping in for a visit instead of the Devil. "I know what you need. Let's talk." And we did. I guess in the end I never was a good Christian, huh? It didn't take much convincing. After all, I never got the Big Guy above coming to me and actually trying to win my favor. Never got Him changing my life, giving me some powers and letting me do what I want. Not for free, but he never pretended that would be the case. And now I am more popular, I stand out, I can get people talking to me and caring about what I think. And he's told me I can have more. Why not? Hail Satan, I guess. quote:
Heliotrope fucked around with this message at 08:03 on Jun 27, 2017 |
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Jun 26, 2017 21:45
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 Liam Cross, the Witch The Score - Miracle "Uh, hey. Liam. Nice to meet you. Some town we've got here, huh? It's all I've known. My dad's still picking up the odd shift at the lumber mill, but they keep talking about shutting it down and... Well, I don't know what we'd do if that happened. I don't think he's ever thought about leaving Twin Pines. I'm not sure I ever will either. I couldn't wait to get out of here, but... Things changed. It was a few months ago, way out in the woods. I like to hike. Just take a pack out and lose myself in nature. Not, uh, get lost-lost but... Well, whatever. You get my drift." "Anyways, I've picked my way through the woods all around here. But way out, like a two- or three-hour hike, there's this tree. The Tree. It's gotta be ancient. Thick, gnarled, and taller than anything you could imagine. Here's the weird thing: It doesn't show up on Google Earth or anything. I'd never heard about it before, never seen it. But... Well, I found it. And under it, there's this spring. I figured it was just water and, hey, I was pretty thirsty after that hike." "Well, gently caress me, it was... Something else. I don't know. It tasted sweet, almost like syrup. First I got hot, then super cold. I passed out for a few hours and when I woke up... I could see things. Lines. Connections. Weirder poo poo, too, but... I don't know. This didn't come with a guide book, you know? I thought I was just tripping or something, but it never went away. Eventually, I... Well, I got curious. I wanted to know what would happen if I touched one of the lines. Tugged at it. Let's just say... I tugged too hard." "You probably heard about it. Poor Garrick. He just... lost it. Right in the middle of the big game. Started screaming about spiders all over him. Completely freaked out and ran off the field. Everyone thought it was drugs and it got him kicked off the football team. poo poo. I still feel awful about it. I mean, I can't exactly apologize for accidentally magicking him, you know? It's not all bad, though. If you're careful, you can do better things." "Like the time I looped Ike's line back on himself. He's kind of a hard-rear end rear end in a top hat, the kind who solves his problems with punches. Turns out that he doesn't have much left if you take that away. He's... Well, he's a lot nicer these days. I wish I knew how to undo it, though. I'm sure he's learned his lesson. It's kind of sad just seeing him get beat up without being able to do anything about it." The Witch posted:Name: Liam Cross Tricky fucked around with this message at 16:22 on Jun 27, 2017 |
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Jun 26, 2017 21:58
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What the hey, it's been a while since I've done MH straight.
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Jun 26, 2017 22:14
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 Robin Winters the Mortal Huh? You actually want to talk to me? No, it's no problem at all, I'm just... a little surprised. You're the first person who's approached me since I moved here. Still, are you sure you want to know more about me? I'm not all that interesting. I'll probably just end up boring you to death or something, haha... You do? Well, okay... I'm Robin. I just moved in last month with my mom after she got accepted for her new job here. She was convinced that moving to Tall Pines was the best decision she could make for us. She said it would give us the opportunity to get a fresh start on life, a chance for us to be new people. I think she was talking more about herself than me, though... Do I miss the city? A little. I wish I could tell you of all the fond memories I had living in the city, but, truth be told, I don't have that many. I wasn't exactly the most popular kid growing up, so I didn't have that many friends. Actually, I didn't have any. I was the quiet girl who never talked much, so people just... tend to forget about me, like I'm not even there most of the time. It doesn't bother me anymore, though. I got used to being alone. Oh, this? It's my sketchbook. I like to draw, but I'm not very good at it. My mom's always telling me I'm wasting my time drawing, when I could be out making new friends, but there's something about drawing that I find... relaxing. I like to go out into the woods, and sketch whatever I see. It helps me forget about all my problems, like the nightmares I've been having lately. ...I've always had a problem with nightmares, but ever since we moved to Tall Pines, the nightmares have become more vivid, and almost real. I see monsters. Shadows. Eyes. Horrible things that shouldn't be there. It's been so long since I've had a good night's sleep without the nightmares waking me up. I think the stress of moving to a new place might be getting to me... ...Still, I have to say, Tall Pines is a beautiful place, don't you think? I'm serious! I know that not that many people here like it, but I think there's just something, I don't know, special about this place? It's not like the big city. It's so quiet, and peaceful, and it has people like you in it. You came to me, and listened to me babble on for God knows how long. I don't think I've ever spent this much time talking about myself, haha... ...Hey, do you want to go for some coffee, maybe? I'd... actually like to talk with you for a little while longer, if that's okay with you. You're fine with it? O-oh! Great! Let's go, then! quote:Name: Robin Winters Tardzilla fucked around with this message at 17:42 on Jul 2, 2017 |
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Jun 26, 2017 22:17
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 Rae Clemson, the Werewolf quote:Name: Rachel Clemson Takanago fucked around with this message at 04:15 on Jun 27, 2017 |
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Jun 26, 2017 23:03
