OPEN LOG: 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

[stations]

Who: Jack Townsend & Open
When: The month of September
Where: Around — it's a catchall!
Summary: Some intro prompts + eventually event prompts as well
Warnings: Cognitive impairment ft. gaslighting, hallucinations, time loss, etc; mentions of amputation & other violence; adult language; spooky ghosts

(Prompts in comments; this is not a cut text.)

𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔.

Comments

[carmesi]

[demigods. it sounds like jack has found himself in the middle of something that goes beyond the casual human experience, despite the sound of a lot of things going against his favor.

wanda inches forward on her seat, feet flat on the floor, elbows on her thighs as she tries keeping eye contact with jack. it's easy to not feel the constriction of time right in this place, what with the dim light and the quiet that pervades; the heating rattling the pipes that course through the building once in a while, the dried leaves rolling on the pavement.

should she even be contemplating this?]

If you ever wanted some help, perhaps I... could — try. I'm not positive I will be able to do much, considering your experiences. [carefully, she pushes the cup around in her hands] But if it ever is too much.

[she looks down now, grimacing, but ultimately forcing a smile on her face.]

I have powers that let me control what goes on in a person's mind. I would use it to help my brother sleep free of nightmares. I've used it on even more powerful people; a god of Asgard, a witch. [sorry pietro— wanda looks up at jack again.] Only to help, and only if you want, of course.

[stations]

( But if it is ever too much... Jack can't help but think, Lady, if only you knew. Everything's felt like too much for years. His exhaustion, the constant weight of his ever-deteriorating mental state, it's been too much for as long as he can remember — a quantity of time rapidly dwindling as it eats away at his memory.

Needless to say, his hopes aren't very high. All the same—

He shrugs. )

I'm game. It couldn't hurt. What's the worst that could happen?

( Literally nothing, as far as he knows. Nothing happening is basically the only consequence of failure, and it's one he's extremely used to. )