⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 1

[ringleaders]

Who: Anyone, anywhere in Portland.
When: October 1st - 7th, 2017
Where: Portland area, in the new reality.
What: Memories begin returning to the displaced as the fall gets chillier. How the hell did we end up here, again? Also, apparently, the fair is in town.
Warnings: Individually marked!

PORTLAND BY NIGHT↴ Memory regains will come into effect at the beginning of October, to whatever degree you've decided upon, and may be regained at whatever pace you desire from then on. For those with their full carnival memories, it will be like waking up in the body of someone else - for those with half and half, it will be like rapidly recalling sets of memories from a totally different life. Those with full amnesia will simply feel as if this is how it's always been. Unfortunately for you, memories aren't the only thing you have to deal with. The supernatural community of Portland is bustling all of a sudden - could your presence and these events somehow be related? ► THE OUTER CIRCLE: As of the start of the month, the Portland Circle of Enlightenment will find itself starting to get swarmed with members from other chapters. Most notably, it would seem that a small cabal of top mages from the North American Enlightenment Council will be making their home in Portland's HQ. For anyone but the highest of ranks, the purpose behind their visit will be unclear, but it seems like something is definitely up on a metaphysical level. The Circle will be buzzing with rumours of unique planar activity and threatening omens. It seems that it all started with an unusual flare of activity in the planetary ley-lines, starting approximately a week ago. However, even if you would usually be the type to keep tabs on such things, you will find that you oddly have no memory of observing this phenomenon yourself. ► THE ANIMAL FAIR: Good news, the fair is in town! Or, at least, it would be good news... if this was a regular fair. Instead, what's being observed is a bunch of nearly identical flyers, spread all around Portland - each of which bears only the words "THE ANIMAL FAIR", a seemingly bloody paw-print of unknown origin, and the directions to a vague forested location outside of the city. It's dated for October 7th, and all instances of its posting having been discovered with a scattering of rose petals, crow feathers, and pre-burnt matches laying on the ground around them. Most are taking this to be some kind of bizarre viral marketing campaign, but others may know better. ► THE EARTH SPIRIT: If you have connections to The Pack or any of its many variations, you'll probably hear whispers of something very odd that occurred last week - according to the elders, it sounds as if the Earth Spirit, the magical and spiritual center of the planet, has suddenly taken a wound. It's not clear why or how, but there is a fair bit of concern among spiritual types, as it is werebeast belief and nebulous magical fact that the magical forces within the earth are the source of all magic here, as well as the source of life. While many werebeasts claim to have felt the Spirit succumb, you strangely have no memory of such an event occurring. Though things do feel strange, if you know how to tap into the Spirit yourself. ► THE WAR CRY: Though Anath's rain of terror across North America lasted for the first fifteen years or so of the Severing, most independent demons have had enough time to start taking the arch-demon's relative inactivity for granted. For that first while, the warrior queen had seemed determine to rebuild an army on earth by forcing her scattered brethren into service - only for her to gradually settle down in a fortress somewhere in Texas and dig in her heels. Of course, this was too good to last - it sounds as if she and her demonic legion have begun tearing their way up the west coast, their goals remaining a mystery. Their destination, however, is almost certainly Portland.

Comments

⇨ INVESTIGATION THREADS

[ringleaders]

Below are prompts with specific investigation-based hooks. The first ones are hooks designed for specific characters, who may reply as they see fit, but if you find something you'd like to investigate, please make a post here explaining what your character is doing to find out info. All investigation threads will be done in summary form as opposed to going tag by tag.

DON'T BE VAGUE. If you are having your character investigate something, you must explain what your character is specifically doing to find out information. Don't just say "I investigate the posters." You have to be more specific, by saying what your character is doing, such as "My character is going to ask around in X community where a poster was put up, trying to find out if anyone saw who did it." The more specific you are, the better info you will get in return.

You can also confront NPCs by this method, and you'll get summary posts in return explaining how the situation will unfold based on your actions. Investigation is important for this plot! Various boons and advantages will be given out for characters who make a difference.

► SANCTUARY RESIDENTS (OCTOBER 3RD)

[ringleaders]

On October 3rd, the residents of the Portland Sanctuary building will find that the main doors have been overgrown with vines that have seemed to crop up overnight, blooming with pure black roses. They won't be that hard to remove with a little elbow grease, but they are obviously magical, and... well. Probably not a good sign, considering the city's local fae.

Tamaki | university grounds | ota

[puddingemote]

When the residents of his dorm room go to class, it's pretty boring staying in the dorm, so Tamaki comes outside to wander around a bit. He can't go too far way from the dorm building (his soul seems to have become tethered to it somehow), but at least he isn't stuck inside like some ghosts are.

If the weather is drizzly or grey, he's leaned up against the wall of the dorm, watching people walk by. If it's sunny, he stands under the tree and does much the same. If someone can see ghosts, they would see him in a t-shirt and sweat pants despite the October air, somewhat emaciated but not doing anything particularly ghosty.

Unless someone walks by him with food. Then he haunts, sneaking up behind the person-

and thwap! Whatever food they had is now on the ground. Tamaki laughs to himself as the person looks around in surprise. Sometimes being a ghost is fun.

[steadydollypegs]

...great.

Doll looks down at the mess on the ground and sighs heavily. Of course, the one time she manages to scrape together enough for something warm, she trips. She never trips, how on earth did this happen?

She crouches down and starts collecting her fries back into the cardboard boat-- still good-- but the ketchup is a lost cause. She carefully cleans up what she can off the sidewalk and tosses it before continuing on her way, eating the fries like they weren't just knocked clean out of her hands.

Elsa | Crossroads & Pearl District | ota

[handwringing]

A: On the Rocks

Elsa doesn't really seem like someone who would be interested in the nightlife atmosphere, but she certainly looks the part. In a slinky cocktail dress and pearl necklace with matching earrings, she looks right at home within the VIP section of the club, sitting on a small couch off to the side with a cocktail in hand and two more empty glasses on the small table in front of her. She doesn't seem to be currently socializing with anyone, though, instead just listening to the music and watching people dance out on the dance floor.

She ignores other people until they address her directly. She's a bit of an ice queen, this one.

B: City Livin'

Most of the rest of the time, Elsa can be found in her home. She enjoys her privacy, and keeps to herself, unless she wants something. Luckily for everyone, at the moment she seems content.

Except there certainly seems to be some activity coming from the posh loft she lives in. Sometimes, at night, those attuned to the supernatural might catch a glimpse of a small creature that doesn't look quite like a bird disappearing into the night, carrying a letter. (Someone never learned how to email.)

She doesn't take kindly to intruders, though. Those who buzz her intercom will likely get a frosty reception. Those who try to break in could end up dead. Tread lightly.

Jonathan Strange | ota!

[kingsroads]

one: hitting the books, university library
Sometimes it helps to check on resources that aren't arcane texts and prophecies of old. So, Strange is at the university library and has pretty much commandeered an entire table to himself, spreading various books about folklore, magic, all the mystical generic mumbo jumbo that most likely won't be all that helpful but hey, you never know, occasionally the unwashed masses have a slight idea as to what's going on. Pretty much the entire section of what the library has with regards to metaphysical nonsense is spread out on the table and Strange straight up isn't sharing.

He's also got a bag of store-brand sugar free gummy bears that he's eating despite the fact that Strange makes a face every time he eats one. This is the war of passive aggression and dammit, he is not going to let Childermass see how much he hates these things.

And I'm sorry, did you want that book? Tough luck, you're not going to get it. Yes, he has been hogging the books for the past six hours but he needs these books for important research and everyone else can just deal. Anyone who approaches Strange's table gets met with a frown, as the mage just grumpily asks,

"What?"

two: sanctuaryyyyyyy
Good shit does Strange look out of place. He's sitting in the main waiting room area of the Sanctuary, waiting on a meeting with poor NPC Random Changeling (or player changeling! I'm flexible) who he's bribing in exchange for information on their time with the Rose Queen. And, again, it really can't be overstated just how much this bureaucrat in a suit looks out of place compared to everything else, especially considering that he would rather be anywhere but here.

