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TDM // #1
REBIRTH ALWAYS FOLLOWS DEATH
You died. Sort of. You float, sort of, blissfully unaware in a snug cocoon as both your Self and the world beyond slowly align. You're you still, you think, a hazy awareness as your eyes flutter open, and you see... nothing. A viscous substance blurs your vision, faint thrills of panic coiling around your lungs, swelling in your throat; wrapped in an ectoplasmic sheath, you're disoriented at best, frantically wondering where you are and how you wound up here. Whatever here is. Everything’s fuzzy, perception is limited, movement is restricted... and then it dawns on you, glacial down your spine, the nagging certainty that wherever you were before, you no longer exist there.
You're trapped. Your once cozy cocoon quickly becomes your prison, and an overwhelming sense of dread incites you to escape. On your own, you'll tire rapidly, weak still, unadjusted to the Netherworld's configuration. Scream loud enough and someone might come to your aid, though the process will leave you weaker still; as a new Restless, you go from the semi-sensory deprivation of the Shroud into your new existence without warning or preparation, spilling out of your protective husk breathless, confused, and naked. You're free, but at what cost.
Blink. Breathe. Find your footing. When your eyes get used to the twilight-hued ambience, you'll immediately see more Shrouds, everywhere and ripped apart like a vast nest of broken cauls. Through the emerald fog surrounding you, doors. An endless cluster of them, no frames, no jambs. Your name is carved on one of them, and you don't know how or why you know this, but you do. You'll find yourself inherently drawn to yours: maybe it's a pull, a hum, a light, a quiet sound in the static. Instinctively, you know it's safe, and you know that whatever you'll find within, calling out to you, you ought to protect... but before you run and cross the threshold, your focus wanes, and you catch something in the periphery of your vision...
You died. Sort of. You float, sort of, blissfully unaware in a snug cocoon as both your Self and the world beyond slowly align. You're you still, you think, a hazy awareness as your eyes flutter open, and you see... nothing. A viscous substance blurs your vision, faint thrills of panic coiling around your lungs, swelling in your throat; wrapped in an ectoplasmic sheath, you're disoriented at best, frantically wondering where you are and how you wound up here. Whatever here is. Everything’s fuzzy, perception is limited, movement is restricted... and then it dawns on you, glacial down your spine, the nagging certainty that wherever you were before, you no longer exist there.
You're trapped. Your once cozy cocoon quickly becomes your prison, and an overwhelming sense of dread incites you to escape. On your own, you'll tire rapidly, weak still, unadjusted to the Netherworld's configuration. Scream loud enough and someone might come to your aid, though the process will leave you weaker still; as a new Restless, you go from the semi-sensory deprivation of the Shroud into your new existence without warning or preparation, spilling out of your protective husk breathless, confused, and naked. You're free, but at what cost.
Blink. Breathe. Find your footing. When your eyes get used to the twilight-hued ambience, you'll immediately see more Shrouds, everywhere and ripped apart like a vast nest of broken cauls. Through the emerald fog surrounding you, doors. An endless cluster of them, no frames, no jambs. Your name is carved on one of them, and you don't know how or why you know this, but you do. You'll find yourself inherently drawn to yours: maybe it's a pull, a hum, a light, a quiet sound in the static. Instinctively, you know it's safe, and you know that whatever you'll find within, calling out to you, you ought to protect... but before you run and cross the threshold, your focus wanes, and you catch something in the periphery of your vision...
► I. REAP WHAT YOU SOW
a. A CLOAKED FIGURE STANDS BEFORE YOU, EERILY QUIET. It only stares, faceless, towering well over you as you struggle to find your balance on your weakened feet, the air you breathe in scorching your throat. Your senses are annoyingly muddled, and it's enough of a distraction, perhaps, to overlook your state of undress. And then it finally speaks. The Reaper. It's surprisingly polite, its voice a melodious string of low hissing notes as it calmly explains what and where you are; a Restless, citizen of the Netherworld. You were reborn here for reasons unknown, another soul among thousands with seemingly unfinished business, cursed or blessed to roam a world slowly devoured by an entropic force. Hell? Perhaps, if it suits your beliefs, though some do thrive here, and keeping Oblivium at bay is a collective effort.
