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pedalbike2020-08-29 10:30 am
upcyclingmod) wrote in pedalbike2020-08-29 10:30 am
Entry tags:
First TDM: Sterile Blues
Welcome to the Test Drive Meme.
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Not all characters (known as Wickie, singular or Wickies, plural) arrive at the same time, surprisingly enough! That’s life for you. Some Wickies find their way to the island at a pivotal (or very mundane) point in their life, or even after or during their death.
Wickies who were standing or walking often find themselves entering the town South Sister, located on Lighthouse Isle, through an open doorway. Those that were laying down, or sleeping, tend to be found lying prone in beds, bathtubs, showers, couches, and similar places within the cottages on Cottage Row. There’s no rhyme or reason to it all! To Wickies familiar with the era, they will realize that everything looks as if it’s come from the ‘90s.
The house which a Wickie finds themselves within could already be occupied. This includes walking into a fellow Wicke, waking up in the same location, or accidentally scaring a room full of people with their sudden appearance.
Oops.
After arriving, Wickes will find that food and water are easy enough to come by, as they can be readily found in the various houses which populate Lighthouse Isle. Medical supplies, on the other hand, are not so easily acquired. Bandaids and other simple trappings can be pilfered from the odd medical cabinet, but otherwise you’re on your own.
Thankfully, if a Wickie or their friend are in need of medicine or a pair of trauma shears, while you won’t find a full-fledged hospital on the island, there is a clinic. The clinic, named Sister’s Helpers, is like the rest of the buildings in town. Its appearance is well kept, and the doors are unlocked. Whether the Wickie goes in through the windows (because they can), or through the front door like most would, they’ll find that the clinic’s interior is crisp, clean, and orderly. There are plastic chairs, a desk where a receptionist would sit, white walls, but then—
There’s a sound. It could be mistaken for a breeze, at first. But as the sound goes on, it becomes more obvious that the ‘breeze’ is an exhale, prolonged and forced. At the end, there’s a murmur, professional and assuring.
“That’s good. Breathe.”
And with that, the clinic becomes awash in shades of blue. Sister’s Helpers itself hasn’t become warped in any way. There is only monochromatic coloring which, upon further realization, is not truly in the building, but a problem with their vision. Leaving without investigating further will mean having blue vision for the next twenty-four hours.
But for Wickies who choose to stay and explore, there is a chance at clearing their vision. This is is especially difficult for those who have a history of not taking care of their injuries. Gradually, it becomes more difficult to walk, as if there are weights on their feet. For Wickies are especially guilty of not tending to their wounds, their movements will become even more sluggish, and weight will settle on their arms and chest, forcing the worst of offenders into a crawl as they explore from room to room.
Laying on the patient beds will alleviate the situation for a short amount of time. The cure, however, will come from characters taking the supplies which they need for themselves and not for others.
If the Wickie fails this, over the course of an hour they will be crushed to death, and will eventually wake up outside of the clinic. Their vision stuck in shades of red with a weakness in their limbs for the next twenty four hours.
The Wickie’s only cure for that is either taking medical supplies for themselves or by doing some form of self care.
It’s the middle of the night when all the Wickies are jarred awake from sleep by the blare of a broken siren. Wailing into the dark, the siren functions as a foghorn might, warning of hazardous conditions to come. Beneath Wickies feet, the ground trembles, pulsating once. Twice. Three times. And again, and again until—
The world changes, and it is no longer the foggy island the Wickies knew.
Ash falls steadily from above, blanketing the ground, and at first glance it can be mistaken for snow. Whether by scent, by touch, or even by taste (an option for the brave, the bold, the few), the truth of the ‘snowfall’ can be easily revealed. It is strange, though, that there are no signs of fire in the vicinity. In fact, there doesn’t seem to be much of anything at all. There’s still no sign of the mainland. There are no buildings in this desolate place, either.
