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quietplacememes2018-02-28 08:56 pm
bequiet) wrote in quietplacememes2018-02-28 08:56 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #003
TEST DRIVE MEME
You wake, standing. A thick, muddy red dust coats your skin and clothes - it sticks to your tongue and blocks your vision. Inhale and it chokes you, exhale and your breath puffs out in front of your face in a transparent maroon cloud. It tastes of copper, tangy and harsh. Movement is difficult, every limb tingles and aches. Look to your left, your right. Evenly spaced in each direction stands another person indistinguishable in every way from the next. You're disoriented and lethargic, unable to grasp onto a single thought. A pinprick of light blooms ahead and grows steadily larger; a door has opened.
Hands grip your wrists, push at the small of your back and guide you out of the darkness into a room with four walls and a thin, sagging ceiling. The plaster is peeling, the air is musty, and the floor is slick. White plastic piping juts up from the center and curves into multiple spouts, clean water flowing in uneven streams. Those hands pull your clothes off and clear the dust from your body, redress you in handsewn jumpsuits.
A finger is pressed to your lips. Kind eyes meet your own and a single word is whispered - hush.
Led out of the room in a line, you’re taken down a short hallway and into another, much larger room. There’s a woman waiting for you there, a child hugging her leg, and a cloth bag in her hands. She reaches in and pulls out a device, passes one to each of you. Once finished, she begins to move both hands in graceful gestures, a language. One of the people who helped you lifts their device and the screen lights up, tracks the woman’s hands. Letters appear on the screen and you understand the device’s purpose. She tells you what she knows and it’s not much.
This world is haunted. Noise attracts them, so it is not allowed. Communication is through body language, soundless writing, and the device. She tells you that your feet must be light and your mouth never used. There is a community outside these doors, where you can survive together, but only if you agree to one thing: complete and total silence. You'll have time to talk it over. Acceptance allows you to journey outside. The ground is marked in pathways of sand, lining the paths to each building and everywhere in between. You notice that the locals hold their devices always, aloft and glance to it often. It will not vibrate or make a sound to signal a message.
Notices appear. Rules. Guidelines. Feet on the sand and never anywhere else. To open a door you brush your fingers along the hinges - oiled and you may enter. If not, take the brush from the can sitting nearby and coat the metal with the dark liquid. You're to settle into your new home.
Caught me unawares
Content Warnings: Confusion, disorientation
Themes: Survival, horror, it's like groundhog day
The ending of the floor has caught me unawares. This must be the reason why I’m falling down the stairs.
That night, when you fall asleep, you dream of your life before The Quiet Place. At first it's the happiest moments of your life played on repeat, over and over. Everything good and sweet and fun. The second night, it's much the same. You go to bed anticipating another restful and pleasant sleep. But on the third night it changes.
For everyone, it starts the same. There's a long hallway with a door at the end. You walk towards it with nowhere else to go. You twist the knob and when you step forward, the floor ends and you fall. Falling lasts for seconds, minutes, or hours and when you land, it's with a jolt and a cloud of red dust all around you. There's someone else next to you, stumbling, coughing and choking on that familiar dirt that coats your tongue and mouth. When your eyes meet, everything blurs and you're falling again - this time, when you land, it's inside that dream from the first night. Only you're not alone. They're with you. The only way out is to experience the dream together. And when you do wake up, for real, that same red dirt is on your hands.
Falling down the stairs
Content Warnings: Confusion, disorientation
Themes: Survival, horror, it's like groundhog day
The ending of the floor has caught me unawares. This must be the reason why I’m falling down the stairs.
That night, when you fall asleep, you dream of your life before The Quiet Place. At first it's the worst moments of your life played on repeat, over and over. Everything bad and sour and awful. The second night, it's much the same. You go to bed anticipating another restless and dreadful sleep. But on the third night it changes.
For everyone, it starts the same. There's a long hallway with a door at the end. You walk towards it with nowhere else to go. You twist the knob and when you step forward, the floor ends and you fall. Falling lasts for seconds, minutes, or hours and when you land, it's with a jolt and a cloud of red dust all around you. There's someone else next to you, stumbling, coughing and choking on that familiar dirt that coats your tongue and mouth. When your eyes meet, everything blurs and you're falling again - this time, when you land, it's inside that nightmare from the first night. Only you're not alone. They're with you. The only way out is to experience the nightmare together. And when you do wake up, for real, that same red dirt is on your hands.