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I'm back, bitches.  quote:Name: Rosabella Park I can't believe you pitiful backwoods subhumans actually think this place resembles anything even close to civilization. I mean, there's actually literally only one Starbucks. And it's inside the town gas station. And it sells loving chewing tobacco. I've taken shits with more class than Tall Pines. Hell, I've watched cranked-out tweaker NYC-subway-mole-person-homeless three-ring-circus meth-heads take shits that are classier than Tall Pines. So why am I here, you ask? By no choice of my own, I assure you. No, the story of this one's fall from grace begins and ends with one man - Park Industrial CEO Hae-ryung ‘Harry the Hair’ Park. You know who he is - of course you do. Fresh off another successful season of his syndicated reality show, “The Subordinate,” ‘The Hair’ was this close to having it all - a lucrative multinational business network, global name recognition, hundreds of thousands of screaming fans, and - of course - a perfect loving family complete with a foxy former beauty queen wife and one devoted doting daughter. And that's about the time I find him screwing the fourth runner-up in my bed. On my birthday. Wearing my school uniform. Demanding that she call him ‘Bella.’ Fair warning that if you ever call me by that name, I will end you. You'll wish that - not only had you never been born - but that your degenerate excuse for parents had never even met in the first place, and gone on to do much greater things than your existence could ever even amount to. Like the aforementioned metro carnie turd. Anyways, luckily, before family dinners could get any more awkward, dearest daddy was caught with another kind of package tucked away - 5 pounds of heroin hidden carelessly inside a Park Industries shipping container on the good ship USS Farewell Father. Those SEC naval goons are sure talented at finding the good stuff - quickly unraveling the drug smuggling operation that Daddy was running behind the scenes of “Subordinate.” Despite his cries of innocence, soon it was bye bye, hit series. Bye bye, company shares. Bye. Bye. Bella. Of course, to get away from annoying Assistant DAs and even more annoying paparazzi, our lawyer suggested that my mother and I get out of town for a while. You know, to let it all just… die down. My name is emblazoned on the company charter, simply waiting for the day I turn 18 to take up the reins and steer Park Industries back into the limelight. I even have a great idea for the inevitable series reboot - “The Subordinatress.” You don't have to tell me - I already know it's a great name. Until then, it's just me and good ol’ mom. Here among the old pine trees. Just like every other cookie-cutter mommy-may-i treehouse-dwelling sawdust-filled-loving-brain-stem jackass in this incest-ridden elephant asscrack that calls itself a town. So, now, what's a girl gotta do to have a little fun around here, anyway? Why… the same thing I do anywhere. Take. Over. You may be thinking at this point about how miserable I'll be stuck here with you, but darling, can't you see? It's quite the other way around. See you soon. Ta! The Clique posted:
Frgrbrgr fucked around with this message at 00:37 on Jul 1, 2017 |
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Jun 26, 2017 23:22
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 Susie Savage - The Chosen Tall Pines, huh. *sniff* Ahh, yup. Can't forget that smell. Never thought I'd be back in this dump again though. You the welcoming committee? Don't remember you, but it has been, hell, three, four years? I suppose thats long enough for things to change. Not for the better from the look of it though. Well, lets walk a bit, see what I still recognize. So yeah, we lived here growing up, went to the same old elementary school as everyone else, same middle school, though we left partway through. Everyone knew the mill was going to close down soon, and Dad managed to get a job in a college town that paid enough for us to move out there. Not a lot more, obviously, they don't do that much better, but hey, it was a step up and even though it sucked leaving all my old friends behind I'd say it was worth it. Lot less depression there, people actually felt like they'd have a future. Maybe not a great one, definitely a future though. And the schools there were just as steady, so being new made me exciting, and eventually popular. I had it pretty good, nice crowd of friends, and if I wasn't the girl everyone was obsessed over I still had a good few guys asking me to every school dance and a date every weekend I didn't have to do homework on. So what happened, and why am I back here? Well, a normal, if good, life is still just that, normal. So the abnormal was able to wreck it pretty fast. It started with the dreams, visions of darkness and light struggling back and forth across the world, the darkness advancing, advancing, light retreating, then pushing it back, but every night the darkness came up further, an inexorable tide coming in, and coming from a fissure of darkness in the heart of the land. The light was losing, slowly, but surely, losing ground. The dreams were disturbing, and I started having a harder time sleeping at night, but even with that, they didn't bother me that much. A dream is just a dream, and it was probably stress from school. Then one night the light shown down on me, bathing me, and it spoke. Child of Light, You have been Chosen. Go forth and fight the forces of Darkness. That's what I remember anyway. And I woke up, and felt normal. But that was when things started going wrong. It's hard to focus on class when you start seeing flickering shapes around some students, like an unfocused camera. Or you notice that one of the teachers really DOESN'T go out in the sunlight. What was I supposed to do about it? Nothing. And then, well. Lets just say you really don't want to look into your date's eyes on night while you're making out and realize they're staring right at your neck. And that their teeth are a bit sharper than normal. That his eyes aren't human, just soulless black pits, filled with hunger. I realized it just in time, as he was going to bite, and we fought. That was the first time I staked a vampire. But finding out you were going out with a vampire, and that you just killed him, and that it also meant you just killed your date, who was at least pretending to be a teen, isn't easy. I never got convicted of anything, and no one ever found his body, since it crumbled into dust, but... It was hard to go back to school, or even just be in town, and so... here I am. Maybe Tall Pines won't have monsters. And maybe my old friends will remember me and want to be friends again. I kind of doubt both of those, I can already feel something is wrong here, the darkness creeping in at the edges. And really, I don't mind fighting monsters, if I can help other people, not really, not if no one else can. I just want to know... why me? The Chosen posted:Name: Susie GodFish fucked around with this message at 23:16 on Jul 2, 2017 |
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Jun 27, 2017 02:39
