introductory mingle: FEAST OF THE DYING

[riverviewmod]

who: everyone in Riverview!
what: Introductory Log and Feast of the Dying
when: Feast of the Dying from October 1st-8th; various other prompts over the whole month of October.
where: Anywhere around the city.
warnings: please put any necessary warnings in the subject lines

feast of the dying

In the days leading up to October 1st, residents new and old will notice preparations beginning, a flurry of activity getting the city ready for the upcoming celebration: the Feast of the Dying. There is an old, widely-known, and widely-believed superstition or proverb in Riverview Quarantine: 'The greater your fear of death, the easier it is for death to find you.' This is a cornerstone belief of a lot of the residents of the Quarantine, most of whom have survived intensely difficult and violent pasts on their own worlds and who are still willing and eager to throw themselves into exploring and settling new worlds, starting their lives fresh. To honor this spirit, the Feast of the Dying is a celebration of the transition between life and death, an opportunity to face death both figuratively and literally, and come out on top.

celebrating the transition from life to death

During the month of October, a particular natural phenomenon on the moon weakens the boundaries between the worlds of the living and the dead, allowing for the crossover of those dead into the world of the living, with ghosts from the pasts of both the residents and the Quarantine itself to take corporeal form. The festivities during this time feature tests of courage in highly haunted places, escape rooms both virtual and physical with varying levels of danger, and the week-long Feast of the Dying itself, between October 1st and 8th this year.

i. ghosts from the past

During the 10th month of every year on the moon, due to a complex series of chemical, electromagnetic, and magical forces that no one has ever exactly distinguished or completely understands, the boundaries between the worlds of the living and the dead are weakened almost to the point of nonexistence. During this time, residents of the moon are able to see and interact with the dead - ghosts, manifesting in ways that run the gamut from being a strange sense of being watched or being visible or audible all the way to more corporeal spirits that can affect the world around them. The barriers are weaker in some parts of the city than they are in others, with some areas experiencing little to no ghost activity, while others are so populated with these ghosts that residents can barely go a few feet without running into one. The ghosts are generally the unsettled dead, people who died violently, or who were lost, seeking a place to call home, and their behavior is as varied as it was while they were alive. Some ghosts are angry and vengeful, some are simply lonely and lost.

While some people tend to interact with the ghosts only a little and as necessary, others avoid them as completely as possible, and yet others actively seek out souls who are suffering and try to ease that so they can stop coming back year after year. There are other people who have found that ghosts from their home worlds have come through with them, following them through the portal when they arrived, even if they did not die on the moon...

Whether facing death or making peace with those who have died, this is a time to reflect.

A Few OOC Guidelines:
● Characters may see or interact with ghosts from the Quarantine's past. These people will be as varied as the NPCs, from a multitude of different worlds, and characters are welcome to either engage or avoid, as players wish.
● Most Quarantine-based ghosts will have died in either the Great War with the neighboring reality or in the Pandemic that wiped out the population of the Abandoned City years ago.
● Characters may also see or interact with ghosts from their own or other characters' canons, providing the character in question is dead in canon and is not currently being played in the game.
● Canon-based ghosts should not be simply transplanted into the game as they were in canon - they are ghosts, and therefore 'not quite right,' and should not be used as an excuse to NPC a canonmate for a month. These ghosts are there to be used as plot devices to open up new avenues of CR, to create angst, to help a character make peace with their past, or other similar reasons.
● Ghosts should not be complete corporeal physical presences indistinguishable from living people, but barring this, how strongly the ghosts manifest and how much they can interact with the world around them is up to player discretion. Ghosts shouldn't be present the whole month straight, but can disappear and reappear at random times.

● Mod questions and plotting regarding this prompt can be found here.

ii. the feast of the dying

The month's holiday is named after a long-standing tradition in the Quarantine - the Feast of the Dying - that starts at sundown on the first day of the month and continues until sunrise on the ninth day. The Feast of the Dying is a costumed masquerade-style party that is continuously available for the entire week. Set up by volunteers specializing in both magic and science, the Feast of the Dying is hosted in a large conference center that has been decorated and magically altered to provide a very formal, intensely creepy atmosphere. The decor can run the gamut from fancy and classy decorations featuring iconic skeletons or ghosts to incredibly realistic catacombs or any other frightening settings that you can think of. Rooms often become more and more foggy the more people enter them to mingle, and in many rooms the air pressure will be slightly played with to make the atmosphere seem more oppressive and spooky. Costumes and masks are required, and anything from a Halloween-style costume to a formal outfit with mask is acceptable.

Players can feel free to go wild with ideas for decor at the Feast, including linking to inspiration images in their posts - it is, essentially, like having a Masquerade ball inside a disturbingly realistic haunted house.

The venue the Feast is held in includes several large rooms intended for dancing with different themes and decorations that can change off and on throughout the week, two large dining rooms where feasts will be held at mealtimes and snacks or drinks (alcoholic or non-alcoholic) will be promptly served to anyone who sits at one of the tables, and a plethora of rooms meant for mingling and relaxing. Additionally, there are a large number of smaller lockable rooms set up for sleeping or private encounters.

iii. escape rooms

One of the fun and more commercialized aspects of the season are the many Escape Rooms that pop up throughout the Quarantine. Residents are encouraged to test their survival skills by grouping up with friends or strangers to escape difficult and scary situations together by solving a series of puzzles.

Escape Rooms can be either physical, set up inside buildings with realistic decorations, or they can be Virtual Reality, where the players don VR masks and cooperate in a virtual world. While the former can be more challenging and realistic, the latter provides for higher stakes. Physical Escape Rooms are generally set up to avoid any kind of physical harm to participants, but the Virtual Reality Escape Rooms can simulate pain and injury quite handily, and therefore can put participants in more dangerous situations.

While players can make up an Escape Room that uses whatever theme they like, some prompts are below:

● Zombie Attack
● Torture Machines or Traps
● Cannibal Warlock
● Wrongly Convicted: Escape from Prison
● Escape from Sewer Monsters
● Mad Scientist Experiments

iv. tests of courage

As mentioned before, there are certain parts of the city where the ghost activity is much stronger than elsewhere. These are places where terrible things have happened - hospitals that treated the ill during the Pandemic, insane asylums or prisons where inmates were mistreated, homes where terrible murders happened, places exposed to dark magic, and other similar places. Every year during October, these places are shut down or vacated (unless they were already sitting empty) and entrance is allowed to people wishing to partake in a traditional Test of Courage - to enter these deeply haunted and dangerous places, and stay there as long as possible, sometimes even overnight.

In these particularly vulnerable and terrifying places, ghost activity is intense and almost constant. Characters will encounter strange sounds, smells, and visions; will encounter ghosts that are capable of throwing items or people; and most of all, they will experience powerful and realistic hallucinations due to the sheer lack of boundary between the worlds of the living and dead in these areas. Whether the hallucinations are manifestations of their own worst fears, the ghosts retelling their own tortured stories, or any other kind of terrifying vision, they feel very real. While characters will not be injured by the hallucinations, the sensations of pain, pleasure, hunger, thirst, or other sensations will be almost impossible to tell from the real thing until the hallucination subsides at daylight.

While the haunted locations are highly unlikely to kill characters, whether or not they experience serious injury due to physical actions they do while under the influence of a hallucination (eg. falling down a flight of stairs) or attacks from ghosts (eg. an angry ghost throws books at a character) is up to player discretion.

v. roommates or wildcard

Feel free to use this prompt to meet new roommates, for the purpose of getting to know each other, or hit up the mod-posted prompt to create a Communal Housing floor mingle. Or, if you have an idea for a prompt that isn't in this list, set during the Feast of the Dying, feel free to write it up!

visual inspiration

click on thumbnails for larger view; images may contain disturbing themes


Credit: image i: Olivier Le Gall; image ii: John Watkiss; image iii: unknown (wallpapersfan); image iv: signed (pinterest); images v and vi: unknown (pinterest)

navigation

Comments

QUESTIONS & PLOTTING

[riverviewmod]

If you have any questions about any of the prompts or if you would like to do a bit of pre-plotting for any prompt, please use this header.

