Lost Carnival Logs
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15th-Sep-2017 12:00 am
criticallyfucked: (Default)
There was never a time when his life wasn't about waiting. Waiting is normal. Waiting is all he's ever done--an agony of suspense, of anticipation, frustration and hope and tedium all at once. Waiting for an answer. Waiting for his miracle, waiting for an, the explanation, the one that would allow him to be fixed. Waiting for what was wrong with him. Waiting to live. Waiting to die. Waiting for decay. For the clock to stop. For the earth to crack open. Waiting for opportunity. For excitement. For purpose. For pain. For that feeling.

For the one second it counts.

Waiting for the universe to notice: for his judgment, his absolution, his fate. The finalisation of his sick, pointless life. Interminable, so close and yet so inexorably far, just on the other side of the next second--just on the other side of eternity. For the end at which all his waiting would finally satisfy and the ending would be complete.

But.

This....

This is....

Empty.

His time, his existence is hollowed out. There's an end to it, a set point, and it feels like Nothing.

The trailer floor creaks under his weight as he shifts his position, hooked clawtips snagging on carpet fibres. He stares at them between his paws, transluscent squiggles twined together in loops. He doesn't fit on the bed any more, but he doesn't mind that. It's appropriate, being relegated to the floor. Like a... well, like an animal.

Haha.

At least being a bear again doesn't feel bad. It's... almost comfortable. Comforting? No. That's... stupid. That's definitely wrong.

But it's not... bad.

He can't get too used to it. Nothing here lasts. Which is.... in itself, that's actually comforting. Impermanence... meaninglessness. That's something he can understand. Even appreciate.

But bitter comfort.

He's been absorbing his memories, slowly, stories cracking open like eggs, in pieces.

It's an absolute void of purpose, the absence of matter. Of presence. He's isolated by time and space now.

Waiting.

But without resolution or even the hope thereof: those precious, vitalising glimpses of oblivion.

Instead of racing neck and neck with death, hurtling towards his own destruction with arms spread wide, his heart pounding--

Instead of sprinting to meet the end at its own finish line, an end that's itself racing to meet him, to hunt him down--

Instead of that horrible, exhilarating desperation, the need to make every second count, because every second could be the one--

He's just.... killing time.

He just exists, and has to keep existing.

Until the universe decides.

Not any second, but months from now.

Months from now, during which he has to keep.... existing somehow.

It's impossible. It's numbing. It's the most lifeless way to live he's never wanted. How, when second to second is the only way to live, the only way to be alive, the only way to get ahead in the race to die--

How, when enduring one more second is already the most excruciating task, when each drop of hot and living blood is a bribe to fate and the need to shut it off, to shut it off, sHUT IT OFF is only one more second away--

Unless, of course, he's wrong.

And he knows it has to be wrong.

Escaping his fate. He wanted it--he still wants it, sometimes he can even feel it, if he focuses on it enough it comes to him as an ache in his chest--

But he doesn't feel... right.

Maybe the universe will correct his course... show him how he's wrong. And he knows it will, but he wants to hope--he wants it to be possible, just weeks ago he wanted it so badly that it hurt, he remembers how it ripped him apart, how it wracking his body and heart inside and out, remembers that he was in such agony... but he can't remember the agony at all.

It's a dull soft pad only; the 'almost' of a feeling, a distant light reflected on breaking waters, glimpsed from a seat in a wooden dinghy rowing far from shore.

But he won't let go of it. It's his, it's his and he has nothing else. It's his.

Until something rips it from him, it's his. It's all he has.

He just has to be patient. For a sign. He just has to wait... until he has a sign.

Until then, it doesn't matter. Ginko can indulge his morbid curiosity, Reira can believe he is whatever misbegotten benefactor she never deserved, the Psionic can... he doesn't know what the Psionic wants. It doesn't matter.

