Event - Heavy

[apocalypsehowmods]

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Heavy

➥ Deep

(cw: claustrophobia, existential dread, power loss, victim-blaming, time distortion, supernatural compulsion and hunger)

After the cold snap and plumbing issues comes the calm. For a few days, at least, nothing seems to break. Or break more than normal where the Flophouse is concerned. A heavy snow sweeps through and covers the streets. Not a blizzard, but thick white fluff that forms a blanket overnight. The snowplows aren't prepared and it's simply… quiet. People stay indoors, waiting for the weather to clear a bit. There are light flurries throughout the next few days, topping off the snowfall, and for the most part, the city just shuts down.

Even ADI puts out a notice that employees should stay home. Stay safe, stay cocooned in what warmth you have. Just… stay. Each day the message comes out from a generic work email, help@adi.com:

Shelter in place. No work today. Stay safe. We'll get by without you.

The next day is the same. The snow piles higher overnight, covering windows and freezing doors shut.

Shelter in place. No work today. Stay safe. We're s̴̳͘͠ͅt̶̨͂̍r̵̯̼͊͝ŭ̷͚̳g̶̠͋̓g̴̳̱̔͘l̸̤̻̎i̷̭͑͠ń̵̗͜͝g̷̤͂, but we'll get by.

Day after day. Frost creeps into the corridors of the ADI housing complex and the Flophouse. There is no food or other supplies coming and it feels like the hours are stretching out more and more.

Shelter in place. No work today. S̴̬̓t̸͉̿a̴̫̿ỳ̸͉ ̸̠̉s̸̲͆a̶͙͊f̶̢̏ē̷̤. We can't keep doing this, but we have to.

Attempts to leave the housing areas will be met with walls of snow that appear to be impossibly high. Around the flophouse, especially, it's as though they've been placed into the bottom of an icy hole. The walls stretch up higher than anyone can climb or fly, with only a pinprick of bluish light coming down from the opening above, deeper than anyone can dig through. Not even a magical portal or beam of heat can get through. There's just a wall of snow and/or ice through the portal and more snow beyond the beam. What's more, anyone who has supernatural abilities or is tied to a patron, even those not actively trying to feed that patron, will find themselves feeling increasingly drained, like something is sapping away whatever reserves they have, leaving them hungrier and hungrier, their powers waning by the minute, with a very limited set of options to feed upon.

S̸͉͗ḣ̷̦ȩ̵͒l̷͈̍t̸͎̽e̵̺̓ř̵̠ in place. No work today. S̴̬̓t̸͉̿a̴̫̿ỳ̸͉ ̸̠̉s̸̲͆a̶͙͊f̶̢̏ē̷̤. Why aren't they coming? This is their fault.

S̶͔͆h̸̅ͅȅ̴̮l̵̬̈́t̷̯́e̴̥̐ř̷̙ ̶̳̕ì̷̲n̵͓͌ ̷̮̋p̵̟̈́l̶̢̎a̷̺͠c̷̻̈́ḙ̵̊.̷̦̇ ̴̬̀N̸͕͌o̵͎̊ work today. S̴̬̓t̸͉̿a̴̫̿ỳ̸͉ ̸̠̉s̸̲͆a̶͙͊f̶̢̏ē̷̤. Why aren't ỹ̸̡͐ͅô̷͕̫ù̶̟̣͊ coming? Ḟ̴͓i̷̤͗x̶̨͝ ̴̜͒t̵̯̅h̴͔͛i̸͖̽s̶̱̚!

((ooc: Plain text versions of all messages are located here (LINK). You can also hover your mouse over the distorted text for hover text translations.))

➥ Chasm

(cw: warped perceptions, memory-loss, implied trauma, supernaturally-induced feelings of missing out)

You've missed a step.

After what seems an interminable time, someone is finally able to tunnel through, to get out of the massive snowy prison everyone has been trapped in and-

And the city looks normal. Checking the wall you just came through, it's not actually there. As soon as one person makes it out, the effect collapses for everyone. There's a wintry wonderland of Gloucester beyond, and it seems like things have gone on without everyone. But there is a sense in the air that something has happened, something earth-shattering that everyone missed out on.

People on the streets seem to have a look about them. Haunted? Something happened, but when they're questioned about it, they can't seem to come up with an answer as to what. They just seem… confused, overwhelmed. Yes, something happened. No, they can't tell you what. Weren't you here for it? Didn't you see it? Didn't you feel it? How could you have missed something that big?

That feeling will sit with characters as time passes, dragging down on them. It may even begin to feel like a physical weight for the most affected. You missed it. You could have done something to change things, but you missed it.

➥ Stuck

(cw: flooding; natural disasters; damage to homes, workplaces, and possessions; references to burial, suffocation, crushing, and murder; supernaturally induced anxiety, responsibility fatigue, and feelings of inadequacy; illness.)

The feeling of having missed something only intensifies back at ADI headquarters. It looks as though the storm itself attacked the building; several exterior doors have been broken off their hinges, ice expanded within the metal past its breaking point, and the expansive water damage and muck ground into the carpets, walls, and battered elevators conjure images of an indoor avalanche…or a glacier pushing its way through, slow but biting cold and utterly inexorable.

There's no time to dwell on what's happened, on the days of hunger and isolation nor whatever disaster occurred here. There's too much to do, too much to fix, one crisis after another. There's the obvious problem: the need to repair the building and proof it against the cold wind that still blows in across the foyer, but no matter one's work area there is more to do than can be done. Endless requests and projects flood in from every quarter, all of them urgent, all of them important. As soon as one thing is finished, three more problems emerge: contracts to manage, investigations to be made into reported phenomena, glitching computers to repair, vandals to repel from the gaping wound that is the lobby entrance in the middle of the night–the list goes on, and on, and on.

Rumors circulate, stories about a prisoner in the depths of the building's secret basements who disappeared into the crushing ice and grit that had filled the cells, disagreements about whether it was a rescue or if the unnamed prisoner was suffocated, snuffed out by some indiscriminately vengeful force. No one seems to know the truth; no one even seems to know the name of the prisoner, who they were, what they had done to end up there. No one has the time to look too deeply into it; even head of security Neil Grace, is caught leaping from task to task, never catching up long enough to turn his attention to the matter in any meaningful capacity.

The struggle to keep up, the futile effort to keep one's head above water, never relents. No matter one's priorities at work or at home, something is always wrong, always in need of attention, the knowledge of things undone needling at the edge of consciousness like a toothache in one's soul. The Flophouse is in a disastrous state worse even than ADI headquarters, a wild-eyed Bonnie all but pouncing on residents with an endless list of tasks to fix it, to make the building livable again. At the ADI apartments, exhausted caretaker Benny Holt seems to traipse up and down the halls at all hours of the day and night with his toolbelt, gaunt and exhausted and tapping at doors in reply to requests to fix plumbing, lighting, and water damage that never seem to stay fixed. Local staff and interdimensional residents alike begin to fall ill, bodies and minds burning out under the strain, but giving yourself time to rest and heal means piling more work on those around you.