[notasaviour]

comics!

Basically: can characters only see canon-specific ghosts of people who are dead at their canon-point? can they see future ghosts (i.e. people currently alive at their canon point), and/or the ghosts of those who were dead but now aren't? if a close canon-mate from a different canon point is in game, does that change things? (basically, can Teddy see ghosts from what is his future but Billy's past)

can characters see ghosts of people they don't know they're connected to?

also, are there robot ghosts? (the one in question has a very definite personality/distinct AI, if that makes a difference)

COMMUNAL HOUSING APARTMENT MINGLES

[riverviewmod]

Feel free to post up a top-level for residents of any floor in the apartment building to mingle and meet each other.

nico di angelo ▪ open

[deathkid]

❜𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 ➨ (feast)

[ when nico enters the room, it's in a black toga. across his brow is a thin, black, stygian iron coronet and on his lips is a smirk. behind him is a group of five zombies that shuffle along. they don't seem interested in anyone, so fear not. and if anything, they seem to be moving as if they are on puppet strings, which isn't far from the truth considering they're under nico's complete control.

as he makes his way through the crowd, he approaches the place where music is being played and hands the person in charge a disc. soon enough, a certain song begins playing and nico smirks as he gestures. the zombies shuffle towards the middle of the room, taking up space, and as the chorus begins playing, the zombies begin to dance.

it's a performance for the sake of the night, the kind of night nico excels in and during it, he's standing by the dj, snapping his fingers in time to the music. he can even be heard humming along. ]

𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚❜𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙛𝙪𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 ➨ (escape rooms)

[ the danger rooms are nothing to scare nico. he is the king of ghosts after all and he leads his group with a confidence he rarely shows. with his stygnian iron sword in hand, he slashes through traps. with his other hand, he grips the air, controlling the zombies that threaten to attack. and in no time at all, nico is clearly taking control of the room, as if this was what he was born to do. and it is. he is, after all, the son of hades himself. ]

Don't worry, I've got this.

𝙞 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ➨ (other)

[ nico, as the king of ghosts, can be found here and there, talking to ghosts, mediating with the dead. if you want him anywhere specific, lmk! hit me up at alkahestic ]

escape room!!!

[somakemelaugh]

[What a pleasant surprise. Hadn't he spoken with this boy only recently? Rather than interrupt, he watches the movements, lounging on the back of a nearby gargoyle where he has taken refuge for a break from the action to sit and soak up the atmosphere.]

Oh, now see? You've taken the fun out of it.

cisco ramon 👻 the flash 🎃 ota

[franciscoramon]

I (A). GHOSTS FROM THE PAST

[ Cisco doesn't really think of himself as a particularly superstitious person, but he doesn't fuck with ghosts. Never has. He's watched too many horror movies (through his fingers, and usually not making it to the end) to be that idiot with a ouija board and an unfounded sense of invincibility. No thanks. Not today. So he does his best to keep out of the way of the ghosts, when they start to appear. Sure, it's sad they've got unfinished business or whatever, but he'll leave it to people braver than himself to help with all that. It's a hard pass on the Casper bullshit.

That is, until a week into the month he sees a familiar tall and rather broad-shouldered frame, half-translucent, standing with his hands in his pockets in the park where Cisco usually eats his lunch. He knows that back, those shoulders, that boring-ass haircut. Even only seeing a faint and faded sliver of him, Cisco recognizes his dead friend. So instead of heading in another direction, Cisco wanders towards him, calling out: ]

Ronnie?

[ The ghost of Ronnie Raymond just keeps standing where it is, looking sad and lost, showing no signs that it heard him. Heart hammering, Cisco tries again, a bit louder. ]

Ronnie?!

[ No change. Cisco's body language becomes fretful. He waves a hand in front of Ronnie's face, tries to grab his shoulder, but his hand passes right through. So he looks around for someone, anyone who he can ask: ]

How come he can't hear me?

I (B). GHOSTS FROM THE PAST

[ It's not exactly the worst case scenario. The worst case scenario would be Eobard, alive and in the flesh, coming through the portal. This is only an echo of him, a memory, without superpowers, without the ability to do any real damage. He's not even as strong as a poltergeist, can barely send napkins flying off the table at a cafe, or knock over a leaning umbrella.

Still, even if it isn't the worst case scenario, it's not fucking ideal, to have the ghost of the guy who murdered him just appearing out of thin air every few days. And, even worse, following him. Cisco will feel a prickle on the back of his neck, turn around, and see a familiar bespectacled face looking at him from twenty or thirty feet away, dogging his footsteps. Sometimes Eobard keeps his distance. Sometimes he approaches and talks to Cisco - fondly on some days, dripping with sarcasm on others. Hard to say which is worse.

If your character is one of Cisco's friends, going on a stroll with him, getting a cup of coffee with him, or even visiting him in his workshop, it is possible that Eobard will show up and do his best to ruin everything like the utter creep he is, in life as in death. ]

II. THE FEAST OF THE DYING

[ Cisco was too shy to really get himself involved in the charity masquerade for the magic institute, but this time he's going all in. He shows up a few nights in various non-fourth-wall-breaking nerdy costumes (homemade, of course), once dressed as his own evil doppelganger, and a few nights in a rather sharp but not too formal outfit with a mask.

He's going to stay out of the catacombs, unless coaxed there by someone extremely persuasive (if you're not already his friend, good luck), but he will be mingling in the rest of the spaces, eating, drinking, and being quite merry. He needs the relaxation, what with the influx of ghosts and generally terrifying things in his life since this whole month began. ]

V. WILDCARD

[ surprise me! or you know, plot with me here ]

closed 👻 for eddie

[franciscoramon]

[ The first time he runs into Eobard, it's awful. Beyond awful. But he gets through it. It's only five minutes, maybe six, before his ghost dissipates. Cisco's body moves mechanically over to the steps leading up to some building (he'd been headed inside, but he's entirely forgotten about that). He pulls out his phone, full of a strange intense calm that accompanies a shock this severe. He writes, simply: ]

where are you

Undertaker | Kuroshitsuji aka Black Butler | OTA

[somakemelaugh]

1: ghosts from the past
[For who he is and who he has been over the past several decades, the presence of the deceased doesn’t bother him in the least. If anything, it’s a feeling he has missed since he was whisked away to this strange place with all of its odd ways and people. The atmosphere that has come over the city the past several days is almost a welcome addition, putting him back in his element, something he understands quite well.]

[Despite the haze, he can see them here. The spirits of those long gone weave in and out of view in this place, some flickering like flashes of lightning and some lingering, wandering to and fro like he himself has been doing. He moves among them silently, ignoring them for the most part. At best, they receive a curious glance, but they pay him no more mind than he gives them, and so he leaves them be.]

[One, however, catches his full attention. A man steps closer, pale and translucent. Through the light sheen that seems to cover the spirits that wander about, it isn’t hard to see he once had short, dark hair and dark eyes. He wears a sharp suit and a deep red tie, and under one eye is a single spot of a beauty mark. He smiles, silent, but Undertaker does not smile in return. In fact, the sight of this man has taken the humor right out of him in his surprise.]

[The figure is only there for a minute or two before turning to walk away, and as he does, Vincent vanishes from sight, going on to places Undertaker can’t yet visit. Undertaker stands there several minutes longer. It’s the third time in the past several years that something has truly shaken him. Absently, a hand reaches for his waist where his chain once hung, only to touch the cloth of his coat. Then, he turns quickly and steps away, brushing everything else aside. The grin is back now, unhinged.]