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quote:IX. THE HERMIT  Piper Stray, the Hollow It's difficult, knowing exactly what you're for. Twenty years ago -- per my father's journals -- he was dying, with no mortal family members to tend to him at his hour of need. But he was a -- the word he uses is unclear, but his notes suggest its roots come from "jailor" and "ghost" -- and had certain rights derived from that office. So he invested the greatest portion of himself to burn in the core of an iron furnace, and the least portion into a lantern covered with a special cloth which had been stitched into a vessel, and he charged the latter to tend the former for fifty years, until his spirit recovered enough to restore him. The lantern sprang to life, and began to tend the furnace, keeping it fed with purest sacral oil, awaiting the day of his resurrection... It worked for about... three years. The first three years of me... existing. Barely a person at all, then; just a loose collection of thoughts my father had, operating off the schedule in the journals on his desk, since he didn't remember much of his adult life. I distinctly remember the day he saw that most of the oil-jars had fallen from the shelves. There were very few left. There was only enough sacral oil to maintain one or the other of them, so my father made the reasonable choice and began fueling his lantern with regular tinder, leaves and pinecones and detritus from the forest floor. I guess he didn't anticipate... well. Corruption. He imagined it would last. The sacral oil was extremely pure, so it would have kept the fire of his self clean and strong. But grit and bark and pine needles and dead leaves and all the rest made it... unclean. And then there was me, and the person my father was wasn't anywhere but in the furnace. I realized it about when I was ten -- when I was ten, I've decided. In retrospect. Ten years after my father decided to feed the lantern with impure fuel. I realized his memories were all strange and shapeless in my head, and I didn't sound like the person who wrote the journals or made the timetable or decided to value the lantern's flame over his own life, that I couldn't imagine myself as him any more, that I was, well. Me. He was dead. The person who was sitting in the cabin and eating dead leaves to keep her mind intact was me, and I was a girl -- his daughter, I guess -- and I couldn't imagine sitting there and staring at the ceiling all night any more. So I went into town. Started visiting. People-watching. Some issues with truant officers. I enrolled in classes with some, um, creative paperwork. Tried burning human things instead of dead trees. Trash, flowers, books. I thought I might become more human. Though nothing has changed yet. I didn't mean I burn humans, by the way. People make that mistake when I tell this story. Or they would, if I told them. And now I'm here. Pretending. Wondering whether the person who wakes my father up will be the person I am now, or if the fire that became me is going to change even further, as it burns impure wood and tinder and paper instead of purified oil. Getting looks in the street that I still don't completely understand. Starting to notice everything wrong outside the cabin, all the run-down houses, the way it all still feels like a prison, just larger, one that everyone's in. I could have left, but the furnace still needs to be tended. So I'm waiting for my father to come back. It's difficult -- difficult to stay, and I think it would be difficult to leave if I tried. So it might be more a crucible than a prison. Heat it up, seal the exits, wait, and watch the chemicals boil and transmute... Oh, um, I renamed myself, since I wasn't him any more. "Piper." I'm Piper. Um, Stray. I'm seventeen. I liked the sound of Stray at the time. It seemed like just a technicality that it wasn't a real name. Hello. The Hollow posted:Name: Piper Stray
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Jun 27, 2017 06:54
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If you're going to edit your profile into an existing post, it helps me out to keep track of all of them if you make sure to post again in the topic noting that it's no longer a WIP. I scan my way up and down it every so often, but I know in the past I've missed one for quite a while. Anyway, first round of questions: Harris, Omar Question 1: What is the worst thing you've asked Satan for, and why can't you bring yourself to feel remorseful over it? Who did it hurt? Park, Rosabella Question 1: You pretty much destroyed someone the first week of school after coming to Tall Pines. Not remarkable in of itself, but you actually feel bad about it. Who was that, and what did you do to try to make up for it? Stray, Piper: Question 1: What's the most embarrassing trip-up you've made so far since trying to pose as human? Who gave you the hardest time about it? Gazetteer fucked around with this message at 15:14 on Jun 27, 2017 |
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Jun 27, 2017 15:06
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Finished up Liam.
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Jun 27, 2017 16:22
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Finished up my character.
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Jun 27, 2017 20:26
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Crawford, Sarah Question 1: You're used to the woods -- you're a fairy (Faerie? Elf? Pixie? Goblin, Sidhe..?), after all. And you probably expected to be pretty comfortable with the woods around Tall Pines. You're not, though -- not entirely, or not all the time. Who or what about the forest sets you on edge so badly? Cross, Liam Question 1: There's someone who nearly caught you at your magic, or who you think suspects more than they should be able to. Who are they, and how would they know about your brand of magic?
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Jun 27, 2017 20:40
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Gazetteer posted:Park, Rosabella Ach - destroyed is such a... final word. People can't be destroyed - they either live or they die. Whatever kills you makes you stronger, right? Don't call it destruction... call it character building! Anyways... we recently moved into the only place that uses vacuums in town - The Winchester Hotel - and I guess I could have been nicer to the bell boy. Ordered him up and down our suite all day long - demanding him to move furniture back and forth, clean every surface, rearrange and rerearrange every little thing. I dare say he worked up quite a sweat - not the worst sight to behold - but by the end of the day he just walked around so... defeated! Like he had no will of his own, forced to work and work and work, never saying no to me, the client. Was it his parents' insistent demands, or something else that made him this way? Whatever it was, he broke down crying when I asked him to move my California King to another floor for the fifth time - I told him to come move it in the morning when he had a chance to steady himself. Feel bad about it? I wouldn't describe it that way - too gauche. Rather, I saw a chance to free him from those needless bonds he's seemed to chain around himself. Nobody should be so loyal, or submissive. Infinitely unattractive, might I add - if anything, its that that makes me feel bad. When he showed up the next day, I could sense an undercurrent of defiance - not enough to fight back, but at least it was something. I rewarded him later that day by leaving my door partially open whilst lounging in some designer lingerie - I could hear him gasp audibly, his gaze lingering on my perfect form, before scurrying away to finish his chores. Boys like him, they always come back for more. Oh... his name? Ben... something...