Around you, others like you break out of their Shrouds, and some walk the land fully dressed, with an ease that unequivocally evokes the passage of time. They've been here for a while, and it shows. You might catch bits of conversations here and there, learn more about your new home and new purpose from eavesdropping. The Reaper that's helped you out of your cocoon is, unfortunately, a poor conversationalist, though it does point its rawboned finger towards the stormy horizon, speaking of an immense city in the far distance that shelters thousands of Restless and offers essential supplies for all. Stygia. It doesn't stay much longer: without preamble, the Reaper vanishes into a plume of indigo smoke, essentially leaving you to fend for yourself. This is your chance to reach and cross the threshold of your very own door, find some clothes, your Tethers, and a device that'll enable you to reach out to anyone willing to listen. Others like you might have answers on the Netherwork-- chattier Reapers, even. Just watch out. The moons above glisten crimson, and Badaliscus roam in especially high numbers across the Shadowlands, aggressive and carriers of plague-like diseases. If you wander, do mind the giant split in the earth as well, surrounded by blackened soil. You can't miss it, strange, guttural noises coming from its depths. A fall into a drop that steep would be deadly, as no light or hope shines at the bottom of the chasm... though l'appel du vide is nearly unbearable. Does it whisper your name?
THINGS YOU MIGHT HEAR OR OBSERVE
► some compare this place to a purgatory
► an old sage has apparently found a "stairway to heaven"
► another restless' acquaintance has recently lost their battle against their shadow and nearly killed them -- probably because they didn't have a soulmate. they now dwell in the labyrinth with other monstrosities
► some restless can be spotted laughing hysterically, or arguing with themselves
► objects never last unless reforged with a soul's essence
► the hierarchy used to send a welcome party for new arrivals but now seem reluctant to leave stygia -- maybe because new arrivals are now a daily thing, sometimes hourly
► no one seems to know what reapers truly are
► ferrymen never speak
THINGS YOU MIGHT STUMBLE UPON
► small fumaroles that emit occasional bursts of molten lava and splatter anyone nearby
► ragged open pits in the ground that spout boiling water and steam at irregular intervals
► six bones arranged in a hexagon on the ground. they appear to have been gnawed upon and bear teeth marks
► scattered rubies; if touched, they'll start shouting and demand that you "unhand them at once, varlet!!", which may attract funny looks or undesired attention
► withered trees, grass, deserted campfires, various debris, bloated corpses, and fog
► mirrors that reflect the back of the person that looks into them
► a mausoleum. the structure appears perfectly normal at first, but examination reveals that there are no doors to allow entry or exit
b. NOT ALL REAPERS ARE AMICABLE. The same cloaked figure unceremoniously yanks you out of your Shroud, a mouthful of mud and ashes as you brutally land on the ground. You feel everything all at once: the acute pain of your rebirth, the pull of your Tethers, the cacophony around you, and the dull voice in the back of your mind. You breathe, and then you don't, shackles around your neck, your wrists, the gravelly soil grazing your skin raw and bloody as you're pulled by your feet. Your screams remain unanswered, though it might catch the attention of a passerby, should they be brave enough to face your tormentor. Now would be a good time to resort to any skill you might have to free yourself, past your confusion and growing agony, lest you be carried to the Forges. It's the only thing it mentions, laughing unhinged as you approach the shores, where a brittle ship awaits you. The good news is that Reapers loathe water: splash it or try to push it overboard, a distraction that should allow you to strike in some way. The bad news is that the Tempest isn't kind to anyone, especially you, and you're sort of shackled. Rest assured that it'll fight back, tooth and claw, a scythe at its disposal as well as blood-curdling shrieks that might deafen or temporarily paralyze you. Scream for help if you've yet to get any: someone is bound to hear.