2: the feast of the dying
[It’s not the funeral parlor, but this is his month, he has been preparing for it, and he is letting himself enjoy it thoroughly. Undertaker has gone over the top with his own costume and can be found in any room in the building, appreciating the decor, dancing with himself, enjoying the food and just being himself.]

[There is something comforting about it all, now that his own life is technically over - almost a freedom. The afterlife is no longer an unknown, no longer an anxiety to him; if anything, it’s become quite boring. But the joy of prettying a dead body, the amusement at seeing the newly dead’s faces when the realize what has happened. That never gets old. Strange that he never has felt more alive than he has while dealing with the dead.]


3: roommates or wildcard
you know what to do

2

[sweetlies]

[He's not surprised, he's really not, at how Undertaker throws himself into the celebration. And Ciel knows, with everything already starting in the city, it's going to last the month. A few months ago, that would have bothered him, it would absolutely have grated on him in England, but now? Not so much. He'd even returned to the apartment with what decorations, and some candy, that he could carry.

So it's even less surprising when he spots Undertaker at the feast and dancing.

Ciel has managed to put together a very simple devil costume, not trying to stand out, and stands off to the side to watch. He's trying not to smile, shaking his head a little. No, not at all surprising.]

Ciel Phantomhive | Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) | OTA

[sweetlies]

i - ghosts from the past

[In truth, Ciel doesn't give the talk of ghosts much thought, waves off the comments about 'The greater your fear of death, the easier it is for death to find you.' In a way, death already had found him but that was nothing he thought about either. Not too deeply. His fear of death is frequently pushed to the back of his mind.

His refusal to heed anything he's told leaves him woefully unprepared as he makes his way to Funtom though, two phantoms appearing in his peripheral vision. And the teen pauses, looks, and freezes.

There stands a phantom of a man looking like an older version of him, a mole just below his left eye, dressed in a suit and on the arm of a woman. She's tall like him, the shape of her face like Ciel's but she's blonde, her hair done up neatly. And both look to him sadly, almost disappointed.

It's enough that Ciel is taking several step backs in a panic and turning to run. Apologies if he runs into you.]

ii - feast of the dying

[Ciel isn't the festive type, really. So the costume he's wearing is made up of a dark suit and gloves, a pair of plastic red devil horns and a tail hooked to the back of his pants. It's a cheap, almost dollar-store, costume but it's a costume. And though almost no one will understand just why he's chosen that kind of costume, it's enough to at least amuse the teen.

He avoids the more crowded rooms, not because of the change in pressure in the air, he just dislikes crowds. Crowds rarely meant anything good in his previous experiences, he tries to avoid the trouble now.

Ciel will watch some people dance though.

Or he'll settle at a table, try some desserts and enjoy a glass of sweet wine now that he knows he meets Riverview's minimum age requirement.]

v - wildcard

[hit me up via PM or plurk if you want something else!]

i - ghosts from the past

[somakemelaugh]

[The activity in this area hasn't been as high as it was earlier, but it always seems to peter off come morning, as if the cycle of day and night somehow has something to do with the cycle of life and death that even he doesn't understand. Maybe it's a game the gods have decided, maybe not. In either case, he has had enough of the search in the grounds among the buildings here and has headed back toward the streets to head home.]

[Or at least that had been the intent until comes across what could only be his roommate and a flicker of something that might have been a pair of ghostly apparitions. He can't quite see the spirits well enough to know who they are, but that Ciel turns and runs from them pulls at his interests. This far away, he doubts Ciel will see him, and he thinks to run after the boy, but calls to him first instead.]

Milord! Wherever are you going in such a hurry?

Jonathan Samuel Kent / Superboy | OTA

[supersweet]

[ i. journeyed across an ocean of stars to reach you ]

[ Jon was (unfortunately) very familiar with ghosts. He's familiar with many things that people would find odd or simply downright impossible. Alternate realities. Portals. Divergent timelines. And yes, a dimension with dinosaurs and world war two veterans. His memories of such things tend to fluctuate and he does not remember it as clearly as he would like to. Even now, the memories of the Eradicator grow dim.

But he remembers Krypton. He remembers their howls, their overwhelming need to be heard. So when the ghosts start appearing, Jon tries. He tries to listen, tries to help. But it exhausts him because Jon doesn't have any answers. He doesn't even have a Kryptonian name. He knows nothing of Jor-El or his cousin's life. Finally giving up, Jon takes out the noise-cancelling headphones and tries to go about his day while a veritable army of tall aliens trail after him. He might accidentally bump into you, knocking his glasses askew, which he adjusts immediately with a sheepish, strained grin. ]

Sorry. They . . . don't really take no for an answer.

[ iv. leave it to superboy. or not ]

[ Despite being used to weirdness in his life, Jon did have one weakness. He wasn't very good when it came to ghosts, monsters, vampires . . . well maybe not vampires. Jon is pretty sure he could defeat a vampire, no problem. He still gets a little jumpy though, especially when all his senses are more heightened compared to normal people and he still gets twitchy when he catches a late night horror movie (not endorsed by his parents, but since they weren't around, it's not like they could stop him.).

So when he hears the echo of laughter with no heartbeat to go with it, Jon starts and accidentally uses his heat vision to knock down a couple of lamp posts into each other. They crash to the ground with a loud groan, sparking before they died. Jon sighs, muttering. ]

Great. Just great. I do not have the allowance to cover that . . .

[ v. wildcard it up! pm or poke me on captainkink if you want a custom prompt. ]

iv

[chumpelstiltskin]

[Dave is not the kind of guy to judge a fear of what he essentially feels is death. He's been kind of on edge too, but luckily you can't just time travel on a panicked whim or everyone would be in the pre-historic ages with him.

Rather, when Dave sees a ray of some weird-ass heat shit, his first instinct is flight and not fight. Literally. He jumps into the air to hover as soon as he hears the clatter, just about ready to fly the hell out of there.

He takes a moment to assess the scene and realises someone just got spooked. He floats closer, leveling a flat look on Jon.]

Woah. You really showed those lamp posts, kid. [He's acting like he didn't freak out too.]

taako ☂ ota

[spellslots]

Ghosts of the past

[For the first few days, the ghosts don't bother him all that much; Taako can acknowledge their presence without paying them much mind except for one the occasional minor poltergeist or chill down his spine. Their place is warded to hell and back, enough to keep even the most persistent of ghosts, so it's only really any kind of issue when he's out and about.

Things go very quickly south on the fourth day, when Taako is standing at a store window, idly considering a pair of boots on display and his reflection is joined by one that's faded and inconsistent, flickering in and out. He stiffens, spine straight as the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, as he spins around to face this apparition, but it isn't until the ghost opens its mouth that he realizes exactly what he's about to confront.

Blood pours from its mouth, thick and cloying, spilling onto Taako's shirt and he jerks back with enough force to smack into the glass. He feels trapped, especially when another ghost joins the first, that same thick blood pouring from its mouth, somehow not interrupting its ability to speak.]

Taako.

[It reaches for him, pleading, and the familiarity of this makes him feel like he's choking.]

I didn't-- It wasn't me. It wasn't me.

[He hears June's voice, you fed them their death and he knows he's pleading fruitlessly, that even if it was Sazed's poison, this blood is still on his hands, but that doesn't make this any easier to bear.]

Why did you do it, Taako? Why did you kill us?

[Killing people isn't an unfamiliar thing, for Taako, but this weighs greater on him that any other deaths he's had a hand in. A third ghost joins the little crowd gathered around him, this one bold enough to reach for him, pulling on his shirt. Taako tries to move away, but his back is still up against the glass.]

Please, I didn’t know-- it wasn't me, I didn't know.

[He needs to get out of here, but panic has him stuck in place.]