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Jun 27, 2017 23:36
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Gazetteer posted:Stray, Piper: I'm sorry, but I think there's been a misunderstanding. I am human. Or I have a human core, at least. Core? Is that right? "Substrate," maybe. "Pilot light." "Igniter." I have a human igniter, and I came from human stock, and that counts for... something, at least. But I understand the question. There was a party, in the woods, a few years back. People were planning to light a campfire and drink stolen vodka and play music. The landmark was "the old run-down manor" in the woods. I overheard, and mentioned that I'd be able to bring drinks -- though I didn't know whether I could, in point of fact. I just wanted to go. So I was invited. Or at least not disinvited. It was my first party. My father had never been to one, either, at least in the memories I still have from being him; he was too busy with his work, even when he was young. It took up a lot of time to prepare. Cash from my part-time job, plus a little extra from my father's emergency funds, for the tinder and the lighter and buying beer with a fake I.D. I'd gotten from Anila Fischer, a college dropout and minor black marketeer (not to buy beer, originally; any ID I'd have would be fake). Working out where they'd meant -- everyone knew what "the old run-down manor" was, but I had to work it out for myself. I managed to pin down a logger's home that looked manorial enough, and decided that was where it was going to happen. And I was, well. Worried? Worried about drinking. I didn't know how it would affect my fire. Would alcohol light too fast? Or combust? Would I just get drunk? Even the notion of getting drunk was unnerving, but I steeled myself and managed to decide that it was an acceptable risk. So I left with my lighter and tinder and cases of beer the night of the party, and I didn't make it ten feet. I'd been wrong. The "old run-down manor" was my father's house, and there were early arrivals there, who saw me lock my front door. They asked whether I lived there, and I just. Froze. I managed a lie, but it wasn't convincing to them, I think. They didn't seem convinced. So I sat through the party just nursing a beer, trying not to think about eyes on my back, and on my house, and how decrepit it must have looked to them, how little it was like an actual home. Maybe they thought I was embarrassed about my home, or they decided I was a squatter and pitied me enough to not ask questions. But Sana Raleigh started to ask questions after that night. Questions about the cold nights of late autumn, and how I was alright without central heat, and whether I had anyone there with me, or if I was alone... I think she's trying to help, but I can't leave without endangering my father's life and my secret. So I put her off. I try to "laugh it off," unconvincingly. She's been trying harder, recently. She cares. Too much for me to push her away. Poltergrift fucked around with this message at 01:25 on Jun 28, 2017 |
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Jun 28, 2017 01:21
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 "You are there, and so am I..." Am I, though? It never felt like I was. Back when the trees were full, and people travelled from all directions to harvest this bounty, I was left behind. My brother, Desmond, would leave our cabin for days at a time, leaving me to care for our two younger brothers and ailing mother. It was remarkable that we survived as long as we did, but what scraps he brought in was gone in an instant and the trips kept getting longer. I needed to act. I taught my next-eldest brother what Mother needs, packed Desmond's clothes in my bag, and left for the camp. "Franklin" was born. I was hired by the loggers and brought to their new site, where I learned the basics. Felling trees was as natural to me as any other chore. I had hoped I could keep my distance from Desmond, but then the fire broke out. I couldn't tell the cause, but the flames spread quick. Smoke and snapping filled my senses, and the occasional falling tree was felt by all the survivors as lost lumber and potentially a lost logger. When I joined the camp by the riverbank, I looked around. Desmond was gone. I had to be sure. I ran back into the blaze. I shouted for him, all semblance of disguise gone. I found him running with a sprained ankle and tried to put his arm on my shoulder. After a hundred feet, he pushed me away. Even in the face of death, he cursed me for leaving the cabin and daring to turn our lives around. Before I could answer, he came at me with the butt of his axe. I saw smoke in the sky, blotting out the sun... or was it the moon? Were the stars in the sky, or was it the light draining from my eyes? Was the tree that crushed me weakened by the fire or pushed down by my brother? It didn't matter. Everything that mattered to me is dead. I woke up in another time. Metal covered the walls of buildings and wagons, and people wore less clothing. Tall Pines had been around for more than a century. People have become ruthless over the ages, and the town has been slowly crumbling in their wake. It would seem that death hangs low, but no one cares. They'd rather look after their own life than reach out to another. Maybe I'm just too caring for my own good, but I've made a habit of consoling people at their lowest. The people I talk to, they see the good in the world and set their sights on the one thing that really matters to them. Just like my mother would when I was frustrated with my life. At one point they called me "Warm Wendy." But that was a long time ago. Now I'm just the person in the back. Maybe that's the way it's going to be here in Tall Pines... the town that death forgot. quote:Name: Wendy Harrison Double May Care fucked around with this message at 02:53 on Jun 28, 2017 |
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Jun 28, 2017 02:51
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Harrison, Wendy Question 1: Despite your best intentions, not all of your interactions with the living have been positive. Recently, someone pushed you too far and things got out of hand. What happened? Park, Bella Question 2: You had a pretty tough reminder that, in this small, weird town, your family name and your money doesn't always carry the kind of weight you're used to. Who taught you that harsh lesson, and are you planning to get back at them? Stray, Piper Question 2: What part of town scares you so badly you swear you'll never go back? Why do you keep going back anyway?
