Fourth TDM: Winter's breath

[upcyclingmod]

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As a quick note: This will be the last TDM and Application Round of the year! Have fun everyone!

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.

Start of Winter

Thankfully things have more or less dried out, for the seasons are already changing. Or at least, the weather is, and with it...comes snow.

The grass on the island is covered, various trees lose the last of their leaves, the sand becomes crunchy, and even a portion of the ocean water becomes frozen solid. (Take THAT, water!). And with it, Wickies wake up at their feet (or suddenly in their hands if they don’t sleep) warm clothing and various ways to keep warm- or at least keep the cold from messing with their joints!

And with it, there are snow shovels and boots that are set out neatly by the door. It seems more snowk is expected, and foot protection is more important than ever. While it is possible for some (those who are not infected by the Silence at least) to use the teleporter to get from town to their homes, there are pathways that need to be cleared for everyone.

It might be a good time to offer a helping hand! Especially with some Wickies who are snowed into their homes.

Or it could be a good time to use the shovels to gather snow for snow ball fights, snow forts, and similar winter activities. The nice thing about the winter shovels is that they’ll have them for a few months.

Too bad the ground is nearly frozen solid, and these particular shovels are not good for digging into the ground.


Frosty Protections

While there may be the snow and the quiet that’s coming in, there are other things that are coming into the island too. There are tables that linger day or night, which have tangyuan. Some in the shape of various animals, and some of them that are simply balls of colored dough. They are edible, and thankfully they don’t have a negative consequence to eating them (unlike the mooncakes from before) but there are written instructions, which also proclaim outloud to a Wickie if they linger for awhile:

“For the use of protective talismans! Stick it on your chair, your door, your window!”

Interestingly enough, they do seem to work. Wickies who are Silence infected are repelled by them, feeling uneasy and nauseous around them and touching the tangyuan even with covered hands will cause a burning sensation.

Infected Wickies who eat the treats...they’re in for a rough time. Really rough.

There are also little tables with various drinks, some being fruit juice, sparkling fruit juice, champagne and of similar ilk- but not ever with water. That’s just bad luck after everything.

The inscription for this table, which is again read out loud, “Toast to others health”

Picking up the cups, they will be unable to drop it, and the fluid will refill in the Wickie’s cup until they find someone to toast to- whether it’s in humor or in earnestness.

For the next twelve hours after the toast is made, even if the drink is not drunk after, the Wickie toasted will find they will have better luck in that subject, whether it is in health, love, or friendship, or just in general.

The same applies if Wickies toast together to a group of people as well.


Of hooves and horns

The strangest thing of all isn't the sweet rice balls, nor is it the smell of evergreens heavy in the air. Instead, it's the masks set to everyone, and the ruckus music that thrums through the air, deep into the night.

The masks are of a haggard old woman, well worn and aged, and that of a man with horns and facial hair similar to a goat.

There are different effects when it comes to the masks, both happening at night with the music starts.

Wickies wearing the devilish mask find themselves wearing a ragged fur suit, prancing in the streets, ready to whip other Wickies whose behavior has been suspect or bad as of late. Finding the wicked and punishing them is an impulse, neigh impossible to ignore. And, too, there is a sense of wicked glee when they do punish someone with their reeds and whips. Krampus masked Wickies thankfully can be pacified with rum or brandy. They'll need the help of another to pull of the mask. But once it's off, the costume vanishes, and the chagrin of what happened ( or the satisfaction) follows.

Wickies wearing the woman’s mask will find that they’re not trying to scare people, but instead, they find themselves loping in and out of the crowds, searching, scanning, for certain people, all the while wearing ragged clothing, and often a scarf on their now ratty, graying hair.

It’s with a sickening horror that Wickies will realize there is something in the mask that is watching through the mask itself, and is nodding to itself far away and writing their names on a list.

And it’s not Santa Claus.

The Wickie’s wearing the old woman’s mask can be distracted by scattering seeds or threads in front of them- one inducing a true distraction to count and pick up the seeds, and a rage that comes over that of wasted thread.

Seeds make it easier to pull off the mask, and thankfully popcorn counts as a seed! But thread...well, it is a distraction too, but one that can lead to violent consequences. It might mean some rounds of bait and switching until the mask is taken off.

And that’s when the Wickie who had been wearing the mask realizing the list is of ‘bad’ Wickies, But…

how bad could they be?

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:

What do you love about winter? Is it the nip on your nose? The hot drinks? Playing in the snow? Tell us!

Comments

[shinizama]

[ something close to surprise flits across megumi's neutral features. then— something almost like offense. the sentiment is clear, even if he doesn't articulate it: "i don't want to hear that from you". yuuji is literally the last person on god's green earth that megumi wants to hear this from.

his brows furrow. it even looks like he might argue the point further, but he stops.

the tight line of megumi's lips settle. he chooses silence, and that voidspace sits in the air for a few beats, before he finally decides to break it. ]

Speak for yourself.

[ ok, that's close to "i don't want to hear that from you". but the point stands, and megumi briefly flicks his gaze to the side.

the telltale sign that he's not going to negotiate on this point. megumi, too, is stubborn.