Lighting in this new landscape is hazy and sullen, but still conducive to exploring despite it being the dead of night just moments ago. But while Wickies walk, there’s a growing feeling of foreboding. There’s something… something else with them.
And it conceals itself in the ash.
It attacks by lashing out to grab at the ankles and the calves, attempting to drag the unsuspecting victim down, to somewhere far deeper and hidden by billowing piles of ash. It’s easy to save a Wickie from the pull, so long as they’re quickly freed from their assailants grasp. Retrieving someone out of the ash itself is nigh impossible, though.
Grabbed Wickies who lived to tell the tale, may find themselves bitten. The stalkers in the ash sink their teeth into the foot or calf of their prey, leveraging the force of their bite to take down their target. And once there’s blood, more of these creatures will be attracted to the smell.
If a Wickie is clever or strong enough to draw the stalkers out of the ash, they will find that the attackers are shark-like people. Most of their head consists of oversized jaws housing an impossible amount of teeth, and lacking any eyes. Their bodies are covered in ashen chitin and bone, with elongated feet and thin, taloned fingers. These Ash Sharks do not like being exposed, and will respond accordingly.
Ash Sharks cannot be reasoned with. Trapping one in ropes, magic, or other means will elicit angry shrieks which will attract other Ash Sharks, either to eat the trapper, or trapped, or both if they can. Being dragged completely under the ash will start a feeding frenzy, and the Ash Shark will proceed to rip and tear chunks out of its prey.
In dying, Wickies will reset to a random location within the ash filled fields, completely intact but for a purpling bruise where the initial bite took place.
Good luck.
There’s a beeping alert on all Wickie’s smartphones that refuses to stop until a particular notification is read. The notification is for something called the Heart Game (which, yes, looks annoying, overly bright, and cheesy). And surprise! The game opens up automatically with a loud ping!
The game begins (and ends!) with a question, one which will not go away even if you try to close out of it or shut off your smartphone. It reads:
It’s time for everyone's favorite game! Confession! Heeeeere is today’s question which you must confess!
What is… the scariest thing you’ve experienced? It can be anything!
no subject
Raven, however, is not dead. No matter how many times the ash sharks bite him or tear into him, he still survives. Bloody wounds torn open heal almost as quickly as they're made. The Undying Plague was a title bestowed upon him for a reason. He claws his way up out of the ash, looking as though nothing has happened.
Except for his bloodied, torn clothing, anyway.
He looks towards Stefano with a disturbingly placid expression for someone who just got torn to shreds. ]
Their brutality is unmatched...A shame I can only experience the novelty of that pain once before it grows dull.
no subject
[ It is the first thing that he says after he gets a good look at the man. Bloodied, torn clothing aside, the person really does earn the title of being immortal. Or, at least, indestructible? No, no, that doesn't sound right, either. ]
If it means anything... a picture is worth a thousand words and then some. [ He flicks his wrist and a medium-sized photo appears in his hand; he holds it out for the other to take. It is the scene as the ash sharks were tearing the other's body to pieces. ]
I am Stefano. You truly made magnificent art. [ Stefano pauses as his good eye notices the spear that is through the other's head. He lets go of the photo -- whether or not it's been taken is of no consequence -- as he reaches out to touch the protruding steel. ]
And what is this? Ah! I feel like lodging a complaint with all that ash... I was unable to see this attachment...!
cw: discussion of suicide
He's so lost in his own thoughts that he almost misses Stefano's introduction. ]
Raven.
[ What finally makes him look up, though, is that question. Normally, no one asks about the spike -- no one wants to know the truth. There's no attempt to make Stefano stop touching it and he doesn't even so much as turn his head away.
He tucks the photo away for now. ]
What do you know about despair? Reine Verzweiflung...
[ Sheer despair. Something born out of distress that seemingly had no end. It's a permanent reminder of that desperation and an accidental display of his immortality. ]
Do you know what it's like to be so desperate to die that you will do anything to relieve that desperation? [ A beat. ] ...Has anyone you've taken photos of been that desperate?
