pedalbike | Third TDM: Don't Turn Around

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Third TDM: Don't Turn Around

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Arrival

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.

Braving the Trail

A new trail has opened up in the woods today! Funny, that there’s never been a real path before, but this one promises a spectacular view for all Wickies who brave it.

However, the view has to be earned with one stipulation: until the Wickie reaches the trail’s end, they are forbidden to turn around. At all. There’s no mention of what may happen if the Wickie does glance back, but the scripted text on the sign marking the trail hints that the consequences just might be dire.

The hike itself is fairly easy. It even feels peaceful with the sounds of bird calls echoing in the distance. But for Wickies who are known for past procrastination, the walk will prove to be difficult. These individuals will experience an itching urge to turn around and leave the trail, and the itch worsens with every pause of their footsteps.

If a Wickie does turn around, they will find themselves staring up at a blank masked figure, slightly taller than themselves. And as wisps of fog cover the packed-dirt path, the figure hisses out a sigh, their voice barely audible as they issue their reprimand:

“I’m disappointed.”

Why, it’s not clear at all.

But with those words, the Wickie will find their body locked into place, unable to scream as their limbs become paralyzed, their eyes remaining fixed upon the masked figure. Somehow, the figure moves without walking, inching closer and closer until their mask and the Wickie’s face are close enough to touch.

The only way to become unlocked from this position is to have someone come and cover the Wickie’s eyes before leading them back to the trail’s start, somehow breaking their vision of the masked figure, or by speaking of a past regret outloud.

Otherwise, the Wickie has a good chance of dying from exposure.

Currently residing

It’s been nearly three months since the first arrivals started off on the island. It’s had its ups and downs, but with the previous quiet month, it’s been easy to relax in the cottages and houses, and even feel safe.

But not everything stays as it should. Whether a Wickie is just scoping the houses out, or returning to sleep in one of those comfy beds during the night, they will find that things are just a little..off. It’s as if someone has moved everything just a little, by no more than an inch or two. Sometimes, it even looks as if someone hurried away from the middle of a task. For example, mugs left in the sink will be washed; unslept in beds have been stripped, and their sheets are found in the laundry.

It’s only after sitting down with a fellow Wickie, that what’s going on will slowly become apparent.

People, looking more like blue tinted holographic designs, appear within the house. Slowly they become more visible, going through the motions of daily life. People with their significant others, children playing, even pets can be seen, playing with their owners or doing things that pets do.

These residentials don’t seem to notice the newcomers in their surroundings. But they do notice objects are moved, particularly if it’s furnishings. They frown, confused, before talking to one another and seeing the items returned to where they believe it should be. And curious too, that while the residentials appear to speak to one another, there’s not a sound that’s uttered when their mouths move.

It’s not possible to interact with them, unless the Wickie has the spiritual power to speak with spirits. Even then they’re quite confused, and do not believe themselves dead- it’s as if they think the Wickie is the ghost instead.

It is possible to deter the residentials manifesting by lighting a candlek. Upon the candle being lit, they recoil, some of them violently, and with great upset, before fading.

But they weren’t causing any harm.

Are they?

It Arrives

The pumpkins have vanished (finally!) there’s no more costumes in the various drawers in town; the apple bobbing is done, and there’s no more bonfires. Pity that means the food is gone too.

But something else has arrived. Something...small, white, and with webbed feet.

You’ll know it by its sound. It’s unknown what has brought this particular goose to the island; it might have been a laden desire, or it had flown here over miles. Or who knows, maybe the Admin has set this goose out as some kind of petty revenge.

All that is known as that this goose likes to wreak havoc. It likes going into the flower and vegetable gardens, looking for seeds, vegetables, and flowers to pull up; it likes to grab keys and toss them just out of reach.

It’s also clever enough that it figured out how to get into Fruits Basket, into homes, and even...sometimes...onto roofs.

Thankfully, while the goose likes to startle people, its mischief is rather harmless, and even, at times, enjoyable to watch. Just be sure not to leave anything electrical it can throw into a body of water by accident- or any bells it can keep in its temporary home by the woods.

For those who are curious, yes it will accept all sorts of snacks, and it is a wild, ordinary goose. (So yes, it is as harmless as a normal goose and yes it is edible).

