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:

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!

NAVIGATION

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Comments

Matthew Murdock | MCU

[blessmefather]

[ ooc: For those unfamiliar with Daredevil, Matt is blind meaning he cannot see the screens on the communication devices. He does however have enhanced senses that allow him to perceive people's body movements. You are welcome to either take on the challenge of communicating with him via other means (as I expect the first month to go) or we can assume he has settled in and either learned the local sign language or regained his refreshing braille display so he can read messages on his device. ]

Settling in

This new arrival has had natives fussing over him quite a bit. They make a point of leading him around more than with previous newcomers. They seem to be discussing some sort of technological communication challenge judging by the sign language others catch them expressing in passing. The newcomer has been given a communication device but it remains untouched; he opts instead to use a notepad and pen when speaking to others. The tricky part is when they wish to tell him something. Some squeeze his hand a certain number of times, some write single words on his palm with a finger, others jot down notes on the notepad and he runs his fingers over it. A few properly understand his abilities and realize they can nod their heads yes or no.

There is work to be done so the same people can't spend all day with him. If you happen to be free you might get dragged into leading the new arrival from place to place, room to room so he can learn the layout of his new surroundings without bumping into anything and making noise.

Falling down the stairs

The first few nights of this dream were painful, now Matt is starting to go numb. He knows the routine, the collage of loved ones lost that has been run through so many times it's starting to bleed together. He's starting to find his father's dead body on the ground or floor in the other memories. In the basement floor as his teacher gives up on him, on the roof of the warehouse where Elektra sacrificed herself. Falling is relaxing in comparison; it feels like he can breathe, at least until the moment he finds himself crashing into the dusty ground again.

It seems he has company this time. He gets to his feet and debates whether or not to bother dusting himself off. With a sigh he offers a hand to the other person who fell next to him.

breathes on u

[oorah]

[ over the past weeks, frank castle has become as reliable a shadow as matt's own, following him at length but knowing that the man would easily sense him. he doesn't want to smother him with his very real concerns, sure matt will write them off as disingenuous; but there's also the careful balancing act of everyone else here. frank has earned a place among these people, natives and arrivals alike, that's unlike anything he's ever achieved back home. even in the marines, well. that was a lie anyway.

he watches as matt slowly adapts, biding his time, but also ready and willing to step in should anyone mean him harm. he knows matt won't risk dying, not until he knows what's at stake, but frank is just as ready to jump on that grenade for him. whether or not they're still at lagerheads back home doesn't matter to frank -- here he intends to watch over matt whether the other man wants him to or not (he's betting not.) red could so easily blow up his spot here, and maybe that's why frank keeps his distance for as long as he can feasibly stand to. or maybe it's just cowardice.

things finally come to a head for him when frank walks into the town hall meeting on sunday and sees the other man sitting alone in a bright red jumpsuit. he wonders if anyone's bothered to tell matt the color, but the sight makes his lips twitch either way. he slots into the seat behind the other man and leans forward just an inch, just enough to speak close to his ear so no one else can overhear them. his voice is gravelly as ever, but soft and hoarse too from underuse. ] When I said I'd see you around, this isn't exactly what I meant.

[blessmefather]

[ Of course Matt knew he was being trailed. At first he thought the locals were keeping a quiet eye on him, that this has to do with whatever secrets they're keeping behind walls that are too well soundproofed for even him to make out the words whispered behind them. There was something familiar about the mass and movement of the man following though. Without voices and spoken names it takes some observation to be sure it's not just his imagination that he's hearing someone he knows tread somewhere down the road or around the corner of the hall.

He thinks he remembers that pitch of breath and posture from rooftops when the taste of blood was fresh in his mouth. Just as soon as he's sure it's Frank he puts the suggestion out of his head for another few days. He doesn't want someone he knows here. He wouldn't wish it upon anyone else, not even him.

Denial only makes every sign that it is Frank jump out at him. Finally he accepts it, frowning to himself and shaking his head, fighting against the disappointment and sorrow making his fingertips twitch with temptation to strike something. So there is someone he knows here after all. What now?