Around you, others like you break out of their Shrouds, and some walk the land fully dressed, with an ease that unequivocally evokes the passage of time. They've been here for a while, and it shows. You might catch bits of conversations here and there, learn more about your new home and new purpose from eavesdropping. The Reaper that's helped you out of your cocoon is, unfortunately, a poor conversationalist, though it does point its rawboned finger towards the stormy horizon, speaking of an immense city in the far distance that shelters thousands of Restless and offers essential supplies for all. Stygia. It doesn't stay much longer: without preamble, the Reaper vanishes into a plume of indigo smoke, essentially leaving you to fend for yourself. This is your chance to reach and cross the threshold of your very own door, find some clothes, your Tethers, and a device that'll enable you to reach out to anyone willing to listen. Others like you might have answers on the Netherwork-- chattier Reapers, even. Just watch out. The moons above glisten crimson, and Badaliscus roam in especially high numbers across the Shadowlands, aggressive and carriers of plague-like diseases. If you wander, do mind the giant split in the earth as well, surrounded by blackened soil. You can't miss it, strange, guttural noises coming from its depths. A fall into a drop that steep would be deadly, as no light or hope shines at the bottom of the chasm... though l'appel du vide is nearly unbearable. Does it whisper your name?
► some compare this place to a purgatory
► an old sage has apparently found a "stairway to heaven"
► another restless' acquaintance has recently lost their battle against their shadow and nearly killed them -- probably because they didn't have a soulmate. they now dwell in the labyrinth with other monstrosities
► some restless can be spotted laughing hysterically, or arguing with themselves
► objects never last unless reforged with a soul's essence
► the hierarchy used to send a welcome party for new arrivals but now seem reluctant to leave stygia -- maybe because new arrivals are now a daily thing, sometimes hourly
► no one seems to know what reapers truly are
► ferrymen never speak
► small fumaroles that emit occasional bursts of molten lava and splatter anyone nearby
► ragged open pits in the ground that spout boiling water and steam at irregular intervals
► six bones arranged in a hexagon on the ground. they appear to have been gnawed upon and bear teeth marks
► scattered rubies; if touched, they'll start shouting and demand that you "unhand them at once, varlet!!", which may attract funny looks or undesired attention
► withered trees, grass, deserted campfires, various debris, bloated corpses, and fog
► mirrors that reflect the back of the person that looks into them
► a mausoleum. the structure appears perfectly normal at first, but examination reveals that there are no doors to allow entry or exit
if you choose to address the netherwork directly as one of your prompts, reapers or any other npc might reply to you. otherwise, feel free to speculate with other characters!
additionally, if you wind up poisoned or injured by a badaliscus, the occasional scaleberry can sometimes be found in the shadowlands, often rotten and scattered around withered trees. you'll find this kind of information in your smartphone's database, but anyone with healing abilities could also come to your aid: just remember that magic in the netherworld is unpredictable.
lastly, if l'appel du vide is too strong for you to resist, and if no one is able to keep you from falling to your death, a reaper will eventually give you a hand, immediately poofing out of existence afterwards.
b. NOT ALL REAPERS ARE AMICABLE. The same cloaked figure unceremoniously yanks you out of your Shroud, a mouthful of mud and ashes as you brutally land on the ground. You feel everything all at once: the acute pain of your rebirth, the pull of your Tethers, the cacophony around you, and the dull voice in the back of your mind. You breathe, and then you don't, shackles around your neck, your wrists, the gravelly soil grazing your skin raw and bloody as you're pulled by your feet. Your screams remain unanswered, though it might catch the attention of a passerby, should they be brave enough to face your tormentor. Now would be a good time to resort to any skill you might have to free yourself, past your confusion and growing agony, lest you be carried to the Forges. It's the only thing it mentions, laughing unhinged as you approach the shores, where a brittle ship awaits you. The good news is that Reapers loathe water: splash it or try to push it overboard, a distraction that should allow you to strike in some way. The bad news is that the Tempest isn't kind to anyone, especially you, and you're sort of shackled. Rest assured that it'll fight back, tooth and claw, a scythe at its disposal as well as blood-curdling shrieks that might deafen or temporarily paralyze you. Scream for help if you've yet to get any: someone is bound to hear.
► II. OF SOULS & SHADOWS
a. WHETHER YOU'VE FAILED TO FREE YOURSELF OR MANAGED TO BOARD A FRIENDLIER SHIP, you won't escape the storm, a tempest within a tempest.
