Fantasy FATES FOR THE NEW AGE - MAIN THREAD

Hell0NHighWater · Dec 11, 2020

FATES FOR THE NEW AGE

❝TONIGHT, LET'S TELL EACH OTHER STORIES OF HOW WE'LL SURVIVE — OR LET'S DIE TOGETHER ONCE OR TWICE.❞

Hell0NHighWater · Dec 11, 2020

↽YOUR DAY AT A GLANCE⇁
❝Feeding a cow with roses does not get extra appreciation.❞

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↽LOCATION⇁‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↽MUSIC TO SET THE MOOD⇁
=Database Facility 8=‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎The Technicolors - Space Cadet
‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎Lounge
↽INTERACTIONS⇁‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↽OOC⇁

L0ck0n |

jones573 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎Uh I hope I'm doing this right

BELIAL. |

SavannahSmiles

wickedlittlecritta |

noonshine

Void Dweller |

Cashi
@Stars-Above |

ddavidgayvidd

︽ Colvin H. Lyre ︾

Colvin never cared for prophecies. Nothing good comes from knowing what’s coming──that’s what his mom used to say. But the Database insisted otherwise. Those pesky notifications had been forcing him to face possible futures for as long he could remember, and the best it’s done is make him tired and cynical. Still, there were bits of his latest daily prophecy that kept sticking to him, catching in his memory even as he tried to smooth past it.

Feeding a cow with roses does not get extra appreciation.

What kind of fortune cookie bullshit was this?
Cole stared at the image of those words displayed across his phone screen. His brain couldn't make sense of it. He turned the phrase over and over and over in his mind until he wore himself out.

A tiny stab of pain shot through his frontal lobe and he grimaced, running his palm across his neck and coming away with a thin layer of sweat. Biding his time on an abrasively orange couch underneath a dome skylight, Cole’s knee bounced to an invisible beat. His attention hyper focused on a small cut on his middle finger. While he waited, he was half-hoping to catch someone who knew something, anything. He was having difficulties remembering what he was there for and the headache pounding at his temples wasn’t helping. Earlier he’d seen a few employees leave the building as he was escorted in──yet, as always, database employees were elusive when he had anything to ask. So now, he yet again had no other choice but to wait, aimlessly, trying to shake out his tension by bouncing his leg. Cole curled his hand in a fist, tight enough that he could feel his own fingernails bite at his skin. The stinging pain was grounding, a reminder that his nerve endings still worked. He felt like a spring coiled tight and condensed, everywhere.

“So uh──security guy,” Cole started up, snatching at the opportunity for distraction from the torment of his own thoughts; “What’s the deal with Celia Mae?”

“What are you talking about, boy?” An eight foot wall of muscle towered against a wall behind the couch, arms folded and dark eyes narrowed in mild disinterest.

“You know,” Colvin mumbled, twisting in his seat so that he could look directly at the literally bull-headed giant. He wove his hand in a circle, as if the motion would prompt his brain to continue the flow of words from his mouth, “the secretary snake lady? Celia Mae, our overlord and saviour.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment. The elevator dinged in the background and footsteps approaching filled the gap of silence. Then the beast heaved his broad shoulders in a human-like mannerism, snorting irritably as his right ear began to twitch. “Her name ain’t Celia Mae, boy.” He snorted, “This isn't a Pixar production.”

Cole swallowed past the lump in his throat, nodding slowly as he subconsciously cowered under the weight of the beast’s glare. He slumped further into the couch, clucking an anxious affirmation as he turned back around to face the rest of the room. He was surprised to find it almost packed, even more so now that he realized he hadn't even noticed the cushions shift when someone sat next to him. The gorgan Lady moved to the other side of the fireplace, opposite of where Cole sat, and spoke to a tree looking elf guy in soft slithering tones. He didn’t like the way her hair of snakes moved or the way they watched everything around her with their beady little eyes and dubious intent.

Once everyone had taken a seat, or gathered close enough to the fireplace to remain within earshot, the snake lady motioned for the giant with the bull's head to join her. Cole fidgeted with the sleeve of his hoodie as he watched the minotaur lumber over to take up an equally intimidating position at the hearth.

“Welcome to Databasse Facility 8, my name iss Klora I am the Administrative asssisstant. If you have any isssuess regarding your daily life here at the facility, or any technical isssuess with the Databasse, come talk to me.” Klora took one hand off her tablet to gesture to the tree-man at her left, “Thiss iss Fin, he iss the Facilitiess’ lead sscientisst and will be insstrumental in the processs of altering your fatess and breaking your curssess."

She paused only to look around the room before switching hand to gesture to the right, “Thiss iss Greg, the head of Ssecurity, your ssafety iss hiss top priority. If at any point you feel unssafe, pleasse find Greg immediately."

Colvin leaned his elbow on the arm of the couch and propped his hand against his chin, yawning. He hadn’t been sleeping well and the subtle hiss of Klora’s voice was almost soothing in the way it sounded. Almost like a hi-hat.

"Pleasse lissten carefully for your room asssignmentss. If you have any questionss, pleasse sspeak to me afterwardss.”

The sound of porcelain shattering against hardwood jerked Colvin awake. He blinked, discombobulated and confused as to why the lights were flickering like a rave party. For half a second he thought he felt the ground tremble beneath his feet, but then everything was back to normal in the blink of an eye.

Klora frowned at the broken vase and gestured to it with a dismissive wave, “Clean that up, would you, Greg?”

The minotaur was silent. His gaze fixated on the gorgon and his nostrils flared and he bore his teeth in the way closest to a human scowl, “Fine <snort> but don’t get used to it.” Greg trudged out of the room, having just enough sense to grab a broom before trying to pick up all the sharp bits.

“Anyway,” Klora continued, “Upsstairsss; Norman Nomikoss and Icaruss Altalov, room 200. Haru Taylor, room 204. Odette Fairchild and Lucia Nemoss, room 206. Cyruss Van der Zee and Colvin Lyre, room 208.” She paused only to slide a finger across the screen of her tablet, “And downsstairsss; Alma Deorain room 01. Olivia Carter room 02. Ire──μὰ τὸν κύνα──what doess thiss ssay, Fin?” She tilted the screen toward the Dryad who then squinted at it before mumbling something. The gorgon snickered in response to his words, “Tch. Fine. Clutch room 03. Ignacio Martinuss room 04. Daniel, no known lasst name, room 05.”

She took a moment to glare frostily at Colvin, who hadn't even bothered to pretend like he was paying attention, before pointing toward the same door Greg had gone through to get the broom, “The sstairss are through that door and down the hall, to your left.” Then she pointed to what looked like metal doors sealed flat to the wall right of the entrance, “The elevator will take you to the lower levelss. Tomorrow, we will launch sstage two. Thank you for your attention.”

Colvin shook himself awake, prompted to consciousness by his phone buzzing in his pocket and the irritating click of Klora's heels as she and Fin moved to the elevator. Cole looked around the room with bleary hazel eyes, trying to rub the exhaustion from his face with one hand while pulling his phone out with the other. He unlocked the screen with a small yawn, readjusting the way he was sitting until he was comfortable again, and skimmed over the email that had just popped up in his inbox.

✉Ξ

SENT: 8:11 AM
FROM: Welcome@DB.org [DO NOT REPLY]
TO: [RECIPIENT LIST HIDDEN]
SUBJECT: WELCOME!

Greetings and welcome.

As of now, our first round of arrivals have been successfully checked in. We appreciate everyone’s compliance during this time. Please defer to the packets that were emailed to you last week for any further information about your check-in process, or you may contact one of our employees directly at any of the numbers or email addresses listed on said packet.

You are now free to interact with each other as you please. Do remember, however, that if two or more registrants with high danger levels are assembling, they must have the proper security escort and are prohibited from leaving database property. This is for everyone’s safety.

Please remember to keep your identification card with you at all times while on the facility grounds. You may be stopped by a security member and asked personal or strange questions, and it is in everyone’s best interest that you answer to the best of your ability. We need to make certain that everyone is as they seem.

Thank you all again, we will be in contact soon.

[/color]

wickedlittlecritta · Dec 11, 2020

CLUTCH
Your day at a glance:
Lower your expectations for today. Your elbows are still there.

Location: Database Facility 8; lounge
Interactions: the whole group orientation
We're all sinners on a mission

Clutch had been arrested before. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't like this.

For one thing, she'd never been drugged by a statie.

She didn't remember much between getting caught and arriving at the facility beside a vague haze of resentment and a blurred view of an endless desert. She was starting to come around before they stopped, though her feet didn't seem to remember how to move quite right. There were other people, but mostly she was concerned with staying upright. And also about the fact that she might have been kidnapped by a Bond villain, judging from the mansion she was getting directed into.

Her tongue felt fuzzy. Concerning.

Inside, in a big room that looked more like what she imagined a Bond villain would think was a cozy spot to axe murder spies, someone sat her on a hideous orange couch with a level of gentleness entirely at odds with the whole situation. Clutch looked up at the cement arches overhead, moving her tongue around inside her mouth as feeling slowly returned to it. Someone was talking. Probably Goldfinger, telling her he expected her to die. Whatever. He had terrible taste in interior design.

The sound of porcelain shattering and the harsh, horror-movie flicker of the lights jerked her completely into the present. It had not been Goldfinger monologuing at her, but a gorgon who still managed to look like she expected Clutch to die.

The gorgon was giving them room assignments, which made as much sense as anything that had happened today. What a weird fucking prison. Clutch frowned and started to check herself for her possessions. Sunglasses: hanging off her tank top: check. Wallet, right ass pocket: check. Phone: left ass pocket, check. Key carabiner, on a right belt loop, check. She unclipped it, and the weight of the ring of keys felt wrong. There was her carabiner (the kind designed for mountain climbing, that could support two hundred pounds), and her red "remove before flight" fob, but her actual car keys were noticeably absent. In their place, someone had snapped a plastic ID badge to it, complete with her legal name and a presumed ID number.

Clutch looked up as the gorgon started for the elevator, and asked, "Did you assholes steal my car?"