OOC
From your mods:
Please remember to mark your content in your starters or subject lines as material comes up. The threads on this meme can be used as game canon. Feel free to thread out arrival style meetings as well! If you have questions, pp the mod account, use the faq or comment below. Have fun!
let me know if this is okay/i should change it
he's on his back, staring up at intricate whorls carved into the cornices of the room, when he hears the first slap. he hears it first before he hears the noises filtering through the walls, the rising and falling of moans and other wet sounds that make him want to hurl onto the floor. he's in the far corner of the room, far from her. and yet it's like he's right there with her, when the man draws back again for another swing.
tetora's moving before he realizes what he's doing. the backhand catches him sharp on the jaw. credit where credit's due: the guy has a strong swing, and tetora is sent sprawling on the carpeted floor with a nasty thud. it doesn't keep him from getting up, or from getting in the way of another swing.
if this is a dream - and he's starting to suspect it's a particularly livid one - then the pain won't stop until the mind is satisfied. he doesn't know the rules here; this isn't his mind. but he does know that he can take a lot more than the girl who's looking up at him with wide eyes, a red bruise starting to bloom high on her cheek. ]
Why aren't you running? Get away from here!
no it's perfect & so r u & let me know if this is ok idk how much interaction they have w/ the dream
He raises his hand, she doesn't look away, doesn't flinch. She won't give him the satisfaction.
But the blow never comes, instead landing on the boy who she'd forgotten was there in the midst of her defiance. He takes the hit, goes down. Nill is stunned, and can't move. How is he still here? How is he able to stand in front of her, protect her, if he doesn't even know her? It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense.
The boy is slapped again, harder, and she can see it in Mel's eyes that he won't stop until he gets what he wants. And it's sickening and she wants to run, but she just can't. This isn't just a dream, she finally realizes--this is a memory. This is how it happened, and there's no changing it.
Of course I'm gonna kill some jackoff who tries to take you for free.
Somehow this boy is here, and she knows that Mel would make good on his threat, even if he's just in her head, given the opportunity. And she knows she couldn't bear it. That thought keeps her in place, right where she'd been when he moved to grab her face, his hand putting a cruel pressure on her bruised cheek as he forces her to look at him.
I'm gonna teach you a lesson before I let the clients in.
But she doesn't cry, tries not to let him see the pain or fear. Her eyes dart to the boy, hoping he understands. This is her truth, and there's no erasing it.]
oh nooooooo also it can be interactive according to the question thread!
if there's any mercy in the world, these men will be gone and dead.
it's when a well-aimed kick causes him to spit blood that he reaches for her; it's starting to hurt.
he can't hurt you, he tries to say. he can't hurt you here. ]
WELL THEN
This isn't the time to be worrying about someone else.
It isn't set in stone. Maybe things can be different.
The boy's blood spatters on the old wood floor, and Nill jerks towards him, reaching out. But no, there's a better way to save him, to stop this pain. After he'd bought her, Mel had kept her cooped up in this place for weeks. She knows every inch of it, and where everything is. There had been no opportunity for her to make a move the first time around--and honestly, she'd been so frightened that she hadn't even considered it. But now is different. There's a strength in her legs that wasn't there just a moment ago, and adrenaline pumps through her veins, urging her to move.
Stumbling to her feet, she lunges for a chair next to the couch. It's where Mel's right-hand-man used to sit before he'd blown his brains out in front of his whores, something he had a nasty habit of doing. But she knows that beneath the chair is a gun, the gun he'd grabbed when he chased her down this hallway, when he'd tried to kill Heine.
It's heavy in her hands, but she doesn't let it weigh her down.
She's has never shot a gun before, but she's seen it happen enough times to know what to do. Safety off, barrel up. Both hands, trembling, but she holds them up. Not aiming for the head--she isn't that good. Instead his back, as he's facing away from her. A breath passes, and he turns as if he senses something is off. Glares at her, rounds on her. Looks her right in the eye. The barrel is pointed squarely at his chest.