Grey clouds boil across the sky in a bruise-colored wall, forked lightning and thunder booming overhead. The clouds open, a black and green funnel growing down towards you. As it swirls closer, you see faces, staring out from within and screaming. Gale force winds whip the sails of your ship, debris flying through the air: glass, wood, metal. The ship sways, and you sway with it, the groans of your vessel as it's tossed about in rough waters almost deafening. It's terrifying. If you were being transported to the Forges, the Reaper quickly abandons you, leaving you to your demise. If you were lucky enough to board a safer ship, pay attention. You're holding on for dear unlife as sheets of rain slap against your face, blown off-balance by heavy gusts of wind, but you see them in the raging waves, Restless just like you, shackled and helpless in the storm. You have a choice, your first dilemma: focus your energies on saving yourself and anyone else aboard your ship, or take the wheel and navigate through the winds, screams and flotsam in order to try and rescue them. Coils of rope are available, tarps, barrels and buckets.
b. WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE OR WHEREVER YOU ARE, your Shadow might take this very ill-timed opportunity to make itself known -- if it hasn't already. You're scared, torn, tired, and maybe a little hysterical -- it knows. It's in your head. Literally. It's you, and it's not, a growing onslaught of inappropriate thoughts, impulsive and intrusive as it makes an attempt to figure you and itself out. It's never been sentient before, perhaps even unsure of its purpose for a time. And then, as you struggle against the storm, it speaks:
Deaded things slam into you, spat out of the tornado. The sight snaps you out of your daze, but you don't have time to ponder whether this eerie interlude was real. It won't speak again, never directly. You'll know it's there, viscerally, as your Self and Shadow struggle to come to grips with this new antagonistic yet symbiotic relationship. If you've never been kind to yourself before, learn how to, because it won't be.
Luckily, this whole ordeal may have left somewhat of a positive mark on you: Sparks. Two of them. It's a light buzz in the back of your mind, a tickle beneath your skin as nether magic courses through your veins, an inherent part of you now. The knowledge of what is happening to you is abstract at best, but it's there, and if necessary, you'll know how to use your newfound abilities:
Grey clouds boil across the sky in a bruise-colored wall, forked lightning and thunder booming overhead. The clouds open, a black and green funnel growing down towards you. As it swirls closer, you see faces, staring out from within and screaming. Gale force winds whip the sails of your ship, debris flying through the air: glass, wood, metal. The ship sways, and you sway with it, the groans of your vessel as it's tossed about in rough waters almost deafening. It's terrifying. If you were being transported to the Forges, the Reaper quickly abandons you, leaving you to your demise. If you were lucky enough to board a safer ship, pay attention. You're holding on for dear unlife as sheets of rain slap against your face, blown off-balance by heavy gusts of wind, but you see them in the raging waves, Restless just like you, shackled and helpless in the storm. You have a choice, your first dilemma: focus your energies on saving yourself and anyone else aboard your ship, or take the wheel and navigate through the winds, screams and flotsam in order to try and rescue them. Coils of rope are available, tarps, barrels and buckets.
b. WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE OR WHEREVER YOU ARE, your Shadow might take this very ill-timed opportunity to make itself known -- if it hasn't already. You're scared, torn, tired, and maybe a little hysterical -- it knows. It's in your head. Literally. It's you, and it's not, a growing onslaught of inappropriate thoughts, impulsive and intrusive as it makes an attempt to figure you and itself out. It's never been sentient before, perhaps even unsure of its purpose for a time. And then, as you struggle against the storm, it speaks:
Enjoying your first taste of sea-salt horrors? You can feel it, can't you. The pull. It's eating at you, subtly, but it's there. You can’t run. You can’t
get away from me either, because I’m you, and I’m just as
much a part of you as all the noble ideals you hold. All the awful
thoughts you ever entertained, all the things you were ashamed of or couldn't bring yourself to say, and all the
lies you told... that’s what I am, and you can’t make me go
away. You can’t outlive me. I’m going to remind you of
all the terrible things you did or wanted to do, and I’m going to
get you to do more of them, because you’re still
you and you still have all those nasty little urges
floating around. Only now I’m here to highlight
the opportunities you have to indulge. Don't be shy. If you won't speak your mind, I'll do it for you. If you ever considered redemption, think again. Fight me or silence me if you wish, it doesn't matter. Even if you succeed. I may go dormant for a while, but I'll always come back stronger. I'm your Shadow, and Oblivium awaits us.