SavannahSmiles · Dec 11, 2020

☾Location☽
Facility 8 - Lounge

☾Mood☽
Groggy & Tired

☾Interactions☽
The Whole Group

☾Mentions☽
Cole -

Hell0NHighWater

☾Mood Music☽
Follow My Feet - The Unlikely Candidates

Olivia Carter
Your Day At A Glance:
Flexibility is strength, the more situations you are prepared for, the easier the result will be.

They told her weeks in advance that she was being transferred to Facility 8, something about that facility having more updated equipment and more resources to study her curse in full detail. What she wasn't prepared for was how long it would take to transfer her. She knew logically that driving from Mexico to Arizona would take quite a few days, but all the preparations the facility took extended that drive by a couple of more days. She was all packed up long before they actually put her in the truck and the measures they took were slightly unpleasant. She couldn't fault them, not really. Given her high level, she knew they had to take precautions to ensure the safety of everyone around her, but that didn't mean she liked being drugged.

She slept for most of the drive, only waking up when they forced food and water on her and for bathroom breaks. She vaguely remembered motels and rest-stops, but most of the drive was lost in the haze of the drugs. She was still out of it slightly when they arrived at the facility, two guards having to help her walk due to her legs still feeling like Jell-O. They sat her gently on the couch and she flopped back against the cushions, blinking up at the ceiling as she struggled through the sleepiness. She could hear people talking around her, but it sounded like it was coming through water, the words jumbled and faded. The sound of something shattering jolted her into full awareness, her back jerking from the cushions as she looked around the room wildly.

The space she was in was really nice, nicer than she expected for a facility that was housing dangerous people. The room was full of people, with what looked like a Gorgon and a man covered with moss next to her. When Olivia had jerked into the present, the gorgon woman had started rattling off room assignments. Though still slightly groggy, Olivia was awake enough to realize that she had her own room on the lower levels, which she was happy about; she had been slightly worried about if she would be forced to room with someone. As the gorgon woman finished her speech and told everyone they were free to go to their rooms, Olivia took that time to assess herself. They had attached what she guessed was her ID card to a lanyard and slipped it over her head.

But the most disconcerting thing was the mask strapped firmly to her face.

From the feel of it, it was metal, the surface cold to her touch as she felt around it. As her mind cleared from the last of her grogginess, she remembered the scientists at the facility in Mexico mentioning working on a mask that had wards etched into the metal to prevent any....accidents if she were to accidentally speak outside of the tests. They had tried their best to make it as comfortable as they could, with padding lined on the inside, but it still didn't feel all that comfortable to wear.

As she glanced around for someone to ask if they could take the mask off of her, she noticed the person that had been sitting next to her and jolted when she recognized him.

Cole?

She had known he was being transferred as well but she didn't think they would end up at the same facility again. She debated tapping him on the shoulder but then remembered his curse. Since they had been separated for so long, would he even still remember her?

L0ck0n · Dec 13, 2020

Your Day at a Glance: A fresh start will put you on your way.

Ignacio Martinus

Ignacio rather enjoyed spending time at Facility 4, but he was told they were moving him to a prison. That’s not what they called it, but from the looks of it that was the case. Facility 8 had plans to continue the research in finding a way to break his family curse. So they’ve always said. Though, he wasn't trying to. His family was. That, or they found their way of keeping him out of sight, out of mind. Whatever the case was he had experienced being moved from facility to facility in the past, but if any location had treated him like an actual human being it was 4. Sighing at the inevitable move Ignacio looked from side to side at the suited bodyguards that were tasked with shooting him if he decided to escape. They weren’t anything like the guards at Facility 4, but then again, Philip and Mark were comfortable around him. These guys weren’t. Just by looking at the gear they wore Ignacio could tell he wasn’t being transferred to any facility. A prison was all he could come up with by the looks of how they treated him. He had practically laughed when they told him to put the handcuffs on himself, but it was no such joke. They were scared of them, the fated. Correction: Not all of them. There were fated whom were blessed by gods. They were scared of him. He never had the intention of hurting anyone, but his curse was meant to keep people away by force.

All of his things were to already be at Facility 8, but on arriving they had him stay in a cell of sorts. There was nothing else it could be called as the bed was practically made of bricks, there was a public toilet, and they could clearly see him through the door. If it wasn’t for his own heat then he’d be cold as well. Is the heater not working? Shaking his head he couldn’t wait for this all to be over, so he could go wherever they were going to house them for a good night's rest. There was nothing available to do except to wait for what they were going to do with him. It was aggravating when he barely slept the night before, but thankfully they eventually led him upstairs by elevator. He was less concerned about where he was staying, and more concerned if his personal belongings had made it here on time. IF they ever made it. Another facility had lied about receiving his things only to tell him when he got there that he was not allowed to have anything at all. Hopefully, that was not the case here....hopefully.

Once it was time, though he didn’t know for what, they had escorted him to a room upstairs where a few people waited already. Other fated is what he assumed. Ignacio felt his heart beat a bit faster than normal, and he looked away to avoid any eye contact with anyone. He frowned due to the fact that he was to be in cuffs when meeting new people. That was embarrassing. Whether it was for a joke or not, he was getting upset.

Count to 10, He thought to himself.

1...2...3…Ignacio walked to the far end of the orange couch in the room attempting to make as little noise as possible...4...5…Then he sat as carefully as he could to keep from making too much noise...6...7...8..9…Taking a peak to see who was already in the room he looked down at his chains again ...pinches cadenas.

Once the lady, Klora, started talking about Facility 8 he took quick glances to access everyone in the room. There were a few people he had recognized, but none whose names had stuck. There were multiple kids he had met along the way since he had joined as a kid himself, but it was difficult to keep in contact when each facility had its own rules. Having friends was nearly impossible. There was one person there who seemed out of it, and considering how they had her with a guard mask meant she was also dangerous. How dangerous? He wasn't sure, but this facility was cautious of them to say the least. He was in chained cuffs for shits sake.

Fin, huh, Ignacio made mental notes as Klora talked about the staff. While she addressed everyone in the room Ignachio did what he could to contain his nervousness. Due to the cuffs he was unable to slide his hands into his pockets, so he started to peel at loose skin around his fingernails. Almost abruptly, without warning, glass shattered for who knows what reason. The shattering of glass spooked Ignacio, and caused bits of hair to fire up. He shut his eyes as he whispered to 10, and took a few deep breaths to keep his hair from completely bursting into flames. It was embarrassing enough to be cuffed from neck to feet, and he didn’t want to make it worse. Who knows what Facility 8 does to those who cause problems. Not that he wanted to cause them willingly… He was simply on edge from all of this. A bed would be nice.

It sounded like they would get more information about this glorified prison in the days to come. The place was elegant to say the least, but seeing as he would be spending most of his time on the lower floors he didn’t let the stylish setup get to him. Attempting to avoid an overcrowded elevator he waited for an opening to get on, and swiftly made his way to the lower floors after grabbing his ID badge. Unsurprisingly enough the lower floor looked less like a house, and more like a real facility. However, this one had better technology, and a few more interesting characters that guarded the place. There was a man, one of the bodyguards on the transport vehicle, that had walked behind him as Ignacio looked for room 4. Upon making it to his room the bodyguard handed him a key to unlock all of the cuffs Ignacio had on him, and let him walk into the new room. Using one hand to massage the wrist of the other he smiled wide when he saw all of the boxes with his things inside of them. “Gracias.” He mumbled to himself, and started to unpack everything.

.
.
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outfit
1st Floor

Lounge
tags

Mentions:
Everyone

Interactions:

Tag:

coded by reveriee.

[/i]

noonshine · Dec 14, 2020

Cyrus Van der Zee

Middle Name? Danger.

at a glance:

Today’s advice:
Throw yourself in the deep end with the master swimmers.

mood:

sunny, confused, off put

location:

facility lounge

tags:

wickedlittlecritta

Hell0NHighWater

Best behavior. Best behavior. Best behavior.
He repeated it to himself all morning, in his head, out loud- as he rearranged the room with a person or two the facility had hired to move furniture in for the newbies before they arrived. Already in the loop on having a roommate sooner or later he had prayed a few times that they would get along. It was one of the few times he legitimately found himself praying and giving offerings without feeling forced to. Cyrus had only shared a room a few times as an adult, always with people he’d met before they’d jumped into living together- now the situation was out of his hands. It was like getting a dorm mate, the college experience he’d distracted himself from for a number of reasons.

It was hard to believe it had been a year since he’d met anyone new- from meeting people almost daily or at least being around strangers fairly often to what felt like solitude. Ethan was there, of course, and the other two, but they were all so adjusted to one another that they had a sort of small group pattern created among them. He remembered some comment Ethan had made about them being like Tamarins while they were watching some documentary. What was it going to be like to add so many new people to that mix? At that point it wasn’t even their dynamic, it was going to be the rush of a complete change- a year of stillness provided him with an anxiety he rarely had- what if he didn’t get along with any of them?

That very anxiety was met with a hairbrain solution that was leaving him feeling like his legs were melting into every step he took- but at the very least he was feeling friendly.
By the time he’d gotten there the room was mostly full, and Klora was there which he should have expected, seeing the Gorgon made his palms sweaty- positive that any one of those little snake eyes could see directly through to his soul.

Klora was speaking but he couldn’t pay attention, his eyes sweeping over the wall on the far side of the room, the shifting bubbling pattern of it threatened to eat the floor- he could only look at it so long before he was drawn to his own reflection in the glass- it winked at him and the pins and needles feeling ghosting over his skin reached a peak.

Right.

He’d slammed half a tab of sunshine with his adderall just an hour before.

A deep breath, he nodded to himself, remembering he’d taken it in hopes that he could manage to be friendlier but some of the people that were there were so wildly off putting in the way they were being transported it shifted his mood to a point that he couldn’t quite reel himself in from. The girl with the mask and the guy in full cartoon prison chains were the main contributors to the aesthetic turn in his little trip.