There is no time. There is no rest. There is only the work you are failing to complete.

➥ Sink

(cw: claustrophobia, suffocation or near-suffocation)

As if that isn’t enough, there’s still investigative work to be done. Once again, it seems as if Coffins Beach is a site of interest, as ADI has been tipped off that there might be something (or things) in the water. Again.

For safety’s sake - and perhaps to make sure that no one collapses out there alone - pairs are sent out to the beach to keep an eye on the water and to see if anything interesting has washed up. Orders are to both watch the water and walk along the beaches and through the dunes nearby.

Watching the water doesn't seem to yield any results, no matter how long it's observed. Nothing washes ashore either. But then there's the dunes. Sooner or later, it seems like climbing them and walking among them is all there is to do. Anyone who has spent any time at Coffins Beach might notice that they seem a bit larger than they have been in months past. Not inconceivably, but noticeably. There are dunes tall enough to scale the sides up to the top, though some are still no more than little mounds.

It doesn't matter which, when you fall into it. Small hill or gentle mound, one minute you’re walking on the surface. The next minute, as you put your foot down, it begins to sink. It can't be sinking, of course, sand dunes on a beach don't have quicksand. They’re nothing but dense piles of sand. You can't fall into a sand dune.

You are falling into a sand dune. There’s a hole in the sand, just wide enough for your body and you have fallen into it. Perhaps you're a little bit lucky and your partner witnessed it. Maybe you aren't and you suddenly just disappear. It's a long fall, though, down a tube of sand that seems hard-packed around the edges. At first. The drop is just far enough that light can be seen from above, but not the top of the hole itself. Call out. You might be heard. And maybe your partner is already trying to get you out.

But the moment you hit the bottom, it seems like the hole becomes unstable. Especially if someone is above and trying to reach down. Even if they're not, though, sand begins to crumble from the edges and sides of the tunnel, falling down on the body trapped at the bottom of it. A slow trickle, not a burial. Not yet. Still, it could be, if rescue doesn't come, if the person left up above can't dig you out. Meanwhile, the sand falls and falls, pressing down on limbs and creeping up your body. It’s cold and struggling only seems to make the sand fall faster.

Surely you’ll be rescued before it covers you completely. Or soon after. Surely.

➥ Mod Notes

• GENERAL - Players are welcome to play NPCs for themselves when they are needed in a thread. If you need more information on general behavior for these types of NPCs, please feel free to ask! In general, the information provided in the prompts should be sufficient and ordinary people will act like… ordinary people! You're welcome to make up any details beyond that for your specific scene. Please remember that character deaths are permanent and plan accordingly!
  
  
• DEEP (16-20 February) - Characters will be trapped in their homes for five days, confined to either the Flophouse or the individual apartment buildings within the ADI complex. It will feel like significantly longer, even for characters with fully accurate internal clocks. Travel outside of these bounds will be impossible, even with the use of supernatural abilities. The network will be fully operational; though, not the regular internet or anything beyond the internal ADI network. Characters will also receive periodic messages from help@adi.com begging for help, even as they order everyone to shelter in place.
  
  Characters who are outside their homes when the snow starts will find they're able to get inside just fine, but will not be able to get out again. Characters may be trapped with people who are not their standard roommates/at their usual housing, if they're unlucky (or lucky).
  
  
• CHASM (21-24 February) - The first character(s) to break through the snow barrier will feel an especially powerful weight fall upon them before there's suddenly just… nothing. The snow walls are gone. Even if another character was in the middle of digging through, the snow is just there one minute, then gone the next. Characters will experience a profound sense that they have missed something. This may dissipate within a day or maintain over several days. Anyone trying to question residents of the city will receive confusion and incredulity, but no answers. There is no indication that anyone seemed to notice the walls of snow. Even some of the natives at ADI will be perplexed. All non-native NPCs and some native NPCs will have experienced the same thing as the PC characters.
  
  
• STUCK (21-28 February) - The need to be doing more than they can will be ever-present for all NPCs and player characters. Those who would choose to eschew responsibilities at work or try to reprioritize will find that there is always something in need of doing that is important to them, to the point where new problems may seem to arise in impossibly, almost cartoonishly quick succession. Tasks and problems can be mundane matters related to work, building repair, and living spaces; as well as minor supernatural occurrences similar to past Dogtown TDM prompts (players are welcome to make up small supernatural encounters; anything that would affect other characters beyond a single thread should be submitted as a player plot). Characters may find themselves feeling mentally foggy and struggling to focus on core issues in the face of this inundation of needs from the people and environment around them, and may fall sick from overwork. These effects will overlap with both the Chasm and Sink prompts.
  
  
• SINK (24-28 February) - Characters who find themselves falling into one of the dunes will end up in what appears to be a vertical tunnel that is definitely too high to climb back out of, regardless of how tall the dune actually seemed to be when they were on top of it. The temperature of the sand is very cold and in addition to possible suffocation, characters may find themselves slowly freezing. Struggling or rescue attempts will quickly make the walls of the tunnel unstable. Additionally, the tunnel may not be exactly straight, depositing characters slightly or more than slightly off of their original falling point.
  
  

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Donna Noble | OTA

[thedoctorsmate]

Deep
On the one hand, Donna has always enjoyed snow when she's appropriately kitted out for the weather. On the other hand, she'd been planning on the mild winter people at ADI had told her to expect, not the blood snowpocalypse that seems to have descended. They have some food in the fridge, but that's not going to last, is it? Maybe one of the other apartments has food in it?

Maybe, if the owners are away, they won't mind her liberating some of it. Because after the first few days that stretch on forever this seems like it might start becoming a survival situation. Donna Noble does not do survival, thank you very much. Not that sort, anyway.

So, she keeps an ear out for what seems to be the quietest floor on the C apartment block, and when that's silent, she sneaks downstairs and takes some hairpins to the lock on the door down there. Who does this belong to? She doesn't know. But there's no way she's starving in a bloody apartment in the middle of a modern (if very quaint) city. Donna can be found futzing with the lock, focus fixed fully on the door she's knelt in front of.

Chasm
And then the snow is just... gone. The wall of it. Donna's quick to rush out when she sees she's free. Eyes wide and searching for whatever's gone on. Her first instinct is to get to the store. To stalk up, in case this is only a temporary reprieve. It's there that she finds people are acting strangely. There's something that happened, obviously, but when she mentions beind snowed in, it's only blank looks. She leaves the shop, arms ladened down with groceries, but walking home is... strange. Uncomfortable. It's like missing one of the invasions.

"H-hey!" She recognizes someone from ADI and tries to flag them down. "Have you... d'you know what's going on? What happened? I've been trapped for... Something happened, right?"