When Frank slides into the seat behind him at the town hall he raises a brow and just barely tilts his head back to murmur under his breath. ]

Hm. You've been here longer. Quick question: is this Hell?

[oorah]

[ he laughs, if it could be described that way. it's a scratchy approximation of a bemused wheeze in any case. frank leans forward a millimeter more, still trying to keep up appearances though he's desperate to know how matt really is. it's pointless anyway: no one is okay here. whether they started out that way or not. ]

Don't think I'm qualified to answer that, Red. Even after two months.

[blessmefather]

It's a lot quieter than I expected eternal damnation to be.

[ Far less fire and brimstone than claimed. Jokes aside they might has well compare notes. Matt frowns, thinking back to before he woke up with the taste of clay and mud in his mouth. ]

Last thing I clearly remember were the walls of a cave collapsing around me. Back in the city.

[oorah]

No shit, right?

[ the quiet isn't the part frank minds, but they can get around to that. he frowns at the next part-- ] Midland Circle? [ micro filled him in on some of that, since he hadn't kept great tabs himself. or however defenders handwaves frank not shooting up that dump. ]

[blessmefather]

[ He closes his eyes and nods once. ]

Thus my working theory. Don't know why you would arrive first though.

[ Murder gets a soul express delivery to the Bad Place? ]

Last thing you remember? What was the date?

[oorah]

Doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it.

[ which of course, doesn't mean there isn't. frank had a lot of theories when he first got here too. now he's too caught up in the day-to-day most of the time. but he won't begrudge matt that, or anything else really. not here. ]

Thanksgiving 2017.

settlin

[underachievement]

Jess has barely established a routine for herself let alone come to accept the monthly rigamarole of new arrivals and their underwhelming reception. Truly she's just in the neighborhood and decides to stick around for the Q&A portion to see if any of the newbies are as pissed off as she is but no, not really, so she bails two or three in. Enough time and they'll get there, maybe, but plenty of people seem to be sipping Constance's Flavor Aid that have been here as long as she has, so what does she know? Other than the proven multiversal consistency that humanity sucks.

With nothing better to do before but hole herself up in the clinic all day again, she takes a mild interest in the hemming and hawing happening over one of the newbies. It's not like the locals to give a shit. Jess shoves her way over. When she gets there, the scoff she gives could clear the room. "Jesus Christ Superstar."

[blessmefather]

The natives glare at her for speaking aloud but head for the door; they can see by the way the newcomer lifted his head that he recognized her voice.

Matt isn't sure if he should risk speaking or not. He mouths "Jessica?" as he checks her over. That's definitely her voice and her size and posture. She doesn't smell the same but that would be expected if she has been here longer than a month. There's alcohol on her breath and her upper back muscles sound tensed when she moves. That's Jessica Jones.

He blinks and frowns, shaking his head a little to himself. No, this isn't right. It was confusing enough waking up to hushes and whispers about monsters and far too little noise. Now Jessica Jones is with him? In France.

"Last I remember..." If this isn't just a dream she'll know what he would last remember.

[underachievement]

Yeah, the locals aren't crazy about her in general. She interprets that glare to be about a whole other thing, about which she gives the equivalent amount of fucks to their opinions. Sneering at them as they go is a good way to ground herself in this crap-ass reality, now even more interspersed with remnants of her old one.

"Your application for martyrdom had just been approved?" Jess isn't whispering but she speaks softer now than she did back home. That's when she hasn't gone days without talking and her voice gets shredded to rasps by the back of her throat. This in-between room of theirs, where they first allow people to interact with other kidnappees or deadites, is soundproofed enough.

He looks great for a dead guy, though he might have survived. They didn't ever uncover his body in all the rubble but she's not the type to live on hope. Her heartbeat better not be giving away how good (and shitty, so, so shitty) it is to see him because the rest of her refuses to.

[blessmefather]

That's an affirmative. Matt scowls down toward the floor. Then did he survive? Or...

"Are- Are you okay?" he asks, checking her again for any signs of injury. She sounds alright, strong heartbeat (maybe a little fast from... is that excitement Jones?), steady breaths. "How long has it been since that night?"