Although he’d been asked to refrain from communicating before receiving the OK he still chirped out a “Hell yeah, Greg” as he tried to focus on the minotaur cleaning the glass, the soft noise of the chips hitting each other in the bag amplified for him in that moment.
“Why do we even have empty vases?”

The distraction was nice, but his eyes kept darting back to the drug addles collection of folks who were in single rooms. No surprise that Ethan decided to be a no show for this event, skip the weirdness and- the thought had come just as he spotted his fellow beta testing companion, and he waved, receiving a raised brow and a wave in reply.

Colvin Lyre- that was his roommate, and it was unfortunate none of them were wearing name tags, but it had to be one of the more normal not old guys, right?

The notification on his phone had him squinting at the screen, reading was a hell of a task- but the go had been given and they were suddenly allowed to speak.

His interest redirected him as he heard one of the newcomers declare that a car had been stolen. Jaw slack, his immediate empathization could be summed up to intoxication.

“That’s pretty fucked up- stealing cars and all… why do you guys get to steal stuff but we-” the elevator doors had long been closed, and he pushed his sunglasses down over his eyes regardless of their being indoors, he realized how dilated his pupils were and felt lucky to have dark eyes either way- it made it that much harder to tell from a distance.

Some of the newbies already left, and Cyrus wasn’t sure about how to feel about that decision to do so.

“Alright, well, where’s my fellow 208?” he said, trying to distract from what seemed to be an overwhelmingly (to him) negative response to the situation some of these folks may not have expected to find themselves in.

♡design by stardust galaxy, coded by uxie♡

BELIAL. · Dec 15, 2020

mood

cautious, worried, positive

location

Facility 8 Lounge

daily fortune

Parallel standards just make tennis defective.

TAGS

Anyone, but in particular

wickedlittlecritta

The drive from California to Nevada wasn’t particularly long, only about ten to eleven hours by car, but Haru’s parents wouldn’t hear of her traveling by anything but plane. Neither had been around to help Haru pack, but her nanny and several of the house maids had plodded around her room with her, packing up posters and clothing and keepsakes. It had been the most fun she’d had in a while, blasting her music and even getting Tara and Helen, two of their longest standing maids, into dancing with her while they stuffed one of her numerous suitcases full of the things Haru decided she valued most (which was half her room).
Then it was a quick trip to LAX and a brief plane ride to McCarran International Airport. Upon arrival with her assigned bodyguard, they were picked up by a nondescript black Hummer and off they went, across desert and brush, towards Facility 8.

Haru kicked her feet up onto the back of the passenger seat, jostling her Nintendo Switch with her knee, and almost ruining her run of Demigod From Hell. She hit the pause button and tapped her bodyguard on the shoulder with the toe of her boot.
”Hey Carl, how much longer?”
Carl shoved her foot off the back of his seat and handed her a bottle of water from the front, which she sat up a little to accept.
“About ten minutes. If you look out your window, I think that’s it on the right.”
This caught Haru’s attention. Her Switch tossed to the side and forgotten, Haru leaned up on her knees (seatbelt not on), and pressed her face so close to the glass her breath fogged it.
”Carl, put the window down!”
Carl snorted and muttered something like ‘not on your life’.
The facility came into view as they rounded a hill, a classic monolith to 60’s architecture, straight out of a movie.
Carl angled his head back to look at her from the corner of his eye as he addressed her.
“Sit back, Ms. Taylor. We’re here.”

If Haru had thought the exterior was impressive, the interior was even more so. This was something so directly out of a 60’s spy film she could barely contain her excitement. It was like living on a movie set. Everything was arranged in a circle to match the layout of the walls, and the domed skylight in the center of the room would afford any viewer a perfect outlook of the desert sky come night time.
Haru took a seat on one of the painfully orange couches (very cool), and did her best to look bored and friendly at the same time--the result was that she just looked constipated. She’d so been looking forward to this, to meeting people and making friends. Shopping, chatting, breakfast with ‘The Roomies’. Anything that wasn’t her sitting alone in her room watching movie after movie after movie…
The people gathered all looked more or less her age, though none seemed particularly jazzed about being at Facility 8. Well, most of them didn’t; Haru couldn’t actually see one girl’s face, as it was covered by what looked like an uncomfortable metal mask. She remembered, briefly, the reason they were all gathered at this facility. Her mother had told her repeatedly that this wasn’t a summer camp, but rather a research facility. That meant that all the people here were cursed, just like her.
Haru almost dropped her phone when Klora walked in, and wasn’t able to control the shock on her face at Greg and Fin. Prosthetics--they had to be prosthetics. But why? She barely heard what Klora said, so focused on Greg’s bull head and furry legs. They couldn’t be real...could they? Was she actually in a room with a gorgon and a minotaur, among other…things? She was so busy working her brain through the thought process that she was, indeed, in the company of creatures of legend, that she barely even registered the porcelain cup breaking. She did, however, take in the reaction of her new facility mates, which was for a good chunk of them to nearly jump out of their skins. It seemed everyone was a bit on edge.
The announcement of roommates was what Haru had been waiting for most eagerly, and it was a bit disappointing to find she had none--no late night gab sessions or waking up at the same time and sharing dreams. Still, she refused to let this be a damper--no rain on this gal’s parade.
Before Haru had time to process everything, before she could even ask questions, the meeting was adjourned and everyone was on the move, making their way towards the elevator or chasing after people they already knew. Someone was upset about their car; The guy in chains was in the elevator faster than she could say Leo Deserves Another Oscar; across the room, the girl in the metal mask was approached by another woman, who had an air of kindness about her.
Haru turned to her right, to the black-haired woman who had the aura of someone who would punch your lights out and ask questions if you were still conscious--the one upset about her stolen car.
Now was as good a time as any. She took a breath, and in as aloof a manner as possible, tossed her hair back and held a hand out.
”Hey. What’s up. I’m Haru.”
Her cool composure was betrayed by the soft dimpling of one cheek.

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

The drive from California to Nevada wasn’t particularly long, only about ten to eleven hours by car, but Haru’s parents wouldn’t hear of her traveling by anything but plane. Neither had been around to help Haru pack, but her nanny and several of the house maids had plodded around her room with her, packing up posters and clothing and keepsakes. It had been the most fun she’d had in a while, blasting her music and even getting Tara and Helen, two of their longest standing maids, into dancing with her while they stuffed one of her numerous suitcases full of the things Haru decided she valued most (which was half her room).
Then it was a quick trip to LAX and a brief plane ride to McCarran International Airport. Upon arrival with her assigned bodyguard, they were picked up by a nondescript black Hummer and off they went, across desert and brush, towards Facility 8.

Haru kicked her feet up onto the back of the passenger seat, jostling her Nintendo Switch with her knee, and almost ruining her run of Demigod From Hell. She hit the pause button and tapped her bodyguard on the shoulder with the toe of her boot.
”Hey Carl, how much longer?”
Carl shoved her foot off the back of his seat and handed her a bottle of water from the front, which she sat up a little to accept.
“About ten minutes. If you look out your window, I think that’s it on the right.”
This caught Haru’s attention. Her Switch tossed to the side and forgotten, Haru leaned up on her knees (seatbelt not on), and pressed her face so close to the glass her breath fogged it.
”Carl, put the window down!”
Carl snorted and muttered something like ‘not on your life’.
The facility came into view as they rounded a hill, a classic monolith to 60’s architecture, straight out of a movie.
Carl angled his head back to look at her from the corner of his eye as he addressed her.
“Sit back, Ms. Taylor. We’re here.”

If Haru had thought the exterior was impressive, the interior was even more so. This was something so directly out of a 60’s spy film she could barely contain her excitement. It was like living on a movie set. Everything was arranged in a circle to match the layout of the walls, and the domed skylight in the center of the room would afford any viewer a perfect outlook of the desert sky come night time.
Haru took a seat on one of the painfully orange couches (very cool), and did her best to look bored and friendly at the same time--the result was that she just looked constipated. She’d so been looking forward to this, to meeting people and making friends. Shopping, chatting, breakfast with ‘The Roomies’. Anything that wasn’t her sitting alone in her room watching movie after movie after movie…
The people gathered all looked more or less her age, though none seemed particularly jazzed about being at Facility 8. Well, most of them didn’t; Haru couldn’t actually see one girl’s face, as it was covered by what looked like an uncomfortable metal mask. She remembered, briefly, the reason they were all gathered at this facility. Her mother had told her repeatedly that this wasn’t a summer camp, but rather a research facility. That meant that all the people here were cursed, just like her.
Haru almost dropped her phone when Klora walked in, and wasn’t able to control the shock on her face at Greg and Fin. Prosthetics--they had to be prosthetics. But why? She barely heard what Klora said, so focused on Greg’s bull head and furry legs. They couldn’t be real...could they? Was she actually in a room with a gorgon and a minotaur, among other…things? She was so busy working her brain through the thought process that she was, indeed, in the company of creatures of legend, that she barely even registered the porcelain cup breaking. She did, however, take in the reaction of her new facility mates, which was for a good chunk of them to nearly jump out of their skins. It seemed everyone was a bit on edge.
The announcement of roommates was what Haru had been waiting for most eagerly, and it was a bit disappointing to find she had none--no late night gab sessions or waking up at the same time and sharing dreams. Still, she refused to let this be a damper--no rain on this gal’s parade.
Before Haru had time to process everything, before she could even ask questions, the meeting was adjourned and everyone was on the move, making their way towards the elevator or chasing after people they already knew. Someone was upset about their car; The guy in chains was in the elevator faster than she could say Leo Deserves Another Oscar; across the room, the girl in the metal mask was approached by another woman, who had an air of kindness about her.
Haru turned to her right, to the black-haired woman who had the aura of someone who would punch your lights out and ask questions if you were still conscious--the one upset about her stolen car.
Now was as good a time as any. She took a breath, and in as aloof a manner as possible, tossed her hair back and held a hand out.
”Hey. What’s up. I’m Haru.”
Her cool composure was betrayed by the soft dimpling of one cheek.

