sand_boxing | PSL | voicetesting?

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From:

franchisepirate

[Everything stopped as suddenly as it began, mercifully with less fanfare. Dying, Westley can't say he recommends it.]

[Cracking an eye, his gaze flitters about and finds nothing like a dungeon torture chamber. In point of fact, that's the only thing he can conclude about his surroundings, everything too odd to put in any sort of mental order. It would seem he's no longer anywhere familiar at all. Marooned, as it were.]

[In the middle of determining how relieved to be about the less-than-anticipated damage to his person when he spots another, or so he hopes, the form far enough off to be a blur.]

[Right, then. Ahoy, avast, and all those pirate sorts of things. Westley fiddles with his torn black shirt -- he might indeed be dead, but he needn't look it -- before making for the dim figure that he dearly hopes is a helpful sort. With little to offer but questions, he's off.]

Beg pardon?

From:

sangreine

She's only a blink from new again, all whimsy and instinct, rippling hair dragging behind her skipping heels as she leaps to perch on the narrow edge of a fountain with her effortless, unnatural balance. Somewhere, she acquired some clothes (in the loosest sense of the word, a thin slip of a dress barely decent for bed, but it kicks up and swirls around her thighs when she spins so whoever it was had a sense of aesthetics if not modesty) and the most basic corners of language which she always tends to use sparingly in this state, her lush body and wide eyes speaking for her better.

A Queen in all ways that matter, she dances along the slim edge of the fountain, twirling and tiptoeing without even a whisper of a thought that she might fall, here and there kicking up playful splashes of water that freckle her slip and set the cloth clinging, a baptism fit for the sort of royalty she is.

Play with her, won't you? Her smile isn't demanding, but it won't accept 'no' so easily.

Whoever she finds will share some onus for her later self, supple as the more cerebral pieces of her can be when she's all virginal and eager. But like blowing glass or turning a potter's wheel, too heavy a hand will lathe a pliant curve into a too-sharp angle, or shatter it entirely. The last thing you want to do with a new Queen is draw blood so don't

push

too

hard.

From:

sangreine

[Saya doesn't bother to lull her high temper as she stalks through a long corridor, the sterile decor mocking her with silence. Wherever she is, it's as much a prison as the lush halls of the household where Saya has been kept for months, eating from her keepers' hands, Diva and her Chevaliers yanking her about like a mutt gone off its training. She had longed for freedom often enough to be disgusted by this twisted version of it: no answer to her calls and still, still no memory of herself before her recent sleep.]

[It's late, likely days and days since she fed. Not too late, however. Whoever she finds will get at least a chance. Saya should be grateful for that -- she struggles to decide, all the sicker for it. Has Karl plied her into the beast he claims her to be?]

[Saya approaches a heavy wooden door and raps it, but her irritation waits for no answer. She twists the knob nearly off and pushes through, red eyes flaring, not much thought for what she might find. It could be no worse than where she's been.]

From:

rack_em_up

[Out of the fishbowl and into the neverending hotel hallway. Fantastic.]

[Tired of glaring into rooms, Cross leans against some of the less cheap-looking curtains and shakes out a cigarette, lighting it like he means to hurt the thing. He considers setting the fabric on fire to see if that gets him anywhere. Even lousy accommodations have better service than this.]

[This is where he would normally wish at least for company, but given his recent history...]

[Being at a disadvantage, not his favorite thing.]

Edited Date: 2021-10-05 08:48 pm (UTC)

From:

conglomeration

[It's a good thing Zelgadis is used to stealth, every noise echoes in this place, and the footfalls of a stone man are hardly light. Not that it seems to matter, as he's yet to see another soul. Wherever he's ended up, he hasn't been provided anything helpful such as any indication of the way out. Or anything aside from eerie quiet and useless things like fancy-looking chocolates on shiny trays too light to be worth selling.]

[His magic, at least, seems to be functioning, but a Flow Break did nothing but waste a bit of restless energy and scar a dissipating blue pentacle into the carpet. He considered a summoning, but...]