(at the same time— he can't tell yuuji to think with his head, not his heart. he can't force that on someone who deserves to have it, that breadth of emotion. he will never tell yuuji not to care.

another thing that he won't tell yuuji: that death, too, is just part and parcel of being a jujutsushi. because yuuji shouldn't have become one, from the start.) ]

I'm still assessing this place. Taking it one day at a time. [ he's used to that. the harshness of his would-be anger dies before it can be directed at yuuji. ] Itadori.

You don't need to overthink it.

[ikizama]

( sure, that sudden jab might've been unnecessary when he himself was the one who asked fushiguro if he had died here. but that's if this was someone else. what followed after 'i haven't' was 'you won't'. that alone tells him so much. so, what, it's alright if it's fushiguro but not if it's yuuji? the gaze that was devoid of anger has some seeping in now. just the very thought of him living and fushiguro not being there makes him feel so... indignant. )

But I—

( —came back, he wants to say, but he swallows it. fushiguro doesn't bark back. his words, his cadence are leveled as always, even if it initally carried a little more heat, or feels like that because of his features. he's holding back. he's not having the argument.

yuuji bites his lower lip. silence fills the air as he takes in a single breath, releases. )

I'm not overthinking anything. It's not just about this place. I'm talking about you.

( does yuuji think he can change fushiguro's mind? not the slightest. he isn't that naive. still, it doesn't mean he'll negotiate his either. words that were left unsaid are things he's aware of, and yet refuses to accept. )

[shinizama]

[ "i'm talking about you".

a familiar set of vocabulary, arranged in an unfamiliar jumble. the truth of fushiguro megumi's life is that it has never been about him: he was born of a whim by parents who left, was sold with a price tag he never determined for himself, and was 'saved' by a man he'd never met. told to become something he had no say in. the reasons and justifications always came later. megumi is not a jujutsushi because he wanted to be, but because he had to be.

the only thing he's wanted, for a long time now, is happiness for the people who deserve it. for tsumiki. and now, for itadori yuuji, too.

so, when yuuji says that they're discussing megumi—

—well. to megumi's logic, they're still, in essence, talking about yuuji.

his lips knit again. his classmate's slow spread of maybe-anger doesn't make megumi back down; obstinacy grounds him.

("don't tell me that it's about me when i'm the one that gave you your execution date." too cruel to even articulate, let alone think about for too long.) ]

I said I'm fine.

[ in his future, he'll tell nanami this: "i'll put my life on the line, but i'm also not looking to lose it." megumi doesn't have the right timing for this yet, but his tone is firm. ] —Besides, I'm not that weak.

[ didn't he promise, post-hanami, that he'd get stronger? even if his death is inevitable, he doesn't want it to be normalized here— this, he knows for certain.

a breath, and he relaxes. ]

[ikizama]

I know that — you're strong.

( not just 'not that weak'. and that's not what yuuji's talking about, he knows fushiguro knows this. he takes a deep breath, and lets out a disgruntled sigh. this is going nowhere — they're both stubborn idiots, after all. if that's how fushiguro's gonna be, yuuji'll just have to watch him closely, then. he'll let this matter drop for now.

back to the matter at hand, he looks down at the pamphlet again. he reads aloud: )

'The only way to return home is to confront our "guilt" and atone for our "sins".' ... Is that why we're here? To atone for what we did in the past?

( there's no sinless person in this world. surely there's a reason why it's fushiguro and him that were called here, and not others. yuuji tries to think, his eyebrows knit. a second, two, three-- before he finally leans back and sprawls on the bed like it's his. )

[shinizama]

[ megumi watches yuuji fall backwards in slow motion. cut out this small square space in this room, and they could still be back in Tokyo—another afternoon-turned-evening with yuuji in the jujutsu technical high’s dormitory. his next-door neighbor, sprawled on his stomach and reading manga on megumi’s bed.

like a big dog.

the gravity of the situation isn’t lost on megumi, but it’s undercut by that prevailing sense of familiarity again. a month of absence, like those weeks following his first official faceoff with sukuna.

megumi, still perched on the bedside stool, doesn’t protest yuuji’s hijacking of his space. ]

That’s the official line they’ve given us. [ whether or not it’s true? still up in the air.

and, well. there’s a beat here, as if megumi is thinking about something—when isn’t he, though—and the following breath of silence is an obvious tell that he’s decided that, whatever he’s been thinking about, he won’t say. fushiguro megumi, a terrible liar.

(“he’ll probably come here of his own accord.”) ]

According to the ones who brought us here, it’s supposed to be for our ‘own good’—who knows. [ his shoulder hike up, just slightly. a half-shrug. ] If we can find our way back to our world before we have to play their game, that’s the ideal.

[ikizama]

( yuuji puts the pamphlet over his face, arms now stretched wide on his sides. it's very fushiguro to consider things and organise them in the most practical, efficient way. in fact, just like what the friend said, there's no point trying to figure it all out now. take it one at a time. if fushiguro has been here for a month and hasn't figured it out, yuuji won't do it in a single day. after all, fushiguro's the smart one between the two. )

That so...

( the fact that he's in a different world hasn't fully hit him yet, what with fushiguro being here with him. he twists and turns his body so he can look out the window in the room, wiping the condensation that blurred the sight out. )

Ugeh, it's snowing outside... ( he squints, peering out at the sight around the house. ) It sure doesn't look like Japan. ( it looks rather... well, peaceful to say the least, though. normal. he turns to look at fushiguro. ) So... what're your days like? Do you, like, fight anything?

( considering their norm as jujutsu shamans... )