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Jun 28, 2017 04:27
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 Sara Lancaster the Ghoul https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DZ7h_9aPzQ My father Richard died in this town in a mill accident. His father Daniel died in this town of a heart attack right on the job. And his father Joseph died right outside of town when a bear swiped his loving head off. So around the age of 13 I made a promise to myself, I am not dying in this shithole. Life of course has tried it's best to prove me wrong. Despite the payout from the life insurance and the settlement from the timber company, college is out of the question, there's no way to pay for it on a single mother's wages. So with all of the obvious routes of escape shutdown, I turned to the stupidly impossible ones. I bought a guitar, got a lovely register job at the barely- treading water music store, and attempt to play my way to freedom. Thing is I came drat close. Joining every lovely band that arose and promptly fell apart in Tall Pines. Releasing my solo projects on soundcloud. Videos recorded from my laptop on youtube. Casting my myself out into the void hoping someone answers back. It's like prayer except with more lovely beer, screaming, and thrashing. Eventually I get my shot. A mid-tier famous band was playing in Tall Pines in what could have only been a huge gently caress up by their booking agent. The opening band's guitarist got food poisoning after he ate some gas station sushi so they needed an immediate substitute. My booking fee of "free" and the fact that I knew their lovely power chord songs got me the gig. I walk onstage in front of the biggest audience I've ever played for and strum the first chord, high on the thrill, downright happy for the first time in what feels like years. Unfortunately that one chord is all I could play before the electrical system protested. Tall Pines has never had a proper concert venue and it turns out the "the Big Hunt" dive bar had not properly fixed their wiring when the last big thunderstorm trashed it. An amp blew out and lead to some kind of freak reaction that resulted in 10,000 volts of electricity feeding back right through my guitar into my body. People in the audience that night claimed you could see my skull through my skin which to be honest is pretty loving badass. I should have died in that bar. By all medical reasoning my heart stopped and my life should have ended that night. But I wasn't going to break the promise I made to myself. I came to in the ambulance, to several very shocked paramedics who muttered the words, "miracle" and "loving impossible." The band split and my best chance of leaving town went with them. Thing is, I've found out that while I can't leave for now, I don't seem to be able to be leave in the other way as well. I've been staying out late, doing stupid poo poo that should have gotten me seriously injured but I've walked away no worse for wear. It's like this town realized my promise and made a deal with death to keep it true. And to be honest that's fine with me. I can seek out what passes for fun in this town and squeeze what I can for it. Chase the high of that one night. I mean, it's not like this place can get any loving worse. quote:Name: Sara Lancaster Zikan fucked around with this message at 05:09 on Jul 6, 2017 |
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Jun 28, 2017 04:53
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Gazetteer posted:Harris, Omar My dad's been working at the bank for a number of years, and hadn't gotten very far. I think we deserved some more money but not like, "owner of the bank" amount or anything. I mean it's not like anyone could figure out something weird would be going on if it happened, but why risk it right? So I asked Satan if a raise or promotion for my dad could be something he could do. He said "Yeah sure, that'll be pretty easy. Of course someone else will have to lose something for this. You still okay with that?" I hesitated, and then said I wanted it. And then, a week later news broke out about Alec Smith's dad. He was one of the managers there and it turns out during lunch breaks he'd also snort some coke in private. Well, he finally got caught and fired and you can probably guess who got his job after all that went down. Do I feel bad? I was worried about the loss Satan talked about but when it happened...I don't think so. Mr. Smith probably would have gotten discovered somehow anyway. The process just got sped up, that's all. Right now the family is living off their savings, but I'm sure they'll find some way to bounce back from this.
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Jun 28, 2017 08:11
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Gazetteer posted:Cross, Liam "Yeah... Both, actually. So I mentioned my dad works at the mill, right? It's a union shop. Local 17. They're a tight crew. Real tight. You've probably heard the jokes about how it's more of a cult than a local, but I'm pretty sure that's just people talking crap. I haven't seen anything weird — and my eyes are real good at spotting that these days. So I've been hanging out with the other union kids since as long as I can remember. A lot of them ended migrating into the popular crew when we all hit high school and I've been kind of dragged along with them. It doesn't really matter if you're not on the football team or sporting the latest clothes if half the people who are think of you like a brother, yeah?" "So it was at one of the regular weekend bashes when a fight broke out. It was, uh... I don't really remember who was fighting. A real big guy and then a smaller one. I was a little drunk at the time. Drunk enough to figure I'd just mess around with the threads and make it so they couldn't fight anymore. Rick White, one of my fellow union kids, saw me going for it and then, in his words, 'doing some sort of crazy interpretive dance and karaoke.' I mean, I guess I believe him. I didn't realize I was doing anything like that at the time. It definitely felt different than when I'd messed with the strings before. I was drunk enough that I didn't really get anywhere — it takes a fair bit of hand-eye coordination which I definitely didn't have at the time — and he just kind of laughed it off as me having way too much to drink. So I'm definitely going to have to step lightly around Rick. I'm still not exactly sure how this all works and I really don't need people writing me off as a crazy. I'll... just have to be a little more careful." "I'm more worried about Sylvie Jessen. We don't run in the same circles, like at all, but she's been watching me. I'm not going to say stalking, but it's drat close. I don't know what her deal is. I've never done anything to her before. Hell, to be totally honest, I kind of forgot she existed between fourth grade and high school. She's quiet like that. But, uh, yeah... I saw her with this book. The Golden Bough. We ended up studying in the library at the same time last week and, about 15 minutes in, she made this muffled squeaking noise and practically fell out of her chair. I looked over, of course, and couldn't help but notice she was reading a section on sympathetic magic. Now, I'm pretty quick on the draw. It wasn't too hard to make the connection between the threads and sympathetic connections. But how the hell would Sylvie know about the things I can see? Unless... Maybe she drank from the pool, too?"
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Jun 28, 2017 15:11
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Cross, Liam Question 2: You're pretty sure witches aren't the only supernatural game in town. What did you see, and how do you feel about it? Harris, Omar Question 2: What are you too afraid to ask for, and why? Lancaster, Sara Question 1: What signs do you exhibit that you're not exactly the same as before? Besides being unkillable. Do you still have a pulse, breathe, etc? Who has noticed something off about you, and why was their reaction not what you expected?
