upcyclingmod (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
upcyclingmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pedalbike2020-09-18 07:11 pm
upcyclingmod) wrote in pedalbike2020-09-18 07:11 pm
Entry tags:
2nd Event: Choices We Make
Welcome to the Test Drive Meme.
| Premise | FAQ | Full Navigation | Rules | Reserves |
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.
C-C-Changes
Thankfully the fog has gone down to what it was before, a slow creeping crawl over the ground. And too, the monsters of before are gone, leaving the town much like it was before. Well...close to what it was before.
For now the season's have changed, from a lingering summer to a cooler fall.
There’s new foods to try, even if some things like lattes cause people to slip into warm boots and tie up their hair, and soups make people curl up under blankets on the couch. And it also means decorations of all sorts, made of the leaves from the forest, orange, yellow and red things and...we can not forget...
Pumpkin overflow
Pumpkins! They're everywhere. Wickies will find pumpkins infused into all sorts of things, like coffee, ice cream, even spaghetti options! It's wild.
There’s also many jack o'lanterns. They have been placed everywhere in town, outside homes, and even small ones have been made into table decorations. The Jack o lanterns have very cheerful faces, and seem to watch Wickies every single move.
That is, until a Wickie bashes or otherwise abuses a pumpkin. That's when it changes- there seem to be more of them. Their expressions change to that of anger, sadness and disgust. None of them attack- yet. But their faces become more and more horrifying, as they follow the Wickie more and more- outside of the bathroom perhaps, or found on top of them as the Wickie wakes up in the middle of the night.
It shouldn't matter right? They're only pumpkins.
What a ride
Funny enough, with the pumpkin invasion, there also comes a dull colored horse wandering about the island. Its head is drooped, and it looks depressed and lonely. The horse is tame on approach and will accept pats and treats, even from those who are obviously not human.
But it also wants something, for all that it seems to be begging for attention. It wants someone to ride them, seems to even be begging for it with its big eyes. The horse will help Wickies to figure out how to mount; it will even stand beside the Town Center benches, rocks, or even go down in order to make it possible for the Wickie to get onto the horse’s back.
That’s when it changes. The Wickie is immediately wrapped in chains from their barrel to the Wickie’s waist. The horse turns a coal black and the Wickie’s clothing changes into that of a soldier's uniform, with a hand either holding a whip modeled after a human spine, or a jack o'lantern.
The Wickie cannot get off the horse on their own, no matter how much they struggle. As the horse moves throughout the town, they will go anywhere from a walk to a full canter, seemingly impervious to any magic or physical attacks. The same cannot be said for their unfortunate rider.
If the rider is hit, or simply in pain, the Wickie will feel an impulse that grows and grows until they scream a name of someone in town, someone they know.
And the named will drop, paralyzed. Paralyzed wickie are likely to die within minutes, more so if they are too close to horse and rider. The horse will happily trample anyone on the ground to death.
Even without the impulse, should the Wickie rider use anyone’s name, that person will drop, paralyzed, and unable to breathe.
There is only one way to possibly save the rider: scatter golden objects in their path. The horse will shriek, and promptly buck the rider off, before running away. Just make sure to catch the rider, or at least cushion their fall: they have no way of saving themselves until they hit the ground.
Heart game: confession
Current residents of the island may remember this particular beeping alert, and how it doesn’t go away, no matter what they do! That is, unless they open up the Heart Game, and answer the question.
Welcome back everyone! It’s so good to see you again! Now let’s play that game, Confession! And the question isssssss…
How do you celebrate the changing seasons! Don't be shy!
please do not apologize... i love this so much
except — that would be impossible? blank, wide-eyed shock slowly transmogrifies into the furrowed brow and narrowed eyes of curiosity and confusion. harrow has spent the vast majority of her life among her house, around three-fourths of which were the reanimated bones of their penitent dead, carefully restored to function so they could continue to serve their house. but even as intimately familiar with skeletons as this prodigious bone adept is, she knows that it's impossible to conjure a construct that can speak. mostly because a skeleton lacks all of the softer, fleshier bits which allow such a thing.
it's not that harrow is ignoring what he said; she heard it, and she's thinking about it, but for now she moves without thinking, stalking forward and then around to one side and the other to peer more closely at the construct. she thinks immediately that it's a contradiction: the anatomy is off in a way that makes it seem like a child's first, uninformed attempt, but what child can accomplish something that harrow would have thought was impossible? and why is it wearing — whatever it's wearing? they almost look like cohort crimsons, but...
okay, she's finished objectifying papyrus (in the way only a bone adept could), so she slowly looks up to him, hand lifting to her chin. ) You've truly never seen a necromancer before?
( she would think it odd, but, now that she thinks of it... she doesn't seem to sense any trace thanergy from this construct? how does that work — )
no subject
Papyrus doesn't mind her stares and even seems flattered by them. He's getting used to shocked reactions, and a skeleton fan like this human would be even more awed by his very cool and perfect appearance. He's a prime example of what a skeleton should be, after all!]
ABSOLUTELTY NEVER! Is this the word for someone who likes to dress up as a skeleton? [Or someone who likes to romance... "nec", whatever THAT means?] I'm still learning about humans.
no subject
though she does set that aside for now, because if she really decides to investigate this conundrum here and now, it will take a while, and it might or might not be unpleasant for papyrus. )
A necromancer, ( harrow recites carefully, ) is a — human, yes, who has the ability to control thalergy and thanergy. Energies of life and death. The latter includes skeletons. ( which is the reason she's dressed like this; part of it is aesthetic, certainly, but the rest is functional. harrow is never without a weapon.
she is thoughtful for a moment, then ventures: ) So. You never were a human? ( or does he not remember... )
no subject
A lot of people ask me that, but no! I'm a skeleton monster. Which, from what I understand, different from the skeletons humans have inside their body!
no subject
harrow personally abhors that particular branch of necromancy, however. she is no vampiric wight of the eighth. she would be happy if the last time she siphoned her cavalier was the last time she was forced to ever do such a thing.
anyways. there's a lot to unpack here. for a bone adept, considering a skeleton separated from ever having come from a human body is a mental acrobatic she is performing even as she slowly replies, ) I see. ( one of her gloved hands disappears into her robe, reemerging in a moment holding a long, thin sliver of bone — a piece of a vertebral rib, which she rolls between her fingers as she continues. ) It's the ways in which you are different which interest me...
( she is giving him another stern look-over, then she murmurs something under her breath, mentally modifying one of her many necromantic theorems based on visual measurements and modifers. then she drops the piece of rib to the ground beside her, and in just a few short moments, a near-perfect replica of papyrus (minus armor and accoutrement) sprouts from the bone like a macabre plant. it is, of course, fundamentally different — thanergy-imbued human bone, complete with red lights which blink to life in the cavernous eye sockets. but, still, the height and overall anatomy matches. the construct regards papyrus and remains still, not having been programmed with much by way of instructions.
harrow considers both of them in comparison an contrast thoughtfully, then nods. ) The composition of magic is fundamentally different... ( she muses aloud, wondering if this is either fascinating or blasphemous or both. )
no subject
OH MY GOD!!!
[He walks around the constract, admiring how perfect it looks.]
You're amazing!! Absolutely incredible! [He waves a hand in front of the construct's eyesockets.] JUST LIKE LOOKING AT A VERY HANDSOME MIRROR!