[underachievement]

He can't hear bruises, right? Even if he could, she's in no worse shape than he's known her to be 100% of the time. She's running on about as much sleep as she was once then ninja bullshit finally started wrapping up. She has enough to drink every day, so that's two of his senses fooled. That ought to be enough for now. Let him get his Hell in order before she springs hers on him.

"I've been here a couple months," she looks down at the bulges her fists make through her jacket pockets. Then, as she has to add it up, she stares hard at a nearby wall. "Back home, two months. I think. ... Could be three."

[blessmefather]

"I don't remember anything between. The cave collapsed, it was just me and... There's no reason I should have survived and not her too." He shakes his head. This isn't right. He runs a hand over his face and breathes. He needs to catch up, and Jessica is the one person he knows he can trust so far. Right.

"Is anyone else here that we know?"

[underachievement]

Hello, lawyer. She should have taken longer answering the easy question. His next is an even bigger doozy than "are you okay?" though there is a lot of overlap. He should probably sit down, and she wants to, so she leads them over to a nearby bench. This place is lousy with benches. Unsure if he wants her to make a show of his blindness or not, she lamely ushers him by the elbow as they approach it, dropping her hand as she takes a seat.

"I hope you know as much about Kilgrave as you think you do." He doesn't but that just means he'll be in like company. She's tried to warn people over and over, tried to protect them from him and themselves, but it's never enough. Now she's just preparing for the inevitable to occur again. "There's that going concern, an asshole named Frank," look she is very tired all of the time and extremely busy and makes a point not to think about him, but she's just one good sleep away from putting the Punisher pieces together, honest, "his buddy Micro."

Jess shrugs. Could be more; she only found out about the latter two the other day.

settling in

[list_maker]

[Arya is more than a little startled when they grab her in passing, frantically insisting in their sign language that she assist them with one of the new arrival. She doesn't argue too much, willing to take any excuse not to go to the knitting job she's been assigned.

Following them, clad in her leathers and sword on her belt, Arya's clearly no average teen from Matt's time. Or she's very serious about her cosplay. When she sees Matt, her brow furrows. The natives shove a pad of paper and a pen into her hands and then leave her to play nursemaid to the new arrival. The new apparently blind arrival.

Arya stands there a long time, staring at him, thinking of her own time wandering Braavos alone and blind. Even that had been perilous. In a place where noise had to be limited and suppressed? She couldn't imagine the isolation of that. Frowning, the teenager reaches out a tentative hand to set on his arm. She knows from experience that he probably already knows someone is there but perhaps not why. She's not sure what to do then so waits for his reaction.]

[blessmefather]

[ Matt continues to blink and frown toward the floor but he reaches up with one hand and places it over hers. He's guessing she is in the same position he is. She doesn't smell the way the locals do, with a hint of the clay they've been surrounded by for years. Her clothes carry the scent of a different world and different time, far from the modern New York that he would call home.

He gives her hand a light squeeze and turns toward her, putting on a friendlier face as he reaches out toward her with an expectant hand. He licks his lips and mimes writing in the air over his palm to clarify that he wants the pad and pen. ]

[list_maker]

[There's a frown on her lips. He knows she's got the pad and pen. Interesting. Perhaps the native's let him know, somehow? Arya hands it over, first reaching for his held out hand, taking it and then setting the pad and then pen on it. She is curious to see what he'll do. Presumably he means to write her a note.]

[blessmefather]

[ How he knows she has the pad is a long story unfortunately. Typically he would play the ordinary blind man but he forgets to in the moment. His head is still spinning a little and he's desperate for communication with anyone from outside of this place.

He considers asking for a list of fellow outsiders then decides against it. He needs to find out more about where everyone stands, who can be trusted, before he reveals that he's looking for any specific people. There's a certain question that has been gnawing at the back of his mind since he woke up and realized he was breathing and feeling. It isn't a pleasant thought, and he hates to ask someone who seems young this but judging by the sword at her belt she must have trained in some form and become acquainted with the uglier parts of life at a young age like he had.

He uncaps the pen and writes. ]

My name is Matthew.

Are we dead or alive?