He can't help it. Strange just downright sneers at any changeling, demon, warlock, and so on who walks through the lobby, looking at them as if they don't even amount to the dirt on his shoes. Only angels get the barest amount of respect from him and even then the emphasis is on barest. (Mages would get the most respect but he's already slumming it by visiting the Sanctuary in the first place, he doubts he'll see any other mages there.)

So sorry people: there is a middle-aged man just looking at you like you're the scum of the Earth. What do?

wildcard!
[ Either toss a starter here or hit me up either via pm or on plurk to plan something! Strange's haunts usually involve the Circle, the downtown area around city hall, random not-cat covered coffee shops, and some bourgie bar that isn't Crossroads. ]

Two

[hippocarnival]

And Yuya was just strolling into the entrance of the Sanctuary in a cheery mood... that deflates at the sight of such a miserable looking man. Isn't he a little... familiar?

Yuya shakes his head at the thought. But he approaches Strange anyway, looking up at him with his brow furrowed. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you new here?" He wasn't around often enough to know near everyone qho frequents the Sanctuary... but he feels like he probably would have heard of someone like Strange.

Sora | Dorm Room | Closed to Joker, Snake, and Tamaki

[destiny_key]

Sora woke up on the 1st of October feeling very... odd. Looking around, the room seemed the same, and he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. He shuffled through his memories, but nothing weird had happened the night before. Maybe it was just the idea that Halloween was right around the corner?

It took him a moment to realize what the problem is.

He skipped classes that day, trying to figure out what all these new memories in his head were supposed to mean. It didn't make sense, and he didn't think he could handle trying to stuff more information into his already full head. Instead, he's lying in bed for the day, lost in his thoughts. It's likely he's still there when anyone comes back to the room.

It's SO WEIRD thinking about this guy talking normally.

[ophidiarex]

It was a while before Sean returned to the dorm. He had a lot on his mind, as well, though he attributed his own memories to a dream more than anything else. For that reason, he had gone to his first class on time, hoping that the memories faded, as knowledge from dreams so often does.

Unfortunately, no such luck was had. The memories got worse, and he ended up slipping out the back of the room and returning to the room he shares with Sora and their pets, expecting to be alone, or at least for only the ghost to be there. That Sora hadn't headed to class was... worrying at best.

"Are you ok?" his voice was quiet, but firm as he approached his roommate. "Need anything?" He slipped past Sora to start his coffeepot going. They probably both need it.

Zecora | OTA

[zebrarhyme_everytime]

Around three o'clock, the volume of patients started at last to ebb, giving Zecora the first chance she'd had all day to sit down without having to chart. Just enough time to grab a granola bar, the first food she'd had since some microwaved oatmeal this morning.

So many walk-ins and 'emergencies', especially among the people who knew what she knew. Like someone kicked a supernatural hornet nest, and now the sting victims all needed help. And as much as she wanted to believe it was coincidence -- or just a full moon -- her introduction to the hidden worlds of the shadows had proven to her that 'coincidence' was more often than not a convenient lie.

Swallowing the last bite of granola, she got to her feet with a little groan of weariness, then paced over to open the door to her waiting room.

[otoko]

Yes, speaking of the Waiting Room-well, Gongenzaka hasn't ever actually worked this hospital, so there's a man wearing sunglasses and a work uniform that to any untrained eye could belong to trash disposal (And really, technically it is, but he's here for Far More Risk Carrying Trash)...just sort of. Standing there.

Kinda lost looking.

Um. ....He couldn't find the right entrance....................

Amethyst | October 1st-4th

[drrdrrdrr]

i. cool leg
Unsurprisingly, Amethyst isn't the most diligent of students, but she doesn't slack off completely – if she dropped out of college she'd have to work out what else she's going to do with her life, and no lecture or homework is more intimidating than that is. For some reason thinking about her long term future is just kind of... weird? Not right? Like something doesn't fit exactly, the same way that trying to think about some stuff from her past just feels kind of wrong sometimes.

Which – whatever. Amethyst isn't a fan of introspection. She probably just feels that way because she's, like, a piece of shit, or something, and that is what it is so she doesn't care. (She cares.) The point is, she could have slept all day today, but instead she's here, loitering in between attending classes.

But ... here's one of those posters again, with its bloody pawprint and its scattering of weird debris. Huh. She leans forward and furtively sniffs it... but while her sense of smell is pretty acute even when it isn't her time to change, she doesn't have a lot of experience with distinguishing a lot of different kinds of smells besides the contents of trash cans. It just smells like old blood. She grimaces a little. Maybe she can ask around at this week's Beast Wrestling meet...


ii. the wrestle hole
She hasn't gotten to asking around yet. She's too busy riding the high of exertion and violence, which honestly was exactly what she needed. She's been so on edge this week; whatever it is she keeps seeing out of the corner of her eye but can't seem to catch has, it seems like, just left her with this mounting sense of unease and wrongness. Spending a night just punching people is a welcome relief.

She just pummelled a werecat who thought she'd be easy to beat and she's feeling pretty good about herself. Her tail is hanging out behind her, a little bruised but none the worse for wear, and her teeth are sharp and her round ears are poking out past tied-back hair that's looking a little more white than blonde. The current location for these underground werebeast fights is, as ever, out of the way and not advertised to anyone who doesn't know, which means it's fine to let that kind of thing hang out. Amethyst doesn't run with the Pack, but being here is always kind of a relief for more than just the fighting.

Not that she expects people here to be friendly. Still a little dizzy and exhilarated from the fight, she bumps into someone on her way to grab a bottle of water, and her immediate reaction is to bare her fangs.

"Hey, you tryna start something?"


iii. trash night
Some werebeasts' changes are dictated by lunar cycles. For others it depends on weather patterns, or equinoxes. For Amethyst, who is a werepossum, the day she changes into her full beast form is the day in her neighbourhood when the trash gets taken out. And that's tonight, so here she is, a possum the size of a large dog roaming the streets of Portland. Not very glamorous, but it's kind of nice to just trundle around and get into garbage, honestly.

Here are some options for this one:
You heard something rooting around in your garbage and went to chase it away but there's this huge awful creature tail up in your trash can with its stubby legs just kind of sticking out the top;
You just hit what you think might be a dog with your car or other motor vehicle and now it's playing dead;
You were just walking down the street and you saw this thing walking along the top of a fence and you are pretty sure that possums don't come that large but you've made eye contact with it and it's not looking away;
OR, WHATEVER YOU LIKE, HONESTLY! I'M EASY

III

[periphrasing]

Peridot is pretty deep in her own thoughts as she's walking back to her apartment on the night of the 2nd. As a were, she has also taken a particular interest in the posters that have been popping up around town, but thus far all her researching and snooping isn't really getting her anywhere.

She's just thinking that maybe she needs to try a different approach, when the movement of something huge in her peripheral catches her attention. Startled, she turns to her right, and immediately finds herself face to face with the largest opossum she has ever seen.

Also, it's staring at her. And she can't get herself to stop staring back.

"....Um," she says after a tense silence. Either this is another were, or she's about to get her face bitten off by a huge wild animal.

STEVEN DEMAYO/UNIVERSE | OPEN

[starseedling]

► PORTLAND CLASSIC RECORDS | AXEL'S APARTMENT (Oct 1st - 3rd)
Having only broken free of the Rose Queen's thorns at the very end of September, the beginning of October passes Steven by in a daze. He'd been saved from a potential death from exposure by Ginko, and is spending the next little while at Axel's apartment - the pair of changelings know what he's going through better than anyone else could. He sleeps a lot, trying to regain his strength. Though the boy he was before would have been full of questions, Steven talks very little at the start, only saying what is immediately demanded of him by necessity.

His memory has been scattered by his four year stay with the Queen, and its left him unable to remember basic details, like his last name and where he lived before being taken. He feels like he's forgotten a lot more than that, too. Does he even belong here, anymore? Though it goes against everything he remembers, part of him wonders if his dad will even want him, like this. Maybe Rita had been right. Maybe the outside world wasn't for him anymore.