Nill doesn't hesitate any longer before she pulls the trigger, stumbling back with the recoil.]
no subject
nill is standing with a gun raised, arms raised - he's feeling a sense of pride and righteous fuck you motherfucker that's what you get. the man kicking the living shit out of him falls back with a loud thud. something wet and heavy spatters across his prone form on the floor; someone is gasping, wheezing, reaching wetly for air. it's a sound that tetora's familiar with.
the sound of a man shot in the lungs, with blood seeping in to choke him. red bubbles spill out of the man's mouth even as he tries to rise back to feet, shambling like a poor television show zombie. up, up, up he tries to make it, tries to reach for him, for her—
it doesn't work. he's choking. this dream is choking too; the ceiling warping, the couches melting, the whole tableau taking on an impression of a dali painting. tetora coughs, spits red on the carpet, and pushes up on unsteady arms to call out to the girl. ]
Nice aim. [ Wait, no. ] Are you okay?
no subject
Her heart stops for a moment as she looks to him then, covered in blood and watching Mel die with her. Will he think she's done something unforgivable? She doesn't think so, not from the way he'd jumped in to protect her. But still, she can't know. She can't ask. He opens his mouth, and she expects the worst.
Nice aim.
Nill blinks, completely caught off guard by both his compliment and his following question. She realizes she hasn't yet put down the gun, but does so now that she can see the corners of the room starting to blur. Her hands are red, but it isn't blood. The dream is over, they'd survived. A nod is her only answer before she starts to move towards him, haltingly at first and then with a faster gait. She needs to know who he is, how he got here--why he did what he did. Mel hisses for air, but he's already on his way out, he can't hurt them, so she pays him no more mind. All of her focus is on the boy bleeding on the floor.]
no subject
breathe in. breathe out. one, two, three.
something - someone - falls next to him and he turns his head to see the girl, her shadow covering his eyes from the overhead lights. he only has the one thing to offer her in lieu of words: a weak hand, raised, fist loosely curled into the shape of a gun.
and a wink. ]
Don't feel too bad about him. He deserved it.
no subject
Nill stares dumbly, trying to figure out what the correct response to any of this is. She settles on waving a hand dismissively at Mel's gurgling form behind them. She doesn't feel bad for him. She never could. Hesitantly and with more than a little awkwardness, she finally places a hand on top of his and squeezes gently. He's going to be okay. Probably. This is just a memory, a dream, right? None of this has happened for real. It couldn't have.]
no subject
and apparently it does, somewhat, when the girl's apparent confusion registers. good, tetora thinks, she's not focused on the blood and the mayhem. her hand comes down over his own and squeezes his fingers comfortingly, which - okay, it's something that has never happened to him. not back home, certainly not during situations like this. it's almost funny, really - the first gentle touch he's ever experienced happens in a dream, and while he's bleeding out on the floor. ]
You okay?
no subject
She nods, settling on the floor, ignoring the blood on her legs and the hem of her dress. None of that matters to her in this moment. She just holds his hand, nodding at his question even though he really isn't the one who should be asking it. She realizes, belatedly, that he might be looking for a verbal answer--so she vaguely gestures to her throat and mouth, then shakes her head. And, purely on impulse, she uses that free hand to reach out and push his hair from his eyes. Anything to comfort, to make what seems like his impending death at least a little less awful.]
no subject
he's in pain, certainly. having your internal organs heal themselves and move back to their original positions is a pretty painful experience, seeing as it normally takes a person months of recuperation to get the job done. tetora winces, gasps, winces once more as sprained and broken ribs right themselves, as internal bleeding clots, stitches back into place.
a gentle hand brushes the hair out from his eyes. cool fingers. they're a relief from the burning inside him, a quick fever that's brought on by the body fixing itself back up. ]
You're way too nice to strangers, you know.
Sorry for throwing you over my shoulder.
no subject
It stumps her, and she can't do much but stare at him as she tries to figure it out.
At least he speaks again, and a slight blush crawls up her neck and cheeks. Well... he'd been bleeding out on the floor after taking the beating meant for her. What was she supposed to do, ignore him? Her wings flap once, showing her embarrassment, and her eyes dart away as she collects herself before returning to his face. A shrug is her only answer. She knows now it had been a selfless act. It really hadn't been that bad.
A beat later, Nill gestures behind her to Mel's corpse and then back to Tetora. Sorry about... that.]