Stuck
"Ah-ah-ah-CHOO!" Donna has the manners to cover her sneeze, but it's followed up by a miserable groan as she slumps over her desk in admin. There's a pile of paperwork for her to review. There's a mound she's already finished, but there's more. There's always more of it coming in than she can get out. "God..." She shoves herself up and heads to the breakroom, feeling dead on her feet. And of course there's no coffee.

It's the straw that breaks the camel's back. She's sick, she's been working non-stop, ridiculous hours since she escaped that bloody snow prison, and now there's no coffee. The idea of having to make coffee for herself is too much. Her eyes well up with tears, and the next person to step into the breakroom is getting a snotty, overwrought British woman flinging herself at them.

"There's no more coffee!"

Maybe this is as much about just... getting attention and having a real excuse to take a break as it is about the coffee.

Sink - Only Crowley, please!
The cold hasn't faded, but Donna's at least on the recovery side of it, left to sniffle and wiggle her nose as she arrives at the south end of Coffins Beach to wait for her assigned partner. When she sees the man approaching, though, her heart skips a beat. Her eyes go wide. He's in... weird clothes, and maybe he looks a bit older than she's used to, but Time Lords are weird, aren't they? Maybe he's going through a phase?

"Doctor? Doctor!" She dashes toward him, making a game attempt to sweep him into a bone-crushing hug.

aww donna

[demonicmiracle]

These are the sorts of situations that make him really miss having access to his powers. Sure, the whole thing where he's incredibly vulnerable in a way he hasn't been before is terrible, but does it really compared to a strange woman calling him a doctor and coming at him for a hug.

"Oi, hold on —" The whole thing is startling enough that he doesn't have much more of a chance to react, and just accepts the hug, albeit without returning it.

He can't remember the last time someone other than Warlock hugged him, which is a thought to pack away for when he has less weirdness to deal with. "Do you mind?" Not the coolest response, but he's floundering a little in this particular situation.

Deep; apartment shenanigans

[myfavoritemurder]

Callisto is a good housemate in that she's often not there, which spares Donna from the full force of her Callistoness. In fact, though they've been officially roomed together for about a month by this point, it's very likely that they've barely even been introduced.

Unfortunately, this is quite possibly the worst time for those introductions to happen, because Callisto has been stuck inside for only about six hours and she's already stir-crazy. She's circled around the entire building, and is now pacing the living room back in their apartment, still wearing her ridiculous leather armor get-up. The moment Donna so much as glances at her, she snaps, "What?"

Deep

[whisperedone]

It was only a brief walk. He and his roommate both seemed prone to wondering, at least while they were cooped up here with no way out. While Garner seemed to be handling it a little better, that didn't mean the urge to move was completely out of him. A little walk about the floor would usually serve him fine and he didn't risk wandering too far.

Upon his return, however, he noticed something...off. The soft steps of his boots on the floor didn't overpower the quiet clink and rub of metal on metal a head of him. He wasn't terribly familiar with lockpicks himself, but it sounded like someone fumbling with something similar. Thinner, maybe. He stops about twenty feet away, his right hand tucked into the pocket of his overcoat while the left remained at his side, a leather strap wrapped around the palm and up his arm.

"Hello. Can I...help you with something?"

Stuck

[failedpromise]

Cortana is no stranger to coffee obsession. She's a creation of Dr. Halsey after all, a woman who singlehandedly redefines caffeine addiction.

But this? This is a bit much.

She takes a step back when the woman flings herself at her, staring. "Uhm..."

She glances around, then sighs. Making coffee shouldn't be too hard, should it?

stuck

[thatsreallygreat]

This isn't actually the most distressing thing to happen to him today. Caduceus wobbles a little beneath the impact, but then he looks down at the woman clinging to him and sobbing against him. The firbolg is still for a few seconds, then lifts a hand to rest on her head.

"Yeah, I get that," he says quietly. He can handle this. He strokes his hand down her head and to her shoulder, then gently guides her back. "Hey, I'm gonna sit you down, okay? And I'll make coffee. Or I was gonna make some tea, if you want some."

They've all been through a lot - are still going through a lot - so he gets it. He really does. And this is a crisis that he feels like he can manage.

martin blackwood | ota, will match format!

[lowficharm]

i. [deep, early days] are you brave enough to pull this off?

[So one thing Martin knows how to do, most definately, is live while trapped in a small place with no knowledge of when or if he'll get out. It's not ideal, but it is something he knows how to do. So once they're all defined Stuck, he'll start checking what food is in the apartment, how much warmth they have, and do what he does best.

He'll make some tea.

Once he's got a good pot on, he's pouring it into every available mug and heading around apartment block B with a tray, knocking on doors or stopping people if he finds them in the halls.]

Uhm... hello! Do you want some? I, uh, I made tea. Help combat the cold a bit.

ii. [deep, later days] you call it apathy, lack of commitment / i think you're just not my type

[This... is bad.

Martin has spent a lot of time trying to deny he has any connection back to any Entity, largely to himself, seeing as only one other person even knows he had one in the first place. It's not like he uses any abilities or actively done anything. It shouldn't matter, right?

You may be out in the halls trying to escape the boredom, the fear, or even someone else worse, when you find him. He's tried to get himself away from people, away from anyone, but there's an incredibly limited set of options. He's got his knees curled in on his chest, and he looks... cold. Or at least, you'd think it would be cold, with the way his breath fogs in puffs out of his mouth. As soon as he notices anyone else, he'll try to scoot just a bit away, keep quiet, and give as little as he can.]

I'm fine, it's-- you should go. I'm okay.

[He doesn't want to do this. Don't make him do this.

But for you, well... it's Martin. He's just a guy. What could he do, right?]

iii. [stuck] clear every obstacle, feels like we've done this / but maybe this time we'll get it right

[As soon as he's allowed out, Martin is everywhere, throwing himself into his work and apologizing profusely every single moment he can. He usually tends to split his time, but right now he's in administration, absolutely buried in paperwork. It would look funny if he looked less stressed, with the way there's folders on folders in disarray, cabinets open as he tries to hurriedly find something as people come in and yell. And of course, of course, as soon as he thinks he finally has something he can put away, the filing cabinet creaks and one of the drawer tracks shatters, dropping it's box onto the next one down and scattering three different piles.

And at that... Martin just lies down. He is on the floor, facedown. He lives here now. If you're coming in or getting closer, you can probably hear him talking into the carpet.]

This is it. This is what does it. Whatever it is, just eat me.

iv. [wildcard] your heart is not for sale / you're proud of all the sides you're on

[ooc: Want a different prompt or to talk something out? Hit me up via DM, at cancerously, or at discord at cancerously#6043 and we can figure something out!]

iii

[demonicmiracle]

[If he's being honest with himself, he's not entirely sure what he's doing in the administration office; someone asked him to fetch something, but he was in the middle of doing twenty other things and sort of..... forgot. What they asked for. It was probably important, too, but knowing that doesn't actually help jog his memory.