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Jun 28, 2017 16:35
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Gazetteer posted:Lancaster, Sara Turns out coming back from the dead messes up your body real bad. I still have to breathe although it is something like one breath every 10 minutes or so. Quickly had to learn to fake breathing to not freak people out. My pulse is super slow, running at a full sprint only gets my heart up to what would be a normal resting heartbeat. The weirdest thing is that I'm cold all the time. It's not that I just feel cold, every time someone touches me they comment on how I feel like, well like a corpse. I just blame it on poor circulation and smoking whenever someone asks. On the plus side, I can wear a leather jacket in the middle of summer and not drown in sweat, so that's pretty cool. One person almost saw through it to the truth however. One day Tom Crawford tried to start poo poo with me at school and I wasn't having any of it. It eventually lead to metaking a punch straight in the eye, though I managed to loving deck him in return. Bastard has never lived it down, everyone still rags on him for it. This whole altercation resulted in a mandatory visit to the school nurse, Caroline Elliott, fresh out of nursing school. In an office decorated with medical charts and anatomy textbooks, she took my temperature, the obviously put on breathing, and pulse and all of that, with her eyes growing somewhat wide at the weird rear end results she was getting. I launched into a half truth of my accident and how the doctor said it messed up my body's systems and they would be messed up for a while. She clearly didn't buy it at all but let me go anyway without calling me out or calling...whatever government agency you would call to report a living dead person. As I left I saw her tucking away my file into her desk rather then into the filing cabinet. She clearly knows something, although what and how much she knows I have no idea. Just as long as she doesn't mess with me I won't have to repay the favor. Zikan fucked around with this message at 03:59 on Jul 6, 2017 |
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Jun 28, 2017 20:58
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Gazetteer posted:Crawford, Sarah I think my people have used all those names at one point or another personally I like Sidhe and fairy but I gather calling someone a Fairy is an insult of some sort for you people so I'll stick with Sidhe. The S makes it sound way cooler. But I'm digressing you were asking about the forest right? See mostly the forests don't scare me, bore me to tears maybe but I've been exploring the forests at home since I was knee high to a leprechaun and well these woods aren't exactly the same but they're not interesting enough to bother with. Or so I thought till I discovered that one clearing. Are you people insane? I know you have to cut wood but there's right ways and wrong ways to do it. And even the worst of my people know better than to cut down a dryad's tree. Sure you can kill the Dryad by doing that but clearly she managed to curse this whole area. I wouldn't set foot in that one clearing if I were you. I wouldn't even consider setting foot in the forest for a ways around it. Chances are her shade will still be around and she will not be happy with anyone who looks even vaguely like they're going to do further harm to her trees. If you're lucky she'll settle for cursing you... if you're unlucky you'll be plant food. Best just to stay away. I certainly plan too.
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Jun 28, 2017 22:45
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Sorry, gonna have to bow out.
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Jun 29, 2017 00:14
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Gazetteer posted:Cross, Liam "Well, there's a lot of... Well, I guess they're ghosts. You know those ghost stories? They're just scratching the surface. If you know how to look? To see? There are a ton of them. It's just that most people can't see them. I've been spending some time figuring out — or at least trying to — if they know that we're even here. Like... Uh. Hm. How to explain it? I guess I want to know if they're just some sort of weird echo or if they can actually, you know, see us. Interact with us. I haven't figured it all out, but I know this much: I need to be careful about letting them know I can see them." "I think that the rules are a little different for people like me. It's like when I'm walking around ignoring them, they don't do anything. But if I start focusing on them? They start looking at me. Curiosity, mostly, but I've seen some really creepy poo poo. Especially in the woods. There are ghosts in town that I don't want any trouble with, too. poo poo. I still have nightmares about The Butcher. I don't know who he was before he died, but he stomps around the deli. He's huge, he's angry, and he's got a pair of cleavers. I'm not sure if he can touch me, but I'm not about to take that chance." "So it's been a bit of an adjustment. I need to kind of tune them out. Easy enough at school, since I'm already either tuning everything out or focusing on my friends, but it's tougher when I'm on my own. I wish I knew what their deal was, you know? Are they trapped or something? Maybe one of these days I'll muster up the courage to ask one of the nicer looking ones."
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Jun 29, 2017 03:39
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Gazetteer posted:Harrison, Wendy "Recently, yes." Her rumination brings to mind the sound of melting butter on a skillet. "Bernard recently lost his grandfather, from 'complications' stemming from his leukemia. We didn't know those words in my time, but I've picked them up. I performed my usual routine of appearing before him and offering an embrace. He refused, which I understood. I asked if I could sit with him, and he refused." She pauses, looking slightly downward. "It's very frustrating to lose control of your life, to feel like the universe is conspiring against you. It's taken me this long to come to any sort of understanding, and that's what I try to do for other people. Platitudes might seem shallow when the world has grown dark, but..." Her sleeve appears to catch fire, but Wendy remains still. "A light is a light." "So I told him about my mother. How she was deathly ill and passed away while I was gone. And I told him that the emotions were overwhelming at first, but time allowed me to heal, at least a little. But he became... indignant. He said he knew his grandfather was going to die someday, and fighting to prolong his pain was useless. He said that he should have died months before, from the cancer, and his family was going to have to pay for funeral expenses on top of the medical bills. I guess I'm not going to the concert." She presses on her temples while the fire spreads to her shoulders and neck. "So I said, 'there will be other concerts.' And he said there wasn't going to be one 'like this,' and nothing like 'whatever hipster poo poo you listen to.' I understand that anger is an... important aspect of grief, but insulting me? I leaned in to him and said, 'Skip the loving funeral, then. Go to your concert and abandon your family for something you can get on your cellephone for free. I'm sure your parents would understand not wanting to say goodbye to your father's own father, who raised him and taught him some loving gratitude.' And he said, 'If I ever see him again, I'll tell him that, bitch!'" The sound of a crashing tree blows out the fire that engulfed Wendy. "I didn't realize it was his mother's father. His biological father, as it turns out, is in Florida with his new wife, having successfully dodged almost all alimony payments. Bernie is a very cold person, but it's all to protect his own emotions from being crushed. Again..." "I don't know why I'm still here. There's just too much to take in. Sometimes the anger is too much, and things like that happen... I lose control. It's just so... loving frustrating."