Confession network

Yet again, the phone goes off. Doesn’t look like it’s anybody in town, but it’s that weird, cheesy app called The Heart Game. And it’s persistent, too: it doesn’t want to be ignored, making a series of beeps and chirps, much like a pet that wants attention.

The message that pops up is as follows:

We’re back! It’s the time for everyone's favorite game- Confession! So beloved users, our question is:

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be? Why? Tell us everything!

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[ Adora folds her arms over her chest, raising an annoyed eyebrow. Something about Shadow Weaver's answer, as if Adora somehow isn't important enough to worry about anymore, grates more than it should, and she gleefully takes a chance to hold something over the other woman. ]

You're right. It's not.

[ She doesn't tell her about the stars. About the fact that they're not on Etheria at all — as impossible as that seems — but somewhere wholly different. Shadow Weaver will figure it out herself the moment she steps outside, but for now, Adora lets the ambiguity hang like a threat. ]

But we didn't do anything. Trust me, the last thing either of us wanted was to see your face again. [ Literally, and she winces at the reminder. She never thought she'd miss Shadow Weaver's creepy, emotionless mask, but boy, does she ever. ] You want She-Ra, don't you? That's what this is all about. You just can't stand the idea of someone else being more powerful than you.

[ Arrogance getting the better of logic, she draws the sword from her back, holding it up in front of her. For a moment, she forgets all about Catra, and her carefully constructed lies. Forgets that no one in the Horde should have made the connection between She-Ra and Adora so soon after her defection, before any of them had witnessed her transformation at Thaymor. All she cares about is proving what Shadow Weaver said wrong; that she (or at least, She-Ra) does matter to the Horde, and to her. ]

[You'd think that Catra, of all people, would be used to the idea that she's not important. But, spoilers: she's not. And Shadow Weaver puts it so bluntly, so simply, like nobody - including her - cares what they've been up to.

But she does care. Catra knows she does. She'd made it perfectly clear to Catra how important she'd considered it that Adora be brought home, and her blithe claim to now be unconcerned with what they've been doing hits Catra in a dozen different places.

Why'd you make me go out then?! she wants to snap, frustrated and confused. What was the point?!

She doesn't get to, because Adora cuts her off, and Catra's never wanted to throw something across a room as much as she does that sword. Shadow Weaver doesn't even know who She-Ra is; all Adora's doing is making sure that she's leaving plenty of questions for Shadow Weaver to ask, because she can't stand that Shadow Weaver's focused on something that doesn't have anything to do with her.

She tries to enjoy Adora's goading -- this is something that Catra never would've thought she'd see, Adora standing up to and insulting Shadow Weaver -- but her mood's been soured too far to really appreciate it. So she's left glowering in the blue light, her narrowed eyes focused on Adora's sword for a moment too long before re-settling onto their mentor. Whatever Catra's opinions on it, she won't start a fight with Adora in front of Shadow Weaver. (As soon as they leave this building, however--)]

[Thanks to Catra's decision to stand well in view, Shadow Weaver didn't even need to move her gaze from the sword to catch her reaction. Ah, that's where the flaw was. Oh, Adora; despite her many talents, misleading others was certainly not one.]

[The sword, their defection... It all felt so long ago, despite being a few measly years. The runestone in the artifact called to her senses, but she couldn't spare it thought just yet. Always so emotional, these two. This will be easy.]

Adora... [Her voice pitches into that familiar patronizing coo, and with no small effort, she pushes herself up to sit, eyes narrowed at the sword. ] I raised you far better than this. You make claims of defection, yet come to me. You speak of nonsense legends and present me with an artifact radiating magic, yet claim to keep it from me. And "keeping an eye on me", as if I were your prisoner... Why, you've told me so much already.

You're disoriented and confused; you are not the one I expect this kind of sloppiness from.

[ Look. Adora has one talent, and it's hitting things really good. It certainly isn't seeing through Shadow Weaver's bullshit, because without Glimmer to back her up — and in a position of far more vulnerability — she somehow finds herself doubting. As if she could possibly be the one wrong about things, when the proof of the past year is literally in her hands right now. No. No, Catra just doesn't remember, and Shadow Weaver is being Shadow Weaver about it. Trying to manipulate her, like she's still a child.