Ghosts two, electric boogaloo

[It isn't a strange thing, this week, to see Taako and a red robed spectre walking together, but usually it's Lup floating beside him and she interacts with the rest of the world the way she normally does, but today he's caught a different red robe, and this one is much more annoying. Because it's Barry, sure, but whatever fucked up magic brought him here just brought an echo, and in particular it's an echo of the role that Barry was playing as he followed them around Fearun, doing his best to alert them to the coming danger.

Which just means the red robe, in a spooky voice*.]

EVERYTHING WILL BE CONSUMED. NOWHERE IS SAFE. YOU MUST UNDERSTAND

[Taako sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.]

I know, Barold, we've been over this, the Hunger is gone.

[This is going to keep happening for a while.]

[[*ignore Taako's voice here, Justin had a cold]]

Feast of the dying
[mask/outfit ; mask/outfit ; mask/outfit ; mask/outfit]

[There isn't much that Taako loves more than the idea of a week-long party, especially something as dramatic and over the top as a masquerade, and even better when he doesn't have to be in any way involved, the way he was with the last masquerade. It also serves as a good distraction from the ghosts that are quite fucking literally haunting him, so he throws himself totally into the party, spending most of his free time drifting in and out. He gets into the theme, eschewing his normal bright colours and sticking to blacks and reds, though he's more loose on the "mask" aspect, going all out with the make-up rather than actually sticking something on his face.

The halls for dancing draw a lot of his attention, and he doesn't hesitate to ask people to dance, or to simply weave through the crowd alone, enjoying himself whether or not he's got a partner. If he's not dancing, he's inspecting the food, trying little bits of pieces of everything and occasionally pulling a notebook out of god knows where to make some notes about the flavour profiles going on, because he's nothing if not an entrepreneur.

Everywhere else is a little creepy, but he can roll with that, using magic to add to the atmosphere, whether that's by creating fog to roll through a parlour, animating the decorations to move as people walk past, or creating illusory monsters to crawl along the walls and floors. At one point, because he's a little shit, he creates an illusory double of himself and stands hand in hand with it at the end of a hallway, à la The Shining.

He thinks he's funny.]

Escape rooms

[Taako, without hesitation, refuses any kind of VR escape room, because he had enough after Lucas's bullshit training simulation, but he's happy to get involved with the physical ones, either with friends or complete strangers. They won't let him take in any of his magical items (including the hole thrower, which would make this super easy) but "Can I keep my umbrella, it's kinda valuable?" is met with a shrug and it remains hooked over his elbow or gets used as a pseudo walking stick as he leans on it to survey the room.]

So, like, you think I should magic missile the door open?

[It's hard to tell if he's being facetious or genuine. Maybe he just doesn't understand the point of escape rooms.]

Wildcard

[[ooc: I'm super into the tests of courage but it'd have to be something discussed beforehand!!! hmu on plurk (batsecretary) if you wanna plot]]

[ escape rooms ]

[supersweet]

[ Jon gets the idea, but they're boring to a perpetually powered up ten year old who can see through walls. He thought he'd try one to get the appeal, but the appeal is lost on him. This is clearly a Bat-Thing than a Super-Thing. ]

I think that's cheating.

Loki (MCU) | OTA

[dothelokimotion]

[ i. And the violence caused such silence ]

[ He couldn't turn around. She was there, standing silently at his back. His shoulders are hunched and if you look closer, they might be shaking. She would be beautiful. Her robes would be embroidered with sword lilies. Her armor would be an immutable part of her, the shine of it unmistakable. She would have barrettes in her hair. Loki had stolen one when he was younger, tucked it into his pocket like a good luck charm. Her earrings would stir in the breeze.

She was standing there and Loki couldn't move. His arms ached from the effort to reach out, to touch her. He heard her quiet sigh, without words, am I not your mother?

Loki knows she is crying. There would be tears valiantly held back, the wet sheen clear for everyone to see. Everyone would know — would see that Loki is once again, making her cry, is breaking her heart, why can't he turn around? Isn't this what he wanted? Loki had wanted to say goodbye, wanted to see her leave. Wanted to see the last expression on her face. Desperately needed to know that his words, he didn't mean them, he didn't mean to, this he can confess, he can drag himself into the mud for —

His fists clench. Damn her. Damn them all. ]

Just go. Go. You are a specter. And I am not your son.

[ ii. "It's just another night at the Vampire Club." ]

[ Loki still isn't a fan of parties, despite hosting one many months ago. And he's never been a fan of mingling, getting to know people . . . It was an act. It's an act he has mastered, could play beyond compare. Though Loki does appreciate the morbid tone it sets. He dons an outfit similar to his armor, but more soft fabric than sharp, tight leather. And then he does what Loki does best.

Add a little mischief. The punch is slightly more alcoholic than before, a few costumes seem to be the wrong colour. And Loki finds himself a seat so he can watch as chaos unfolds. ]

[ iii. you kept me hanging on a string. ]

[ Okay, maybe Loki has missed the point of this escape room business. It is clearly some form of bonding exercise. He assumes. He stifles a yawn as he flicks his fingers, hiding another clue. Maybe someone will lose their patience and eventually strangle him.

One can hope. ]

Hell truly is other people.

[ v. wildcard! pm me or hit me up on captainkink for a prompt. ]

[ikols]

[ One thing could drive him from his self-imposed grieving over the loss of Tony and it follows him when he teleports; it hurries in his wake as he stalks the street the signal his warding gave off; it stares at the ghost of a dead Freyja, momentarily distracted as Loki takes his twin's arm to steer him away.

The phantom Boy has no pupils, eyes black as the void as he shimmers with green deadlight. ]

Come along, keep moving. They'll follow.

Hiccup Haddock | HTTYD

[thisisamazing]

[IA. Ghosts, City of Riverview]
[The shopping district is bustling. A lot of places are selling costumes and masks for the feasts, others are buying sweet treats. It would be nice, if it weren't for the spectral visitors wandering aimlessly through the crowd or screaming the voiceless screams of the damned. Hiccup hasn't run into any that can affect the physical world yet, but even the incorporeal spirits are unnerving. Toothless walks at Hiccup's side, crouched a little low to the ground, mouth pulled back in a teeth-baring snarl.

He apparently does not like this ghost thing. Not at all.

Hiccup rests a hand on his scaly head, right between his ear fins, and murmurs soothingly,] I know, bud, but they can't hurt us. We're alright.

[IB. Ghosts, By the River]
[Hiccup and Toothless haven't been residents of Riverview for very long, but the dragon tends to attract attention. His video on the network had been proof of that; most worlds, it seemed, didn't have dragons at all, or only had vicious dragons. It's a nice, cool evening when they fly out to the riverside for some time away. A bustling modern city is a huge change from even busy, advanced (relatively speaking) Berk.

It's quieter out here, besides the ghosts. Sat up against the thick trunk of a tree, overlooking the water, Hiccup has one leg stretched out, the other drawn up to rest his sketchbook on his knee. He's putting charcoal to paper, scratching away, drawing all sorts of things across the pages. Toothless is down at the water, crouched and staring alertly. Occasionally he strikes, quick as a snake, and pulls a wriggling fish from the water to chomp on with enthusiasm.

A small group of ghosts mingle aimlessly across the river on the opposite bank, drifting, lost. Hiccup keeps glancing up from his sketchbook, eyeing the spirits with a curious frown.] I wonder what they want...

[III. Escape Room]
[This is one of those physical escape rooms. Hiccup was absolutely not ready for anything like 'virtual reality', but to sate his curiosity, he picks one of the normal ones from a flyer. Loosely premised on a hostage situation of some sort, it promises challenging puzzles and the adrenaline rush of trying to beat the clock.

He leaves Toothless at home for the evening (it's likely to be too stressful for him, even Hiccup being in simulated danger), the dragon safe enough in the common room of floor one, and he's standing outside the repurposed warehouse space waiting for a partner or a group.] Are you looking for someone to do it with?

[V. Wildcard]
[Come up with another scenario or hit me up on plurk at nekky for a custom starter.]