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Jun 29, 2017 05:27
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Crawford, Sarah Question 2: Who do you like most in this town, and why did that surprise you? Cross, Liam Question 3: There's a spell you're aware of that seems like it could fix all of your family's problems, but so far you've been too afraid to make use of it. What's so terrible about it, and what line does it cross? Harrison, Wendy Question 2: What aspect of modern life have you not been able to get used to no matter how hard you try? Lancaster, Sara Question 2: What have you realised you'll never be able to do thanks to your 'condition'?
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Jun 29, 2017 05:46
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Gazetteer posted:Harris, Omar Something big, or huge, or life changing in a major way. I know there's probably no one in the town who could realize what's going on...but noticed how I said "probably?" I mean Satan came to me and offered me power, who knows what else could be in this town. And me suddenly skyrocketing to being the most popular or the most rich or the most handsome or the most whatever could tip someone off. I'd rather stay under the radar. I suppose I could get protection, but who knows what that might cost. And honestly? I'm worried about the cost of those kinds of things. When we first talked, I told him that I wasn't going to start sacrificing people for him and he just laughed like I told a funny joke. "Oh Omar," he said when he was done. "That's not something I require. Or at least not for what you want." I mean, that's good and all. But I couldn't help but notice the implication that I could ask for something with that kind of price tag. I'm probably the worst kind of Christian but I like to think I still couldn't just kill someone, you know?
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Jun 29, 2017 08:05
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Harris, Omar Question 3: Why has your home life been so miserable lately? Why can't your powers seem to fix it at all?
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Jun 30, 2017 02:13
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Gazetteer posted:Harrison, Wendy Wendy blows a puff of air as she thinks. "What haven't I gotten used to? Well, lots of things... Games have become very active, with lots of rules, and on screens instead of in person. And fashion has changed drastically, so we're no longer as restricted in social settings. People can wear whatever they'd like, men and women..." She drifts off again. "Gender. I can't wrap my head around the new understanding of genders and their roles. It used to be deplorable for a woman to do 'a man's work,' but now we're expected to achieve the same things as men. And that's not even taking into account all the... other genders? Not that I'm saying I don't like it, oh no! It just takes some getting used to. All this time, I didn't have to be a woman. Well... that's not right either. I understand that I'm a woman, but I have these masculine tendencies that got me in trouble in my childhood. That doesn't necessarily make me a 'man,' but there are days where I don't... feel like being a woman." "Like I said, I can't wrap my head around it. And maybe the less I say, the better it would be for us. I died because I was a woman in my time. I can't imagine what terrible things people get up to today."
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Jun 30, 2017 04:30
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 Morgan Rain, The Chosen You want a real lesson about Wazee–Tall Pines–the only class that gives it is detention, with Morgan Rain, me. My friends got it, now you've got it. Wazee seems lovely but it's a sacred place surrounded by guardians in burial mounds and protected by treaties pacts and ceremonies. Problem is those spirits are going hungry what should be feast days and can't recognize their great grandchildren since they've never been introduced. Why? The generations before me were exiled out of land and time, forced into Indian schools to be assimilated. A lot of knowledge elders took to the grave, and now all people think they can find the solution is either in science books or the Bible. It's always one of the other with them, never neither or somewhere in between. I digress. There was a whole band of Indians whose job it was to uphold and enforce the agreements, but now it's just me and sometimes my friends. How do we do it? Well, you know how when parents are separating people tell them it takes a village to raise a child? Well this child is raising a village. Like an RTS. Skill by skill, building by building, unit by unit, the blueprints for all of which I have to pick out of the brains of my elders. Trouble is, there's a lot of ones half assimilated, and they'll only teach a "chosen one," and parts of the stories got hosed with and fragmented by missionaries. Mostly, the gender of the chosen one. So I need to jump through hoops to convince people that I'm whichever "the one" they learned about teach me how to do their roles, each of which is necessary to craft the sacred objects and perform the dances that protect a warrior, or perform the ceremonies to treat the spiritual diseases that tourists keep bringing in. Crazy? Nah, that's how I know I'm the one, I'm nonbinary. Means I have the range to satisfy those corrupted visions so that I can try to piece the puzzle back together and save this land. That's how the vision went, the one that gave my life purpose: someone who looked like me telling me I'm nothing new or wrong, I'm special, and people need my help. Meanwhile, the living family's idea of "help" after a too-close encounter with some loggers who went Wendigo has been to try to feed me to a couple other cannibals: the white therapists. I call them Chiat and Cholog. The first one prescribes expensive drugs that make my parents fight over money that if I ever took them again would make me want to forget about ancestors and crushes and "focus" on memorizing facts–not lessons, meaningless "facts"–while my friends are out there fighting hungry demons that can crush their skulls like soda cans. The second one is worse. He burns sage in a cursed abalone vessel, a mockery of my people's ceremonies that makes it so he is the only one in the room who can lie and no one can raise a hand in anger or let both feet leave the ground. No fighting, no running. He says he wants what I want: to keep the stories alive. I know the truth: all he cares about is their power, and the money he can get cramming white businessmen in a counterfeit sweat lodge. Keeping me alive only matters as long as I have stories to tell him, so call me Scheherazade. "Kill the Indian, save the man," as they used to say. If I don't keep my appointments I get grounded, and when I sneak out it's gotten to the point where the police get called on me and the family makes a point of not picking me up until the next morning. I hate it, but I'll never let the evil that gets in because I fail touch them, even if it's their fault... quote:Identity
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Jun 30, 2017 04:44
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Gazetteer posted:Park, Rosabella Watch yourself. My first day at the high school was definitely a rocky one. Literally - some burnout loser neanderthal chucked a rock through the window of my Range Rover. I had the seats fitted with custom goldenrod luxury suede and now there's glass shards all over it! And not only did the fatass bumbling police lardbrain not immediately arrest the perpetrator, but he suggested some dumbshit alternative theory involving a rockslide. I only found out a few days later that the kid is the son of the sheriff. So now I have three targets in front of me: Officer Thomas, Sheriff Reyes, and his wannabe-Kurt Cobain son, Marcos. As for punishment, I'm thinking the former two could use a changing of the guard. As for the latter - utter and total humiliation seems in order. His girlfriend, Katerina Cross, has already shown some interest in my lifestyle brand. Just a matter of time until I have her eating out of my hand... and then some.