Stress and overwork aren't new, necessarily, but usually it's caused by pressure from Hell, not something self-driven. Aside from the rare project he throws himself into with gusto, he's a lazy bastard, and not used to the sensation of wanting to get things done. He has enough awareness to know something is wrong, but he doesn't have time to stop and figure out what.

Which is all to say that he's roughly in the vicinity when he hears a small commotion. It's out of place enough to pique his curiosity, and he ends up popping his head over a cubicle, glancing down at Martin on the floor.]

You know, I think you might have the right idea there.

[Floor Time is important, even for demons.

Well. Usually it's Ceiling Time for Crowley, but the same principle applies.]

iii

[failedpromise]

(A smart AI without something to do is a miserable, tortured creature; Cortana is almost thriving in the current environment. Or at least, she would be if she weren't stuck in such a restricted form and also denied the information she wants.

Still, she's doing better than the Humans. Like this guy.

She's not a part of administration, but when she sees someone lying on the ground like that as she's passing by, she can't help but approach.)

Hello? You alright? (She'd wave her hand in his face, except he's currently facing the floor.)

beauregard | ota, will match your format!

[lesbeau]

i. [deep] whiplash, yeah we're coming at you fast

[Having been at the Fantasy North Pole before showing up in this place, Beau's no stranger to snow that will literally bury someone. At first, it's really not that bad- the pipes and all the issues in the Flophouse earlier this month were worse. But as the days tick on, something is... wrong. Something is very wrong.

As the days go on, she feels like she's getting sick. It's harder to focus, to balance her mind-- it feels foggy and difficult. There's a gnawing hunger in her that feels insatiable, even though she's been stuck for such a longer time than this without food. It doesn't make sense. She doesn't know what's going on, and she doesn't know how to fix it.

Everyone else, well, you're beginning to get the distinct feeling of being very, very watched. No matter where you might be in the Flophouse, you can suddenly feel like you're being looked at by every bit of air around and in you for just a second until you turn and see-- Beau. Just Beau. She's not even armed, just sort of... leaning on the nearest wall or piece of furniture, giving you a quick but otherwise exhausted wave.]

Hey, uh. Hey. Sorry, I feel like shit, just... trying to do something.

[What is she trying to do?? Who knows. Maybe she'll tell you if you ask.]

ii. [stuck] are you feeling the hot flash? / gonna get hit with the aftermath

[If anyone tries to talk to Beau in the library, no you didn't if you want to live. Anyone in the library or looking for her can find her in an absolute pile of books, heavy bags under her eyes and frown plastered fully on her face. Everyone looks pretty miserable right now, but she's just pissed at this stage. There's multiple notebooks surrounding her, other books open, and if you get close she just snaps her head up and sighs.]

What. Just-- what??

[Her temper seems a bit shorter than normal, right now.]

iii. [sink] we stomp our feet / we make it loud / i'm bearing down

[She's trying to get herself out and not go completely insane by taking the mission at the beach. At least it's just-- walking, right? It's just walking. Maybe she'll get lucky and she can hit something hard enough to get rid of the tension in her everything. Besides, the ocean is it's own kind of calm, and it reminds her of friends she's sorely missing to lean on right now.

Eventually, she'll look towards whoever her partner is, pointing to one of the dunes.]

Hey, I'm gonna sit for a minute. Hang on.

[At which point she will jump towards the top of the dune, and... fucking disappear. All that anyone else will hear is a scream of anger- if you run over to look, Beau has her fists plunged into the side of either wall of the hole, slowing her descent but not... stopping it. It should be stopping it. She looks so mad as she looks up towards the sky.]

I fucking hate this place!

iv. [wildcard] it's my trophy, my battle, my ring / and you're hitting your limit

[ooc: Want a different prompt or to talk something out? Hit me up via DM, at cancerously, or at discord at cancerously#6043 and we can figure something out!]

iii

[myfavoritemurder]

[The only sense of true "responsibility" that Callisto feels is her imagined responsibility to avenge her family by destroying Xena - which is, naturally, not a goal that she can work on here in anything but the most tangential of ways. So while she helps ADI out of the expectation that they'll hold up their end of the bargain and return her home as soon as they're able, she does so without any real investment in this world, which means that the persistent, niggling drive to do more, accomplish more, take more on is driving her absolutely bonkers, given that everything she really wants to do, accomplish, and take on is currently completely inaccessible to her.

All this is to say is that she's been like a tiger in a cage during this entire mission trip, stalking up and down the length of the beach, muttering to herself and continually running a harried hand through her hair. She barely looks up when Beau announces her intention to take a rest. She does, however, look up at the scream, and when she sees the collapsed dune, she immediately hustles over.]

Beau!

[Her tone definitely sounds more like anger than concern.]

deep

[thatsreallygreat]

[Deep snow and frigid cold aren't as foreign as Caduceus would like at this point. But it's different to be snowed in, to be trapped and cold with other people who are trapped and cold. And he's pretty sure his disguise - the one ADI imposes on him every time he leaves the property - is holding up the way it should.

He's hungry in a way he hasn't felt in a while. He tries casting once and regrets it immediately. So he can't help anyone, and he can't help himself, and they're still trapped.

He's trying to find some peace in one of the common rooms, trying to meditate or--something. Trying to feel the Wildmother or his unexpected patron here. But very quickly he feels like someone is watching him in a way that makes it impossible to drop into a quiet state. So he opens his eyes and finds Beau staring at him from the doorway.]

Hey. [He meets her gaze steadily.] What are you trying to do?

Manji | Blade of the Immortal

[canofmanji]

Deep

Manji hunkers down for the storm in his apartment in Block C during the start of the snow. Thinking he likely has enough supplies to get him through a small storm. Eventually the snow will let up and he'll be able to go back out once more. Except it doesn't stop or slow and he slowly starts to feel weaker. When he could be active and find distractions it was so much easier to ignore the hunger that was gnawing inside of him. The type that could never be filled no matter how much his physically ate.

He does his best to ignore it. To not give into the desire of causing fear and terror. He can endure this. Can't he?

Deep – For Garner Cinderbrooke

He can't endure this. After so many days trapped indoors Manji was feeling his patience starting to waver. He couldn't take another minute within these walls. “Screw this.” He huffs before throwing open a window. Grabbing a baking tray he starts to shovel out the snow. Grunting as he digs wildly at the frozen wall before he glances towards his roommate. “Well, you gonna help or not?”

Chasm

Being the first to escape Manji gasps with relief once he's able to push past the wall of snow. Expecting to come out to a city buried in the white fluff, but he's shocked by what he sees. Everything is... normal? Looking back at the pile of snow he has just dug through only to find it was all gone. “What the hell?” He blinks, completely stunned and baffled. Where had the snow that had blocked the way gone?