The thorns that have been growing on his body are getting particularly bad, making wearing clothing difficult, and he's taken to trying to break them off of his skin when no one is watching him. It hurts, but he hates that they're there at all - outside of the fae realm, his changes seem much more glaring, and his frustration with them feels like it's started fresh. At least the petals of his wings are growing in more fully again.

The little orchid flower sprite that escaped the Gardens with him has been staying at his side constantly, usually burrowed into his hair. She's the only friend he's had for a long time.


► THE SANCTUARY (Oct 4th - 7th)
A day after the black roses appear and are burnt down, a Rose Queen changeling arrives at the Sanctuary doors. According to him, he doesn't know of any immediate connection, but the idea that the Rose Queen might be watching him here is almost enough to send him running. It takes some coaxing, but eventually he will be convinced that the Sanctuary is prepared to defend him, and he'll begin to settle down.

Steven is still uncomfortable and reclusive at this point, but he's been beginning to open up by half measures. He's more inclined to ask people questions, and to try speaking to the other supernaturals he meets within the Sanctuary walls. Growing up, his main exposure to it was all faerie magic, so there's plenty for him to learn. Still, he's wary about sharing a lot of his own experience, and even more wary to show off any magic he might be capable of. Anything that could connect him back to the fae is terrifying right now.

He's been telling people that his father's name was Greg, but that he can't remember his surname. He's been particularly desperate to be connected to his father, of all people, but at the moment he barely knows where to start. He can easily be found in his room, or in common areas late at night, hoping that others will still be awake. He may even fall asleep on the common area couches or chairs, too exhausted to stay awake anymore.

He's too scared to sleep alone right now. Thankfully, the little orchid sprite that's been following him around with get up in the face of anyone who looks like they might be threatening him.

The Sanctuary

[hippocarnival]

It's not uncommon for kids to make their way to the Sanctuary, and Yuya realizes he's lucky that he had a relative take him in despite his supernaturalness. Still, seeing Steven sleeping in the chair makes him stop. That's probably not as comfortable as a bed.

He approaches Steven and moves to put a light, gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Hey." He speaks low, trying not startle him. "Hey, wake up."

shima, ota

[perverses]

Unexpected. At this point, Shima's not surprised to wake up to find something weird has happened, but this? This is still unexpected. Not only is he waking up in a form he's not even remotely familiar with — there are similarities, he realizes, on closer inspection, but he looks the closest to himself only when pretending to look human. The rest? When did he get horns? Claws? A tail? When the hell did he become a demon?!

And demon is definitely what it is. Turning over what is, apparently, his massive, expensively decorated apartment gives him enough details to work off of. Mr. Shima, Mr. Renzo Shima, to the general public, it seems, but that's only on his regular mail. There's other records, far older ones, ones he's not going to have time to read in full, but yeah, he's a demon. Renzophan, but thankfully still Renzo for short. He can live with that...

Well, more like he can live with that... AFTER he digs up a bank statement. Yeah, oh yeah, he can absolutely live with that!

i. THIS IS NOT THE DEMON YOU'RE LOOKING FOR, multiple places

So he should pretty much be 'screw the carnival, I have money' at this point in time, but... maybe not screw the carnival entirely. At the very least, he needs to scope out his new turf ("new" relative to his current situation). It takes going out the window of his apartment and down the side of the warehouse to get by without picking up a few of Renzophan's goons to tag along with him. As cool as having goons in the first place is, this is better off done alone. So he digs out some less stylish clothing — jeans, a hoodie, keeping the mirrored sunglasses this demon seems to like so much — and scales down to the alleyway.

He doesn't know how well-known he is here, but he supposes he's about to find out. "Renzophan" the demon doesn't normally go wandering on his lonesome during the day and Shima finding out the light does legitimately hurt his eyes makes him realize quickly why. Still, he's out, he's about, and he's touring Portland by foot rather than by fancy car, not a lick of security in sight.

Places his fellow supernatural-types will be able to spot him — and probably see straight through his "normal" disguise with enough squinting — are picking up food from the carts at Waterfront Park, checking out the Pearl District, as well as the Rose Garden, and even wandering as far as Dignity Village.

While he generally tries not to call attention to himself, spotting a familiar face, even if only in passing, causes him to stop and openly stare, maybe even turn and follow them for a bit, so sorry, might be a little creepy to suddenly have a demon lurking after you, but there you have it.


ii. LADIES MONSTERS NIGHT, at Crossroads

But once he's figured out the lay of the land a little bit? It's time to run a nightclub! And he may not remember one flipping thing about this place, but he can bullshit like no tomorrow! Dressed back up nicely, he makes an appearance randomly part way through the night and does the rounds, chatting up people like he's known them forever (he has no idea, none at all, but who cares if a demon lies out their ass), raising his voice over the endless blast of music and roar of chatter with a practiced ease that he doesn't need to fake.

"Hey, you! Lookin' good!" Furthermore, "I'm feeling great tonight, the best! How about a drink on the house? Pick your poison! Anything at all!"

Which might be weird if the person in question already has a 'free drinks' deal, but are they really going to say no to even more free drinks? Really?

II

[handwringing]

Elsa looks up at him over the rim of her cocktail glass, raising an eyebrow. She doesn't seem to think too highly of Renzo, though not lowly enough that she won't come sit in his nightclub most nights.

"You're actually talking to me today?" She takes a sip, then sets the glass down. "I paid my tab, so it can't be money you're after."

Greg Demayo | OTA

[fragileandsoft]

A. The Apartment

It's not uncommon for the guy in apartment 5A to be out early in the morning; he usually starts work early to get ahead of the midday heat. Early in the month, however, anyone up at odd hours might catch him heading out as early as two or three in the morning, yappy little dog behind him.

His investigation into the Rose Queen's concerns have him darting in and out of the apartment for supplies at all hours of the day and night, and before the week is through he's quickly becoming too tired to put a lot of care in being quiet. That's purely because of the exhaustion, he's sure. It's the work that makes him feel so disoriented.

Residents might catch him staring a little too long as they pass in the halls--you look awfully familiar. Which you should, you're neighbors, but... cripes, he's tired.

B. The University Library

Greg's never been great at research. He's pulled out a number of atlases, as well as a number of articles on strange and potentially supernatural events in other cities around the world. Except, he doesn't really know what to look for here--things are always hidden under a layer of rationalism and mundane explanation, dismissal, and general vagueness. He can figure this out, he just needs to... to keep at it, and...

Well, hopefully there aren't hard rules about falling asleep on the library tables, because that's what Greg's up to.

C. WILDCARD

[[Message me with other ideas! In general, Greg's spending time in the early mornings investigating the outskirts of the forest, pacing the Rose Gardens, and milling around Dignity Village in hopes of scrounging up information. His dog is loud and his disposition is forcibly cheery.]]

B) HI THERE SANS IS HERE.

[osteothropy]

Sans is good at stalking people, so it's probably not surprising that he can find his associates just about anywhere. This means that, after some perusing of the usual places, Sans tracks Greg down to the university. Sans doesn't have to sleep and doesn't get tired (except emotionally) so it's not like he has anything better to do at the moment.

He appears in a beam of light at some point (nobody saw that) holding Starbucks in each hand. Greg can probably see through his angelic facade at this point, so it's straight up wings and halo time, and too many eyes on his skeleton head. All of them blink at Greg once, and then sits down across the table from him.

"What's cookin'?"

Sherlock Holmes | OTA (TW: dismemberment, body horror, death and autopsy related things)

[thevictoriandetective]

A. Rose Investigation

Sherlock was doing his lab work at the Sanctuary, it had far better resources than the Morgue. He stood over a table, frustrated, bits of clippings and black rose petals surrounding him. He had a microscope and piles of notes as well. He had bits of leaves stuck in his hair, dirt under his fingernails, and a couple of square pots filled with dirt and trimmed back black roses. Those were the ones he'd kept indoors under the UV alight, he'd come back to them completely overgrown a corner of the lab. The ones he'd planted outside grew in the same frantic manner. At least he'd managed to cut both of them back, and he'd destroyed the ones outside.

