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pedalbike2020-10-16 08:19 pm
upcyclingmod) wrote in pedalbike2020-10-16 08:19 pm
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Third TDM: Don't Turn Around
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.
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!
no subject
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?
no subject
[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?
no subject
...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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
[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?
no subject
[if she says it with enough conviction, letting her rising temper make impulsive threats for her, will that make it believable?]
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.]