IB. hey, like the game~!

[de_evilise]

[ Technically she probably should have stayed home because... well, she was still recovering. But she had gotten bored and wanted to get some air, so she wandered outside - mildly disturbed by the sight of the ghosts around the city. She doesn't draw too close to Hiccup, out of politeness, but she does stare first at the curious looking dragon, wondering if it was with the other boy, before looking at Hiccup himself. ]

I'm not sure, but they don't seem to be trying to hurt anyone. Maybe they just..can't move on?

Shiro | Voltron: Legendary Defender

[lionunchained]

Ghosts from the Past

[This festival was more than Shiro wanted to think about really. No, he wasn't afraid of death, but he already knew that walking into some of those other things was too much for him to handle so he wouldn't even chance it. He didn't need to have an issue here in Riverview from his time in the Galra prison.

But it didn't seem like he could completely escape everything, no matter how hard he tried. Out and about in Riverview with Black, he was starting to see some "people" who didn't seem like they were really there. It was unnerving, clearly being able to see through.

He had to take a break from this, sitting down on a bench and pressing his head into his hands. After a few moments, he felt Black nudge his shoulder and looked up. Sitting beside him on the bench was Ulaz definitely not all there, looking back at him. Shiro just continued to watch him for a bit, the Galra looking back at him.

Finally as someone alive walked by, Shiro's gaze shifted to them]

I'm not the only one seeing this right?

[bunnyhopped]

[ Hana hadn't really had a chance to celebrate Halloween before. It wasn't as big in Korea as it was in America, and— a twenty-year war made it kind of difficult to be festive, especially in a way that celebrated death when there was already so much of it happening the rest of the year. So she'd ventured out, thinking that this month's festival would line up pretty nicely with what she'd known about the holiday from home...

But the fact that 'The greater your fear of death, the easier it is for death to find you,' seemed to be the festival's mantra made it a little unsettling for her. Because no matter how brave or strong she was on the battlefront— she was, very plainly, afraid of dying, and it was hard to distract herself from that fear when this festival seemed to focus on anything but the supposed fun parts of Halloween like pumpkins and cute costumes and candy—

and when there were literal ghosts floating about.

She was on her way back from the feast, having had her fill of spooky room and escapes and courage - and it wasn't even nighttime, yet. She was making the trek back to her apartment, even taking the long way around because she the quickest way back would take her through some really crowded areas - areas that were normally crowded to begin with but now were populated by spectral beings, too, which coincidentally brought her to one Black Lion and its Paladin.

And a guest.

Hana stopped just a few paces away in her costume from the party - albeit less glowy, not involving magma at all - and her voice was hesitant and tentative when she called out to him. ]

Shiro...?

Steve Rogers | Marvel 616 | ota

[livingsymbol]

i. ghosts from the past

[ The last thing Steve wants is to be visited by ghosts. He's lucky for a while, only encountering some vague shadows that seem to be from Riverview's past. Sad, lingering spirits that look a lot like soldiers to Steve, many of them ragtag and desperate. Young men and women from countless worlds that were trying to protect their lives from invading forces. He leaves small offerings for them and they seem to be comforted by his respect, allowing him to keep them company for a time before fading again.

When his luck runs out, Steve's entire demeanor changes. He's stalking down the street like an angry lion, determined not to look in any other direction. Floating several feet behind him, a specter leers, teeth baring wide in blood red and emaciated in appearance, emphasizing the look of a ghoul. Much of the time he's silent, content to be a nasty shadow on Steve's heels, but now and then he'll mutter, speaking with oily tones that make the blond's expression tighten even more. ]

You don't belong here. When this is over, you won't be sticking around, so save us both the time and just leave now.

iii. escape room

[ In an effort to participate in the festival's lighter side and shake off his own bad feelings, Steve decides to try out the escape rooms. It's teamwork and strategy, his favorite kinds of challenges, so he actually ends up in a better mood while the game goes on. He ends up trying most of them, going from one to the other like a lot of people bar-hop, checking them off as he finishes each. The physical rooms are safer, but he likes helping his group solve the puzzles and is pretty impressed by the worksmanship of the setup. the VR provide the added challenge of pain, but those take some getting used to. Still, Steve is smiling. ]

It's like a ride.

[ A ride that makes you work. Of course he'd be into it. ]

iv. test of courage

[ One of the nights, Steve <>has to do a test of courage. He acts like it's some Boy Scout camping trip, bringing along snacks and a sleeping bag along with his flashlight. While most of the locals only really plan on staying for a few hours for this particular test, Steve has heard he can stay overnight to really get the experience. He's already set on doing just that before he's even seen the spooks or had anything happen, which might very well come back to bite him later. But for the moment, he's happy to be there. ]

Who wants to look around? I'd like to check out the basement.

iv.

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Bucky packed less for this little excursion, in that he's only got a sleeping bag and a heavy flashlight, but he's also armed to the teeth with two handguns and a knife in his boot. He's operating under the hope that these will be physical ghosts and he can just re-kill them. That's a thing, right? Either way he's here for the night, as long as Steve is. Should be interesting.]

Of course you want to check out the basement. [He says dryly, flicking his flashlight up to shine briefly in Steve's eyes, before he points it to the doorway again.] Alright, let's see what's what.

Ginko | Mushishi | OTA

[tenthousandmiles]

i. going going ghost

[The appearance of the ghosts doesn't unsettle Ginko, who's always been able to perceive those beings with ambiguous existences, that inhabited the far boundaries of what could be considered "living." He wonders, at first, if it might be an influx of mushi, since some could take on a humanlike form. Perhaps some of them are. At any rate, it doesn't take him long to figure out that they were all once human.

He'd heard, when he'd arrived, that the portal drew in those who needed a home. That might have something to do with it, he thinks...drawing in those lost souls, unable to move on. And Ginko is only human, unable to offer them any true solace or answer any of their questions, but he sits with them. Lets them talk to him about their lives, their families, their deaths, as long as they want. He's good at that, listening.

Maybe you pass by during one of these times. Maybe you panic and freeze on the spot, or immediately start backing away. Maybe you do neither of those things, but linger a little hesitantly, as if unsure whether to approach. When Ginko catches your eye, he offers a reassuring smile.]

Don't be afraid. They won't hurt you.

ii. that which is lost ;; ghosts part two electric boogaloo

[In all of this, there's one ghost that stands out. A woman with the same striking coloring as Ginko himself--stark white hair like freshly fallen snow, and a single eye, the crisp green of tree leaves in spring.

He doesn't recognize her, of course--the memory of their time together sacrificed to the Tokoyami that now lives in the void where his left eye once was--but there's a pull, a nagging familiarity that's never more than tatters in the wind. She doesn't know him either, of course -- a full-grown man having replaced the small child she'd taken in for a time, but she knows what it means for him to look like her, and she lingers around him, as if wanting to ask a question, but not able to strengthen her presence enough to do so.]

...I don't remember you, [he admits to the lingering spirit at last] I'm sorry.

iii. guess who's not coming to dinner ;; feast of the dying

[See Ginko. See Ginko in his boring regular clothes showing up to the festival and getting his ass kicked out for not adhering to the spirit of the holiday. See Ginko completely at a loss because he has never in his life been to a masquerade or anything comparable.]

...Yare, yare.

[He lets out a sigh and lights one of his mushi cigarettes, taking a drag before he turns to get something to eat elsewhere, when -- lucky you, you just so happen to be planning to enter the feast yourself.]

Excuse me, [he calls, raising an arm to signal your attention before getting in your path]

You're going to this festival, right? Could you tell me where I could get a "costume" like this?

[Look okay, the best kind of food is always "free," especially when you've spent most of your life being a homeless drifter by necessity.]

i

[chumpelstiltskin]

[Granted, Dave has made great process with his looming fears of death and human mortality, but he's by no means adept at this sort of situation. He doesn't like the constant reminder of loss (because he's had a lot of it) and he can't seem to settle around the specters (because it's freaky as fuck).