He didn't have his coat on, it was tossed on a nearby chair, and he was merely wearing a button-up-shirt and fine slacks. He'd rolled up his sleeves, and one could see that one of his arms was a prosthetic, made of plastic and metal, and the other clearly belonged to someone else, it was longer than his other arm, and once had a different complexion. A thin line of stitches ran along his collarbone and around his neck. A few faint stitches could be seen along his neck and jawline too. Price of being a zombie, constant repairs.

Sherlock sighed, it was more out of purposeful annoyance than the need to breathe. Because of course, he didn't. He only took in air we he was speaking or being particularly loud and stroppy.

B. The game is on! And where's my head?

Sherlock, when not at the morgue or the Sanctuary, still was a consulting detective. He still needed it, still needed the Game. It never got old.

Except right now.

He had been chasing a serial home robber (not that interesting in and of itself, but the perp had managed to break through some powerful wards and left no magical trace, which was interesting.

Unfortunately, when Sherlock had cornered him on a sidewalk, he'd been hit with an explosive spell. It was enough to send his entire body careening down the sidewalk in pieces. His head rolled to a stop near a stairway to an apartment building, his torso lay unassuming and still inside his coat in the middle of the sidewalk, his legs and arms were scattered in the road.

A busy road.

Well, there goes his left arm.

"A little help here!?"

C. Kingdom of the Dead

The morgue was his second home.

Sherlock's official title was forensic pathologist, his main job was to figure out how murder victims died, but because he was a zombie, didn't really need to sleep (he meditated occasionally to order his increasingly full Mind Palace), he pretty much did all the duties in the morgue, from the routine autopsy (boring) to managing the traffic of bodies, to cleanup for funerals. No one else wanted the job when a zombie could do it all. Still, he found the mundane work a way to let his mind work on more important things, and it gained him a decent amount of money.

And more importantly, it gained him access to replacement body parts and parts to experiment on.

His desk, books, and equipment were piled in a surprisingly comfortable and cozy corner, books and newspapers everywhere, articles and maps pinned up.

Sometimes though, when he was working on a particularly difficult problem, he climbed into a drawer, much to the dismay of any poor living person who walked in, needing to find him.

That night, Sherlock was working on a body (gunshot wounds, internal trauma, male, 24). Idiot was in a gang or something. He stitched up the chest, his fingers working annoyingly clumsily with his new arms and fingers. They were large, and unsuited to delicate work. He didn't have a choice though, they were the only arms he could get at the moment. He'd take this fellow's if it wasn't going to be an open casket with a big funeral.

His fingers fumbled again and he dropped the needle for the 17283939th time.

"Blast!" He threw it at the wall, huffily.

Just another burden of being dead.

Sherlock caught a glimpse of himself in one of the shiny metal drawers. He was a zombie past his prime (if zombies had primes) and he knew that he shouldn't be here. He never was supposed to be here. He was more than a hundred years old, and what was left of him but his head and spine, ribs...some rotten muscle...everything else had been replaced. Frustrated, he clumsily unbuttoned his shirt, and opened up the zipper embedded in his chest where he had installed a storage bag. He took out a cigarette, went to his desk to get a lighter, and started to smoke. He leaned against his desk, shirt still open, it wasn't like he could really benefit from the cigarette, but it made him feel better anyway.

Made him almost feel alive again.

B

[otoko]

"WAUF! AUF!AUF!!"

"A-AAAUUH-" WELL THAT SURE HAPPENED. He's rushing to tie up Belle's leash to the nearest lamp post while he runs into the road now. Who cares about busy roads, the cars can deal (And are-) and... ....Yeah that one arm isn't getting restored but at least he can grab the rest of them. He didn't even see what happened-just heard a crashing boom sound, turned the corner and...

"Sh-Sherlock!" Ok Arm, Leg, Leg... ....."...Your left arm is completely crushed..."

Taako | Closed to Zim for now

[tacosgay]

"Fuck."

It's the only actual word that's been spoken in Taako's shitty apartment all day-- an apartment that he doesn't recall ever claiming, or paying for, or ever having even seen before. It's hissed sharply through his pointed teeth, more panic than anger, a frenzied fear that he very rarely genuinely feels and even more rarely expresses.

The first ten minutes were spent panicking silently, or almost silently, his fast breathing punctuated with sounds of confusion as he awoke and realized that he felt wrong, that he wasn't in his trailer. His body was searched over with his eyes and his hands, fingertips skimming over skin that's too-rough and a head that's too-heavy, revealed to now be home to a pair of long, pointed horns. Something was wrong with his core, his shoulders, and that was revealed, in time, to be due to a large, leathery pair of wings.

He was told that the changes occurred slowly. This isn't slow. This isn't even medium speed.

The confusion over his body soon faded, however, and was replaced with something else; he caught sight of the city outside, and it was a city. Outlandishly futuristic, like something he'd seen in one of Lucas's mirrors in his laboratory but never in person, the buildings grey and tall, stretching up into the sky, the vehicles all wrong.

This is all wrong. Where the hell is he?

It's nightfall now, and he's exhausted from just sitting and thinking, searching the room for clues as to what's going on. All he's found are belongings he doesn't recognize, but that must be his, and a key that belongs to the apartment, proving his ownership. He grabs some money-- odd, paper money, unlike the gold that he's used to-- and tucks it into a coat that he finds, then he turns to leave, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

He's going to find out what this place is, and what the hell he's doing here, because he's about tired of being whisked off to new dimensions willy-nilly.

[squeedlyspooch]

Taako isn't the only one with that visceral sensation of being thrown off-kilter, though he's lucky in that he has far more of an awareness of where it's coming from compared to Zim. When he awoke he woke with memories of this city, muddled ones that haven't overtaken his entire memory drive and instead have left his mind a patchwork jumble of living on earth for most of his life versus being born from a test tube far underground a highly advanced planet versus trying to conquer other species versus being very, very bitter towards magical fae creatures that are most certainly real. It's like a collision of magic and science in his head has left everything a mess even more broken than his normal state of mind, which was never sane to begin with.

Naturally, he's very angry. And frustrated. Paranoid. Confused. A whole host of unpleasant things that are making him twitchier than ever. The only consolation (and it isn't even that, more like a desperately flailing reach for something resembling normalcy) he can find is in technology, which is the only consistent thing running through his shredded mess that he's calling his memories. That's what he's going to use to sort everything out, and that's what he's going to use to wreck havoc on whoever screwed up his mind.

Just off the street Taako happens to be on is a small alleyway with an absolutely disgusting dumpster that happens to belong to the sketchy-looking electronics shop that's closed for the night. The distinct sound of rummaging can be heard coming from it, since the lid of it is currently open. Why yes, there is a green child-looking thing digging through the trash, very obviously not human though in what amounts to the worst disguise ever, fake hair and humanesque eyes.

Yuya | OTA

[hippocarnival]

[Oct. 1-4]

[Stalking around supernatural hotspots isn’t the only thing Yuya does at night. He also practices his telekinesis… on frankly mundane functions.

Sometimes, he’s stacking empty cans in the alleys not far from his house. Sometimes it’s trying to push a chair across one of the halls of the Sanctuary. He’s pretty good at it, although a few hours of it wears him out. His aim, though, that is sometimes questionable. Hope your good at dodging flying objects or sliding furniture.]

Look out!

[Oct. 6-7]

[Of course Yuya went out into the woods to explore the spooky animal fair… before it even opens. It wasn’t so much to get information as it was the thrill the discovery.

But he’s come back from the trip very pensive. Whether it’s at school, the park, or home he just seems distracted. Distracted enough he’s been a little clumsy, not looking where he’s walking or where he’s putting things. He’s spilled three cups today alone.]

[Wildcard.]

[For any of your alternate plotting needs.]

Like... the 3rd

[bananaspeedrider]

[High speed flight means one can travel far distances across the city in no time and not worry about sticking close to where they call home. A well-muscled biker dude appearing around 19-20 out and about this late at night is can also attract less attention than someone Yuya's age. This disguised angel may not be the brightest of the bulbs, but over time he's learned a few things at least.]

Whoa!