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Jun 30, 2017 04:59
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Gazetteer posted:Lancaster, Sara Well the accident and my subsequent 'situation' took a lot away from me. I had that brief taste of freedom and rock stardom and got it torn to shreds in a shocking way. Now it's pretty hard to go back to the loving boring grind of school and work. Sure I can loving fake it, my plate armor of protective dissatisfaction and irony provides a good barrier to openly displaying my hatred. But ever since the accident I have been chasing excitement, anything at all that can approach that night. It's gone beyond a desire, it's practically an obsession, a need on the verge of breathing. But why shouldn't it be? This shithole town doesn't have anything going for it. You gotta make your own fun to feel anything. So that's what I can't do I guess. Back down when I could go bigger. Not settle for the lovely normal status quo of Tall Pines. Take last week. The boss, Greg Borowski, was out, leaving me manning solo. Some rich bastard, Theodore Haas, came into the shop just as I was going to close up. Wanting to know if we had some loving dad-rock album on vinyl. I checked the shelves and it was not there. He then insists I go in the back and of course it is not there as well. He scoffs at me and says, "Well, of course you would have any good music here. Your generation can't appreciate the classics. Especially an incompetent register jockey like you." I was tempted to lash out but I bit my tongue cause the bastard was too full of himself to even register an insult. He then left to try the pawn shop a couple of blocks down. As I locked up I noticed it was late so I took the metal bat the boss keeps in case there's a robber and took the shortcut home that winds through our parking lot in the back. They never caught those vandals who smashed up that fancy car that night. But I bet it was blast.
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Jun 30, 2017 05:09
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Gazetteer posted:Harris, Omar As you can imagine, I've kind of given up on my faith. Why bother now that I have someone who actually can give me what I ask for? Who I can even talk to and will actually respond? Anyway, so the result is that I've kind of stopped going to church functions. And hanging out with the friends (or really, "friends") I had. And all the minor stuff like prayers before meals and all that. Not that big a deal, right? Not according to my mom. I'd love to stop going on Sundays but I think Hell will freeze over before that happens. She's not a hyper religious nutcase you know. Just a fairly devout person. And she doesn't know what to make of what's "come over me." Maybe she thinks it's a phase? But she keeps trying to get me to go back to the functions, to the friends, to the pointless and empty rituals. "You need God in your life," she told me recently. No Mom, I don't. I just tell her I'm not interested in those things, but that otherwise I'm fine and like, still believe in God and all that. She has no way of knowing what's going on, but I think she's worried about me. I wish she wasn't. Satan can make that be the case. But he told me, "Kid, I can get your mom off your back real easily. Make her care less. The consequences of messing with her mind will be...interesting, to say the least. You want it?" I refused, and he just said "Fair enough." I can't do something like that to my mom. But I can't tell her the truth either. I don't know what to do.
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Jun 30, 2017 08:10
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Gazetteer posted:Cross, Liam "Right... That. So after I saw Sylvie with that book, I checked out a copy of my own. Okay, fine, more like I downloaded a copy off Scribd. Whatever. Point is, I've been hitting the books and doing a little research. I don't know a lot about what I can do exactly and I can't really afford to rush into things. But, uh, yeah. I've also been taking a look at the happiest, most successful people in town. Even in a place like this, you've got the haves and the have-nots. The people that have money and solid careers and, you know, good relationships and all that, they're basically in the middle of a big web of sympathetic connections." "Now, theoretically, if you were to move all of those connections to someone else... Like, say, my dad... Well, the hope would be that the money and happiness would follow. He's a good guy, you know? Times are hard and he's always busy at the mill, but he's doing his best. I love him, you know? But... Even though I want to make his life as good as he deserves it to be, I'm still a little sketched out by the implications. Like, uh, what'd happen to the other guy. If people's lives are a wreck when they don't have a lot of connections, what'd happen to someone who had them all suddenly snatched away? No idea, but it's gotta be bad. Real bad. Add in the fact that I have no idea what'd happen to the person that they get attached to and things are just too risky." "I mean, I don't want to hurt anyone. Those things with Garrick and Ike taught me that I need to use this poo poo responsibly. But if things got bad enough...? If the mill closed or my dad was really hurting? I... I think I'd do what I had to. I got these eyes for a reason."
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Jun 30, 2017 16:00
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quote:Crawford, Sarah That would be Lydia Scott I understand she's the daughter of your mayor which if I understand your ranks right is roughly equivalent to one of our barons. No doubt she'll be expected to succeed him in power when the time comes, so when I met her for the first time I expected the typical noble brat. Spoiled arrogant entitled thinking they own the world because their parents own a tiny piece of it... you know the usual. Noble assholes the lot of them. But she was different. Way different, she was witty and funny and certainly doesn't take herself too seriously and she seems to hate the idea of being a big shot almost as much as I hate big shots. Plus she looks really cute when she smiles. I don't think the real Sarah ever had much to do with her but that's her loss for being stupid. i'm not letting someone that good get away from me. Pity she has a boyfriend already. Maybe I could persuade him to share. I mean I'm not greedy or anything.
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Jul 1, 2017 00:05
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Crawford, Sarah Question 3: Why have you stayed in Tall Pines instead of just going on a reckless joyride with Sarah's body to the nearest big city? What's keeping you here? Harrison, Wendy Question 3: Where do you like to go that makes you feel relaxed and less out of place? What does it remind you of, and why is that surprising? Lancaster, Sara Question 3: What's the most selfish thing you've done chasing a thrill? Park, Rosabella Question 3: What's something you saw in town that you can't explain, and how did it make you question something about yourself? Rain, Morgan Question 1: What monster do you wish you hadn't killed?
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Jul 1, 2017 03:39
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