The usually unsocial Manji turns to head back to the place he had just escaped from. Curious how his neighbors have been doing since he last saw them. Knocking on doors and walking up to others who were also escaping their homes. “Hey, you alright? Everyone okay?”

Stuck

At the start Manji was happy to be going back to work. It helped him to ignore that hunger once again. He threw himself into the work, helping to repair some of the damage to the ADI headquarters. His missing arm doing little to slow him down as he hauls away broken furniture and doing his best to repair anything damaged. Just keep him away from the computers as his only skill when it comes to trying to fix those is to hit them harder.

That was at the start. The longer it continues the more overwhelmed and frustrated Manji feels. He hates the feeling that he was getting nowhere and using up all of his energy just to accomplish nothing at all. Everything was still a mess and he was getting nowhere with his questions as to who was locked away or what for reason. Which leads to him growing angry and short tempered. Anger that ends up being released on a broken door he's having trouble getting off it's remaining hinge. “Stupid door!” He gives it a kick only for it to bang against the back of the wall and bounce back into his face. “OUCH!” Down he goes.

Sink

After the whole thing with the door Manji thinks he'll do better getting outside rather than trying to fix things. It's how he's wound up on the beach. He takes a moment to stare out towards the water. Inhaling the sea air in deeply before turning to his partner. “Do you really think we'll find anything out here?”

Misc

Want a custom starter? Feel free to reach out to me! PM this journal, zigzag123 or I'm on Discord: Zig-zag#9946 and here is his plotting post.

Deep

[whisperedone]

The restless energy of his roommate was almost as bad as the restlessness in himself. Usually, he could be patient, calm, but not...the last few days had been difficult. So when Manji (rough, deep voice, confident gait) throws open the window to start trying to clear the way out, Garner only has one question.

"What in Exa- what are you using to dig?" It's much more confused than judgmental, but the thing sounded...flat and metal, but not sturdy? Sturdy enough, he supposes. For his part, Garner doesn't hesitate to take up his glaive to help out.

It only takes a moment of feeling out the edges of the window before his blade joins in the digging at the ice. At least he was confident he had the endurance to keep this up for a while.

stuck

[twicelost]

Katrina's hackles are more than up. Something happened here, and they were trapped inside while it did— and that can't have been anything but on purpose. Even days after the walls of snow just vanished, all she can think about is the damage from the drilling company's machines back in Bristol Cove and the way it scared off prey. And then, there's the way human activity has so polluted the ocean that her people's reproduction is impaired. They could die out within decades. Is that part of what's happening here?

These thoughts in mind, she has her spear in hand as she patrols HQ, as opposed to strapped to her back like she normally does, at the behest of her coworkers.

She happens to be passing by when Manji has his... incident with the door. Stowing her spear in her handmade spear-carrying strap, she heads over and easily lifts the door off him.

"Do you need healer?"

Katrina | ota, will match format

[twicelost]

• DEEP

[ There are many things Katrina does not like about dealing with humans. Being confined rates high among those things, because it reminds her of Donna, Ryn's sister. From what she heard, Donna was kept in a tank, a small, horrible prison.

This snow-and-ice cage is bigger, but not much better. Katrina spends time outside the apartment, dressed for the cold in case another mysterious blizzard kicks up. She's red-cheeked and glaring beneath her fuzzy beanie, her eyes peeking out from between the beanie and her bulky red-and-black scarf.

If she comes across anyone, she will nod briefly and ask if they've been able to climb over the walls. ] I try, but cannot go high. Always fall.

If there someone she has determined is weak (aka small in stature, sickly, or just not strong physically, she will (somewhat less aggressively than usual) ask— ] You have food? Water? Need safe place?

[ Because the strong of the tribe must protect the weak.

Or maybe someone runs into her as she tries to scale the snow walls. She takes a running start and leaps, digging her gloved fingers into the snow as if she were attacking prey. She climbs a few feet up, but inevitably she falls. As she stands, she hisses at the wall, looking at it like it has somehow offended her.

Perhaps strangest of all is that she makes a few hand gestures as she stands again. Anyone familiar with any sign language will recognize it as one, but not one they know. ]


• CHASM

[ One look at Katrina as she takes in the scenery snowy Gloucester, and it's clear she's unsettled. More than that, she's downright disturbed. Her violet eyes are wide, and her jaw is tense. Her gloved hands are tight fists at her sides.

She doesn't murmur to herself, but whoever she sees gets told the same thing: ]

This feel like war. Look at humans. Fear. Much fear. Something attack them. Try to kill them. It put us in cage and attack Gloucester humans.

[ Her voice is relatively calm, if firm and a little shaky, but it's the tension in her body that betrays just how badly she wants to scream and rage and find whoever did this, and kill them. ]


• SINK - cw nudity; blood and sounds of body trauma due to transformation, if you choose that option

[ Of course Katrina volunteered to go to the beach. She's been a few times, and after those days trapped inside, plus all that running around to help repair HQ, she's all but dying to get into the water.

So that's what she does, against any protests from whoever is on the mission with her. She'll strip off her clothes and dive in and... hang out underwater for longer than your average diver, and will transform both underwater and upon coming back out. Her partner will see her change: blue-gray skin turning olive-toned and freckled; teeth going from fangs to human norm, visible as she cries out in pain; nose changing; webbing between her fingers receding, claws retracting into fingernails; assorted fins also pulling inward. Worst is the sound of bones snapping as her tail splits into legs. The scaly skin sloughs off, leaving behind what might pass for the remains of a large fish. Then she'll get up and go get dressed, aching still but otherwise not remarking on the change.

Or, she might not. Maybe her body feels too weak, and so the ocean doesn't do its thing to her. Or maybe this not being her ocean means it doesn't do to her body the same things the ocean back home does. So she'll wade, and maybe swim a little, close to shore.

Either way, she'll be unclothed for a little bit, and as she's getting dressed again, she'll give her report. ]

Ocean is normal. This enemy not come from there.


• SINK 2 - closed to Garner / whisperedone

[ She's not happy that whatever is going on has nothing to do with the water, but at least they're near the water. That's comforting, even if it isn't her home.

And it's good that she got paired with Garner for this. Yes, he is highly capable in his own right, but it's too ingrained in her to watch out for her tribe members. He manages well, but she is still stronger and faster. He can handle anything that requires magic. She's got the rest. They're a balanced pair, and she's glad for that. ]

Sand is... changed.

[ She stops at the base of a dune that is much bigger than she remembers. ]

In ocean, some things hide in sand.

[ So there could be something in here too, is the implication. ]


• WILDCARD

[ let me know if you want a custom starter or anything! hmu here or on discord @ aseahag#4553 or plurk @ punnyinpink) ]

[whisperedone]

[Sand is not his favorite thing to walk on. He doesn't have a lot of experience with it and it moves underfoot far more than even snow or loose rock, but Katrina's steps are sure and that makes keeping to her path easier, the rest he makes due with the end of his glaive as he steps.

When she stops, he does as well, clouded eyes trained down towards the ground as he listens.]