[And the can grazes banana blond bangs (starkly contrasting raven-colored hair) at most, but nonetheless it flies past his head]

Oi! [No wait, maybe less rough despite his current look right now.] You there... Practicing your aim or something?

[Not that he's feeling offended much when there's no harm that could've been done anyway. There's some sort of unseen aura coming off Yugo the secretly angel, which may or may not calm the unease of meeting a stranger like this.]

For Sans (and vicariously Foster)

[dorkypantsuit]

He came home and went to the kitchen without a word. You can hear him doing something. The sound of the freezer and fridge opening is obvious, and that of the blender as well. He's mixed ice, yogurt, and some delicious berries together into a delightful smoothie.

"Hey, Sans. Want a smoothie?" he shouts from the kitchen. Whether the angel agrees or not he's already pouring the drink into a cup. Looks like there's only enough for one, but oh well.

you will rue the day

[osteothropy]

"Sure, why not," Sans says, because that's his attitude towards food and also pretty much everything else. He's just hanging out on Pal's couch reading a book, without a particular reason to be on alert. He's been having a lot of weird thoughts lately, but that's fine. So far he's just been doing his best to ignore them. Hence, the reading.

He's super not paying any attention to what Pal is doing, so how much smoothie is available won't even occur to him. Pal has generally been reasonably generous with other things, so...

"CARLY CARMINE" | OTA (Date Variable)

[insidescoop]

[Various Locations of Portland]

[Carly is a journalist-maybe not for the most renowned source of news, but for those really in the know, for those who really keep their eyes in the supernatural? She's one of your better sources, at least most of the time. There is not much that escapes her notice, not unless it's really trying to keep on the downlow, but that's not for lack of effort on her part.

So when those posters begin making their appearance, when demons in her area seem a little shaken, and roses coat the local 'Sanctuary' on top of the Circle's 'hushhush' state? She's running. Carly drives back and forth, her bike getting as much of a work-out as her, pretty much. (How did she afford this again? It was probably Aslla, and she probably didn't get it legally. Aslla tended to 'help' in that regard after all.)

There are many places Carly can be seen as a result, and not necessarily while being sneaky. Once the helmet is off it's nothing but transition glasses and a loose ponytail 'hiding'-or more probably, 'framing' the mark Aslla Piscu left after they forged their contract, but it's hardly what stands out most about her outfit. She has a recorder and camera ready, but for the most part it's the keyboard and tablet seeing use, whether because she's taken a break at some cafe or library, or otherwise.]

[Apartment (Hers)]

[When all is said and done however, whether during the daylight or the evening, Carly eventually needs some shut-eye. The bike pulls into the building's small parkinglot, and after fishing out her keys, she's ready to 'change' back into someone more regular. Most residents of the building should be familiar with Carly's 'home'-gear. Lighter jeans with some form of shirt and vest if it's still daylight enough to have errands to run-an older t-shirt and pj pants if not. But Carly is Carly, whatever she's wearing...and this week? She might be a little too tired. Actually she might even be trying to get into the wrong apartment if it's late enough- (Yikes!)]

[WILDCARD]

[Carly's a warlock, and Aslla her demon in her shadow-and where Carly knows nothing, Aslla knows Everything-so hit me up if you have an idea!]

[perverses]

[ Shima — more likely known as just Renzo or Renzophan to the general supernatural Portland populace — is out taking a look around his brand new stomping grounds. He still remembers the carnival, so his life as a demon is a mystery beyond what he could scrounge together by turning over his apartment. He's rich, he owns a nightclub, he works for a bigger, scarier demon? Probably? He's not a hundred percent clear on that, so...

In any case! He's out and about, having dressed down from his supposedly typical suits and other generally expensive attire as if trying to fit in with the crowds. His range of wandering is far and wide, since apparently being demonic needs not actually getting tired from just... walking.

He is going to stop when he spots an extremely familiar face at a cafe, though, slowing to a halt outside of it to stare for about thirty seconds before daring to go in and immediately take the other seat at her table. Sup, Carly, there's a demon suddenly sitting down across from you (provided she can see through his human disguise; if not, it's just some random dude). ]

Psst, hey, Carly! [ He leans across the aforementioned table, keeping his voice low. ] Man, I'm glad I've finally found someone. Have you seen anyone else yet?

[ Well, this should go... poorly. Probably poorly. ]

'NOBORU GONGENZAKA' | OTA (Date Variable)

[otoko]

[MORGUE | CLOSED TO SHERLOCK OR JIMMY]

[Vampires were not of this world.

Neither were zombies, suffice to say, but zombies at least got away with not dealing with the unfortunate need to potentially murder wherever they went every now and then. It was fate-and fortune, truly-that had caused them to meet, and Noboru for his part was relieved to no end that Sherlock had figured him out after the fact.

He wasn't sure he would have lasted just skimming out of the disposals he was supposed to clear off.

Still, it meant that Sherlock was rather convieniently one of the few he could talk to about any more 'unnatural' issues, whether just vauge ones like missing the sunlight, or more serious ones, such as wondering if he was being followed. Over time, Sherlock wasn't the only one as well-a resident ghost haunting certain areas of the town poking in added another source of conversation, if at least one that wouldn't ask him to go and fetch something more than perhaps a copy of the newspaper in return. Ghosts were strange to see-but...they were more common in the last decade or two. As the week progresses, such talks with both Sherlock and Jimmy tend to focus toward the latter end of the caution scale, admittedly. There is something about those posters, and something in the air, even...but more importantly-]

Have you ever had a...memory you couldn't describe? [he tries to explain, edges of a Japanese accent coming through his words. He was a boy when he was turned, but he looks far from it, and his speech does not at all help.] ...A sort of thought that didn't come to you, for some reason...something you can't place?

[It's been a strange few days.]

[Talk of the Town]

[More recently, Noboru has had the fortune of adopting a friend into his otherwise rather lonely life. A tiny female puppy he's named 'Belle'. One that practically ran into his arms in fact, though he's not entirely sure what caused that...

It's beside the point though. Throughout the week, there is a new part of his schedule, and that part is an evening walk through the dead of night, jacket and scarf covering the fact that he's really not that cold, sunglasses hiding red eyes... And a leash jangling as a comparatively tiny pooch stumbles her way along the sidewalk.]

[Hello, It's Me, Gon-]

[When he first discovered his regeneration abilities decades back, he had mistaken it for something else. Something more than mundane, something magical. As time had passed, he'd learned otherwise of course.

But the curiosity had not faded. The trouble with being a vampire however was that...well, he was fairly certain that trying to look into magic would cause some issue. But he knew it had to exist-enough research had uncovered that much, and with time, with effort, he managed...One Small Thing.

He wasn't sure what it was-but when he practiced it, it felt almost like a calling. A pull toward some other power, a tug that said 'I am here, as are you'. It was almost a security...or at least, it was most of the time. Occasionaly instead it would feel like a burn-contact with a holy presence, not that he realized it-but mostly it felt like there was something there, and he was not alone.

His eyes glow when he uses this spell, but they are closed. And he sits in a meditative seat while he practices it, alone in a wooded clearing, focusing...focusing...

He has no idea what kind of target he paints on his back, using this 'beacon' spell and practicing it as he does.]

[WILDCARD]

[Got another plan in mind? Hit me up, and we can try something else!]

[Wildcard]

[hippocarnival]

[By the time Yuya's getting near wherever the animal fair is, he's tense. The shadows haven't been anything more than small critters, but this constant, foreboding feeling just keeps getting worse.

Still, if he sees nothing, it must not be anything. It's probably just because he's out in the woods at night, and he never comes out here! That's it, that's definitely--

He catches sight of a large shadow not far in front of him and stops with a gasp.]

Pearl | OTA (Date ???)

[myownpearl]

[1. A Pit Stop]
Portland is known for its strange occurrences, though not a lot of people like to talk about it. However, it's also known for its infamous Voodoo Doughnuts. Not many can resist its call, even bikers who not-so-secretly work for certain fae queens. If you happen to be out in the early hours of the morning, you are likely to find Voodoo Doughnuts has a motorcycle parked in front of it -- perhaps among others -- and if you were to venture inside you would find a slender woman sitting at a booth. She sits, slumped against the upholstery, her eyes focused not on her doughnuts and coffee, but on the alley across the way. She appears to be watching for someone or something to emerge, but the only thing strange about the alley is the newly placed Animal Fair fliers.

