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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Comments

[musicdied]

"We'll figure out which one," she says, her voice firm, confident. That's the obvious next step. That's something they can do, even trapped behind a wall of ice and snow.

She doesn't sound surprised. She may not have known for certain, but there had been that nagging suspicion, that worry that even if he doesn't have magic, his abilities are far enough beyond a normal human that they might have caught something's attention.

"And if there is a way to break that connection, we will find it."

[worthallthis]

Yelena noticed. Of course she did. She's smart like that, she always catches the threats. She'll keep herself safe.

He doesn't know how you break that kind of thing. He's not sure he believes that she believes it. But it's nice to hear her sound confident, anyway. "I was scaring you," he says, rather than addressing her hope. Then, after a pause, he adds, "I don't want to do that."

[musicdied]

"No," she says, then sighs. "And yes. It's... I'm not afraid of you."

It is, at least in her mind, an important distinction. She knows he's dangerous, certainly, but while she has a healthy respect for his skills, it's not the same thing as being afraid.

"I'm afraid for you. This - it's like you're shutting down again, pulling back from the world. I don't want to lose you like that. And I don't want you to lose yourself."

[worthallthis]

He looks over at her, at that, brows coming together. That's not what he was expecting-- he's not sure if it's better or worse. This isn't something he knows how to fix. If he were doing something to make her afraid of him, he could make himself less threatening, he could stop it.

How do you stop... not being a proper person? "Yelena. I don't. Have that much to lose."

[musicdied]

"I know," she says quietly. "That's why I'm afraid for you. You would fight for me, or Kate, or Meredith. Or hit us over the head and haul us back to safety if we were doing something stupid and self-destructive. But you don't fight for yourself the same way, and I can't just stab the Entities to protect you."

There's a fierce edge to her voice, the sort that says that if one manifested in the room right in front of them, she would do her level best to stab it anyways.

[worthallthis]

She's right. He would, and he doesn't. He doesn't know how. But he doesn't want her to be afraid, either. And she shouldn't need to protect him; that's his job.

He's quiet for a long moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek again. Wrestling with what to do, or say. She's important to him, so what she wants is equally important, and she wants him to-- not be like he was. Somehow. The prospect is daunting, especially when he's pretty sure trying to be more like a person will only make things harder.

She's smart, though. Maybe has some ideas. "How do you... fight for yourself."

[musicdied]

"The first part is deciding who do you want to be," Yelena says. "It isn't something you have to do all at once. It can be small things at first. Little choices it's important to be able to make, things that feel right, things you oppose. That makes the core of what you want to protect. The pieces you're not willing to change or give up."

She's quiet for a long moment, before admitting, "It isn't easy. I know it isn't easy. You're building up almost from scratch. But it is almost."

[worthallthis]

Choices. He's still not great at those. Even now, he's mostly bowing to her choice, because this is something she wants.

But that's a choice, isn't it? She's not his handler. He can disobey her if he wants to. In this, he doesn't want to, because he doesn't want her to be scared. Not when he can feel it, like it's something he's actively taking from her. So there, that's something to protect: the feeling of not wanting to hurt someone.

He's had that feeling before, once, in his more recent memory. After punching the stupid former target's face six times.

He wants to scrub at his face, but that feels like so much of a person reaction. Does that mean he should do it? If he's trying to be more of a person? It's all confusing. What he winds up doing, after a long moment, is tugging at his own hair. Not hard, just something to feel like he did something outside his own jumbled thoughts. "I don't know if I'll be any good at it," he says. "I'm bad at choices. But if it's important. I'll try."

[musicdied]

"It gets easier with practice. I promise. And I'm always here to help, if you have something you need to talk through with someone."

She's silent for a moment, studying him as she puts her own thoughts in order.

"Thank you," she finally says. "I won't hug you, because I know that much touch is overwhelming, but - thank you."

[worthallthis]

"You're my team. What you need is important," Winter assures her. Besides, she'll help him figure out what Entity has him, and how to stop. He can't do that if he's scaring her all the time.

Then, squaring his shoulders a little against the couch as if preparing for a mission, he adds, "Including a hug. If you need one."

He pauses, then admits, "Just maybe. Not for long." He can do it, but it's not comfortable.

[musicdied]

"It's not a need," she says, the corners of her lips quirking upwards in a small smile. The fear has receded - not entirely gone, but abated to concern that cannot quite be considered food by entities that feed on genuine dread.

"It was more...a way of expressing affection without actually grabbing you. Because you're not just my team, you're my family."

[worthallthis]

The danger is over for now, then. He'll just have to be vigilant to keep it from happening again.

Somehow.

He's neatly derailed from the impossibility of that task by her last statement. Family. He's never been anyone's family, that's not possible, he knows; but the word stirs something in the back of his brain, and in the pit of his stomach, like maybe he should have been. "Family?" he repeats, actually sounding like a question, actually sounding like there's emotion behind the word. And that emotion is confused and small and uncertain.

[musicdied]

"Family," she repeats firmly. "We come from similar places, and you understand what I am. And I love you. --Not the way Kate thought at first," she's quick to add in an attempt to reassure him that she hasn't completely taken leave of her senses.