It's possible there's something here. You think a creature might have caused the change?

[His quiet question is...mostly rhetorical, but that's what the implication feels like. He crouches down, his fingers pressing to the surface of the sand to feel.

He can sense the subtle shifting of grains nearby, her small movements like what all living things cause, but he tries to 'hear' out past her for anything else. After a moment, he shakes his head.]

I don't sense anything moving. Not right here right now.

[If it was deep enough down, however, it was very likely he'd miss it.]

aziraphale (OTA)

[oldbookshop]

stuck.

[ This is sort of the ideal scenario for Aziraphale, at first. Not in that it's pleasant or easy, or that there's anything good about the sheer number of minor crises constantly cropping up to demand attention, or how they seem to very clearly be having a bad impact on all the people around the office.

More in that he's a person very given to using distractions to avoid thinking about things he wants to avoid thinking about for whatever reason. And after five very long, drawn-out, horrific days of growing capital-h Hunger paired with equally horrific stubbornness, he's on board for distractions. Thinking? Bad. The persistent feeling that there's something he's missed, that he doesn't know, the urge to dig until he pries it out with his own bare bloody hands? Also bad.

Impulse control and curiosity are sometimes his greatest weaknesses.

So all things considered, he's fine to initially throw himself into this mess, regardless of how much genuine personal investment he had in the day-to-day of it all beforehand. Mind-numbing, love that sometimes.

There's actually quite a lot of work to be done, is the thing, and a vaguely soothing promise of being able to compartmentalize certain urges away never sees fruition. As the days go on, Aziraphale only grows more scattered and drained. A very special brand of contained frazzled created by an inventor of British mannerisms.

He's prone to a lot of pitfalls of this situation. Distractedly walking into people, switching up names, bringing things to the wrong rooms. Someone tries putting him on a computer to do something and he just sits there staring at it for an hour, vaguely offended. Computer experience: did taxes on ancient home computer once per calendar year and let it gather dust the rest of the time.

Head empty. No thoughts. It's actually much less appealing in reality than it was in the beginning. It makes the hunger worse and it makes him tired, and he's basically the world's oldest sleep-averse toddler deep down.

Can also be found just sort of standing in the middle of a room or hallway squinting down at one of the many files or books or memos or what have you in his hands and then at his surroundings, because he's already forgotten the point of half of what he's doing. So, point of practical order: ]

I don't suppose you could tell me which direction I was... coming from.

[ Because he's at least sure that one of these things might be important? Maybe? ]

Ohh, maybe I really did keep away from head office for too long.

[ Pushing paperwork is so very not his area. ]


sink.

[ Field work is slightly more his area, in that he's probably feeling a bit better overall by this point and he just sort of likes being allowed to have a stroll from time to time. Keeping an eye out for oddities, yes, certainly, nothing against that.

Fresher air is alright, though. Bit of conversation is also alright. He's very good at normal human. The pinnacle of good at normal and human. ]

Do quite a lot of odd things happen with this particular beach, do you think? [ Or is that an odd question. ] Bit new to the organization, you see. Haven't gotten all the history lessons in.

[ If they are in a book he'll get there eventually.

(Fine with Aziraphale being either the sinker or rescuer, feel free to follow what you think is more fun for you!) ]


wildcard.

[ For other options! Willing to plot/hash stuff out or just roll with whatever. I can be reached by PM or at comatoseroses! ]

Stuck

[abrightboy]

[Malcolm is studying a file while he walks, hurrying through the halls. It’s a good thing Aziraphale speaks, catching his attention before he walks right into the angel. He stops short.]

Hm? Oh. No. I didn’t notice. Were you facing me? That would seem to suggest you came from back there.

[He gestures in that direction with his file. Wait. The man’s face is still very… Dr Whitly. Malcolm peers at him.]

Jonathan Sims | OTA

[the_archivist]

Deep - Early
[Growing up next to the sea, Jon had rarely seen snow, and certainly never so thick and heavy as it is at the moment. It's exciting... at least for the first day. The deep silence of the world is relaxing, and it's beautiful in an austere sort of way.

And then it keeps falling, and suddenly it's less fun.

And he's bored.

He sets himself up in one of the shared areas with books and reports that he'd borrowed, reading and making notes just to keep himself from time dragging on.]

You can borrow something, if you want. Or if you have any other books or... something to do, I wouldn't mind a swap?


Deep - Late
[It starts with the boredom transmuting into lethargy. He sleeps a lot, but sleep has rarely helped in recent years. It's harder to concerntrate.

And the hunger...

He is so hungry. The Eye gnaws at him, and he is starving. His gaze flicks over words without understanding. It's like starving himself again, like being trapped in Forever Deep Below Creation and- oh, that's a revelation isn't it? But not enough to help.

He is hungry, and he can feel so many stories just waiting to be drawn out. It turns him into a predator, the pupil of the Eye, the Archivist, as he wanders the hallways.]


Chasm
[Even leaving doesn't help to reduce the hunger now it has been so awakened. The people outside, haunted and scared... it's a feast, and he needs to know.

He slips to the outskirts, searching for someone, someone who won't be too obvious.]

Tell me what happened...


Stuck
[It is good to have something to do. To keep him occupied, and Jon throws himself into it, reading reports and doing research. But there's always something more, another mote of information to chase up, a file to read, the documents seeming more and more disorganised, and he has to organise them, has to take control of it, has to prove himself... It's like the Archives all over again, and they'll find out won't they? That he's not qualified for this, that there's too much, and he can't live up to it and-

Oh.

He recognises this. The crushing weight of it, pressing down on him like wet earth or deep water. Like drowning and suffocating.

Maybe it's because for the first time since arriving, he is well fed. It grants clarity. He isn't in the coffin this time, but he thinks of Karolina Gorka, and thinks he knows what to do.]

Oh fuck off.

[He mutters it at the piles of paperwork. And then he lies down on the floor of his office and gives up. Stops working and lies there. He cannot fix this, he cannot get through all of the work. No-one could.

So he won't feed it.]

[OOC: Wildecard! Feel free to hit Jon up for more mundane things, or if you have something you specifically want to do! Also lmk if you want to have Jon take your statement and join his nightmare zoo!]

Stuck

[whisperedone]

[He'd offered to help, especially since he didn't have a speceific job yet, but everyone was sort of running about like there was so much to do. He felt it too, the need to do something, to help fix it all. His particular circumstances didn't help his options, however, so a harried person he'd tried to stop had simply pointed him in this direction.

Another set of hands and a sharp mind could be of use, right? He hoped so.

At least until he was in the process of opening the door (yes without knocking, he hadn't thought about it) when the very particular directive came and had Garner pausing.]

Ah. Well...I certainly can if that would be more helpful.

Bucky/Winter | OTA

[worthallthis]

I. Deep, first half

The snow out the window and the order to stay home is frustrating, but Winter obeys orders. He stays home. He doesn't really... want... to wade through all that cold and ice, anyway. It sounds. Bad.