Hell0NHighWater · Dec 15, 2020

↽YOUR DAY AT A GLANCE⇁
❝Feeding a cow with roses does not get extra appreciation.❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
↽LOCATION⇁‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↽MUSIC TO SET THE MOOD⇁
=Database Facility 8=‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎Hot Flash Heat Wave - Hesitation
‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎Lounge > ???
↽INTERACTIONS⇁‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↽OOC⇁

BELIAL. |

SavannahSmiles ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎One braincell for the win

wickedlittlecritta |

noonshine

︽ Colvin H. Lyre ︾

The second Klora and Fin disappeared behind a set of steel doors, Colvin forgot his room number. He had been repeating it in his head over and over─sleepily and lazily, but diligently nonetheless─only for the outrage of a stolen vehicle to shatter his concentration. And without it the information fled from his memory before he had so much as a second to write it down. His knee began to pick up the pace, bouncing with as much speed as his ankle could consistently handle.

“Have you tried negotiating?” Cole inquired, gaze lingering on the older woman who looked like she could snap him in half with her pinkie toe. He wasn't dense enough to completely ignore the noodlement of his limbs and lack of muscle definition, or forget about his abhorrent track record for winning fights. He slowly placed his phone back into his pocket before he forgot that he was holding it, “For your car that is; I’m sure it’s not going to get scraped or anything...” He looked unsure and uncomfortable with the tornado of thoughts whirling in the back of his mind. He flicked his gaze to the massive bull-man, "...right?"

"Don't look at me, <snort> take it up with Klora." Greg rumbled irritably, moving his attention away from Cole and Clutch to observe someone else heading for the elevator.

Taking the hint, Colvin readjusted himself in his seat and anxiously picked at the wound scabbing on his finger. Feeling the couch cushions shift, he turned his attention to the young woman sitting next to him. She held herself as if her upper spine was made of rubber and her shoulders slumped in a way he might have expected more from a drunk than a small girl with some sort of face mask. “Was the Hannibal Lecter role play a conscious decision...or? No-Not that I’m judging or anything! To each their own.” He sputtered on the end of a nervous laugh, attention caught by the design of the face guard. A vague sense of familiarity washed over Cole and the longer he looked at her, the stronger that feeling became. He opened his mouth to comment on it, but another persons' appearance in Cole’s little bubble of awareness kept him from doing so.

He watched her in silence for a moment, hazel irises drifting lackadaisically across her person in a mix of curiosity and shy appreciation. She had a memorable voice, dulcet and sincere with the ghost of an accent he couldn’t quite place. “Lucia, was it?” The corner of his mouth twitched into a strained smile as he managed to lift a hand in a small wave, “Hi, I-I’m, um, Cole.”

Silent for a beat too long, Colvin jumped to his feet with a frantic awareness of his own social ineptitudes. He couldn't look either of them in the eye as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Anyway, uh,” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, “I’ll go see if Greg has a key or something for Hannibal the Cannibal.”

Intent on doing exactly as he had stated, Cole strolled a few backwards paces away from the couch, giving both women a thumbs up before he turned. Somehow managing to trip over his own shoe laces, he flapped his arms like a frightened flightless bird on a tightrope seconds away from death. Yet, miraculously achieved balance.

A full minute passed before Cole attempted to take another step and realized that he was going to go do something but couldn’t remember what. Scratching at the back of his head, Cole cast a befuddled look over his shoulder at the sound of someone asking for a fellow 208. What that meant─only Tartarus knows.

First impressions were a dime a dozen, especially when you forgot most everyone you ever met, but it was rare for one to stick out. Needless to say, standing out didn't seem to be a problem for this guy. Wearing sunglasses indoors was the typical and universal trait of a narcissistic dildo or someone working off a hangover─Colvin often found it nearly impossible to differentiate the two and so his judgement was left in a curious state of limbo. Not that it really mattered, so long as the conversation didn’t drain him for every brain cell he was worth.

Cole eyed the sunglassed stranger leaning against the wall with a shade of weary caution, “Have you checked the closets?” The corner of his mouth lifted a bit higher, finding his own joke stupid enough to merit a beat of a self-deprecating chuckle. “Or the basement? Maybe the pool? I’m not sure what a 208 looks like, but if it’s an allegory for drugs─”

“Narcotics are not allowed on facility grounds. If I find them <snort> I keep them.” Greg boomed, narrowing his beady gaze on the two men, still as a statue and just as imposing.

The comment knocked the wind right out of Cole’s sails and he instantly averted his gaze to his shoes, twisting his fingers in the material of his sleeve. His posture deflated as he ran a palm across the back of his neck, “Su-sure.” He mumbled, “If that’s what does it for you, who am I to protest.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, realizing that he once again forgot what he had gotten up to do. Visibly lost, he took another survey of his surroundings before the grumbling in his stomach had him venturing out of the room in search of food.

[/color]

noonshine · Dec 16, 2020

.

norman nomikos

Your Day at a Glance:
Today, you can see the truth.

The tense goodbye still loomed over him, it was nearly silent between them for the last week or so- her memory had started to slip and his predicament had made each backwards babbling less coherent for her, harder for her to translate by the day. That quiet bit at Norman the rail ride there but there was no way he could look at her and hear the words ‘I hate you’ come out of his mouth again- even if they both knew what he meant.

What was he doing? Leaving his 75 year old fading mother in an almost shithole apartment on Coney Island to go across the country on some hope that his curse would be broken- that’s what he was doing.

The first ticket check the entire ride pulled him out of his thoughts just briefly, the checker clipped into his thoughts with a sentence that he must have repeated so often it almost lost meaning “Ticket please, sir.”
“No way,” he said, planting his foot on the beam of the table between him and the empty row of seats facing him, digging through his pocket.
“I’m going to need to see your ticket if you want to stay on this train, sir,” the lean in was aggressive, unexpected but it made sense.
Norman wet his lips, brows knitting close in a frustration he felt walled in by no matter how far from home he could be- it wasn’t in his pocket and he quickly switched gears to his backpack. The curse had forced him to adjust to some hostility, and this guy was not the worst of those interactions- but he was a dickhead. Most people took the ‘no’ and no pretty well, sometimes people just slipped up, but the following silence and the digging seemed to have this man on edge.
“Hurry it up, guy, I’ve got a train to check,” it was spat at him through a haze of agitation that must have been built from years of pushing this perception onto travelers that they were old timey stowaways.
“No, man, I’ll take it slow, thanks,” the response was pushed out in some desperate need to appease him with words which obviously didn’t work.
It only continued to escalate- he went silent, looking for that fucking ticket, dumping his travel bag on the table to look through his belongings, but the guy had had enough.

After an argument that ended in Normie being shown off the train doing his best to cast out a few obscenities (although what he ended up saying was “thanks, gorgeous, I’ll be back for more”) he was in Denver, the great state of Colorado.

Nothing else he could do other than drop the database coordinator, the person working on getting him to the facility, a pin of his location and a frowning emoji.

Only an hour or so later he was met with a cab, someone who didn’t ask questions, didn’t say much at all, but just took him through the shifting landscapes to Nevada, the place he was trying to get. It gave him a great deal of time to calm down, the back of the car subject to some agitated shifting about in the back seat that bordered on acrobatic or violent.
Wasn’t a regular cab, considering the lack of reaction from the grey faced humanoid that did not give him even a look over in the rear view, regular cab would have kicked him out faster than he got kicked off the train. His hands found a project he’d stored in a second bag- ready to relieve his fury with some knitting only to then find his ticket as they got to the long driveway, but he asked to stop before they pulled into the parking lot to throw an absolute fit.
Kicking up dirt, ripping the ticket in half, letting out a frustrated shriek.

At least the noise was honest.

Someone took his bags, probably to search through his shit and left him with his phone after a quick pat down, then he was let into the main facility and told where to go.

Early enough, he found himself in some bathroom so overwhelmed by himself that he just sat on the toilet in tears for about twenty minutes.

There were a few texts from his mom, who had picked up on the whole event of texting fairly well even with her age and condition.
She was all there when she would message him, and he read over her request for a picture, of the property, his room, pictures of the way there (which he did not take), and a picture of him. The request was accompanied with her selfie, he could tell by the corner of the fame she was in the little reading nook they’d made in the living room before he left.
He pulled it together, even if seeing that made him so literally homesick that he thought he was going to vomit the bodega sandwich he’d scarfed down on his stop in Denver.

It was gonna be good for him.
It was going to be a change for the better with people that at the very least could empathize with him, and he would be able to empathize with them. Sure, not everyone would have the same shit going on, but they’d all effectively be in different parts of the same crappy boat.

Norman rinsed his eyes and shuffled out, pocketing the paper towel he’d used to dry his face.

The room they were being introduced in was fine, reminded him of some fancy coastal places he’d seen in magazines, didn’t look as much like a government building as he thought it would.
Some were already there when he got there, and more made their way in- and as they made their way in all at different levels of restraint something began to feel off.

He sunk deep into the orange sofa, repeatedly buttoning and unbuttoning the same spot on his jacket.

Something about Klora felt off, what she was saying- the glass breaking was the most normal feeling that there could be but her, these kids all shackled and masked.
The security.

Something was off.

“Dandy,” he mumbled, the close of the speech leaving him looking at the text they all seemed to have recieved.

A woman started in about her car- and something about the way she moved, the way she spoke- and a few of the others there reminded him of watching people in the hospital, hazy and well medicated.
The movement that occurred around them in that moment left him standing there in absolute silence.
Pictures could wait.
He had a roommate to meet.

Conversations started and he accepted that he had all the time in the world to adjust to these people- and he had to sit with the idea that there were some kids here wearing metal masks.
Hannibal is what that absolute ditz of a kid called her, and that was unfortunately about right.

Room 200 with Altov, he was wishing he could call out his number for a reply, but it wasn’t working out too well for that douche so no shame in the quiet he let sit there, all he could do was watch just to get an idea of what kind of place this was. So far, it almost looked like something out of a magazine, or a horror movie if the people were included.