He's a little less jumpy around them then he could be, but occasionally he can't help but freeze on the spot and stare helplessly when presented with a particularly sad looking ghost. His two biggest weaknesses are death and his inability to muddle through meaningful conversations and he's really feeling them right now.

When Ginko talks, Dave snaps out of it to look over at him. Momentarily, he thinks he's a ghost too, but eventually comes to realise he's most likely alive too.]

Are you a ghost whisperer or something? The Riverview Medium?

Laura / X-23-23 | OTA | (sad crap, then less sad crap) warnings for slight gore

[shoplifter]

Ghosts from the past | THE SAD OPTIONS

(Wish you were here.)

[Laura was the 23rd child created in Transigen. There were plenty before her, and many, many children who came after her. And yet despite this, only a little over a dozen of them had made it to Eden. She had hoped a lot of them simply scattered, were lost across the states, that perhaps their nurses weren't captured or hurt. Of course, she steeled herself for the possibility that they were dead. And she'd dealt with the feelings that came with that as they happened before shelving them away.

She had Rictor and the others, after all. She was relieved any of them made it at all. And, selfishly, she was relieved the ones that did survive where many of the ones she had been close to. She didn't secretly bond with any of the youngest the same way as those near her age. Those who could think for themselves fully.

It's harder, though, when she walks and sometimes a little line of children ghost behind her, as if she's the leader of the walking centipede of sorts, leading them through lab hallways that no longer imprison them. She tries not to pay them any attention, but one may find that coming to visit her will yield that strange, expressionless line of kids, all of them prepubescent and round-faced and skinny kid limbs. One is easily just two, sucking his fingers and staring with dark skin and piercing, colorful eyes.

That one, he never even got a name made. He was just a number.

She does her best to ignore her followers, though there's plenty of unsettling emotion hidden in the deep dark recesses of her head. She doesn't want to think about how she survived when so many mutants did not.

Charles is harder, though.

She stops and steps toward him hesitantly, and it's easy to tell he's not real. He has blood on his chest but he's smiling softly in her direction, and his hand always extends like he's offering to take her away to the afterlife; to a better place, she thinks, somewhere she hopes may have an ocean and a boat. "C-come Laura, está bien, come along, it's alright," is what he usually says, and sometimes -- sometimes when she thinks people aren't around and it's just her and Charles, she does reach out slowly, tempted to take his hand. She'd love to actually see him again, speak with him, just her and him in their minds.

She never does reach his hand before she retreats back, though. He just keeps saying the same thing.

Gabriela appears sometimes, too. Her nurse -- the person who loved her when she wasn't even sure what love was. Some part of her feels... bad. She hadn't understood for a long time, what she had done for the children when she could, where she could... Laura could not say she loved her as deeply back, because she wasn't allowed to. She was patented, and patented things don't love others. Gabriela just smiles, dark smudges under her eyes, hair in greasy strings around a sweaty face. Laura had ran away, just as Gabriela had told her. And she paid a price.

The hunkered, tired man that she sees last -- knew she'd see -- is the most troubling of all. Logan. Wolverine. James Howlett. She finds him when she walks to leave the feast of the dying. It's the outskirts, near a quiet, wooded place, a place that reminds her all too well of the forest she fled through in North Dakota, into Canada. He's standing with his claws drawn, a gaping, sucking wound in his torso. He's a bloody and pale-skinned sight, a mess of stab wounds. Her expression crumples... gives in, just a little... and she wipes angrily at her eyes, and then more sadly still.

She's so angry at him. She's so furious, she'd punch him fifty times if she knew she could.

And she's so -- sad.]

... Daddy...

[All she can do is stand there and wipe at her face, trying to find composure where every glance at him diminishes it.

Feel free to run into her during any point of these many ghosts.]

iv. tests of courage | THE NOT SO SAD ONE



[Where you expecting an even longer expository and depressing prompt?

Don't worry, this one is entirely straight forward -- Laura steps into the different locations for the tests of courage, not for herself, but to go inside and make sure none of you motherfuckers are getting yourselves hurt or killed in there. She's got plenty of liquid courage to go drag any sorry asses out of there that regret their life choices.

Basically, this is a wildcard -- feel free to tag in with where you've stupidly decided to be brave, and she'll come wandering over to keep you company. Or what have you. Claws'll come out at the sight of flying books and vases. Wildcard up in this bitch. And okay, sure, she's using this as a way to avoid her own ghosts; sue her.]

ghosts!

[spellslots]

[At first, Taako sees Laura with her little gaggle of followers and doesn't realize the other kids are ghosts. It isn't until one of them accidentally passes through a planter on the sidewalk that reality clicks, and then he's just... kind of sad. His first instinct is to leave, because he doesn't want to intrude or like, have to potentially deal with a sad child? But then he reminds himself that she's just a little kid, and makes his way over to her.]

Hey, pumpkin.

Stephen Strange | Marvel 616 | OTA

[suckstobestrange]

i. And god will never rest my soul

[It wasn't always obvious.

Sometimes it would just be Stephen alone, the only hint at something off the tension in the set of his shoulders as he walked. Nothing was wrong, everything was fine. His breaths didn't come in small puffs of cold, the people he passed didn't shiver as they crossed in his wake.

The sound of splashing water where there was none to be found, or the scent of burning rubber, the squeal of brakes nowhere near a street that made the sorcerer flinch to hear.

Other moments though it was plain. Especially when there were reflections to catch the sorcerer's eye, or a turn to let him catch a glimpse in his perephrial vison no matter how he was trying to ignore them, the teenage girl in a striped swimsuit and shorts, bare feet leaving wet footprints for all she was not even solid, and the one barely into manhood both if one was observant holding resemblance to each other as well as the sorcerer they stubbornly trailed after, hand in hand. All he could do was ignore them. Ignore the dark-eyed stares, ignore the soft bone-dry rustle of whispers that at times the spirits almost seemed to be chasing him with.

how could you-

help me-

your doing-

why-

This was one festival Stephen could very much do without.]


v. Down in this Iowa dirt so cold

[Anyone who wants something else with Stephen feel free to drop a starter! Hit me up if you'd like me to write one out or if you'd like to plot something out!]

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki catches Stephen's shoulders as the man nearly collides into him with a frown. The stench of magic was everywhere and he knew his mother would be close on his heels, but for now, Loki was himself, unchained by regret and pain. ]

Stephen.

Mordred | The Legend of King Arthur (AU)

[eternalmagic]

.I. Ghosts from the Past
[Mordred is very much looking forward to the festivities. This time of year -- across many planets, apparently -- the changing of the seasons means a shift in the air, a time of year when the veil grows thin. It sends a ripple of magic through the ether; for hundreds of years, he's sifted his hands through that current and rejuvenated himself, and he has no intention of missing the chance now.

Unfortunately, the spirits of the dead are ahead of the game.

He is doing some last-minute review of the large maps and lunar calendars available at Gramarye, but he's not alone. Wispy forms surround him -- sometimes clearly visible, sometimes little more than smoke, but all different across an abundance of cultures and eras. A few of them are bold enough to approach him. Others hang back, uneasy.

Murderer. I died because of you.]

Yes, I know. You deserved it. Now keep it down.

[Was it worth it? comes another hiss. Did you get what you wanted, demon?

Mordred raises an eyebrow at the lunar charts.] Unfortunately not, but I'd do it again if it came to it.

[Heartless. Soulless. Your hands are stained with blood. You deserve your hell.

Mordred heaves an aggravated sigh, but doesn't bother sparing the specters a glance.] You are not the ghosts that haunt me. Leave on your own or be banished -- it's all the same to me.


.II. The Feast of the Dying
suit | vest 1 | vest 2 | mask

This is his jam.