But sticking to the apartment leaves him with little to do. He cleans his weapons. He cleans his metal arm. He sharpens his knives. He sharpens the kitchen knives. He paces. He does some push-ups in the living room. He takes too-long baths. He writes down his nightmares and pages through the notebooks he's filled up so far. Winter does not have any hobbies that don't involve a gym or a weapon. This is something of a problem.

He prowls the halls. He prowls them even more quickly when he starts feeling-- off. Angrier. More achy through where the metal arm attaches under his skin. Hungrier. Hungrier? Wanting to put his mask on and loom at people, as if that will keep him from being hungry.

When the understanding hits, two days in, that what he's feeling is one of the goddamn fucking fear-entities trying to use him he retreats back to the apartment, plants himself on the couch, and seethes at himself, wearing his blankest expression. He didn't know. How did he not know? Ugh.


II. Deep, second half

Though he doesn't really want to feed any fear entities, even if it means he's going to hurt every time he lifts the metal arm, fear can be... useful. If he's feeling like this, he won't be the only one. So he finally goes back to prowling the halls, actually wearing his mask, and looking for troublemakers.

Troublemakers get loomed at. Or grabbed by a metal hand and hauled away from potential victims. Or told in a flat, angry voice, "Stop."

If he winds up not hurting for a little while because of this, in the meantime, he'll... deal with it.


III. Chasm

"So we were trapped in there. By an illusion," Winter guesses out loud, glowering at the suddenly snow-less lawn and fence around the ADI apartments. "Who wanted us to be out of commission?"

Time to ask around, and find out. He's not wearing his mask this time, because now he knows what he was doing when he wears it, but that doesn't seem to help much. When wearing the mask, he'd started to become something like a local cryptid: weird, spooky, but ultimately harmless because he's never actually hurt anyone. Well, besides the ones with the biting phones. But most people never actually saw that.

Without the mask people can see his scowl, and the way his face doesn't quite make the right expressions, and now he's suddenly scary all over again. He gets very few answers out of anyone. It's very frustrating.


IV. Stuck

Winter doesn't turn down missions. Honestly, he doesn't know how. So when more and more notifications show up on his schedule, on top of his usual patrols and lessons after hours, he accepts them. He does them. He runs from one point to another across the ADI compound to save time, and has to dodge people who get in his way.

He hits a little harder in the gym, on the punching bags and dummies, using his right hand much more than his left-- though he continues to at least try to be careful with his students and sparring partners.

He falls asleep in a broom closet from sheer exhaustion after one of his semi-regular panic attacks, hugging his rifle like a very deadly teddy bear.


V. Sink

Winter doesn't turn down missions. So here he is, prowling wearily across the dunes. He isn't going to fall, because no one will be able to haul him out without magic or heavy machinery, and he walks carefully despite his size and weight.

But should his partner fall, he'll move heaven and earth to get you out. And after the freak snowstorms lately, he's taken to carrying tough nylon rope with him on missions. Just in case people need to be tied together. Or pulled out of holes.

[bossyboiler]

He's touched her knives. Her fucking knives that she had bought specifically for cooking and are not the ADI-provided ones. Did they need sharpening? It wouldn't have hurt them to be extra sharp. Should he have asked? YES.

In the couple of days of being stuck in, Kate has grown increasingly territorial about places she considers hers. Normally, everything is fine. She recognizes that her behavior is irrational. The kitchen is a communal space. It's there for everyone. However, she's been stuck inside and her personality flaws are becoming magnified.

Plus, she really needs to feed her Entity. She knows what the feeling is. She has been experiencing it since being magically transported to Gloucester but it's different now, it's more magnified. Kate is trying desperately to ignore it by doing everything she can to make the apartment cleaner.

At the current moment, it's time for lunch. She'll bake something with a lot of chopped vegetables. She figures that having to focus on slicing and dicing will help. Kate washes her hands, noting that Winter is in the living room, and then goes to her knives. That's when she noticed that the blade to her chopping knife is extra shiny. She checks the rest of her knives and sure enough they've all been sharpened.

Kate braces both palms on the counter and sighs. She takes another deep breath and another but it doesn't work. Her mind screams mine! She shoots a look at the obvious suspect, Winter. The back part of her mind tells her that she's being dumb. He did her a favor.

She takes all the knives out. They have to be washed. "Thank you for sharpening the knives."

Malcolm Bright | Prodigal Son | OTA

[abrightboy]

Deep
Things are restless in apartment B1. Nobody in there is the sort of person who can just sit by and do nothing at all. Malcolm feels lucky that Gil is stuck with them, but he's on edge about Neal being trapped in a different block, away from him, in his own apartment. At least he can still call him but... what if something happens? What if something happens that makes him change his mind about... them?

He needs to stay occupied, is all. To stay out of his own head. It's a dark and dangerous place. He walks the halls, looking for anyone who needs help or wants to talk. In the apartment, he makes coffee, tea... checks the freezer, checks the cupboards, checks everyone's mental health....

Chasm
Free at last. It's somehow not that big a deal that the snow just disappears. More magic to confound him. He's used to that. He's used to not understanding how things work here.

He doesn't like the feeling that he's missed something important though. That he could have helped. That he's failed somehow.

He needs to check on his friends that weren't at the apartment. He walks the town, tries to ignore the looks from locals. He talks to anyone he knows, just to see how they are.

Stuck
Malcolm is at ADI, being more diligent than he's been in the investigations department than he has since he arrived. Their things usually aren't really his thing, but right now he feels compelled to help out.

[Anyone is free to run into him; if you want to do something with Sink, just let me know!]

Between Stuck and Sink

[bossyboiler]

Kate runs into Malcolm at the elevator because the Narration is a freewheeler who makes up their own rules. "Malcolm." She has quite a few manilla folders with her which she is holding against her chest. "How are you today?"

Mirabel Madrigal | ota

[nonmagical]

[Deep]

[Mirabel isn't prepared for this kind of weather. Her home was always so much warmer than this, and she doesn't have the proper clothing to keep warm. She can be found sitting on the stairs - apparently feeling too cooped up in her apartment. But she has her arms around herself, shivering.

She looks at whoever's passing by, trying to smile.]

I-I guess we're stuck here a while, huh?

[Stuck]

[She's hungry, she's tired - she doesn't feel well. But the requests to do something are piling up, and she's busy trying to fix what she can. She leans back in a nearby chair, rubbing the pounding of her head. She sneezes, sniffles, and groans. There's a stack of papers next to her - all requests that need to be done.]

Ughh, why am I even doing this! Hhh... okay, what's next...

[She looks like she's going to collapse asleep in that chair.]

[Sink]

[And here she is too. Honestly, she doesn't feel cut out for this kind of work, not to mention, she's still sick as a dog. But she needs to be useful, she needs to serve some kind of purpose, and if she spends another day locked up in her apartment she will in fact, go crazy.