[Stunningly, none of these froofy rooms seem to have anything that could prove useful for a cure, either. (He's not sure how he'd know, exactly, short of a sign declaring "Chimeras unfused here". He specializes more in long-abandoned dungeons.)]

[Maybe if --]

[He's gotten his wish, hearing what sounds like footsteps, but in defiance of his prior wishes his first instinct is panic. Lifting his mask and hood into place, he sweeps behind a corner, silent, waiting.]

Edited Date: 2021-10-05 11:03 pm (UTC)

From:

greyhatted

This is so right where the jumpscare happens.

[Garcia steps timidly through the corridor, keeping close to the boring beige wall and trying not to compare the carpet pattern to the one from The Shining. If a little kid appears out of nowhere, she'll --]

[What, Penelope, you'll what? Break out the proton pack? Perform an exorcism? Outrun them in these pink strappy heels? Oh, she is so, so screwed.]

[Whoever approaches her better brace for one hell of a scream.]

From:

conglomeration

[Skidding to a stop at the first choke point he finds, Zelgadis spins and slams his non-sword hand on the dusty floor, regretting that he's about to ruin what, when he came in, was actually quite lovely tilework. You learn to appreciate these things while running for your life if you visit enough places like this.]

Dug Haut! [Starting from his splayed fingers, the floor rumbles and a thick forest of stalagmites spring up from the floor, scattering ancient shingles and almost fully blocking the corridor. For a moment, only the skittering sound of falling dirt, then the center of the blockage starts shaking, cracking.]

[Yeah, he knew better. Wraiths are nasty business, and it's not like he could claim he didn't know. When there's enough gossip about ghosts down in the old temple there's usually something to it. Unfortunately, the best prizes are in the worst places. He didn't even get to the central hold.]

[Normally this is where he'd fly off, but he's nowhere close to open sky. Low ceilings in these rambling old places. However, he has more tricks up his sleeve.]

Astral Vine! [His sword glows red, conveniently lighting the dark corridor enough for him to douse his light spell and free up more energy. He might not be the most charitable person alive, but he's not going to just run and let these things lose on the village. It's his responsibility that the things are swarming in the first place, and his first purification spell might as well have been a gentle scolding for all the good it did.]

[They break through the mass of earth and immediately scatter, because of course it wouldn't be so easy as a few well-placed astral spells.]

[Whether fellow explorer or unfortunate bystander, you should definitely make yourself known so Zel doesn't blast you out of sheer reflex. Don't be alarmed by the stone skin or the goblin ears, he's probably on your side.]

Edited Date: 2021-10-06 02:01 am (UTC)

From:

dum_spiro

[Carol can't recall how she ended up inside a preschool of all places. One minute she's wiping walker entrails from her clothes and setting off through the woods, and the next she's surrounded by yellowed, crooked drawings of grinning families and the telltale groans of small children, long turned and converging on her from all sides. One of the wrongest turns of her life, must have been. If she still believed in God, she'd be sure He was out to get her, specifically. If only she'd waited to wipe clean...]

[Strange to wish for a viscera-coated poncho, perhaps, but here she is.]

[The huge automatic weapon strapped to her back isn't for close quarters, so she's left with her hunting knife and a pistol, its clip now empty. The finger grips are already dripping with the blood of a girl who might have once been blonde, maybe 4 years old, which Carol only noticed as the body slumped to the floor after surprising her from behind. If she'd seen the size of the walker beforehand, maybe it would have been enough to make her hesitate, as she's doing now.]

[Slipping behind a frosted glass door and shutting it as quietly as adrenaline allows, she sinks down into a corner and gulps for breath. Would it be worse to survive this and add these faces to her nightmares, or just let them come?]

[Shadows appear in the glass, distorted. Closing in. She grips her knife and, senselessly, uselessly, prays.]