Write- I can feel the words on the paper.

Falling down the stairs

[thechristmasnazi]

[ Seconds after she recovers, pushing herself up from lying flat on the ground, Isabel takes note of the man offering his hand to her. She puts her own hand in his, still dusty with the coppery red stuff, and pulls herself up. Sighing, she brushes some of the mysterious material off of her jumpsuit. Suddenly, this is making sense to her. This weird dream isn’t a product of her own subconscious, somehow she’s walked into someone else’s dream without meaning to. It’s quite possibly the scarier possibility. She might be losing control of herself in this place. ]

I’m sorry. [ Isabel apologizes in a smooth, low tone, glad that this is a dream if only because she can speak here. ] I didn’t…

[ She gives a shake of her head. It’s not often that Isabel Evans finds herself apologizing for her actions, but this place is terrifying enough already without her carelessly hopping into others’ dreams. ]

I didn’t mean to invade your dream.

[ What happened to keeping her origins completely secret? Isabel figures they went out the window the moment she wound up in this guy’s dream. People always seem to figure out something is off when they dream about her without meeting her first. It isn’t as if she can find another explanation, either. ]

[blessmefather]

Not your fault.

[ Matt shakes his head, eye pointed toward the ground. He draws in a slow breath. Inviting another person into his dream, is this supposed to be torture via peer judgement? Send an entire jury if you have to, he thinks. ]

I should be the one apologizing for what you might...

[ See? Now there's a question. His nightmare is made of memories all without sight. She might only hear or feel, though to what degree? Is she a passing witness free to listen with her own ears or will the dream force her to feel everything as intensely as he could with his enhanced senses? ]

Don't expect much of a view.

[thechristmasnazi]

[ Her lucky day. She mustn’t have been the only one to have paid his dreams a visit. If she’s fortunate, she’ll simply blend in and it’ll seem like any other experience.

Isabel’s mouth curves into a smile as he switches the apology around. He’s a nice guy. Polite. Too bad he’s a little old for her. She nods her head slowly. ]

I get that. I think people might be bothered somewhat by my dreams, too. Anyway… Don’t worry about me.

[ Her smile spread into a grin across her face. ]

I’ve got nerves of steel.

[ Don’t expect much of a view. Isabel finally realizes it. The man whose dream she’d so gracelessly dropped into was blind. It made sense. The actual dreamscape surrounding them was particularly devoid of details that one might find in a sighted person’s dream. Isabel had never walked into a blind person’s dream before, so she was a bit awe-struck. Everything was always more interesting the first time around. ]

Hmm… It’s interesting this way.

[blessmefather]

[ Nerves of steel hopefully includes staying calm at the scene of a murder. As they find themselves outside or what feels like outside during a chilly night police sirens draw near, and drown out all other sound. Matt lowers his head, wondering if he should bother explaining to her what this scene is or if this will be less stressful for both of them to act like she isn't there. The police cars pull up nearby and the officers silence their sirens. Immediately a child's sobs can be heard coming from near the ground. The boy calls to his father as he shakes his corpse, hoping he'll wake but the man is long gone. ]

[thechristmasnazi]

[ Isabel stills herself as she listens. These are sounds from a landscape far more urban than the one she is used to with the way they echo off of pavement and stone. She can’t suppress a frown as she hears the boy cry to his father. Nerves of steel, yes, and some people that know her back home would even claim that she has a heart of ice, but this scene bothers Isabel. She can’t fight her curiosity. ]

You dream about this? Is it something you… Encountered? Personally, I mean?

[blessmefather]

I've been having the same bad dream the last couple nights.

[ He tilts his head back. Nothing in this dream will be pleasant. None of it is something he enjoys talking about.

The scene changes and the chill of the night air disappears. Instead there's a low hum from florescent lights overhead and the sound of water running through pipes. The same child is present, breathing, letting out a gasp as an adult male crumples something in his hand. Your training is over, an old voice rasps. Then the old man turns and leaves, ascending up a flight of wooden stairs. The child's breath starts to speed up and quiver with emotion.

Matt doesn't turn toward her when he answers. ]

It's not something I usually talk about.