She clenches her teeth, grip tightening around the sword. Catra might as well not even exist right now, with the way she's laser-focused on the woman in front of her. ]

You're lying. I'm not confused, and She-Ra isn't some nonsense legend. She's real.

[ She's everything people say about her, even if Adora isn't yet. Even if she's still trying to live up to those same legends. ]

And you are my prisoner. [ A too-long pause. ] Our prisoner. So stop thinking I'm going to fall for your games. We're past that, and you're not getting out of here until you realize who's in charge now.

[As much as Catra hates to agree with Shadow Weaver, she is feeling so vindicated right now. She's been arguing with Adora since they got here about these exact things, trying to get her to see how strangely she's been acting since she picked up the sword, but Adora hasn't been having a bar of it. Their dynamic's shifted so far because of it, and Catra--

--Catra just wants her Adora back.

She's still torn, not wanting to gamble her new freedom. But when Adora slips up, claiming Shadow Weaver as her prisoner, Catra's decision is made in the same snap as her razor-thin patience.

Adora's not even pretending to care about what Catra's doing, so Catra makes no effort whatsoever to add any effects to this. She doesn't draw out her phone, she doesn't pretend to read a message. Her tail continues to lash with obvious pent-up irritation, not that Adora's going to notice, and there's an edge to Catra's tone as she lies so blatantly.]

Hey, Adora. [Literally not budging even the slightest bit to make this more believable. Maybe Catra wants Adora to call her out, to prove she's paying enough attention to her to catch something that's so obviously false.] Looks like something's happening over at the Woods. You better go help them out. [even if Catra said 'we', Adora would tell her to stay behind - and Catra's not letting that embarrassment happen in front of Shadow Weaver.

It's mostly just a way of trying to make it look like she has more agency than she does, when Catra adds:] I'll handle things here.

[Years ago, such a provocation would have riled her. Had Shadow Weaver the strength and power, she might have even challenged it still, even if Adora's response was exactly what she'd been goading. Funny what yielding to Brightmoon as the resident imprisoned sorceress did to blunt the edges of such an assertion.]

[And the soul-deep exhaustion gnawing at every fiber of her being, that too.]

[Her eyes flick up to Catra, glad the haphazard bandages hid the unimpressed arch of her brow. Really? Adora could be... gullible, but that wasn't even trying--]

[ The moment she hears the Hey, Adora, she's already preemptively knitting her eyebrows together in frustration, assuming she's being interrupted for no good reason. That Catra is trying to undermine her, somehow, because that's what she does; only taking things seriously when it suits her. Never when Adora actually wants her to. ]

I'm a little busy, Catra— [ Then the rest of it sinks in, and Adora whips her head around to look at her, without a single trace of disbelief in her gaze. She doesn't check her own phone, doesn't do anything except almost stumble over herself in her haste to stand, eyes flicking between Catra and the door. ] —Wait, right now? But I— I can't leave you alone with Shadow Weaver.

[ Not because she doesn't trust Catra (she thinks), but because she can't trust Shadow Weaver (she knows). Because she remembers what happened the last time she left Catra to deal with the other woman alone... or rather, the consequences of it. But Catra's asking, telling, her to go, not stay, and Adora — well, she chose the fate of strangers over Catra once before. The fact Catra seems okay with it doesn't change her mind, only makes the decision come easier. ]

... No, you're right. I need to go. [ To Shadow Weaver: ] This isn't over. If you lay a single finger on her, you'll regret it. Actually, just... don't talk at all until I get back. Catra's not going to believe you, anyway.

[ She doesn't wait for confirmation from either of them. She's out the door with sword in hand, and a For the honor of Grayskull! echoing in the distance; faint traces of her transformation's light illuminating the doorway. Clock's ticking. ]

[Catra would like to believe she meets Shadow Weaver's unimpressed gaze straight on, but the truth is, her uncovered eyes are unnerving - and Catra can't bring herself to look directly at them. (Ugh. They should've put sunglasses on her before she woke up.)