Altov had to be closer to his age- his eyes wandered the room looking for a face that he could clock being masculine and above the age of 30.

Please, gods, do not stick me in a room with one of these kids, they look like they are fresh off the cast of a canceled Disney show and ready to drop their solo albums.

Void Dweller · Dec 16, 2020

mood: Intrigued

location :

Room, Lounge area

outfit :

mentions :

interactions :

Deorain

Alma

Al had successfully raided the mini fridge that was in her room, it looks like they had taken her request to heart and gotten the top shelf stuff. What stuff she had with her lay on the bed, she'd get rid of the clothes later after confirming her wardrobe had been stocked upon her behest. Relishing in the burn the Gin provided she picked up one of the few things of value she took. A framed photo of Penny laughing right before the timer went off, Al watching her laugh at a truly not funny joke, and that stupid puppy Alto who was waiting to attack Alma's mouth with expert precision.

They had gone through three different shelters until Penny had picked the mutt up and demanded that this was the one. It's ears were crooked and he had an underbite but what Penny wanted she got. Ironically Alto had imprinted on Al and was glued to the woman's side no matter how many treats Penny bribed him with. Then there was no Alto, and now there was no Penny. It was just Alma and a nearly empty bottle of top grade Gin.

Alma finished the bottle and wiped away any residue, she tossed the picture back on the bed and after a moments debate lit a cigarettes'. As she smoked she thought back on the faces she briefly saw, they wouldn't be here if they weren't cursed like she was. The suits that had talked her into going here were dodgy at best about answers. So now Alma was going over a mental list, ranging from just experimentation, to reaching a higher being. She snorted at that thought, no one was stupid enough to try and contact the gods. Putting out the butt she blew out the last of the smoke and rolled her arms, time to mingle with the rest. Or just get a better schema of them, and she'd have to pay closer attention to the others sent to the basement.

coded by reveriee.

jones573 · Dec 16, 2020

Daniel's Day-At-A-Glace: Stop running from yourself. Wherever you go, there you are.
Location: Facility 8 Lounge
Interacting with: Group at large, @ wickedlittlecritta , Cashi

Jamison had insisted on treating the whole business as if Daniel were heading off to some particularly novel summer camp. Deliberating over what outfits he should bring, getting his medications refilled, interrupting Daniel during dinner to let him know what meals might have unsuspecting dairy now that they weren't being prepared by a personal chef.

It was... Endearing, Daniel had finally decided. They were both more than worried, but it didn't do to dwell on it too much.

The older man had had to stand up on his toes to give Daniel a hug when they'd parted. "Remember to call," he'd said, and Daniel had smiled weakly.

"Once a week, yes sir," Daniel had promised, and his surrogate parent had patted his cheek. They'd already made plans for what he would do if he didn't hear from Daniel.

_____

Thus far, it wasn't entirely unlike summer camp. They all sat there awkwardly waiting for someone in charge, and then that person had given them the run down of rules and room assignments. Just like the junior pilots program he'd attended when he was fifteen- Except this time, he doubted they would let Jamison pick him up after only a week because his nightmares were keeping the other kids in his cabin awake.

And also the people were.... Different.

Some seemed to be in as much of a hurry to leave the crowd as Daniel felt- including the gorgon woman, so much for 'answering questions' they might have- but his feet slowed next to the woman who'd asked about her car and the girl next to her.

"Uh," he said, crouching down next to them, and waving a gloved hand in front of Clutch's face to measure how well she was tracking.

"I think she's on drugs," Daniel told Haru. "Or been drugged," he amended. People did all sorts of things for fun, but it was Daniel's impression that they did so for enjoyment, and she... Did not seem to be relishing this experience. And considering what she'd said about her car- She'd probably not come here as willingly as he had.

He was thankful he'd not resisted coming- It was probably the only reason he wasn't in the same position as she was, or at the very least cuffed.

But even if they'd had to sedate her to get her to the Database, there was no reason she should still be foggy. They'd either mistimed or misdosed- Either way, it was indicative of a shoddy operation.

She seemed to be recovering, perhaps more quickly than he would have expected. (He tried not to think about why that might be, or why she might have been given such a strong dose in the first place.) But he didn't like it.

"Greg," he said stiffly, unscrewing the cap of the small water bottle he carried and offering it to the older woman. "I would think it in everyone's best interests for all of the... registrants," he said, using the term the email had, "To be cognizant enough to understand the information we are given. Was there a plan to restore this woman to her normal processing, and why was it not enacted?"

wickedlittlecritta · Dec 16, 2020

CLUTCH
Your day at a glance:
Lower your expectations for today. Your elbows are still there.

Location: Database Facility 8; lounge
Interactions: Daniel

jones573 , Haru

Cashi
That girl is a goddamned problem

The children—and they were children, most of them, just barely old enough to drink— made sympathetic noises at her declaration of theft, but the gorgon vanished down the elevator without a backwards glance. One of them stuck his hands in her face, and Clutch looked up at him.

"Baby boy, didn't your mama teach you not to put your fingers places they might get lost?" she asked him, and snapped her teeth loudly. She glanced past him, at the girl who'd made a politer attempt to say hello, and winked at her. Satisfied he'd stay out of her face, Clutch turned her attention to the minotaur still there, standing guard.

“Not to be all Gretchen Wieners on main, but do y’all really think my dad’s not gonna throw a fuckin’ fit when he finds out you’ve packed me up?” she asked. “I’m not cursed. Unless y’all changed the definition on me now.” She was sprawled out over the couch, wide-legged like an asshole taking up two seats on a crowded subway. She hadn’t intentionally done it, but it was good body language to spoil for a fight, so she stayed that way, leaning back to sit up straighter. “Getting the god of war on your bad side seems like a very stupid move to me. Free advice."

They’d cuffed her hands behind her back, and now the drugs muzzying her system were doing her a favor. She'd learned how to dislocate her own thumb to slip out of a cuff one broiling summer in Dallas, and if they’d had her hands in front of her the minotaur would’ve seen her try. Even with the drugs it hurt like hell, but she kept her face pissed instead of pained.

She had very small wrists, and it wasn't hard to slip it free and pop her thumb back into place, though it hurt worse going back in.

She could move fast when she wanted.

One moment she was sitting on the couch, the next she was on her feet, the loose cuff ring in her still shackled hand so she could smash it jaggedly open on the closest concrete wall. Clutch held the broken edge of it at Greg like a knife and said, "Give me my fucking keys, or we're about to have a problem."

SavannahSmiles · Dec 16, 2020

Olivia Carter

Your Day At A Glance:
Flexibility is strength, the more situations you are prepared for, the easier the result will be.

Mood:

Apprehensive

Location:

Facility 8 - Lounge

Outfit:

click me!

Tags:

Lucia -

BELIAL.

I'm not a cynic, but todays just not my day.

Olivia was just about to rise and go find someone that could take this mask off of her when the sound of footsteps grew closer to where she was sitting. Glancing up, she saw a girl approaching her. At first, Olivia thought that perhaps she was coming over to talk to Cole, who was still sitting next to her, but mentions of the mask still strapped to her face indicated that the girl was actually talking to her. Meeting the other girls gaze - who introduced herself as Lucia - Olivia was taken aback by the kindness she saw in the other girls eyes.

I don't deserve such kindness.

The thought was immediate and one she had trouble silencing as she processed Lucia's request to get her anything. She glanced to her side but didn't see her satchel that would normally contain her notebook, pencil case and whiteboard; it must have been taken to her room with the rest of her belongings. Straightening up in her seat, she began patting down her pockets looking for her phone. Just as she was pulling it from one of her front pockets, another voice speaking up next to her had her flinching, eyes darting up to meet Cole's gaze, who had seemed to have joined their conversation.

She felt her eyebrows furrow at the comparison between herself and Hannibal Lector, because she was obviously wearing this thing willingly. She unlocked her phone with the intention of typing out exactly what she thought about his little comment, but he had already gotten up, citing something about looking for a key for her but as she watched him walk away, she could see he had already forgotten what he was he looking for. Knowing she wasn't going to receive any help from Cole, she turned back to Lucia, letting out a silent huff.

The other facility had been kind enough to install a text-to-speech app onto her phone and Olivia knew her way well enough around the app that she had a response for Lucia typed up in a few seconds.

"The mask is a precaution, for you and others protection while I was out of it from the sedatives. I'm sure someone on the staff will remove the mask once I go to my room. Thank you for asking though."

The monotone voice spoke from her phones speakers, Olivia trying to give Lucia an awkward smile though the only thing the other girl would be able to see would be the crinkling of the corners of her eyes. A commotion over by the other couches had Olivia flinching once more, leaning to the side so she could peer around Lucia. It seemed like one of the other Fated had broken free of her restraints and was threatening the guard, demanding keys for something.

Frowning, she stood up from her seat, tucking her phone away into her pocket. Should she just head to her room and avoid all the drama that was about to unfold?

♡design by stardust galaxy, coded by uxie♡

ddavidgayvidd · Dec 17, 2020

Icarus, like the rest of these ‘fortunate’ souls, was fated to be transferred to Facility 8. He couldn’t remember what facility he was last at, and even if he did, it wasn’t like he’d be able to talk much anything good about it. In these places, he felt the most safe, he was far from anybody he’d previously upset, far from his troubles. ‘If you can’t run away from your problems, you’re not running fast enough.’ He thought about that, smiling slightly as he did. Icarus must’ve been the fastest man alive. He watched as the otherworldly beings spoke before the rest of this group, blessing them with the knowledge of their staff positions, as well as where to find everything.

Though, Icarus only really listened when the snake-like woman laid out room numbers, since that was the only thing of real importance to him; to find his hiding place and stay there, that’s all he needed. He yet spoke a word to anyone, say anything, though there were remarks he wish he could give. Consequently, likelihood is that they’d turn to compliments. Well, whatever, he didn’t much mind. It wasn’t like he spoke up much, anyway. He was totally fine with the idea of not needing to utter a single word to anybody else here.