She frowns and turns back to her breakfast, stakeouts are so boring, but at least she doesn't have to do it by herself. Pearl rips open a sugar packet, dumping its contents into her black coffee and waits. Who or what she's waiting for is yet to be determined. Maybe it's you...?

---
[2. Girl's Gotta Study]
Even though she was technically past the typical college age, her proximity to the fae meant that her age was often difficult to determine. Most people who saw her put her in her 20s or 30s, but Pearl was fairly certain she was a couple of decades past that point. Still, it was important to keep in touch with the modern world, especially if she was supposed to be one of the fae's more human representatives. Pearl's jacket and the right hair style meant passing was pretty easy, but she knew she had a reputation among certain groups who would recognize her on the spot. Still, you spend enough time with the fae and you learn a few tricks of glamour. Pearl liked to think she was pretty good at it too.

It was especially helpful when you were trying to take night classes at the local university. She didn't necessarily need them mind you, but she had found that taking a few classes in communication and psychology actually helped in learning how to negotiate around the fae's tricky word play and commands. A little linguistics thrown in didn't hurt either and basically Pear saw this as a way to arm herself with words and not just with her sword.

Class was still a few hours off, but the weather was actually nice for once, so Pearl took up a spot on a bench outside of the humanities building and flipped open a textbook. Unfortunately, at about that time, that notorious October wind kicked up and blew some of her loose notes out of her book. She cursed under her breath and scrambled to pick them up. The pages blew across the lawn and came to rest at someone's feet...

---
[3. Find Him]
Before the rose had bloomed in her apartment, Pearl had thought her only mission would be to 'Find Him.' It was vague, and that was strange because usually the queen was more specific than that. Fae were always careful about their words, it was why she had started taking courses at the college to better prepare herself for learning to find the loop holes and hidden meanings in the way they spoke. Not that there was actually a specific class for that, but she'd been hodge-podgeing a few classes in linguistics, political speeches, communication, and psychology that seemed to be doing the trick. Which made the assignment even more baffling.

Still, while she might have had her doubts about certain aspects of the way things were run, Pearl wasn't going to argue this. She had been given two missions now and while she could rely on her Renegades to keep an eye on this fair, the missive to "Find Him" was all on her. She just wished she knew what she was supposed to do with him when she DID locate him. She closed her eyes, remembering the look on his face just a few months ago...or had it been years? She couldn't remember. It's just...she had ignored it then and now...now she wasn't so sure if she was doing what she really wanted to be doing any more.

Pearl's grip tightened on her bike. No, she was the Knight. She couldn't waver or doubt her queen. Pearl pushed her motorcycle forward and kept her eyes peeled. She would find him, follow him, and wait for more orders. Pearl's bike roared as she tore threw the streets or Portland...hopefully watching where she was going.

---
[4. Wild Card]
[Have business with her? Hit me up with a prompt.]

2, please let me know if this works!

[whattaprick]

As it happens, the pages happened to blow right at the feet of someone in the middle of tearing down one of the many Animal Fair posters around campus. If she hangs around the library at all, she'll recognize him as one of the student assistants, though being a touch older than his peers and allowed to work in special collections marks him as a graduate student.

Lambert looked up with an automatic scowl , crumpling the poster in his hand (to join the rest of the detritus which he's already collected). Once he realized what had blown against his foot was someone's notes, though, the expression eased a little (though not by much). He collected what he could one-handed and looked around for whoever might have lost them. Fortunately, it wasn't hard to tell.

"These yours?" He called, waving the paper at her, tone a bit more snappish than intended, but he didn't apologize. It had been a long day -- as it turned out, developing the ability to see past glamors and illusions meant you fully realized how much weirdness was on campus. On a normal day, without the foreboding posters, the occasional inhuman creature or spell cast at the edge of his vision wasn't hard to ignore, but...

Doll ++ Demon-Aligned Warlock ++ OTA

[steadydollypegs]

[Busking]

[She has powers, she's got a powerful and rich demon for a patron, but does Doll ever take advantage of those things? Nope. She does things the old-fashioned way. Has for a long time, and she's not about to change that. She'd never even wanted this "gift", she'd much rather ignore it altogether.]

[Her biggest trick (biggest normal trick) is her balance. Most days, she puts a little tin out, ropes a slack line between two trees in the park, and walks back and forth across it-- like it's nothing. Sometimes she'll swing on it standing up, whistling 'God Save the Queen', but the trick that gets the best reception is when she somehow manages to get enough downward force to somersault off of the wire and stick a landing. That usually gets her dinner.]


[Eating]

[Doll looks in the window of the restaurant forlornly. She had money, but the moment she'd walked in they'd asked her to leave. She'd put up a cursory fight, but in the end she didn't want the police called. The second she landed in jail was the moment he'd show up. Mister Knotley. There to whisper in her ear and 'encourage' her. She grimaces into the glass, and spots someone's reflection coming close.]

'Scuse me, don't suppose I could enlist a bit 'a help? I have money! [She says hurriedly, before someone can assume she's just panhandling outside.]


[Back to the Box]

[Having eaten, Doll makes her way back to her alley, humming to herself and swinging a bag full of cans she's collected out of trash bins she passes.]

Tom he was a piper's son~

[She plucks the top of a bin off and leans down to rustle through it, singing away. A warm breeze flows over her back and she freezes just before feeling a hand grip the back of her neck and push her down. Doll flails and screeches for a moment before her hands get hot and she releases a burst of flame behind her. The hand goes away and the fire goes out as Doll whips around.]

[The tall, slick figure of Mister Knotley, the demon she's contracted to, stands behind her, rolling the little ball of flame she threw at him like it's a quarter between his fingers.]

'Rude, Dolly, I was just trying to help you home.'

[Doll scowls and picks up her bag of cans.] Right gentlemanly of you, but I can manage. What do you want? [Because he never comes by unless he wants something. Even to push her into the trash for funsies.]

'I'm just checking on my favorite. What a sad opinion you have of me, I'm almost hurt.' [He flicks the ball of flame and sets the garbage can on fire, making Doll scurry out of the way.] 'How's business?'

Your business, y'mean? [Doll frowns.] Slow. The city's crawlin' with mages-- sir-- [She grits it out.] --and with Anath comin' up north none of the stupid ones are stupid enough to put themselves in a new-and-disposable position against her. Nobody's interested.

'You're not trying hard enough. Now Dolly--' [He curls his long fingers around her shoulder, like some insidious parental figure.] '--you're worth your weight in souls, I know that, everybody knows that. Nobody can resist that honest little smile.' [He brushes a finger on her cheek and Doll turns her face away, but he doesn't seem bothered.] 'I'm running out of patience, I only have so much dear. Either you throw yourself into your work, your real work-- or I'll be forced to take what I gave you and leave you how I found you.' [He frowns, looking sympathetic and conflicted. Doll's gone white as a sheet and her hands rest uneasily on her stomach.]

'That's what I thought--' [His head turns. Did he just hear something... or someone?]

Eating!

[whattaprick]

[ Lambert reacts about as well as anyone being randomly accosted by a stranger on his walk home when their mind's a million miles away can be expected to: he jerks in surprise, taking a step or two back, and just ends up staring between her and the random ... street performer? With visible perplexment. When he actually mentally plays back what she said ... huh.

That's definitely an odd proposition, but he isn't getting any tingles of precognition associated with this, so he should be fine to say 'no' and walk off, right? ]

That depends what you need help with. [ Is what he ends up saying instead, still wary. ]

Rita Mordio | OTA

[anti_nonsense]

(a: the forested area, anytime: stakeout)

On Pearl's orders, Rita and the other Renegades have been staking out the area indicated by the mysterious posters. They alternate shifts, hanging out in pairs. Their motorbikes are hidden in the brush, with their tracks concealed with magic.