Luckily, this whole ordeal may have left somewhat of a positive mark on you: Sparks. Two of them. It's a light buzz in the back of your mind, a tickle beneath your skin as nether magic courses through your veins, an inherent part of you now. The knowledge of what is happening to you is abstract at best, but it's there, and if necessary, you'll know how to use your newfound abilities:
a. Teleportation, allowing you to vanish into thin air and relocate anywhere you wish, the same way a Reaper would. Usable 4 times.
b. Mind-reading, albeit a bit murky. Think of it as a weak signal reception. Pry some information about the Netherworld out of an NPC's mind, or try to find out what a friend think of you. Lasts 12 hours.
► III. THE ETERNAL CITY
IF YOU'VE ELECTED TO REACH STYGIA INSTEAD OF MATERIALIZING BACK INTO YOUR HOME IN THE SHADOWLANDS, you'll be welcomed by fishermen in the Harbors, and most of them seem... well, a little annoyed, honestly. Additional mouths to feed, and all that. Stygia has been at max capacity for decades, and resources aren't always easily obtained. But they were like you, once -- freshly undead, overwhelmed -- and if they sigh and glower as you pass by, quick to dismiss you, you'll soon be guided towards what seems to be a Notice Board, a map of Stygia pinned just below. Make yourself useful, you're told. If you hope to survive here, better start by earning your keep!
If you're injured, you're out of luck. Hale is currently off-limits -- a collapse, apparently -- but poultices can be found in the Marketplace, bandages, etc. The only problem is... you have no coin, and not much to barter with. Pick a job from the Notice Board if you're willing, or find shelter in Serene: most people there will welcome you into their homes, so long as you don't overstay said welcome. Alternatively, if you ask around, a fellow Restless might be able to help you. Steal if you wish, though be warned that there might be consequences.
Meanwhile, if the thought of returning to the Shadowlands is a little overwhelming for now, you will come across empty buildings and houses all over Stygia, most of them in varying states of repair. They're yours for the taking, if you don't mind cob-webs or shattered windows, but all you have is time now, and a little renovation can go a long way!
As you explore your new environment, you might start experiencing odd and subtle changes...
If you're injured, you're out of luck. Hale is currently off-limits -- a collapse, apparently -- but poultices can be found in the Marketplace, bandages, etc. The only problem is... you have no coin, and not much to barter with. Pick a job from the Notice Board if you're willing, or find shelter in Serene: most people there will welcome you into their homes, so long as you don't overstay said welcome. Alternatively, if you ask around, a fellow Restless might be able to help you. Steal if you wish, though be warned that there might be consequences.
Meanwhile, if the thought of returning to the Shadowlands is a little overwhelming for now, you will come across empty buildings and houses all over Stygia, most of them in varying states of repair. They're yours for the taking, if you don't mind cob-webs or shattered windows, but all you have is time now, and a little renovation can go a long way!
As you explore your new environment, you might start experiencing odd and subtle changes...
ooc note
► Welcome to Nightfell's very first TDM! All threads can be considered game canon and may be used as samples if you choose to apply.
► Check out the Notice Board for additional prompts!
► For your convenience: Bestiary, Glossary, Setting.
► If you still have questions regarding the game in general, please refer to the FAQ. For questions specific to the TDM, ask them below!
► We hope you enjoy your first experience in Nightfell!
no subject
[ Jonas might also be hearing some mirrors casually being cracked from time to time. Zack's at least a little more mindful not to absolutely bash the hell out of them like the first time around. Glass shards on the ground might.. might not do anyone favors. But that crack felt like a good starting point at least.
Zack still finds himself hitting far more dead ends than he'd like before he seems to pick up a longer trail. At least he doesn't run into another mirror, but he sure does freeze when he hears something else. ]
hold up. i just you just
look i think i heard something weird unless that was you.
no subject
he continues shredding his tickets until he comes to a four-way junction. the infinite images of himself standing against a black background terrify him as much as being able to see his own back in a few of them, finding it uncanny and uncomfortable. what he fails to see, too overwhelmed, is that one moves separately from his reflection, disappearing from its frame.
similarly, in another part of the maze, shadows move around zack differently in the dim light.)
It wasn't me. I haven't said anything since I got trapped in this place. I don't have anything to smash the mirrors either.
(tense, jonas looks over his shoulder, breathing audibly in the silence.)
I'm gonna call out to you, okay?? Maybe we can find each other faster.
Hey, I'm... I'm here! Can you hear me? (he sounds unconfident, clutching his cell phone in both hands.) I'm over here!