Unfortunately, he was to have to share a room with another. Though, he didn’t protest. He could simply give the other a few glances, huffs, you know, basic gestures to display what he was feeling rather than needing to speak. He thought very well about it. Everything wasn’t always going to be some sort of fib, he could take the gamble and speak out. The idea sent a shiver through him. Gambling. It was actually one of his favourite past times. So, he shrugged, decided it was totally worth a shot.

“I think you’re all very.. trustworthy.. people..”

Well, that didn’t go as planned, but at least he could give them a false sense of security.

”My name’s Alt- Oh, I mean- Ike- You know what-“

He struggled to get his own name out, a shame, really. He couldn’t even find his roommate correctly, likely he’d give a faux room number or something.

”I look forward to speaking with the rest of you.”

At least he sounded like an enjoyable person. Maybe he’d be able to come up with a great backstory, that is, if anybody were to talk to him. He’d keep his mouth shut again, not wishing to get involved in the upcoming calamity that was the small group of rising troublemakers.

Icarus Altalov

The Liar

Mood:
Anxious

Outift:
x , x

Location:
Facility 8 Lounge

Tags:
Nobody specifically.

Your Day at a Glance
“Your intellect may be confused, but your emotions will never lie to you”

coded by ddavidgayvidd

Cashi · Dec 18, 2020

fillerfillerfillfillerfillerfillerlerfilelifr 3:05 PM fillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfillerfilr

Haru Taylor

Your Day in a Nutshell

A faithful friend is a strong defense

LOCATION

Facility 8 Lounge

TAGS

wickedlittlecritta

ddavidgayvidd

jones573

The guy alighting next to her was a welcome surprise, and Haru had to marvel in wonder at how all these people similar to her would be stuck in a single building with her indefinitely. Visions of slumber parties and sports and karaoke nights danced in her head as she turned to look at Daniel, taking in his dark hair and eyes.
”Wh--drugged?!”
Haru sat forward on her tucked leg, opening her mouth to say something to Clutch--maybe “Dude, that’s messed up”--but was silenced by two things:
First, Clutch winked at her. So cool.
Second, She then proceeded to dislocate. Her. Thumb.
Once the harrowing procedure of snapping her joint out of place was through, Clutch slid the cuffs off (how had Haru not noticed she was cuffed?) and strode purposefully across the room to pick a bone with the minotaur.
Haru’s jaw dropped, mouth popping open in absolute disbelief. That was it, they had to be best friends forever and Haru wouldn’t give up until they were.

Suddenly, Haru’s life was full of opportunities and broad horizons. Here she was in this fantastic place with fantastic people and fantastic not-people, and already she’d had more human interaction than she’d had in months, met more people than she had in years, and was feeling in higher spirits than she could last remember feeling.
Alright, Haru, chill.
She turned back to Daniel, offering an aloof shoulder shrug in greeting as she said, “Hey, I’m Haru.”
Another new resident of the facility, who’d been silent like most everyone else, suddenly looked like he was about to address the room and say something.
Her eyes tracked the people who were leaving and the people who had stayed behind, taking in features and emotions, then landed back on the man who was opening his mouth to speak. Haru was mid-sentence, continuing her introduction to Daniel--”Looks like we’re going to be stuck in the same house for the next little--while…”--when the man finally addressed the room. His glasses reminded her of a cartoon villain (one she couldn’t quite put her finger on; maybe that green guy from Powerpuff Girls?) but his open and somewhat awkward introduction painted him as anything but nefarious.
Haru slid a look to Daniel, then raised her voice so Icarus could hear her.
”What kind of a name is Altike?”
Was that too mean? That was definitely toeing a rude line. She’d intended it to come off as teasing, like an invitation to conversation, and it had sounded much better in her head. Why did things always sound better in one’s head and then sound like absolute garbage when they came out?
She hid her wince, cranking up the wattage on her friendly smile to show she meant no ill-will. If this were a text message, she could just add a quick “lol” to the end of it and everything would be fine.

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

The guy alighting next to her was a welcome surprise, and Haru had to marvel in wonder at how all these people similar to her would be stuck in a single building with her indefinitely. Visions of slumber parties and sports and karaoke nights danced in her head as she turned to look at Daniel, taking in his dark hair and eyes.
”Wh--drugged?!”
Haru sat forward on her tucked leg, opening her mouth to say something to Clutch--maybe “Dude, that’s messed up”--but was silenced by two things:
First, Clutch winked at her. So cool.
Second, She then proceeded to dislocate. Her. Thumb.
Once the harrowing procedure of snapping her joint out of place was through, Clutch slid the cuffs off (how had Haru not noticed she was cuffed?) and strode purposefully across the room to pick a bone with the minotaur.
Haru’s jaw dropped, mouth popping open in absolute disbelief. That was it, they had to be best friends forever and Haru wouldn’t give up until they were.

Suddenly, Haru’s life was full of opportunities and broad horizons. Here she was in this fantastic place with fantastic people and fantastic not-people, and already she’d had more human interaction than she’d had in months, met more people than she had in years, and was feeling in higher spirits than she could last remember feeling.
Alright, Haru, chill.
She turned back to Daniel, offering an aloof shoulder shrug in greeting as she said, “Hey, I’m Haru.”
Another new resident of the facility, who’d been silent like most everyone else, suddenly looked like he was about to address the room and say something.
Her eyes tracked the people who were leaving and the people who had stayed behind, taking in features and emotions, then landed back on the man who was opening his mouth to speak. Haru was mid-sentence, continuing her introduction to Daniel--”Looks like we’re going to be stuck in the same house for the next little--while…”--when the man finally addressed the room. His glasses reminded her of a cartoon villain (one she couldn’t quite put her finger on; maybe that green guy from Powerpuff Girls?) but his open and somewhat awkward introduction painted him as anything but nefarious.
Haru slid a look to Daniel, then raised her voice so Icarus could hear her.
”What kind of a name is Altike?”
Was that too mean? That was definitely toeing a rude line. She’d intended it to come off as teasing, like an invitation to conversation, and it had sounded much better in her head. Why did things always sound better in one’s head and then sound like absolute garbage when they came out?
She hid her wince, cranking up the wattage on her friendly smile to show she meant no ill-will. If this were a text message, she could just add a quick “lol” to the end of it and everything would be fine.

Void Dweller · Dec 19, 2020

mood :

Amused, critical

location :

Facility 8 lounge room

outfit :

mentions :

@Cashi @noonshine @ddavidgayvidd @SavannahSmiles @wickedlittlecritta

interactions :

@noonshine @SavannahSmiles /anyone who wants a convo

Deorain

Alma

Alma's eyebrows shot up as the woman broke free, and she smothered down the urge to smile. While having spunk was admirable, trying to charge a minotaur was a different breed entirely. Though the woman's comment about the god of war was interesting. She either had his favor, or they were related in some way. Either way the woman didn't hesitate to use him as a threat, which meant Al would be keeping an even closer eye on her.

The girl, she looked far to young to be somewhere without a legal guardian, seemed to want to keep the mask on. If she wanted it to stay put then Al wasn't going to race to yank it off, voices could have power if her research was believed. A man gave a truly awkward hello, and was obviously lying through his teeth about any of them being trustworthy, and that it was nice to meet them. Al caught one man scanning through the crowd and decided he would be a good first interviewee, she strode up to stand beside him and joined in overlooking the crowd.

"You, my friend, are not a subtle person. Is there someone in particular you're looking for? Or did you just want to scope out the competition?" Alma watched as one woman managed to wrap two guys in her conversation. She had a friendly smile, but Al would bet her money on something lurking behind it. Truly normal people weren't sent to a facility like this unless more was at play. Tilting her head slightly she looked over the man quickly before casting her gaze out once more, "What's your name and what did you do to get in here?"

Al's eyes found that of the masked girl and the woman gave her a small smile and wave. Logically the girl was most likely a woman, perhaps even older than Alma, but she looked small and the mask made her look more defenseless than dangerous.

coded by reveriee.

L0ck0n · Dec 19, 2020

Your Day at a Glance: A fresh start will put you on your way.

Ignacio Martinus

Ignacio was in the middle of coming up with a plan on how to organize his small room when a soft thud was heard from above. On instinct he looked up, and stayed completely still as he waited for something else to happen. "Sounded like someone punched the wall." He said, letting out a soft snort before going back to staring at what would be his new room. It was smaller than the room they provided for him at Facility 4, but he only had about 5 boxes worth of personal belongings. 2 of them contained his gaming consoles, wires, controllers, and such that were wrapped with bubble wrap to keep from damaging en route. The other 2 boxes contained his wardrobe that had way more clothing than he thought he ever needed. Most of the garments were clothes Mark had given him, so in turn, hand-me-downs. The guy bought more clothes than he needed, so half of the clothes still had their price tags attached when they were given to him. Chuckling at the memory of Mark and his clothes Ignacio felt a wave of sadness slam into him. The people that took care of him were practically his friends more so than people who were employed by the facility. Getting to know each person wasn’t easy, but over time they let loose around him.

Hearing the buzz of a phone snapped Ignacio from the nostalgia he was feeling. On his bed lay the newest model phone that the 21st century could provide. Though he couldn’t contact the staff at Facility 4 he would use the phone to play games. Of course the phone had functions other than entertaining him like for instance the stupid daily fortunes. Today's fortune was unnerving considering his circumstances: “A fresh start will put you on your way.” Swiping the notification away Ignacio was going to place the phone back down when he noticed a missed call was just made. “The fuck…” He had to delete all of the contacts from the previous facility, so this was an unusual thing to see. ‘Private Number’ was all that the phone could process. Who the hell has access to my phone number, Ignacio thought while running through possible scenarios. They had taken his phone away when he was leaving the other place, so there was no way that someone who knew him could contact him. A scammer? Not possible, the phone has precautions in place for that. A person from this place? Again, not possible. I stormed out before speaking to any of these guys.