In any case, Catra's point is made when Adora buys it. She's got enough faith left in Catra to not even bother checking her own phone or questioning the source of Catra's information, but not enough to spare her the humiliation of belittling her right in front of Shadow Weaver. Maybe Catra should be relieved that such a bad lie worked, but she's not. She actually feels kind of dejected, a sickening sort of feeling that curdles beneath her frustration and bristling fur, and Catra tries to ignore how it feels when that stupid phrase and traces of light flash through the doorway.

(Because she kind of resents Adora for them. Like, a lot.)

But the second Adora's gone, Catra's claws scrape in to the back of the chair her best friend had been sitting in. You are not the one I expect this kind of sloppiness from, Shadow Weaver had said to Adora; and Catra knows full well that the insult is a barb at her. So she's more determined than ever to do this right, to prove that she's more capable than either of them think. She'll find out how to break the sword's hold on Adora without risking their freedom and without giving anything else away, and she'll do it in the short amount of time they've got before Adora comes charging back.]

What do you know about that sword? [She's using the same stubbornly hard tone that Adora was, not that Catra will admit that.] You said something about a legend. What is it?

[That... certainly transpired. To think, the Horde had been losing to that girl.]

[But Shadow Weaver simply watches, her eyes narrowing a little as she tilts her head - and if her hair happens to partially fall across her face to veil it, she wasn't moving it. ]

My, that was quick. [Barb aside... ] I know that sword harbors significant magical power. There are ancient legends of a warrior by that name in the age of the First Ones, never to be seen since.

How long has she been comfortable with the tool of a princess, Catra?

Edited (HORDE NOT HORSE AUTOCORRECT) 2020-10-28 17:33 (UTC)

[Oh, like Shadow Weaver actually expected that Catra would listen. 'Don't talk at all', who's going to follow an order like that?

She doesn't answer Shadow Weaver's question, but the backwards flick of Catra's ears is decidedly uncomfortable, and she looks away for a moment as uncertainty crosses her face. She's still young, this Catra, and she hasn't yet had to master control over herself; her doubt written all over her before she shakes her head. Just because Shadow Weaver's confirmed it - that the sword really is a Princess' weapon - doesn't mean Adora is one. She's just -- using it, that's all.]

I'm asking the questions here. [The confidence in her assertion is stubborn, and a little bit awkward with how hard she pushes it.] What're the First Ones? And how do you know anything about them?

Irrelevant to the problem.

[Their prisoner, they call her. As if they could really stop her from leaving, had Shadow Weaver thought she could walk farther than 50ft without collapsing; she wasn't even restrained.]

[Another expense of effort has Shadow Weaver moving to the edge of the bed leaning forward a little. Her voice... doesn't exactly turn gentle, but something closer to it.]

Catra, how long? I can't address the problem if you do not tell me. What's really going on here?

Edited 2020-10-30 15:34 (UTC)

[If Catra believed for a second that Shadow Weaver were in any state to actually do anything, the lack of restraints might be an issue. But it's pretty obvious that right now, weakened and without power, Shadow Weaver is nothing for her to be concerned about. Look at her, she can barely lean forward in the bed, her long hair hanging limp and lifeless around the bandages hiding her face. She's... looking kind of pathetic, really.

...And that tone, it's more cajoling than what Catra usually hears directed at her. It's the sort of tone that Adora gets all the time, while Catra gets snapped at and reprimanded. She's really not expecting to hear it at all, especially without Adora in the room, and -- well, it takes Catra off-guard. For a moment, it almost seems like Shadow Weaver might actually want to help.

But Catra's going to need a harder sell than that. She's more loyal to Adora than she'll ever be to anyone else, even with all the arguments they've had lately. She's not about to give away how compromised Adora really is, but she needs to know what Shadow Weaver knows.]

It's not her sword. [So: Catra lies. If she can rearrange her concerns to be about herself rather than about Adora, then she can protect her and get the information they need at the same time.] It's mine. I found it when you sent me out to Thaymor.

[Yeah, that's a close enough timeframe. It's only like, half a day out from when Adora actually found it.]

Now I'm not gonna ask you again. [--that's supposed to be a threat, don't take it with any gratitude] Tell me everything you know about that thing, or when Adora gets back, I'll show you what it's really capable of.

[Maybe this isn't some twisted reality projecting into her own hell. Maybe she truly has gone insane. The absurdity of it all, protecting Catra, telling her to run... and waking up to this.]