Rita stays hidden while crouched between some bushes, with a fellow Renegade hiding nearby. The atmosphere here makes her uncomfortable in a disturbingly familiar kind of way. She uses a spell to protect herself from magic detection, on top of her glamour, hoping that will be enough to make her seem like a regular human. It won't protect her from people who can physically see through glamours, but they're not who she's worried about.

She'll watch in secrecy if anyone enters the area, and will try to stay hidden... though it's possible that someone may discover her, her partner, or their bikes. Those who enter the forest may feel that they're being watched, may uncover the spell concealing their motorcycle tracks (leading to the bikes), or might just get lucky enough to stumble across them. Weres could also locate them by scent. If found, Rita's prepared to reveal herself and talk... or fight, depending on the other party's approach.

(b: sanctuary, october 3: overgrowth)

Rita was hoping to stop by the Sanctuary for a snack and a nap. The boss has her and the other Renegades working around the clock to investigate this 'Animal Fair' nonsense, and after a long night of investigating, it's time for a break.

But as she approaches the Sanctuary on her motorcycle, it's immediately apparent that something is wrong. Are those... vines? And roses... It definitely brings somebody to mind. This can only be bad news.

Rita parks the bike and hurries over to the door, staring up at the overgrown vines while looking distinctly bothered. She holds a hand over the vines, using a detection spell to try and understand what she's looking at. When she sees someone else nearby (who may also have just got here, or may have been here all along), she shoots them an urgent look. "What happened here?"

(c: wildcard!)

Rita can be found, wearing her Renegade biker jacket, in various places around town. Some people might see her examining the posters on October 2nd, where she'll collect the items scattered with them and use a spell to scan them for magic traces. After that, she'll be busy with her stakeout, but thanks to alternating shifts, can sometimes be seen riding around town with or without the other Renegades, stopping sometimes at convenience stores, cafes, or the Sanctuary for food and rest.

(For reference, Rita's AU info is here.)

a

[hippocarnival]

Yuya's among those wandering in their scoping grounds with just his phone, backpack, and a poster. That ominous feeling is getting to him, though, and frankly the "being watched" is only getting worse.

He spins around on his heels quickly. "Hey, who's out there?! I know you're hiding!"

childermass, ota

[atouts]

i. it's a bird, it's a plane— yeah no, it's just a bird, sorry [Oct. 1st - 3rd, all over]

Prior to and between his investigations, hey, a bird's got to eat. Fun thing about being able to transmogrify himself into a crow? People love throwing food at birds, especially ones brave enough to get close. Well, tourists love that shit, at least, and Portland has more than a few of those, even in October. He won't be putting on a ridiculous show for food or anything, seeing as he's still Childermass, but, also still being Childermass, he sure as hell doesn't want to spend money if he doesn't have to.

So regardless of where you are, as long as it's in a park with food vendors or sitting outside a cafe, a big crow will land nearby (one that's obviously magical to those who can perceive it) and caw at a few random bystanders with food. Sometimes he'll get something tossed his way, sometimes he won't. If you happen to have any food on you, well, he may do the very same and hop closer, croaking curiously.

Worse, if you have something particularly good? Like half a donut or something? He may just outright flutter up and make a grab for it!

ii. and then the one time he will spend money [Oct. 2nd, also all over]

While he's stingy enough not to splurge on buying food for himself, he will put down money on a box of funky donuts as bribery for part of his investigation. This time he's in human form — human-seeming, glamour and all — and that means looking as he usually does, only his feathers have been hidden away either entirely or as intricate feather-shaped tattoos, especially up along his arms. He hoofs it through the streets near where the majority of the "Animal Fair" posters went up, offering the homeless population in those areas donuts in exchange for anything they may have seen.

For those who look particularly homeless themselves, he may approach with the same offer, but for anyone else, it's easy enough to pass by and hear snatches of the conversation.

They're along the lines of, "Those Animal Fair posters, don't suppose you've heard anything about those around?" or "Yeah? What kind of fight? Did it sound like people or animals?" or even "What do you mean 'horns'...?"

iii. choose your own adventure

[ Have a different idea or want a specific starter from Childermass? Just let me know or drop whatever set-up you want here. He's a Winter Court changeling in service to the Rose Queen, a thief, and, additionally, stuck serving the mage, Jonathan Strange, so he gets around a lot. ]

[ oct 4, evening ]

[whattaprick]

[ in the aftermath of this ]

For a good five minutes or so after the Beast leaves the cafe, Lambert's just. Going to stare after it, still keyed up with adrenaline, clutching the forms in hand.

Of course, that doesn't last. As soon as it's obvious this isn't some fake-out on the fae's part, he'll turn to scowl at John. In some way, perhaps he's the luckier of the two of them, because he won't entirely know the scope of the fate they may have just narrowly missed.

"So 'I've dealt with these things before,' huh?" he bites out, throwing the changelings words back at him. "Yeah, I could definitely see that." Since he didn't get a fight, well, he's perfectly happy to start one now. It's better than curling into a ball and trying to pretend the last -- twenty minutes? Thirty? -- didn't happen, which is what part of him wants to do now.

DEADLY NIGHTSHADE (CLOSED TO PSI AND GINKO)

[npcarnival]

The demon and Ginko will manage to get the unconscious Sans into the car, and begin carting him along to Zecora's for... treatment? Something, they can only hope, at least. This happening to an angel is not exactly precedented, after all, and it's hard to say what a doctor could do about it. With a lack of other options, however, there's not much to do but proceed.

It isn't until they are in the parking lot of her office, around 7:45PM, that the fae comes upon them. Psi has just handed off Sans from the passenger seat, into Ginko's arms outside - when suddenly, the car door will be violently thrown shut in Psi's face, and a wall of vines growing at rapid speeds wraps itself over the door's surface, holding the vehicle firmly shut. Miu squeaks in the back of the car.

Purple blossoms will yellow centers will begin blooming across the vines, just as the presence of a court fae becomes obvious. He hair is purple and her wings are the colours of nightshade blossoms. She's also only about a foot tall.

"Oh, it's my lucky day," she says, the air filling with the aroma of sweet flowers. "The three of you, all together? What a motley crew this is."

Nightshades grins, her visage perfect and stunning in the ways that fae are. The Rose Queen will be extra pleased with her now.

[dontpokethat]

Okay. This should be fine, right? Zecora will know what to do, and things will work out. Probably.

He's just about managed to fight down his panic and worry when the door slams shut behind him.

Ginko stumbles away from the car, barely managing to keep his hold on Sans, and the more he sees the more dread settles in the pit of his stomach. What could a fae being doing here? Unless--

He takes another couple steps back, twisting slightly as if to hold Sans away from her. Just in case. "What-- why are you here?"

CAT FIGHT (CLOSED TO LAMBERT AND CHILDERMASS)

[npcarnival]

On the night of the 4th, the night will proceed as normal. Come closing time, the customers will leave, and Lambert will be alone to get the cats and till put away. Normally the process would take about a half hour, but this time, due to some various circumstances, it takes a bit longer. The lights in the front area are off, and Lambert will be in the back dealing with whatever cat problems have arisen.

It's then, past the time that he normally would have left, that... something will arrive into the cafe with him. Glass will shatter as a dark figure enters through a plane glass window - only for the glass to hang in the air and reform itself just as quickly after their arrival.

At first, the shadow will simply pause to take in their surroundings, fiery eyes flickering in the evening darkness.

and then lambert became the mc of amnesia the dark descent

[whattaprick]

Lambert's significantly more respectful of the cats after he'd gotten turned into one of them for a day after losing his temper and yelling at the owner -- a terrible idea, 0/10, would not recommend -- though they clearly communicate their disapproval of him. Probably because he was also an asshole as a cat, though he can't remember exactly how he might have offended them, and they gossip in cat-language to the new arrivals who also hate on him because it's the popular thing to do. It doesn't save him from the scratches and claws getting dug in, but whatever, it's not his fault he's stuck here.