Right then and there a voicemail notification popped up letting Ignacio know that the caller had left a voicemail. Ignacio stood in complete astoundment at receiving a voicemail from who knows what. Slowly looking from one way to the other Ignacio carefully turned the phone around to check for something, anything, that could help explain what the fuck was happening. “Is it broken…?” he murmured while turning it back around. Couldn’t be, it’s the latest fucking model.

Sighing, he pressed the voicemail notification to get to the bottom of the issue at hand. The voicemail prompted him to input a password. Thank the stars I remembered that shit. “You have one unheard message. Press 1 to hear the message…” Pressing the 1st button Ignacio listened to see what kind of voicemail the person left. At first, he heard nothing which he tried to fix by turning the volume all the way up. After a few seconds there was a soft, but unclear voice that claimed to be from the database. Small bits of static popped up when the voice spoke, but Ignacio could hear the voice say that they had some information related to his curse. Right after that was said the voicemail ended, and it asked if he wanted to hear the message again. Pressing 1 he played the voicemail over and over trying to make sense of what it meant.

They’re from the database?! That can’t be, he thought while listening to the voicemail. I’m here, at this new place, so they can find out how to break the damn curse. Is it a prank? A joke? Looking towards the door Ignacio thought it would be a good idea to brief someone of what had just happened. What if they make me delete it? Or question me? Shit, I just got here… Though he opened the voicemail to find out what was going on it left him with way more questions than answers.

Hanging up the phone in frustration Ignacio placed the phone in his pocket, and walked to the door to open it. “Can I go to the 1st floor, porfavor? I’m hungry.” The guard said nothing, but stared straight at him. Ignacio slowly nodded, and walked past the guard to the elevator as the guard followed right behind. He wasn’t the best when it came to crowds, but he did need to eat something. A distraction was necessary considering he just had a call from someone who clearly did not want to reveal themselves, but wanted to help him. Supposedly. How could he arrange a room with that on his mind? Ignacio ran his fingers through his hair as the elevator made its way to the first floor. Letting out a huff he was thinking of the voicemail that was left behind. Even though he was not listening to it anymore the voicemail seemed to still play in his head. “From the database...break my curse…” He whispered to himself. “I wonder if that's possible?” He’d be lying if he said he still had hope there was a way to end his generational suffering, but what if?

.
.
.

outfit
Elevator

Lounge
tags

Mentions:
Everyone

Interactions:

coded by reveriee.

[/i]

noonshine · Dec 19, 2020

Cyrus Van der Zee

Middle Name? Danger.

at a glance:

Today’s advice:
Throw yourself in the deep end with the master swimmers.

mood:

tripped out

location:

facility lounge

tags:

nahhhh

The word ‘drugs’ slipped out of this guy’s mouth and Cy immediately felt caught, Greg’s relatively Gregish reaction wouldn't normally have come as a surprise, but in the realization that he was not on his best behavior and was absolutely pushing boundaries by dropping acid before an important introduction started to push him to the edge of what could become a bad trip.
As someone that was well experienced in hallucinogens Cyrus was fairly able to talk himself out of most bad moods.
“No, man, no worries, Greg,” he tittered, “I’m looking for my roomie! The number is 208. Colvin, I think?”
By the time he got that out the dude was already wandering away what a little rude ass.

He also quickly googled the definition of narcotic to see if it was a rule he was technically breaking (it absolutely was, but because LSD wasn’t the first thing to come up Van der Zee felt as though he had found an incredible loophole) and that provided him with momentary soothing.
Other chat about drugs was suddenly being tossed about and some snooty little dude pointed out that one of the girls was beyond blasted on something closer to a tranquilizer.

He clicked the nail of his ring finger over his thumbnail in relative silence as the lines of people blurred together, and a near knife fight with Greg seemed to be started by this woman who managed to get herself out of a pair of handcuffs.

Arguably one of the coolest things he’d missed seeing in person. Disappointment crashed over him like a wave but it was not stronger than the compiling of issues he was noticing around them.
The girl in the mask was being taken care of, which was good, but now the mask made her seem more like a sad, quiet bobble head than Hanninbal.
Some guy, Ike, was introducing himself and the chaos of the situation with the coolness of that introduction reminded him too much of Patrick Bateman (really he shouldn’t have watched American Psycho earlier in the week).

It kept piling up, his head was tingling with the sharp cool trip shocks that mixed with an unnecessary amount of adrenaline.

“Sick, sick, alright, cool meeting catch you all again later-dinner maybe” really, he wasn’t sure if anyone could hear him as he looked over the room wide-eyed, turning to the doorway to head back to his room at a fast pace.

There was no fucking way he could stick around.

♡design by stardust galaxy, coded by uxie♡

noonshine · Dec 19, 2020

.

norman nomikos

Your Day at a Glance:

Today, you can see the truth.

The room was a torrent of movement rather suddenly- it was kind of funny, kind of horrible. All at once there was a tense display of opposition to authority, some altruism, some introductions- someone else seemed to catch on to how drudged up some of the people in the room were and his craned neck scanning of the room didn’t go unnoticed.

Someone spoke to him.

Why?

Norman smiled, but it was accompanied by raised brows, his expressions were the most honest thing about him, truly body language was unaffected by the curse for him and that was something he felt so lucky about that he stopped forcing himself to unnaturally contort to maintain social affect ages ago.

So there was no being slick about this whole situation.

The comment on his lack of subtle behavior left the back of his neck burning with embarrassment and a nervous churning in his gut as he rifled through his pocket to grasp at the pointed edge of an electric yellow business card with black font. It reads: My name is Norman Nomikos. I cannot tell the truth.
Young woman, a redhead with striking features, kind of sharp and classic beauty that could knock someone over with one look.

It sent him glancing around the room again- realizing she was not the first person he’d thought that about today.
Almost everyone in the room matched up to his previous assessment of Disney Actor- or worse, Supermodel.
What the fuck was happening.

“I’m not looking for anyone, hopefully this isn’t peaceful” he nodded, and brushed aside the frustration, her wit was pretty clear and the shared situation of being cursed hopefully left them with some mutual understanding that could make his backward ass way of conversing just a little bit easier. The card, to him, seemed to be enough of an answer to the question of his name and why he was there, and he gave it a little flick and handed it to her before pointing to her and raising his eyebrows as though to say ‘same question’.

Void Dweller

Hell0NHighWater · Jan 8, 2021

>>STAGE II, DAY I

However the Fated chose to spend the rest of their first night at facility 8, it passed without major incident. The sun had barely risen over the horizon to chase away the chill of night when the five database residents on the upper floors were escorted from their rooms, to the elevator, and sent into the bowels of the basement.

Those with the misfortune of being labeled as too dangerous to freely mingle top-side were awoken and ushered down a series of winding, sterilized, corridors until they reached a set of imposing metal doors guarded by two heavily armed men in military fatigues. It is at this point that both groups converge and after a tense moment of waiting the doors pull apart with unsettling silence.

Fin and Greg lead you forward into growing darkness. The next room was significantly dimmer than the unnecessary brightness of the halls before it, yet nonetheless spartan. Strips of neon white illuminate the path ahead—a path that neither Greg or Fin hesitate to continue to lead you down.

Hell0NHighWater · Jan 8, 2021

f7eb1cdf344a81a5fe445168cc5bbea8b1b0f619.gifv

f80d53f0e9059ae553f84e77d26c13e8552c046f.gifv

↽YOUR DAY AT A GLANCE⇁
❝Courage is not the absence of fear; it is the conquest of it.❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
↽LOCATION⇁‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↽MUSIC TO SET THE MOOD⇁
=Database Facility 8=‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎INZO - Overthinker
‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎ TDN Simulation Room
↽INTERACTIONS⇁‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↽OOC⇁

L0ck0n |

jones573 ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎Lmk if anything is unclear

BELIAL. |

SavannahSmiles

wickedlittlecritta |

noonshine

Void Dweller |

Cashi
@Stars-Above |

ddavidgayvidd

︽ Colvin H. Lyre ︾

With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie and his shoulders hunched inward, he trudged along with a growing sense of unease. Over the years he had gone through a lot of tests, interviews, and the like, but never once had he ever been escorted into a suspicious room with very little visibility. Even the facial features of the person next to him were nearly impossible to make out.

Dread wormed across his skin and into his gut, nearly paralyzing him as they were suddenly brought to a stop. An electronic click echoed around the room just before the floor panels lit up, one by one, drawing a circle of white light in an otherwise dark room. Atop each floor panel rested a chair that, for all intents and purposes, looked like an innocently comfortable lounger.

“Everyone find a chair, we will begin shortly.” Fin commanded, ushering them forward before turning to the security chief, “Greg? Would you mind setting things up next door?”

Fin’s request drew an irritated snort from the minotaur and although Cole couldn’t see him, he could almost hear Greg’s nostrils flare when he answered, “Fine. Just remember I’m not your assistant.”

Colvin’s gaze lingered on the two as he moved to a random chair, above a random light-tile, but he didn’t sit. He watched the scientist stroll to the center of the circle and rummage around in some kind of container. Every one of his nerves ignited in a continuous state of restlessness, urging him to do something about the bowling ball of anxiety in his stomach. He didn’t like consenting to some weird experiment he knew nothing about and upon glancing at the chair again, Cole suddenly felt like he could stand for days. “What is that?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, Lyre. Take a seat.” Fin muttered, his footsteps echoing across the room as he moved from one seat to the other. “Did everyone find a chair?” He asked only to pause for a second before replying to an answer that no one voiced aloud, “Good. Now, above your head is a helmet. Please put that on and we will begin shortly.”

Dragging his gaze over the cream cushions and up to the headrest, Cole reached out to grab the helmet that had been anchored above the seat. Turning it over in his hands, he frowned at the vague reflection of his face in the visor lenses. “I hate to be that guy, but, um, what do video games have to do with any of this? I doubt Beat Saber is the magical cure-all for memory loss.”

“The Nous is a massive virtual reality engine with the notable ability to construct controlled trials out of personalized curse code. It is not a video game.” Fin defended bitterly, “But by the end, it will help reveal ways to either alter or break your individual curses.”