(cast back is an echo of jonas' voice from down the stretching hall, distorted as though heard over the radio between frequencies and pitched two octaves lower: "i'm over here!")
no subject
[ It's the only message he sends back in the end though. Because rather than read the next message he gets, he's suddenly startled by the voice sort of reverberating through the maze. It's strange. It shouldn't sound this off or echoy, should it? He doesn't think so with how close quarters it is.
It feels...... wrong.
And even creepier than before. Zack attempts to shake off the tension in his shoulders though. Freezes mid-step and picks up his boot to note the shred of blue- His eyes light up in that moment as he notes another right nearby and then another, trickling along. Those must be... Zack starts to hurry despite the spine tingling sensation of something watching. Following. Don't focus on that. Focus on- ]
Heeeey! I'm right here! Keep talking!
[ His voice darts out sharp, confident, and encouraging despite the uneasiness. ]
no subject
his second is turning on his heel to jog over his torn admissions tickets to greet the voice head-on—literally.) Oh, thank God—thank you. I hear you, man! I'm—I think I'm heading back your— (jonas, six-foot-one, one-hundred-and-sixty-five-pounds, slams face-first into a larger, stronger body.
he goes down immediately and lands hard. the force of his sit expels the air from his lungs, momentarily stunned into groaning on his back in the dust and litter.) Ugh, ah... J-Jesus, I... might've broke my ass... (his winded lament echoes through the maze to zack as he rolls onto a hip to lay a hand over the seat of his pants where his tailbone throbs, intent on sucking it up so that he looks like less than a whole idiot in front of someone new. only when his composure is assured does jonas look up to see the other restless looking as relieved as he does—his third mistake—and shouts.
nothing but a black mass looms above, elongated and featureless but for wide, white eyes and pinprick pupils. what was stalking them has found him, though remains unmoving in the dim.)
...
W-What the hell—what is that? What the fuck is that!
(911)
no subject
But that shouting definitely works as a cue. Has Zack jolting before he's bolting again. Smashes into another mirror on his way with how he body slams into it. But the fear he can hear doesn't sound like a lost, panicked soul. No, that definitely screams danger and Zack just moves from there.
Because if there's no direct way, he's going to make one.
It's not just glass that goes flying this time he slams the mirror. It goes beyond- right into the backing where it tears through like nothing more than paper while his eyes seem to glow. He ducks in through that mirror, looking around before cutting a sharp right and running like a bat outta hell with a: ] What's going on!? Hey! Can you hear me!?
no subject
I'm—it's—I'm— (jonas tries to speak and it imitates that, too, but the voice, coming from the dense shadow where its mouth is meant to be, sounds like it's borne through radio static: "i'm—it's—i'm—"
panic has a tight hold on him, unable to even gasp his alarm as he looks from zack to the mirror just broken. another mass as tall and malformed as the first ducks through the hole between aisles, replaying zack's shout: "hey! can you hear me!?" they're multiplying, a third shape down the end of the hall turning in the dark toward them.
forget being frozen to the floor. jonas is scrabbling up, almost tripping over himself in his haste to join zack with grasping hands.)
What do we do? What do we do?
no subject
[ It's his first thought shouted out while he raises an arm physically between Jonas and the massive- thing, even as he hears the crackled echo of his voice from behind. That gets Zack shooting a glance back and- ] Shit! [ 'Shi-t!' the thing echoes, even as it slowly seems to slink their way.
Zack takes one look between the things before he makes up his mind. Takes to the board in his hand, holding it in a way that looks far too practiced before he swings forward at the closest one with a heavy, quick strike. ]
cw: graphic description of a body? smh i just kept typing
brave, jonas thinks. stupid, his shadow replies.
the board is swung and it connects with something that issues a sickening crack. embedded in the black mass, it looks as though it's dispersed some of the fog of its hulking form; jonas' eyes widen at its insides. cloaked in the monster's "tissue" is a corpse. an old one by the look of its pallid skin, and its arm didn't stand a chance against zack's strike. the whole limb is bent at an odd angle now, bone forming a visible mound like a tongue pressing against the inside of a cheek.
jonas' exclamation is echoed by all three creatures, each one overlaying the other.)