((OOC: feel free to use her canon (suburban Atlanta with zombies) or say she was transported elsewhere and it just happens to also be a giant ball of actual hell!))

From:

namagomi

[Well, well. Would you look at that? A deserted road, a lonely traveler, and not a soul to be seen for miles. How fortunate, then, for them, that Xellos happened to be nearby.]

[Feeling gloomy? It might have attracted the attention you're about to get. Happy as a clam? We'll see what can be done about that.]

[Suddenly, from nowhere, a blur appears before you and a man (heh) in strange priest-robes and shoulder-length, purple hair is standing there, holding his staff. Smiling serenely.]

((OOC: Xellos is basically a Demon who eats negative emotions and is grossed out by happy ones, so please include those in the tags! If you like, Zelgadis can come join the party and warn you off the pleasant-seeming sadistic bastard.))

From:

failed_antichrist

[Perhaps he was meant as a present, an offering to help ease Saya's restlessness. Or a meal, one of sweet, divine blood to sate Saya's thirst with.]

[Whatever the intention, on the other side of the door, is a lithe figure with six white wings wrapped around him. He slumbered, but his eyes open at the sound of the door creaking open, and a slither of light that creeps into the otherwise pitch black room he's been tossed in.]

[There's a moan as he starts to uncurl. Feathers loosen from his wings and float to the floor.]

Hey! Who's there? [Setsuna sounds a little grumpy himself.] I wanna leave now.

[He gets up, ready to rush the door. He doesn't clearly see Saya, yet.]

From:

dragonslaving

[Gourry and Lina didn't part often, in fact, almost never, but forced separations happened from time to time. Even when Gourry acted like he had no idea why he had to leave, when they got a suspicious courier that whispered to him. Gourry kept pretending he didn't remember that part, then left the next morning. With her Sword of Light, too. She was going to have to hunt him down and remedy that at some point. But curious whisperings in the town they had been staying at, first.]

[Lina had been thinking along the same lines. Ghost stories, old temple - something valuable must be down there. Something shiny, or powerful. Either one lured her in.]

[Also, unfortunately, her magic isn't the best to deal with ghosts, so if Zel is having a hard time, well, this partnership might not last long.]

[She runs into Zelgadis on a whim, running from another wraith, right into the wrong, or right, corridor. Luckily, she stops herself short of fully running right into him.]

Zel! Funny seeing you here. [She attempts a fireball to at least get some space from the wraiths.] Don't suppose you have Amelia with you.

[Because, yes, it's his fault if he didn't bring her, and totally okay if Lina didn't think that far ahead.]

From:

worn_wings

[ It's hard to be sure if the explosions are still echoing in his ears, or if the thunder is his heart pounding. It really doesn't matter.

In the chaos as Terminus had fallen, as the tide had turned and they'd managed, impossibly, to escape-- he'd seen her in the distance. He'd seen someone, anyway, and he'd been absolutely fucking sure of it-- sure-- impossible as it had seemed. They'd streamed out of the cannibal camp, grabbing whatever weapons they could, feeling more like rats fleeing a sinking ship than anything else.

Tyreese had been nearby-- Judith, thank God, Judith had been with him-- and he'd said just enough for Daryl to know he'd been right. So he'd gone after, shouting some explanation that didn't really matter to Rick, who wasn't really listening, having taken his daughter in his arms.

Despite the stories inked on his skin Daryl's not the sort to believe in avenging angels. But it's hard not to think of her like that, in this moment-- to be awestruck alongside grateful. Focus on that. Don't think about the fact that he's chasing her.

Don't think about the fact that she left.

Coming to it after, following her trail rather than adrenaline, he sees the cheery, faded signs and knows what he's walking into. Takes a breath, circles it once to make sure there're no footsteps out. Not a good place to go to ground.

Inside he's slow. Careful. There are more corpses than walkers in the hallway he takes-- he can hear the rasp and growl, scrabbling little fingers on cheap wood paneling, and follows to find the cluster of them around the door.