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Cole worried his bottom lip absently—gaze still locked on the outline of his own reflection. Either the words that came out of Fin’s mouth didn’t stick or the scrawny musician had a penchant for annoying database employees because the next question out of his mouth completely disregarded the information he had just been given. “Uh huh, cool I guess. How do we play?”

“It’s not a—” Fin drew a sharp audible breath, “Look, just sit in the chair and keep the helmet on. The machine and your brain will do the rest.”

After another few seconds of indecisive hesitation Colvin lowered himself into the lounge and was surprised to find it comfortable—soft and warm enough that his entire body melted into it. He slid the helmet over his head and squirmed in his seat until he deemed himself comfy enough to stay still. The silence of waiting and the tension of anticipation made his blood run cold.

Nothing happened for a while until a voice filled the room—slightly robotic and warped from the intercom, “Before proceeding: Try to relax and remember, none of this is real.”

Colvin took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A weightless sensation settled over him, the kind of calm that he only experienced in a dream, yet he could still feel the chair beneath him and hear the distant hum of machinery. Just because this isn’t real doesn’t mean it’s safe.

There was a small blinking red light in the corner of his eye and it drew his attention just as a flash of the whitest light Cole had ever seen seared into his retinas. His muscles locked in place and then the world slowly began to come back into view. Loose forms with color blended into solid figures contained in cream lounge chairs without vr helmets.

Jumping to his feet, Colvin turned in a circle as panic began to tighten around his throat. What the hell just happened? His hands flew to the top of his head, expecting to feel a helmet instead of his hair, and when his fingers threaded through dark brown locks with no resistance he almost screamed. Reminding himself that breathing was a thing that he couldn’t just stop doing, Colvin heaved a huge gulp of air and let it out slow.

The chairs were the same, the center of the room the same, but not. It was brighter almost, as if the world had been dipped in a golden hued snapchat filter. An endless void stretched before them—a narrow strip that tapered off like a hallway without end.

Somewhere a speaker crackled and a disembodied voice flooded the space, “Do not overthink this. Your results will be easiest to find if your reactions are instinctual. Is everyone ready to start?”

[/color]

SavannahSmiles · Jan 8, 2021

Olivia Carter

Your Day At A Glance:
Remember to repay any kindness done for you, no matter how small. If the room is crowded, crowd it with friends.

Mood:

Confused and Tired

Location:

Facility 8 - TDN Simulation Room

Outfit:

click me!

Tags:

Cole -

Hell0NHighWater

Could you find a way to let me down slowly.

Not wanting to get swept up in the drama that had been happening, Olivia had been escorted to her room where she was allowed to remove the mask. Her stuff had already been brought to her room, so she spent most of the time before bed unpacking and organizing her things. She was happy she had her own bathroom and didn't have to share with anyone. Exhausted after a long trip and still recovering from the drugs they had given her, Olivia had crashed onto her bed without changing and quickly fell asleep. But her dreams that night were anything but peaceful.

~ Dream~

A bright white light flashed before her eyes, accompanied by a burning heat. Words echoed around her, the language unintelligible except for one word she could make out among the whispers: 'touch'. The light and sounds then faded away, splashes of red dotting her vision as a pair of hands came into view, covered in blood and tightly gripping a peacock feather in their bloodied hands. The dream then paned away, settling on a familiar face that Olivia could almost recognize. But before she could focus fully a loud banging sound broke through her unconsciousness.

Jolting upwards with a small gasp, she ignored whatever had rattled on her desk due to her making noise as she threw back her blankets and headed towards her door as the knocking sound came again. Pulling open the door, a guard stared down at her, informing her she had to get ready for testing. Nodding, she closed the door and ran a hand through her hair, grimacing at the sweat that had beaded around her hair line. She wished she had time to take a shower, but she doubted the guard would give her that much time to get ready. Throwing on some fresh clothes, she pulled her hair back into a pony-tail and snagged her phone from the desk, checking for notifications. She had one, from the weird daily horoscope the Database sent them. She silently snorted as she read it, rolling her eyes. She wasn't here to make friends, so she didn't see how this applied to her at all. Glancing back at her bed, she frowned as she fixed the blankets. That wasn't like the normal nightmares she had, this dream had been different. Opening up a notepad on her phone, she quickly typed in the details of the dream before she forgot it then headed to the door.

She was lead through the hallways along with her other fellow Fated, hands tucked in her pockets as she mostly avoided eye contact with everyone. It was way too early for this, she hadn't even had a chance to make any coffee. Plus, her dream had left her rattled, she couldn't understand whatever it was she had seen. Perhaps it was a result of the drugs they had given her yesterday? She shuffled into the room, glancing questioningly at the chairs arranged in a circle. She hesitantly took a seat in the chair next to Cole, folding her hands in her lap so she wouldn't fidget. Too short to properly reach the floor, her feet swayed back and forth gently as she watched Greg move around the room.

At the instruction given by Fin, she twisted in her seat and hesitantly grabbed the helmet, staring down at it. They never did anything like this back at the other facility, a small ball of anxiety twisting in her stomach as she wondered what was gong to happen. Inhaling a deep breath, she placed the helmet over her head and tried to relax in the chair as best she could.

At first, nothing happened but then a sudden white light nearly blinded her. Her muscles locked up, her mind uneasily thinking back to her dream from earlier and the bright light that had been present. Temporarily blinded for a second, it took her several moments to realize that the world had faded back into view, allowing her to see the others sitting in their chairs. Frowning, she reached up, flinching when her fingers met her hair instead of the helmet like she expected. She knew VR had come a long way, but she never thought it would be this integrated.

Heavy breathing distracted her from her own anxieties, glancing up to spot Cole who seemed to be panicking worse than her. Standing, she walked over to him and awkwardly patted his shoulder, trying to give him the most reassuring smile she could.

♡design by stardust galaxy, coded by uxie♡

wickedlittlecritta · Jan 9, 2021

Today will contain many strange occurrences,
as well as many normal ones,
the trouble is telling which is which.

CLUTCH

Clutch's attempts at coercion came to an abrupt end in the form of the appearance of a second minotaur, who simply wrapped her in a bear hug from behind and lifted her feet up off the ground. She made a mostly token attempt to free herself, and then slumped down.

"You can't blame a girl for trying," she told Greg. He snorted like he very much could, and said, "You'll get your keys back when you've earned them."

"After I duel you to the death. Got it," she said, and the other minotaur laughed in her ear and carried her down to her basement room.

She'd stayed in worse.

They'd gone through her things. All her knives were gone--her big bowie and her utility multi-tool and even the little pocket knife she'd carried since she was a kid. But all her clothes had been deemed acceptable, at least. She dumped everything out onto the floor and then flopped onto the bed, kicking her boots off, and checked her phone. The facility had indeed sent her several emails, like she was some bright young freshman checking in on her first week at college. Along with the emails from the Facility Clutch had a pair of petulant texts.

5R: u missed brunch :c

5R: bitch u good????

Clutch texted back: got picked up.

5R: and they let u text??? whose dick did u suck???

clutch: not cops. some kind of anti god nutjob cult

5R: fuckin yikes my guy

clutch: yeah. so.

5R: u need me to visit with a cake, or???

clutch: are you kidding?? stay low dumbass

5R: i try to be nice

clutch: don’t fucking get caught!!!

She could picture the petulant little scowl on Fiver’s face—was he still in Vegas, maybe cheating at black jack, or lounging around some hotel pool? Or had he bailed, gone back to LA or up the coast to Seattle or somewhere east?—and Clutch hoped the Facility didn’t have eyes on him too. He wasn’t cursed, but then, neither was she. Godspawn, Fiver called them. Not really pretty, but poetic in its own way.

5R:

5R: not my first rodeo.

clutch: xoxo

She wouldn't hear from him again. Surely the facility was hacked into her phone. Probably she'd already said too much. At least Fiver was harder to catch than she was.

Clutch sent another text: coming to u live from bumfuck nevada, where i have been kidnapped by a cult who thinks that i am cursed?

papabear: Excuse me?

clutch: dunno what else to tell u pops

clutch: i'm in a basement and they took my car

The next message took several minutes to come through, and Clutch entertained herself with the image of her father throwing things before he replied. It was probably accurate.

papabear: I will have to...do something about this.

papabear: Do NOT do anything stupid.

clutch: i can't promise that i'm very stupid

papabear: Do you want me to leave you there?

clutch: .... no

papabear: Do not. Do anything. Stupid.

clutch: fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnneeeeee

papabear: Don't whine.

clutch: uuuuuuuuuuuggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh

papabear: You are the bane of my existence.

clutch: love u too pops

papabear:

Clutch looked up at the ceiling in her room once again and sighed. Then she went back into the emails and found the one where the Facility demanded they report any godly contact.

Dutifully, Clutch did so.

Afternoon??? Texted my father, Ares Enualios, to let him know that i have been kidnapped by a cult :C

And with that, she rolled back off the bed to inspect the shower. She needed to wash the day off. And maybe after get something for her purple and bruised thumb.

***

The next morning Clutch stumbled out of her room and down into the testing room with the others. She was not thrilled about the chairs and the helmets and the VR.

"Am I going to get to hit something?" she asked Fin. "I would like to hit something." Preferably Greg, until he coughed up her keys. But she wouldn't be picky. Fin didn't answer her. She sighed and settled into the chair and pulled the helmet on.

A calm voice said, “Before proceeding: Try to relax and remember, none of this is real.”

Bullshit.

Light flashed, red then white. Blinding, white-out bright, until it faded and resolved into the room they'd just been in, only now it had a yawning, foreboding void added to it.

“Do not overthink this. Your results will be easiest to find if your reactions are instinctual. Is everyone ready to start?”

"My instinct yearns for a crowbar," Clutch grumbled, standing. Whatever this was, Fin was right. It was not a video game.

code by ditto (head empty go bonk)

Cashi · Jan 12, 2021

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Haru Taylor

Your Day at a Glance

Beware falling objects

LOCATION

Facility 8 Basement

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