[ Surely Raven couldn't have been the only one he did that to...right? ]
cw: discussion of suicide, eye horror
[ His chin dips a little in greeting. ]
Ah, yes... I remember despair like yours. [ He drops his eyes down to his camera and gently rubs his fingers over the device in a loving manner. The tone he speaks is not sorrowful, regretful, but rather still full of light and joy. ] You see ... I'm always in pain.
[ Stefano looks up from his camera. ] An IED ... exploded just as I was taking a photograph... it destroyed the camera that was in my hands, and pieces of it lodged in my head. I can feel them... squirming around ... [ His eyelids drop slightly and he takes one hand off of his camera to move his hair out of his face. A camera lens is lodge in his right eye and the area around his face is horribly scarred. Tendrils of wire extend out from his eye and over the scars of his face. ]
Indeed, I know what it is like to feel desperate for pain to end. But now... it is but a distant memory to me. The pain will always be with me, but I no longer feel the agony that comes with it. [ He drops his hand down to return to caressing his camera. ] As for the people that I've taken photos of... I can't say if they felt that same desperation.
[ He smiles. ] It may be that the desperation has not yet hit them. But maybe somewhere... they feel it. [ Those he has taken photos of are in frozen time. They are neither alive nor dead. Their deaths replaying just at the moment of when they should die, but unable to do so. Eternally bleeding out. If they have any thoughts left, he wonders what they might be, but ah ... art doesn't need to do the speaking. He is the artist and he will speak for his art in far more eloquent words. ]
no subject
Raven reaches out, stopping just short of touching the area around his eye. ]
Do you mind...?
[ To feel the desperation of someone else. Not self-inflicted like his own, but forced upon him. Curious. ]
no subject
Stefano presses his lips together before a mischievous smile appears. ]
You can... but only if you don't mind in return.
[ He points towards the spike in question as he would also like to have a better feel of it. Seeing is all right, but really being able to touch it is something else, isn't it? ]
no subject
Go ahead. I've grown used to the pain by now.
[ A pity. There's little that could compare to the agony of the initial act, even so many years later. ]
no subject
[ He shows a little too much teeth in his smile. ]
It used to keep me up at night. [ He gestures with his free hand over his camera -- the device teleports safely to the ground at their feet. ] I could feel the broken pieces twisting about in my brain.
[ His gloved hands slide over the spike, taking in the sight and feel of it as much as he can. ] Yet somehow... it also brought me focus. It helped me to fully understand the beauty of death, of the macabre. [ He pauses in his touch as he smiles in appreciation. ]
You really made yourself into quite the masterpiece.
no subject
Raven cocks his head slightly, brushing his fingers along Stefano's cheek before his hand drops back to his side. ]
Have I?
[ He realizes there is something ... off about him. It doesn't bother Raven, though. Whatever it is makes him unpredictable and that unpredictability, in his experience, made him better at inflicting the kind of pain that still sparked something in him. A killer interested in creating art...Fascinating. ]
How many masterpieces have you made? Countless, I assume...
no subject
[ It certainly would be even more striking if more blood and bone were exposed, but ah, the spike itself leaves quite the message, doesn't it?
Stefano smiles in a cheeky manner as the wires retract to curl closer to the lens. Depending on how excited (or injured) that he is, the scars change to match his emotions. The mechanism of the lens seems to obviously focus and unfocus on Raven's face. Its black circle swirls and shifts upwards to "admire" the spike. ]
Yes. I wasn't able to create anything like I wanted until... [ He closed his mouth but his smile remains. ] ... until I remembered that I was an artist. Then, well, I couldn't stop creating.
no subject
[ When you're presented with such an opportunity, never pass it up. He has his own agenda here, of course, but the side benefit is that Stefano will have an inexhaustible canvas to work with. ]
no subject
[ He's never had one before, but when presented with the opportunity, it would be silly to pass it up. ]
I'd be more than happy to see what I could create out of you...