[So barely does Shadow Weaver tamp down in time on the laughter threatening to bubble up her throat. Catra truly, honestly knew nothing about the sword if she was making that claim... but Adora quite obviously did the way she brandished it about and ran off.]

[How fascinating. How annoying.]

A chance to examine an artifact radiating magic on the level of a runestone... [Shadow Weaver's posture straightens as she leans a little more forward, looking directly at Catra's face even if the girl (thankfully) wouldn't meet her eyes. The thrill of calling her bluff made a good replacement for feigning the thrill of observing the sword closer.]

How exciting. I should rather like to witness that.

[Your move, ward.]

[Hey, this is Catra's interrogation! Shadow Weaver should look cowed, or intimidated, or at least a little bit put out.

She shouldn't be leaning forward and staring at Catra, like she's the one with the upper hand. It's frustrating, how unaffected she is; and Catra's teeth grit as she turns away to check the door.

(She's not worried about Adora coming back already. It's more that Shadow Weaver's eyes are unnerving and creepy and she doesn't like seeing them move when she looks at her.)]

You know that's not what I meant. [Three, two, one -- steeling herself, Catra looks back; and this time, meets Shadow Weaver's eyes with a glare. Totally over the discomfort, totally. As long as she doesn't focus too hard.] And I know that you know that you're powerless here [minor bluff, Catra doesn't know shit], so I don't get what you think you're trying to pull. We're the only shot you've got of making it through this place alive. [another bluff, it's actually quite cozy if you overlook the undead and supposed monsters.] If I were you, I'd be thinking a little bit harder about cooperating while you've still got the chance.

[What she can't stop is the curl of her pointed nails into the cot, but thankfully the bandages his the way her mouth drew tight.]

[Powerless. She hated that word. Hated Catra seeing as such or knowing it. Her severance from the Garnet was still too fresh in her mind, despite the years.]

[It would only be a matter of time before Catra turned on her here, once again. ]

You're one to talk of cooperation, [she hisses. ] Casting Adora away with such a blatant lie, calling me your prisoner - you wouldn't be turning to me if you could handle this all on your own, now would you?

I'm not turning to you for anything! [Catra's denial comes too hot and too fast, prickly and defensive from how accurately Shadow Weaver's read the situation.] Me and Adora [heavy emphasis on the claim that it's both of them] have this all under control, and if you can't tell us anything useful, then we don't need to keep you around!

[if she says it with enough conviction, letting her rising temper make impulsive threats for her, will that make it believable?]

[Perhaps it might have, another time. But now?]

[Shadow Weaver had absolutely nothing left to lose. A low chuckle bubbles up from her throat.]

And how exactly are you going to do that, Catra?

[It's a dare.]

[It's too late to hide the clench of her fists, or the tense line of her shoulders, or the slight baring of her teeth; and she becomes embarrassingly aware of all of them when Shadow Weaver goes ahead and laughs at her.

It's not like she's in any real position of power, here. There's nothing she can do.

Nothing except double down on empty threats, and hope the fear of the unknown drives Shadow Weaver to admit something before Adora comes back and ruins it all.]

I don't have to do anything. [And... maybe, despite all the years of simmering anger and resentment, she can't.

Catra doesn't want to think about why that is, so she doesn't. She just -- she doesn't want to waste her time and energy trying to hurt someone who's already so weak, that's all.] You've got no idea what's out there. You're not gonna last in this place without our help - so either you start talking, or I leave.

[Oh, Catra. Even powerless as Shadow Weaver was, it was amazing what a well-played hand could do.]

[There was so very much to think about, but on her own time, when her wards were badgering her for useless information and blaming her for acts she hasn't committed. They've told her more than enough to start with. So Shadow Weaver simply makes a small, flippant noise, and lays down again with her back to Catra.]

Well, why didn't you start with that? I am tired. Go on.

[WHAT.

An indignant noise of frustration tears itself from Catra's throat. That's so------how dare Shadow Weaver just, turn her back on her?! Like she's nothing to be concerned with at all?!]

--Fine! You can just stay in here then, and hope that nothing else comes to get you before we do!

[you know what totally ruins an angry storming off?

...when the door is built so that it closes slowly and smoothly, no matter how hard you slam it.]

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Third TDM: Don't Turn Around

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