It's not that it's easy for him. But maybe it's easier. Maybe it'll make a difference to her, that he can spare her having to do it.

One. Two.

Three.

The short forms tumble, leaving only a much taller shadow outside her door. Hesitating. Unsure, suddenly, of what's waiting when he opens the door. ]

From:

sangreine

[Tempest that her current mood is, she doesn't catch on to the feathers until it's too late, the door swinging open and leaving her standing there, bereft of words and breath. It might be the first time she's truly sworn to herself since she woke up.]

[Small favors, she's distracted enough by her wounded emotions for the inhuman glow in her eyes to fade. Rejection is not something she was built for, and with her hunger and mood both so piqued she's bound to react less than charitably. The likely factor of a curse has no place in the twisted logic of singed feelings.]

Never mind. [Whirling on her heel, deciding that the aggravating corridor is preferable to being rebuffed -- or worse, humored]

From:

conglomeration

[ -- his surprise is sufficient to turn his head mid-swing, luckily he connects anyway and his astral vine is much more effective than the previous attempts. Trouble isn't killing them, the trouble is there's a lot of the damn things, and they're not grouping up nicely to hit at once.]

[He ducks beneath another attempt, throwing a wind spell to launch both himself and the converging undead backwards, aiming for some space.]

[Why exactly she's here (probably similar reasons to him, forgotten knowledge or the like) he doesn't have time to ponder, but certainly he's not upset to have a little help, even if all she can do is provide those showy distractions she's so adept at.]

Don't suppose you have the Sword of Light with you, [he cracks, somewhat irritably. He can take care of his damn self, you know.] Elmekia Lance! [His spell fires into the closest crowd of wraiths, who screech and smoke but don't go down. Damn.] They're a level up from what I usually find.

Keep them occupied while I go for something bigger. [A Rah Tilt takes a few verses and a little more concentration than he has in close combat.]

[In the meantime, he tosses her his sword, the enchantment still active. It's Lina, after all, he knows she can use it. It's no Gorun Nova but maybe she can channel something through it to deal some astral damage.]

From:

dragonslaving

No Sword of Light. Just like you don't have an Amelia. Why would you come to this place without Amelia? [Her tone is scolding, but she has little time to further lecture. Of course, she's exempt from needing to bring Amelia.]

[She uses a couple of minor spells, mainly sticking to fireballs to divert attention, knowing a higher black magic spell isn't going to do any good, not here.]

[Easily, she catches the sword and grins.] Aw, Zel, trusting me with your sword. Always a sure sign of closeness.

[He's not getting it back, she will tease, at least. For now, she prepares a wind based spell to amplify into it.]

From:

failed_antichrist

Saya!

[His eyes widen as they adjust to the light, but it's her voice he recognizes first.]

Don't go! [He had no idea she was there.]

From:

dum_spiro

[She feels more than hears the bodies fall, watches a still shadow settle in the glass, and a different form of dread rises to fill the space. Odd, isn't it, how many ways to run for your life?]

[Her numb fingers squeeze her knife hilt as she quickly stands. Whoever it is, she resolves that she doesn't want to see them -- which will be a decision easier made now, when the figure is only shade and movement. Her strength isn't enough to actually say so, she knows. She'll try and remember the locked car door of Rick shutting her out rather than the kindness that has tiny, rotting corpses sprawled around their feet.]

[When she sees him, Carol wonders why she's not more surprised. At least she doesn't need to make efforts to look exhausted, and is glad of a reason other than his presence to look it.]

[At least, it seems, she did one thing right: they made it out alive.]

From:

sangreine

[Don't go. Words she hoped to hear from him, before, when he was mocking her feelings over the network, but now only fuel the tinder-spark of her indignation. (Which is better, at least, than hurt.)]

[And still, still his words dissolve her steadfast will, quick and bitter as salt in water, and her feet refuse to move another step. All the more sign that she should have stopped this weeks ago, this pretty lie that she could ever have anything other than the futile dreams of a naïve child. A pretty bird in a gilded cage that shocks her anytime she tries to touch.]