It may not be Samhain, but there's no reason to waste a good harvest festival, regardless of the culture or customs it represents. And despite what his generally reclusive nature might suggest, Mordred has a flare for showing off when the time is right -- and if he isn't in a position to leave an impression with magic, then looking damn good on a fancy occasion is an acceptable substitute.

With that in mind, he's attending the masquerade dressed to the nines in a black suit and waistcoat with a touch of Victorian gothic. Not a costume as such, but it's clear from the second he walks in that he's not the only one who opted out of the more obvious efforts.

He steals himself a drink early on, and is happy to observe, every so often catching a friend or two to admire their presentation. If his magic is adding anything to the atmosphere... well, who can say for sure if the room gets darker just by walking past him, or if the whispers past your ear are real or imagined?]


.V. Wildcard
[PM or surprise me, I'm down.]

[ i ]

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki watches with no small curiosity in his gaze (and completely unabashed about it. Just because he would gut anyone who saw his private business does not mean he holds himself to the same standards). Once Mordred dismisses them, there's something akin to approval. ]

Don't let them clutter up my halls.

Shigeru Miyata | ota!

[mysophobic]

i. give up the ghost

[ Shigeru has been seeing and hearing lots of different things lately. Mainly ghosts, and while none of thus far have been people from home, he sort of expected to see someone eventually. It just so happens he's walking through the streets when he sees the ghost of none other than Klein. Klein died by Jern and Shigeru's last moments were him being forced to touch his dead body. Safe to say the look on his face is telling enough that he was not prepared to see Klein, he probably never would be really. He might clap a gloved hand over his mouth as he darts into the nearest alleyway. He looks like he's going to be sick and his breathing is really shaky at best. He'll just close his eyes as he tries to remember the mantra he made for himself when Genji went over meditation with him. ]

ii. feasting festivities

[ Shigeru will be attending the feast because it helps with his phobia and it also allows him to meet and mingle with people a bit more. Though the costume he was given, or suggested to wear, is hardly inviting for conversation. He doesn't understand why they offered this to him when he was having trouble figuring out a costume but he just took it on a whim and now he's slightly regretting his life choices. But it was covering his entire body so...that's a plus?!

He might be wandering the various hallways and rooms of the conference center but given the fact that he's mute he might just look like a creepy actor wandering around?! He's really sorry if he scares anyone unintentionally as he walks up to your character and holds out his phone for them to read. ]

They really did a great job with this place, didn't they!

[ Shigeru...no. ]

wildcard (1) pumpkin bonanza

[ So has been reading up on the Earth holiday known as Halloween and so...he is quite interested in the pumpkin carving aspect of things. He might be carrying a few rather large pumpkins in his hands as he waddles down the street, trying to not bump into anyone, and also just trying to look around for inspiration. He's really dead set on carving them and that's what he's gonna do. He's read all the tips and tricks to doing it so he's going to give it a shot and he might even given people someone if they so desire.

So at some point you can find him in the less populated parts of the park, because people were starting to stare and he's just not used to that?! But there is good reason for the staring since his pumpkins are rather eyecatching and just plain gorgeous. He seems to be enjoying himself as he bobs to a tune inside his head as he works on a few more. ]


wildcard (2)

[ Feel free to think up any other scenarios you'd like to do! You can reach me at pathogenic for any plotting~ ]

wildcard 1

[scholiast]

(Lucretia is picking her way through the quieter parts of the park too; she's on a bit of an inspiration walk. Her art has felt so flat and uninspired lately and she knows that this is probably a result of her recent stress but it's always nice to get outside and take a break, let the mind wander. Perhaps she can draw creativity from Quarantine's new colour palette: the deep golds, reds and oranges that appear with the changing of the leaves.

As luck would have it, she ends up finding inspiration elsewhere entirely: with Shigeru, and his small collection of pumpkins. She stops curiously to wander toward them, hands in her pockets.)

These are fantastic, (she says, after a moment's pause to better admire the craftsmanship.)

x'rhun tia | ffxiv | ota

[verflair]

i. for those friends that I have lost | contains minor SPOILERS for FFXIV: Stormblood and the red mage questline

[ X'rhun is familiar with celebrations of the dead. On Hydaelyn, All Saints' Wake is held around this time as well, and he can see that many of the traditions are the same.

What is not at all familiar is the fact that there are actual ghosts.

By and large, X'rhun has made peace with much of his past. There are things that hunt him, certainly, but nothing he wouldn't admit to when asked. So when he catches his first glimpse of a figure I red out of the corner of his eye, he has to wonder what it is his old comrades want with him.

It seems they want peace, and nothing more.

Over the course of the week, X'rhun can be seen in the presence of an ever changing rotation of specters, men and women both. Some of them are miqo'te, like him, others are human, others still are hulking roegadyn nearing seven feet in height, broad and muscular. The only thing they all have in common is their wardrobe. Like X'rhun, they all wear the uniform of the Crimson Duelists.

They approach X'rhun almost tentatively, and regardless of how many times he's said it before, there's no less joy in his tone when he declares, ]

We won, my friend. Ala Mhigo is free.

[ Sometimes the ghosts vanish after just those words, sometimes they stick around and X'rhun can be found chatting with them over a drink or as they walk down the street.

The only exception is a young human male with blond hair and blue eyes. In contrast to the others, his uniform is deep purple, his expression sour. X'rhun usually pays him no mind, but now and then he'll remark blandly, ]

I don't know what you're doing following me around, Lambard. Surely you have a better way to spend the eternal damnation you've no doubt earned.

ii. may I have this dance?

[ X'rhun is a bit too old to be dressing up for All Saints' Wake, or equivalents thereof, but he will never turn down an opportunity to dress in unnecessarily fancy clothes and go out on the town for a bit.

He's wearing more black than red, in contrast to his usual, but there's no mistaking it's him in the ornate suit, with a simple mask. No hat, which means his ears are free, and his hair is swept back into a short ponytail, with a simple black and red feather pin in place to keep his bangs held back.

One of the many ballrooms seems to be his stomping ground of choice, and he sweeps up to whoever happens to be milling around with an elegant bow. ]

Care to join me for a dance?

[ You don't have to, of course. X'rhun is always up for conversation or a drink, or maybe both. ]

v. anything else?

[ Wildcard! Hit me up with ghost prompts, party prompts, or general holiday shenanigans! I'm available at exposition if you wanna plot something out! ]

ii

[thisisamazing]

[Hiccup isn't exactly wearing a costume, but most people tend to think his normal clothes and armor pieces are a 'period-accurate Viking' costume anyway. He hasn't corrected them. He has, however, put on his flight helmet to serve as a mask. It's... slightly holiday-appropriate, with the spikes and the full facial covering.

He's wandering through the ballroom taking in the sights with wonder and curiosity, though when he's stopped and asked to dance, he laughs nervously.]

I'm, uh. I'm not much of a dancer, sorry. [He motions down to the metal-and-wooden prosthetic leg.]

Beverly Crusher | OTA

[dancingmd]

i. ghosts from the past
It’s innocuous enough, at first. The faint whisper in the dark, a cold brush of air against her cheek: things she can easily dismiss as her imagination getting the better of her, especially alone in her apartment at night. But the whispering becomes more persistent and the chill deepens as the days go on. She’s heard tales of ghosts from other residents, but of course, there’s no such thing… right? It’s simply that time of year when spooky stories abound.

Except one evening, she’s taking a stroll along the river, and there’s the voice again, only this time, it calls out to her, clear and distinct:

Beverly.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end. She knows that voice, she’d know it anywhere, doesn’t matter if it’s been 17 years or 170. Impossible, she thinks. Yet there are few things in her life that proved to be so.

