TDM #003

[bequiet]

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:

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NAVIGATION

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Comments

[lovesbitch]

[ a bedroom?? for him?! the master bedroom... he looks at her like he doesn't understand the words for a full moment. he doesn't need a whole room like he's a whole person. that seems excessive in so many ways. but maybe it's a way to put space between them? he's not used to having choices. usually buffy just tells him what to do and he does it. simple. ]

the couch is more my speed Slayer [ lead the way, but- ] I'll be out of your hair tomorrow

[rockypath]

[Well, as people were always so quick to remind her. She's not Buffy. Faith's more offering that option to him in case he doesn't want to sleep in her room. Giving him an out. Faith's got no problem having him there. Other than the fact that it reminds her of the last person who'd had an extended stay in her bedroom. Of the two she'd take Spike any day.

And maybe. Just maybe some part of her would feel safer after everything if he were there. But don't expect her to go admitting it. Instead she'll make opt for a joke when he says he'll be gone after today. That's her way. Better than actually being honest.] Good, cause most nights I like to sleep in my birthday suit and having you there is really cut into my 'letting it breathe' time.

[lovesbitch]

[ stop almost making him laugh thIS IS THE WORST GAME EVER. spike gives a silent snort and shrugs a shoulder. ] good thing you said somethin. that could've been awkward since I sleep in the buck too

[rockypath]

[She can't stop the snort that escapes her nose. Faith's grinning pretty wide as they approach her room. It's nothing special inside. Decent bed, comfy couch. She's got a crossbow and a couple daggers laying on top of the couch. But she'll clear them off, sliding them under the bed.] No kidding? Guess that it don't matter then. I'll just keep to my regularly scheduled program.

[lovesbitch]

[ even such a simple noise fills him with longing for more. how does she live in this place and not go completely mental? similarly, the weapons everywhere are oddly reassuring. familiar in a way that doesn't hurt. he waits patiently for her to stow the items before sinking into the couch with all the mass of his skeleton. which is considerably more than it looks with the way he indents the cushion. maybe his bones are filled with the weight of the day instead, but either way he feels heavy and he inflicts it on the only object that he can.

he misses the beat; the easy routine of snarking back and forth. it's the only thing he's ever had and now he has to do it over text or abandon it altogether. and the latter simply isn't an option unless he wants to be overrun with his own thoughts 24 hours at a time. spike looks up at her, his expression bald and truly pitiful. he thought he was done. he fought the good fight, put himself on the line so they could all pick up their sticks to fight another day. he was at peace with himself for the first time, the brunt of an entire hell dimension on his shoulders and he'd beared it all with a smile. buffy said she loved him, and even if it wasn't true he'd meant what he'd said back: that it was good to hear her say it. and it was, it's all he ever could have hoped for. one last moment of glory. ]

How screwed are we here? [ if there's one thing he can count on, it's faith giving it to him straight. and there's no one else but them besides. they could learn to stick together, place like this. or they could operate apart. he intends to find out which would be preferable to her because lord knows he doesn't think he deserves to mingle with the dirt on her shoe. ]

[rockypath]

[Who says she hasn't gone mental? It's been two months now and she lives for the moments she can talk or fight. The interim time is like torture. Faith sits down on her bed and takes off her boots slowly to be as quiet as possible. Back home she would have just kicked them off and flung them wherever they landed. It needs to be different here.

She see's his question and needs to think about it a while before answering. It's not a reassuring response to say the least.] I think we're beyond screwed and well on our way to fucked.

I don't know how to fight these things. There are people stronger than me here who can't either. There's so many of them. I saw them. The natives took us to see. More of them than the Turok Han. A whole army of Slayers wouldn't do a damn thing with this. Maybe it'll have to be some other answer than fighting them, I don't know. [Its a beyond helpless feeling, truly. Even if she got killed by those things there'd be no end. It would just bring her back here. Over and over.]

[lovesbitch]

[ is he about to become buffy in this conversation? he swallows, expression growing more and more openly uneasy as she goes on. he has no boots to take off and he already larry-the-cableguy'd his jumpsuit so spike is just going to slowly roll himself backwards to fit across the couch, angling his head against the farthest cushion so he can still catch her eye even while lazily throwing his arm across the rest. a sobriety gleams in his gaze she may have only seen once or twice before, towards the end. he's taking her seriously and hanging on each and every word. ]

There's always a way, luv. someone smarter than two blunt ends is gonna get pulled into this demon's den and they're gonna aim us in the right direction. Maybe we get out with our fists and maybe not, but we get out.
This isn't where your story ends. [ he's not sure how confident it would sound if he were speaking aloud, and for the first time he sees a benefit to the devices. maybe if he types it enough times, they can both believe it. ]

[rockypath]

[Maybe she should be offended that Spike has essentially called her stupid, but he's included him in that description too. And he's not wrong, so. She also wants to believe him. That someone will come who can tell them how to fix all of this.] I hope you're right. Or else I'll have a real shit story.

[lovesbitch]

I'm not signin the forward to anything less [ so don't even go there. his expression brooks no arguments. very buffylike indeed, but with a touch more softness, maybe. ]