That's a person! The—it's—they're people! Wh-What do I—what should we— (he gasps, fingers digging into the back of zack's shirt.)
lol fair cw though shit bout to get wild
Zack bites his lip before he shakes his head and spares a quick glance at Jonas with a: ] Come on then!
[ The echo of his own voice grates on him, but it doesn't stop him from trying to grab Jonas by the wrist and pull him around the thing he just hit. Human, monster, whatever it is, he's not about to stay and find out if he can help it. ]
no subject
zack, being the confident one, is a beacon to follow. lamplight in the dark hall. jonas is grateful for the hand on his wrist, not only for the stabilization it provides but for the warmth in it; he's chilled to the bone. as they run, his teeth begin to chatter behind tightly closed lips.
the path of shredded admission tickets ends, bringing them back to where jonas had been previously. their mimics glide slowly after them, though not at as quick a pace, which gives them time to choose another route. recognizing this junction, his gesture indicates "left.")
I think I... I think I know where we are. Not—I don't know the way out, but this is where I started with the tickets. I didn't take the left direction, so... so why don't we try it?
no subject
Gonna let you in on a little secret though. We're not beating this maze the right way. [ It's all the warning Jonas gets as they hit another dead end and Zack lets go of Jonas, waving him back so he can take a crack at another mirror. Pierce through it, ignoring the mild echo of his voice behind him. It's still far fainter than before at least. If they keep pace, they should easily outrun them.
He can deal with whatever freaky feelings he has over those things later. Get Jonas out of there. Get him safe. That's his first priority as he gestures for him to move through the mirror. ] Quick, come on!
no subject
Okay. Okay. (jonas speaks in a hushed tone, practically chanting it, trying to psyche himself up as he keeps directly behind zack. they're through the first mirror, followed distantly now by an echoing "quick!" and "okay, okay, okay—"
the most beautiful thing jonas has seen all night is a simple rectangular sign visible from their distance down the long hall. its glowing, red letters spell "exit," and he gasps inward at them, pointing as though zack can't see it.)
The—that's it! It's over there! (his pace quickens, bringing them almost shoulder to shoulder.) It's... It's not a reflection, right? Is it real?
no subject
[ Zack gives him a boyish grin, a world of energy in his eyes as he makes easy pace with Jonas. He never lets him out of his sight though. Never pushes past him although he's tempted to. Almost there, almost there, almost-
There's another form oozing out of a mirror on the side in front of them and Zack darts ahead. Just up and bodyslams the thing out of the way with a: ] Keep going!
no subject
Fuck! (finally cursing their poor luck, he focuses ahead. athletic, jonas reaches a faster speed with a harder pump of strong legs and a lean forward, breathing erratic as zack holds the twisted thing at bay.
an emergency route out lies just beyond a curve, and a broad shoulder is slammed into the door bar that forces it to open with a sharp squeal on its hinges and a slam against the wall outside. the light that floods in makes the black humanoid mass shrink away with a terrible cry.)
Hurry, hurry!
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He half runs, half trips the rest of the way until finally- finally he makes it through the door and he doesn't think. He just does. Whirls around and tries to slam it tight behind the both of them, looking around frantically for something- ] We gotta bar the door!
perfectly cool to end this whenever now :-) !!
Yeah, like a... a stick or something, or— (jonas shakes his hands to better illustrate what he's having a hard time saying, and fingers come together in a sharp snap when the words finally come to him.) You know, like, a piece of rebar!
(it's what he searches for when he separates himself from zack and the building, jogging to stare out into the rest of the amusement park. jonas is thankful for the fresh air, inhaling one of his first few breaths shakily, but it's short-lived, spotting scrap metal from a derelict ride. one long piece of thick metal cording will have to suffice. he returns with a length of it and an idea, both placed in zack's hands.)
I'll hold the door; can you tie the handle off?
(because once it's done, they can get the hell out of here and never come back.)
o7!! Sounds good to me!
[ Zack doesn't hesitate to grab that cording, sliding into position shortly thereafter. The things are slow, sure, but the longer they hesitate, the closer they get and Zack's not taking chances- for them or anyone else foolish enough to go wandering off into that weird, creepy mirror maze. The knot he ties might be more intricate than expected. Fast and efficient despite the things on the other side of the door closing in.
He's just as quick to reach for Jonas after, clapping him on the shoulder and trying to tug him a long with a- ] Okay, now let's move!