"But it's still love. You're an important part of my life. And I know it isn't part of what you remember, but my sister cared about you enough to fight for you, so I think I have her blessing for adopting you into the family."

[worthallthis]

He definitely has not been told he's loved before. He looks back down at his hands, and his expression goes back to a safe blank. There's tension in his shoulders, though, and the plates of his metal arm are shifting and clicking under his sleeve.

"I. Don't know what that feels like," he finally admits, feeling small and worthless in that moment. Someone loves him. Him. Who is not even properly a person. "What if I can't love you back." This is possibly the dumbest question in the history of questions, because he does, he just doesn't know the name to put to the feeling anymore.

[musicdied]

"That's okay." She leans over further, head tilting in an almost feline fashion so she can peer at him, and offer a reassuring smile.

"It takes time to learn these things, and you haven't been free for a year yet. And I know you didn't have even the little kindnesses that were granted to the Widows."

Because they at least needed to be able to fake a connection for the sake of so many of their missions, and he...didn't. What use modeling things like love and friendship for someone you wanted to strip of their humanity entirely?

"Besides, loving someone is not a transaction. If you don't feel the same, or if you don't put that name to it, then that's fine. You are important to me, not some...idealized person I want you to be."

[worthallthis]

She's not wrong. While he's very good at recognizing the signs of various emotions in other people, for determining when to take the shot or which handler is likely to resort to violence and for what transgressions, there are very few emotions he truly recognizes in himself anymore.

Whatever he's feeling now is overwhelming. It's like something in his chest wants to claw its way out of his ribcage and curl around Yelena like a giant fleshy blanket to hiss at anything that wants to hurt her. (That's gross. And probably something that will happen around here, so let's not bring that image into the world.) What even is that? Is that love?

It doesn't happen, because it would require touching anyway, but the feeling is there. What happens instead is he blinks rapidly as his vision blurs over, and he has to wipe at his cheeks when tears roll down them. "Okay," he says, voice low. A sniff, and then he adds, "You're important, too. Even if I don't have the right feelings."

[musicdied]

"No," she says, and while her voice is firm, it's also as gentle as she can make it. Not an admonishment, but a correction. "Your feelings are yours. Actually yours, not pushed on you by a handler or by one of the monsters here. That makes them right. You just need to learn their patterns."

She smiles, fleeting and a little sad.

"Like a new fighting style. It's awkward at first, but you learn how it works, and it starts to come naturally."

[worthallthis]

"New fighting styles are never awkward," he says, almost absently, but not dismissively. The analogy makes sense. Maybe more like a new language. Those take more work than fighting styles. And more time. He has a feeling this is going to take time, too.

He huffs out a little frustrated sigh, knuckles his eyes with the non-metal hand. "But I guess I have a lot of learning to do." Also he needs a damn handkerchief.

[musicdied]

"All of life is learning. If there's one thing I've realized since Oksana broke me free, that is it."

She considers him for a moment, the damp eyes and faint tracks of tears, and stands.

"Stay here, I'll get you some tissues." They're well-stocked with those, as with so many other things in the apartment. Two thirds of the population can still get a cold - though hopefully not until they're free of this icy prison.

It's unlikely any of them would make for tolerable patients.

[worthallthis]

"Sounds exhausting." That's probably one of the most human things she's heard him say. There's weary chagrin to it, and everything.

"Should get a handkerchief," he adds critically when she gets up-- of himself, not of her. "Should start carrying one again." A pause. Again. So at some point in his no-longer-remembered past he carried a handkerchief?

[musicdied]

"It is sometimes."

She doesn't stumble, but there's a slight hitch to her step that telegraphs plain as day that she hasn't missed the significance of that remark.

It's not autobiographical memory, but it's still a piece of the life that had been stolen from him. That's not nothing.

She picks up the box of tissues from the breakfast bar and trots back, holding it out to him.

"We can find you one in town when this finally stops," she says, tilting her head towards the snow-entombed window, in case there's any confusion as to which this she's referring to.

[worthallthis]

He accepts the box with a distracted air, and blows his nose. At least this is diverting enough that he's not crying anymore. He'll take that. "Do people even still carry them? I haven't seen. Anyone with one." Though he also hasn't been looking that closely, either. There's just something deep in the back of his brain that says a proper gentleman should never be without one.

He's not sure what else counts as proper gentlemanly behavior. Or if that's something he should even be aspiring to.

[musicdied]

"Some people." She glances at the tissue box, and gives him a small smile, nose crinkling a little with humour. "Western culture is very...disposable, these days. But it's something that still appeals to some people."

[worthallthis]

"Then I will find one." He has plenty of money. He doesn't spend much, honestly, mostly just on second-hand clothes to build up his many-layered look and the occasional trip to the grocery store when someone gives him a specific list to buy. "Maybe a few."

Especially if he's going to be doing this crying thing more often. Ugh.

To Yelena, he says, after another pause, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this." This being... scare her, tie himself to an entity (because surely he did something to do that, he didn't just come into ADI attached to one, right?), fall apart like a regular weepy human being. Take your pick. Probably all of them.

[musicdied]

She takes it as all three, and responds in kind. "None of this is your fault, Winter. This place...it takes joy in making everything harder. We'll find a way forward. Just promise me that you will not try to shoulder everything alone."