He wonders if they can sense anything weird going on, but it's not like he can speak cat to ask them, can he? With the last of them put away, and no trouble in sight, it's time to--

--grab the pair of scissors in his apron pocket when he hears the sound of shattering glass from the main room, apparently. He freezes where he is, heart hammering, straining to listen for footsteps or any indication of what the fuck is going on outside the back room.

That's not actually hard, because the few handful of cats in the back room with him have heard the glass shattering and should by all rights be freaking out? They're all silent in their cages, and that's worse.

Ginko | Oct. 1st-5th

[dontpokethat]

Ginko woke up feeling wrong. It wasn't that he felt sick, or physically worse than he usually was in the mornings - sure, his back felt like he'd spent the night in a car seat, but, uh. That was probably because he had.

No, it was something else - and it was only as he started going about his day that he got a feeling for what it was.

A - Tea Shop

Ginko is pretty frequently kind of out of it at work, so, theoretically, that shouldn't be a huge problem. Of course, usually his distractedness is more a result of just being tired, rather than... this.

Honestly, he's increasingly sure that he's having some kind of mental breakdown, because he doesn't know what else to think is going on. Little things, things that should by all rights should be normal, have just seemed... wrong.

Ugh. Yeah, this is just what he needs. Not like his brain was enough of a mess already.

The moment his break starts, Ginko drops into a seat in the corner of the shop, burying his face in his hands with a groan. He's pretty sure he's messed up more orders and spilled more drinks in this one day than he has in his entire time working here. He's going to kick his own ass if he gets fired over... whatever is going on.

B- Park

When he's not working, a significant amount of Ginko's time is spent just... hanging around outside. It doesn't hurt that he's got to be sure Miu gets some exercise somehow, and the park is a pretty good place for it.

So, with Miu on her harness, he wanders the park, alternating between pondering his recent... identity crisis, he guesses? And pretending it's not happening. As much as he'd like for this to just not be a thing at all, he can't help but wonder about it, after all.

He catches sight of a poster pinned to a tree and wanders over, Miu trotting alongside him.

Then he actually gets a closer look at it, and the items scattered around it.

Nope. Rather abruptly, Ginko spins around to walk away from the tree, not paying much attention to whether someone else might be behind him.

((OOC: Let me know if you want to do something outside of these prompts, and I can add another option!))

A

[zebrarhyme_everytime]

She probably shouldn't meddle, but -- well, it came with the position. Zecora had noted the poor boy's consternation and trouble from her booth, and when he flopped down right nearby, she couldn't help herself.

Twisting so she had one arm slung back over the dividing seat back, she asked, "Are you all right?"

11/6 - afternoon - closed to Foster

[small_reservations]

When Axel gets Foster's text, he's in the middle of snooping around the animal carnival. At first, he thinks little of it. Amethyst is a flighty being at best, after all. But then again, Foster's never been worried about her before... something bad must have happened.

It takes him a few minutes, but he finds where he chained his bike to a tree and undoes the lock. It doesn't take him long to get on the road from the forest, either, and in fact leaving the woods is a huge relief. He can feel a weight settling off him, but it's gradually replaced by a new apprehension as he nears the apartments where his ex currently resides.

... The horseshoe's new. So are the bug zappers. Both would be worrying on their own, but when he sees the berries, thrown onto the sidewalk and on the road, he knows there's going to be trouble. He inspects one, and it reeks of fae magic.

Well, time to give Foster the bad news. Axel gives the zappers a wide berth as he approaches the door and knocks. He's really not looking forward to this, and precedes his arrival with a text - While I'm here, call me Lea.

[control_freak]

The text gets Foster out of bed. Not that he was asleep, actually--he's been having a hard time relaxing in any way, up to and far exceeding the issue of sleep.

For a second, he just stares at his phone, confused--while he's where--but then comes the Wilhelm scream of the doorbell (he and Amethyst had rewired it as a joke a few weeks ago), and...

And.

And he doesn't move. He's not... why is he here? He isn't up to entertaining whatever guilt-appeasing reason Axel took it on himself to come... what, why is he using a pseudonym? He doesn't want to answer the door. How the fuck is he supposed to? He isn't even clear on how to 'feel.' Is he angry? Annoyed? Tired? Relieved?

Maybe he can't figure out what he's supposed to feel because he's just not.

Dropping his phone on a blanket with a padded sort of finality, he picks his way across the layers of laundry and area rugs on his bedroom floor and finally answers the fucking door.

"What."

Zim | OTA | Oct 1-7

[squeedlyspooch]

A. Sanctuary

This whole mess is one giant headache. Worse than that, even, because based on Zim's past experiences headaches can at least be solved by bludgeoning force. Here there isn't anything to bludgeon, or any people with which he can use as bludgeoning objects.

Nope, just a very horrible humanesque place where he is currently stuck. Zim is not a fan of Sanctuary, especially when he still retains memories of Irk, but he's been saddled with enough recent memories to know that he has very few other options here. Still, combining that with the state of his mind, which is even more of a mess than usual, and he seems to be stuck in a mood perpetually shifting between utter rage and utter paranoia. There is something wrong with all of this, for him it's a tidal wave of crushing wrongness rather than some slow creep, but he doesn't know why or what or how to explain it, so he's taking it out on everyone he runs into.

The very small buggy... Child? Creature is a permanent fixture of Sanctuary, so others passing through have probably seen him before ranting at some poor sap or dragging broken electronics down to the basement. Today isn't much different; he has a camcorder clutched in his hands, and he's furiously pressing several buttons on it as he runs into someone's leg. Jumping back, his default is to start yelling, no matter who it is. "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING! This is important, unlike whatever your sad little monkey brain is trying to do!!"

B. Library

The yelling continues! Though this time Zim is looking less buggy and more gross mutant green child, his very poor attempt at making himself look human so he can visit one of the nearby libraries without getting hassled. It usually doesn't go very well but he tries anyway, just to get away from Sanctuary for a while and to do some information reconnaissance​. It feels sort of right to be doing that, he vaguely remember receiving military training for this for decades underground, and he's at that point where latching onto anything familiar is a small comfort.

Zim has a table absolutely filled with a random assortment of books, from science to science fiction to historical battle plans. It's more than a little chaotic and even other patrons are getting the sense that they should be avoiding him, especially when he leaps onto the table, one book in his hands. "This is TERRIBLE! Planetary life does NOT require atmospheric oxygen! Pure dookie!"

C. Dumpster diving

One final destination of his are the variety of back alley dumpsters found throughout the city. This one isn't really out of any kind of familiarity; dumpsters are gross and dirty and germy and he would rather not be in them, but they're a good source of equipment he is so desperate for. Why he needs this stuff is a bit if a mystery even to himself, but having any kind if technology, even primitive stuff such as this, is a base, almost primal desperate need. He needs this stuff, and he needs to take it apart and make it all into something better. Something more filled with destruction.

Passerbys might assume the scuffling in that nearby dumpster is a raccoon or some other animal looking for a quick meal but nope, it's that weird green kid from the library. Whenever he find something remotely useful it gets tossed out of the dumpster onto the ground, and if anyone approaches he's going to get very, very protective of his stuff. It might be best to just keep walking, given how late it is.

B, perhaps leading into C if he gets kicked out 8'|

[whattaprick]

"Please refrain from shouting in the library."

The voice is going to come from ... actually not far below Zim, because table or not, he probably doesn't have that much elevation. The University's library is popular even among non-students, with regular groups of gawkers passing through, which regrettably means it can attract some strange characters. Scowling up at him is one of the librarians, who's pushing up his glasses with an irritated expression on his face.

One of the other librarians at the counter is already quietly calling in campus security to intervene if it becomes necessary, but for now, Lambert's the sacrifice to attempt to talk the kid down. Despite the 'please' and the polite wording, the tone of his voice and the murderous look in his eye really only makes it look like he'd be happy for any excuse to dropkick Zim.

"We also don't usually let people stand on the furniture. Why don't you get down from there and we can talk about--" His smile looks more like he's baring his teeth. "--what you're interested in researching."

[ ooc; Lambert can sometimes-maybe see through glamours with concentration -- let me know if you'd like him to be able to see through Zim's! ]