Why? [She meant it to be sharp reproach, but instead her voice is prayer and pleading. He doesn't care about her, she's just another thing for him to try and fix -- that's what she decided, anyway, the alternatives having all been far more sympathetic to him than she could allow her bruised ego to accept.]

From:

conglomeration

I go plenty of places without her. [Yeesh, Lina, way to bruise his pride. He hardly ever travels with Amelia when they're not all four together, matter of fact. He has things to do and they involve activities not well suited to impromptu rants about justice or side quests to save baby animals with broken limbs.]

[He only rolls his eyes at her crack about his sword, deciding that his time and wit will be of more use gathering spells to deal with these things. After they're gone, he'll have a devastatingly clever retort, you just watch.]

Shadow Web, [he replies instead, his shadow branching into a few dozen pieces, each one finding and snaring the counterpart of a snarling wraith and holding them immobile. He can only get about half of them, so whatever Lina's planning to do with his spirit-infused sword, she'd better do it.

[Still not grouped enough targets for a Rah Tilt -- fine.] Elmekia Flame! [A pillar of blue-tinged fire shoots from his hands, which he turns on the full company of enemies, twisting to hit as many as possible before the power is spent. Most of the ones he hit full-on vanish in a swirl of hissing and foul smoke, but not all. At least some of them are still frozen by tendrils of his shadow, which is a lucky thing because he'll need a moment to gather more magic.]

From:

worn_wings

[ The dead, as unnatural as they may be, are still a natural sort of hazard. Predictable, more or less, and without malice, only hunger and some remnant of instinct. The only cruelty they have is what you put on them: old memories, half-recognitions, the occasional inability to make yourself forget that they used to be something else.

The living are always the real danger.

He's expecting her, of course, but it's still a shock to actually see her. It feels like it's been ages. Maybe because he was, only hours ago, so close to death. Maybe because he's gotten the sense, all too late, that even in the same room, not so long ago, she was hiding from him. Maybe it's nothing. Still, he draws a shuddering breath, lifts his chin a little, regards her.

He wants to scream at her, actually. It's an old ugly habit brought to the surface by adrenaline, the close call and the harried chase. He's too fucking tired to feel all the things he's feeling so he defaults to the easy one, to being angry, and he thinks-- it's not unjustified, because she ran without saying a goddamn word.

It's tempered by a thousand other things-- gratitude and grief and sheer terror and a deep hurt he doesn't wanna even touch the edges of, things that have nothing to do with Carol and things that have everything to do with her. Something shows of it-- the tension around his eyes and in his jaw, the springloaded way he holds himself, not knowing if he wants to shake her or cling to her or if he'll have to catch her as she tries to bolt. ]

Where you goin'?

[ he asks instead, lifeless and flat because he doesn't want to let anything more leak into it. A question only in structure. Maybe he means it in the straightforward way, maybe it means how the fuck could you, who knows.

He definitely doesn't know. ]

From:

failed_antichrist

Because I need help? Because I'm not even sure where I am, or how I got here.

[He reaches out a hand for a moment, but does register the hurt and frustration in her tone. He pulls back when Setsuna considers it, and why she might be feeling like that. She has every right to it, of course, but it's not like wanted things to go that way.]

And I haven't had a chance to talk to you. After that whole freak show.

[He runs a hand through his hair, holding back the want to whine about how much he hates The City sometimes. Playing with his emotions and toying with his mind, and affecting everyone around him.]

From:

sangreine

[Help? Saya nearly scoffs, overtired from her own ponderings. Too likely this is a curse, some trick of their minds that traps them in the circumstance least apt for comfort. Beyond that, she has no answers, and her mind is too bursting with questions to reach for any even were they possible.]

I don't know what this place is, or how I got here. [There. Answered. Stilted but honest, as much so as she can allow herself to be when warring pieces of her want to rush into his arms or tear his throat out with only a blur of glowing red irises to prepare him. Saya isn't sure which impulse wounds her more.]