He's just.... waiting.
11th-Sep-2017 05:55 am
soft_focus: (Default)
PRIEST OF THE FOURTH
ACQUIRED ABILITIES
⟐  Tier 1 Abilities  
  ♦ Data Scramble; Protects the conversation between as many as 5 others 5 feet from herself, replacing their voices with sounds from a 25 foot radius. More than 5 creates static, and sounds cannot be replaced with white noise/silence.
⦂  Tier 2 Abilities  
  ☍ As Foam; able to turn into sea-foam for five full minutes to avoid attack, and move in this state. Requires feeding between uses, as using it twice induces fatal fatigue
∴  Tier 3 Abilities  
  ⚟ Immunity to memory loss incurred via death
  ⚟ Ability to 'stop' her breath for 444 minutes, recharging in the Arcade
  ⚟ Teleportation via active Radio devices & imagination
  ⚟ Immediate resurrection via static from televisions or radios
  ⚟ Swim With Me; able to carry another on her back/in her seaweed beneath the water, regardless of their typical limits, for 4 hours
✤  Priest Abilities  
  ⌘ Network access via Mental Thought; includes Audio & Visual funcions.
  ⌘ The ability to stop time, excluding 4th allied persons: 4 min duration.
♤  Other Abilities  
  ✧ Loss of the sensation of 'Hunger'; still requires human energy for occasional sustenance to live; granted as a result of being present for the Conduit Victory of 2017
MATERIAL BOONS
⟐  Tier 1 Boons  
  ♦ Fiber optics mixed with hair, wool, seaweed, and mountain runes. Colours change according to mood.
  ♦ Death Counter plugin available in the Network; Current Count - 3
⦂  Tier 2 Boons  
  ☍ Protection of a single Neutral character; Currently Tsukikage
  ☍ Modified Fog-form; accessible with sufficient focus during fogs, can only be reversed by lack of fog. Includes mechanized seeming parts.
∴  Tier 3 Boons  
  ⚟ Ultimate room within the Arcade; includes spare bed for neutral guest
  ⚟ Cybernetic Regeneration; Wings are currently mechanized via this boon.
✤  Priest Boons  
  ⌘ An Altered Keycard; bears the image of the suit of clubs, as well as a line of code.
  ⌘ Access to Elias' Chamber; allows Reira to visit with Elias' body and mind at any time.
  ⌘ Hand Marking; covers the left hand in a glove of 'Natural Energy Card' symbols, and glows when near other followers of the Fourth.
QUESTS & FAVORS
♧  Missions  
  ❖ At the Fourth's Request, Reira gave Tsukikage a game token, and tried playing games with him in the Arcade. While it did not convince Tsukikage to their side, he became a protected Neutral.
  ❖ In November 2016, Reira converts Ron to the Fourth, obtaining Tier 3 Status and filling his request for more friends.
  ❖ Under the request of the Fourth God-possibly in reply to her second update prayer-Reira acted as the Conduit of Central Park, successfully corrupting and holding the territory.
  ❖ Wishing to offer Elias a more lively patch of territory, Reira does everything she can to bring it back. It is not enough, and he offers a mission; In return for succeeding, she is named his Priest.
♧  Tier Ups  
  Technically Recruited August 5th 2015 by Yuugo, Reira joined of her own volition after praying to the Fourth God by September 7th.
  ❖ Under the effects of hunger during the Adept period of God Boons, Reira Killed and 'Sacrificed' Tsukikage, achieving 'Adept' Status on November 11th.
  ❖ As of June 20th, 2016, the God Boons switch over took effect, converting Reira to a Tier 2 follower of the Fourth.
  ❖ Following Reira's switch from Wendigo to Kelpie, Elias adjusts her abilities to better suit.
  ❖ From November 2016 through to the following Summer, Reira was considered Tier 3 due to her actions for the Fourth God.
  ❖ As of July 2017, Reira has attained the rank of Priest.
DEVOTIONAL RECORDS
♧  Devotive Habits  
  ❖ While a Wendigo, Reira would make sure to share at least one meal with Elias every night in the Arcade, bringing in a full plate of food and leaving it for him on the table..
  ❖ Reira now recounts her day every evening to Elias, before her curfew kicks in-both through audio, but also their network connection. She continues to use her notebooks to keep a journal of what she deems important he know, or what he told her.
  ❖ Often, she will make him gifts-such as christmas presents. She also has made a habit of visiting his chamber for 'important' conversations.
 
♧  Prayer Threads  
  During a period of weakness for the Fourth, the doors fail to open reliably, prompting Reira's prayer.
  ❖ Reira seeks comfort in the Fourth God semi constantly, particularly after canon updates involving Reiji.
  In asking the Fourth God what they can do, Elias requests that she make as many friends for Elias as possible, leaving his current friend's squabbles to him.
  ❖ Reira treats Elias as a friend, offering Christmas Gifts now that it's a tradition for her. It is during this time that he gave her her first notebook and pencil set.
  A second canon update prayer, which ends with her declaration of proactive devotion to the Fourth.
  ❖ In light of the second Fourth Wall, Reira offers Elias support. Later, she asks about Silent Forest.
10th-Sep-2017 12:31 pm - Lost Carnival info
textsfromhotland: (cat planet)
ALPHYS
CARNIVAL JOB: Repairman/SFX Lighting
JOINED: Greysol off-week
TRAILER: #20
POINTS: Reward Points Go Here

⇨ CHANGES
✧COMMON CHANGE: description.
✩UNCOMMON CHANGE: description.
✵RARE CHANGE: description.

⇨ CONTRACTS
1ST CONTRACT: A year of service just because she wants to join

⇨ OOC INFO
PLAYER: Groove
CONTACT: [plurk.com profile] wefeelgroove)
Art by cosmiccu
10th-Sep-2017 12:24 pm - LC CONTACT
textsfromhotland: (Default)
CHANNEL
FREQUENCY: 141.25700
DESCRIPTION: This is the closest thing Alphys has to a cell phone so you bet she keeps it with her at all times.

✉MAIL BOX
LOCATION: Mailbox on Door
DESCRIPTION: It looks awfully familiar...
5th-Sep-2027 08:24 pm - IC INBOX
idiotwizard: (don't worry kid)

Art by lexicals

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