So she walks along the beach - an easy enough task, right? Sick or not. At least, it is until she feels herself slip into a deep hole. She lets out a yelp before disappearing, and when she gets to her feet, she finds that the sand hole she's in isn't going to be easy to climb out of without help.]

H-hello?

[She looks closer, and sees that the hole she's in is... filling. With more sand. Panic rises in her and she tries to climb out herself, only to slide back down. And her efforts seem to be causing the sand to fill up the hole faster.]

Someone? Someone help! Help me!

Deep

[graveyounglady]

Aye.

[Mercy has a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, even with her thick coat on, but seeing this girl... she pulls it off and offers it to Mirabel.]

Here. You look colder'n I feel. What are you doing out here on the steps? Rooming with someone who's going... stircrazing?

[That is how she is choosing to interpret Aelwyn wanting to keep away from her. Yes. It's not something worse. Just... just being cooped up.]

Andrew Jaeger | OTA (will match brackets or prose)

[bloodalwaystells]

Deep - Apartment A2

Cabin fever is nothing new to Jaeger. As a man used to living on the run, living with care not to expose himself too much or too often, staying inside and staying quiet is familiar ground. What's new is the snow, because there's no way that it should be that high and that impenetrable. There are several attempts to dig past the blockage, cold burning his lungs and hands, before he gives up with a long-suffering grimace. The shovel is simply not enough, because the snow is forever.

Also, the Hunger. He's been wrestling with the Hunt's wicked impulses since he got here, since he first realized that his magic was chained to this particular nightmare. Physical exertion helps distract him a little, but not for long. And when he aches too much to continue to try to dig, he turns to prowling. Endlessly, pacing and waiting and watching with the intent of something caged and feral. It makes for an unsettling presence, between long bouts of locking himself away in his room to refocus and get himself under control. Drinking black coffee bitter enough to burn, organizing the supplies stocked in the pantry, or simply at the window watching the frozen walls around them, around every corner he's simply there.

And in between those bouts of feral madness, there may be brief attempts at distracting himself on the network. He's not one for casual conversation in general, but under the circumstances? He'll try.

Is anyone awake?

Stuck

Returning to work is a relief, after five endless days of imprisonment. His hands are mostly healed, those awful little bites and tears reduced to glossy pink as they mend, and he can return to work without reservation- ready and eager to be productive again, to be out of his apartment and back into the flow of things.

Except, he's come back to more like a deluge, a rush of things that have-to-be-dealt-with-right now-no-really-now. Some things are small, some things can't wait, but they're there, a bombardment of various-sized disasters that need to be addressed and never mind what else you had in mind.

In some ways, it's helpful. In other ways, it just feeds the madness, leaves him fighting that deep hunger again. It's not a Hunt, not really, but it's pursuit, it's motion, it's constant awareness, and that's just enough to spark the want in him.

As Security and Investigations, at least some of the duties that demand his attention are security alerts, reports and triggered cameras and that one alarm in the west hallway that will not stop going off. As always, he's dressed for work in a dark turtleneck, suit jacket, and slacks, quick and quiet in spite of his towering form. Moving to intercept, because maybe this time, it's not a false alarm. Or maybe it is. He doesn't even know anymore, but he moves anyway, because this is what he's good at.

Sunk

Getting out of the ADI buildings is a relief, even if it means jumping from one fire to another. After the towering walls of snow, the slow sense of suffocation and ticking minutes and the weight of inaction, a walk on the beach sounds...nice.

Well, no, not really. It's still salt and sand and cold, but Jaeger will take the change of scenery. Stretching his legs helps, getting away from the walls and breathing frigid, but fresh air helps him re-focus, and gives him a task to manage. Something that's not on fire. He moves with care over the sand, eyes occasionally casting out to the water and the horizon beyond it, before returning to the sand around him. Around his neck, his camera hangs the way it always does, just in case something comes up that needs recording. He's an investigator through and through, and catching evidence is part of that.

But so far, no signs of anything going on. He lets his breath out quietly, rubbing absently at his scarred hands, before turning his attention to the dunes again.

"They're bigger than they were before."

Sunk

[musicdied]

Yelena tears her gaze away from the foam-tipped waves, stained slate grey by the sluggish clouds that occlude the sun and threaten yet more snow. She studies the mounded sand, eyes narrowing slightly in thought, the line of her mouth drawn down into a faint frown.

"That doesn't sound like monsters from the ocean," she notes, her tone a little flat. Unsurprised. After the avalanche of disasters that has followed in the wake of their imprisonment behind walls of entirely imagined ice, the idea that there might be a familiar threat to tackle, something their colleagues had dealt with and dispatched once already, is almost too good to be true.

A moment's pause, and that faint frown deepens.

"Unless they're the kind of monster that burrows to breed."

Mercy Graves | Closed

[graveyounglady]

For Aelwyn
[Mercy has always prided herself on being able to tell the passage of time. She'd grown up attending ever funeral that ever happened in the Abbey, working long nights and early mornings between the undertaking as a child and the infirmary in her older years. She knows how it feels to stand in one place for ages, waiting out a clock or a moment, and she can gauge things.

This is different. It seems as though the clock inside of her is being slowed down. It's an uncomfortable, crushing sensation that makes the minutes tick by like hours. They've spent a day snowed in, but it feels more like weeks. Their food stores are fine. They can survive this for a while, but the inability to grasp time is leaving the girl confused and unhappy. She leaves her room to seek out Aelwyn. As long as she has friends, it's fine. She just needs her friend to talk to.]

Aelwyn? I was thinking maybe we could do something together, if you're keen. My sewing machine's run through the threads I got... Maybe playing piano together again? Or I could cook you something?

For Caduceus
[It's so much. There's much too much, and Mercy turns to the place that she's always encouraging others to go: therapy. She's hoping she might run into Caduceus, but when she arrives, it seems like there's a line out the door waiting for a therapist. Instead of going to put another name in the queue, she just waits, and waits... and waits until she sees the firbolg emerge from whatever sessions he's been involved in. She does her best to read through documents and make notes as she does so. But as soon as she sees him, Mercy's stuffing them into her bag and waving.]

Hey, Caduceus! Seems like you got a mess of troubles coming your way. You up for heading to the canteen to see you got the proper victuals to handle all that?

[thatsreallygreat]

[There's a lot of need. There is so much need, it is unending and Caduceus knows that to be of any use, even he must rest. But there are so many... When he finally leaves the room he holds sessions in, he feels worn thin and he finds himself wondering if he looks it more than usual. He's still recovering from feeling cut off in the blizzard.

He almost doesn't hear Mercy when she speaks, voice finally filtering in.]

Oh. Hey, Sister Mercy. I uhm--I hadn't thought about it, actually.

[He pushes his hair back - it's mostly white now, save for the several inches of pink at the ends.]