[Rather than flare menacingly, her eyes sting until she forces them shut. Knowing what he must intend to tell her, curses and poor timing and feelings for her that don't rise to her painfully obvious desires, everything she knows already, it doesn't ultimately matter. Saya knew from the beginning how it was, and he'd told her often enough in ways explicit and otherwise. The rebuffed Queen in her doesn't much care for logic, however, only for the aching loneliness left behind. So crushing that it sent her to Karl's door with no excuse of a curse to defend herself, and saw her splayed on the edge of his desk with only moonlight and gleaming eyes separating them. (The call of their blood is a folly worth clinging to, but isn't that only proving her point?)]

I get it. You didn't want to hurt me or whatever. [But he did, and that it's never his fault can't fix the triple-knotted mess inside her. She can't hear it again, his way of letting her down easy that makes it impossible to be furious.]

From:

dragonslaving

I don't blame you, for that. I go plenty of places without her, too.

But [Lina's voice starts to rise] not a haunted [she manages another wind spell in between, shoving a wraith back] ghost-infested [sounding a little bit more angry and whole lot judgmental] TEMPLE!

[She finally uses Zel's sword, turning it into a conduit for an Elmekia Lance, far more potent than her usual spell. The wraith she personally has been battling doesn't take too well to being impaled by it. The wraith actually flickers out for a moment.]

She would really come in handy about now!

[They could talk about the sword later. And possibly Lina's tendency to use people, even if she did appreciate Amelia for her friendship, sometimes.]

From:

failed_antichrist

[That would be their lot, going from one curse to the next, without any real time in between to recover and discuss. Her answers get a frown out of him. Not helpful, but that's not her fault.]

[He wants to rush to her, to hold her, smooth her hair out, but even he knows that wouldn't be a good move at the moment and holds back. If he knew about her dalliance with Karl, Setsuna wouldn't know what to make of that, or what to say, considering their own turbulent relationship, romantic or not.]

No. Not like that! [Setsuna shakes his hands and head with frustration.]

None of that was me. I mean, it was, but it was the City fucking with my head.

[But even hearing the words from his own mouth, he pauses, not blaming her if she's still mad about that. It makes zero sense.]

From:

sangreine

[Her will, already fractured, snaps into jagged pieces at his words, and she whirls around, eyes flashing in ways both human and not so. Saya promised herself that she wouldn't so this, but it will hardly be the first vow she's broken -- she's so tired of calculated risk, cause and consequence, thinking three times before she leaps.]

It's not the City, Setsuna. It's me. [She's not shouting, yet her throat is raw. Thirst or loneliness, she can't possibly name which is more desperate.]

You are the first thing I ever knew. The only place I've ever felt safe. The only other things I know about myself are what Diva and Karl tell me. [And they want her to be... theirs. Not her own. Nothing they could say will ever be as true as she needs.]

I have nothing but those walls and whatever small leash they give me, no past and no future, and anything I try to do for myself, I know that they would end it just to see me suffer. [Her eyes are blazing now, casting unnatural crimson shades on the walls.] You're the only one I can stand to be close to because they probably can't kill you, like they tried to do to Charlie. And because I'm terrified of what they'll make of me if I do the right thing and give you up.

You have... had... Sara, and Kira, and -- [She doesn't say Hatter, or bother listing anyone further, because it's not really about that. It's not the dumb engagement, or whether it was a curse, or anything like that, Saya just latched onto that because it forced her to face things which make her do this.]

[And that reality has her eyes warped now, her pupils slit like a cat. Like a demon. Like everything he deserves better than.]

And I'm glad you have them, because if I had any --

[Before she can say yet more things she'll regret, Saya's eyes dim as she wavers on her feet and pitches sideways, catching herself on the wall, remaining standing but not by much. In a strange way it makes her point too well: she can't fight anymore, and she'd much rather drown on her own than pull him under alongside.]