She turns. “Hello? Is someone there?”

ii. the feast of the dying (but also still ghosts)
By the end of the week, Jack Crusher become more than a voice. He’s taken on a more visible form, like an old, old hologram: a faded and untouchable version of reality. He’s as handsome as she remembers, except for the jagged wound running down half his face and cutting across his throat. As ghosts go, he’s relatively unobtrusive, seemingly content just to be near her, never demanding answers or revenge, as he needs neither.

The only thing he asks is, Just one more dance?

“Oh, Jack…”

Please. Then I’ll go.

And so that’s how she ends up here tonight at the Feast of the Dying with a ghost for a dance partner. Strange, yet fitting. And with the fog and the dark, maybe no one notices anyway. She holds up a palm to Jack. They cannot clasp hands anymore but he presses his palm to hers as best he can, sending an unpleasant cold throughout her body. No matter though. It’s the chance to say goodbye that they never had before. They stay off to the side of the dance floor, their conversation soft and somber as they sway.

The song draws to a close and he begins to fade away, feet first, until there’s nothing left but a voice, I love you. Then he’s gone, gone and she’s left standing with tears pouring down her face behind her mask. With a deep shuddering breath, she disappears into the crowd, desperate to find a more private space for her grief. Eventually, she ends up outside the dance hall, back pressed against the wall as she tries to compose herself.

v. wildcard!
She won't be doing any tests of courage (other than maybe taking care of you if you get hurt) but anything else is a-okay!

2

[scholiast]

(Lucretia, lingering on the outskirts of the room with a drink in hand might not have noticed Beverly and her ghostly companion at all if she hadn't taken a seat to people watch: as it is, after a moment she spots the two slowly revolving in a corner together. The sight gives her pause. It's the way that they're trying to touch despite being unable to coupled with the insight she has into Beverly's past that tells her this is a moment best left uninterrupted. She even manages not to spy even though she's deeply curious, glancing back only as the song ends. She misses Jack's slow disappearance, but a couple of witch lights pass through the low hanging fog as the music starts up again, illuminating Beverly's tear streaked face as she pushes slowly through the crowd. Lucretia's heart sinks.

Abandoning her drink she follows, picking her way across the hall in careful pursuit. Beverly leads the both of them outside, and that's where Lucretia finds her, her back against the wall.)

Beverly, (she says as she approaches, unsure if it's okay to touch. Lucretia's very sure she knows exactly who the ghost had been after all, and perhaps Beverly wants to be alone to deal with this? Still, she at least wants her to know that she's here, should she need a hand to hold.

Her brow is furrowed, expression soft, unjudging.)

Are you okay?

Lup | OTA

[umbrastaff]

II

[In some of the Feasts, an unusual floating ghost in a red robe can be seen, often hovering near a door or checking out the decor. If you come closer, you can see a hint of a dark skeleton under the red robe, surrounded by an outline of illusory fire to create the shape of a certain mischievous elf twin.

Everything was spooky this month, and some wasn't spooky by choice as much as fate.

She doesn't do much conversation unless prompted, as Lup is often confused for a decoration or another wandering ghost. Honestly, she doesn't really care. She's here to look at costumes and eavesdrop, since she can't drink or eat or even touch anything with her own hands.

(Thank fuck for magic.)

Unfortunately, a few times when she moves to a new place, she ends up accidentally passing through people. Sorry about that!]

III

[The escape rooms were kind of a weird idea to her at first, but eventually she just started coming along with other people just to alleviate her boredom. Not being able to use a flesh body meant she couldn't really interact with things like she used to, so Lup had to find new ways to entertain herself.

If she was extra bored and a little on the mischievous side, sometimes she even floated into a group already in session and looking over their heads like the scariest backseat driver.]

Try the book over there already!

ii.

[imperceptus]

[ Oh, well. That's a new and horrible sensation. Rin doesn't jump, exactly, but his eyes do widen as Lup passes right through all of his very much living organs. A chill clutches his stomach, and then he clutches his stomach, turning on his heel to face her--or whatever she's become. ]

What in the nine fucking hells happened to you?

Re-L Mayer | OTA

[realimperfect]

i. ghosts from the past

[ Re-L has, really, gotten off too easily on her time in Riverview so far. Nothing too terrible to deal with, nothing incredible to make note of past a few days of discomfort and wasted time when she'd been put in glowing bubbles with others, or woken up in strange beds, typically pushing the other occupant out. So it sort of makes sense in the month of spooky problems that she, finally, meets her match, so to speak. Walking the streets she experiences stronger and stronger sensations that she isn't alone, goosebumps rising on pale skin that often give her a moment of pause as she looks around, tries to spot whatever or whoever is watching or following her...

a. Things start spooky, but not too hard to ignore, quiet whispers flittering on the edge of her consciousness, a familiar voice. At first she doesn't even think to be spooked by the sound of Iggy's voice, in fact slightly warmed by the familiar tones that she'd spent so much time and care in customizing. a voice she'd spent almost every waking moment with since she could remember. It's over the next few hours that the soft, calm voice of Re-L's former entourage becomes more broken, like a toy running out of batteries, a broken voice recording that skips and stumbles.

Re - - L -

Her visible agitation probably seems no different than if she'd had a hard day at work, at this point, a deep furrow running between dark brows as she carries on with her day, not wanting these strange happenings to squash what little productivity she may be able to get.

b. ... But then the astral image of Iggy's mangled, sooty head, with trailing wires, begins to appear. At first the sight of it freezes her in her tracks, every damn time, the disbelief and horror all too real and visceral all over again. She's spent months, by now, without her once-constant companion, and despite the fact that she's actually had the time, in her world, to mourn him...

The sight of that head doesn't make it any easier. Soon she finds herself almost literally running from the voice that seems to follow her, repeating everything she's played over in her head nearly thousands of time already like a mocking chorus as she goes, more and more visibly upset and disturbed by the angry spirit following her:

' Look what you've done to me.'

'A woman like you isn't worth protecting.'

'What were you my master? You, of all people!'

Anyone on her path that tries to stop her escape for home will be shaken off or flicked away with an impatient motion, lips drawn back in a painful line, almost as though she's holding back either getting sick, tears, or maybe both : ]

I'm fine - just - let me go, I can't -

[ c Unfortunately, for Re-L, running and hiding isn't an option. At least not before the head of her autoreiv taunts her with increasingly angry tones, her voice following, louder, even as she attempts to twist her way in to well hidden crevices in the Quarantine's streets and alleyways. The mechanical voice oscillates wildly between irate and tender, and Re-L's gut can't help but feel hopeful every time Iggy's voice reverts back to the softer tones, the why he intones a soft -

'Re-L..' between his angrier sermons -

'It was hard for me...' Another hard left - find somewhere to take some kind of refuge and get her head back on her shoulders, hopefully away from prying eyes -

'But I wanted to be with you, no matter what.

I suffered for so long, Re-L.. ' Tears well along with all of her regrets involving Iggy anew, fingers desperately trying to ind her ears in an attempt to block it all out. It's like a torture, hearing everything that she'd done wrong to her longest friend, all over again, as if she hadn't held that heavy automated head in her lap, heard him, over and over again, and then... done him a last justice a thousand times over in her mind. Regret isn't something that Re-L Mayer often experiences, or indulges in, but when it came to Iggy... she was near over flowing with it. How she hadn't seen that he'd been infected, how she'd managed to be so cruel in his eyes when she'd just been trying to do what she needed to, see what she needed to see - to forget about her oldest friend in such a way that had been so absolutely horrible.

'It's your fault, you good-for-nothing bitch!'

It was, and she couldn't deny it. Everything regarding Iggy had been, but the coup de grace - well, that comes in a bit of a softer tone.

'Please, Re-L. Don't hate me.'

The sounds are obvious enough for anyone who's been following or.. at least keeping an eye on her from before. Even Re-L Mayer can't hide the fact that she's crying in to her hands, not with the cover of a shadowy spot, her hair tented around her face, or long fingers woven together as if they're a shield from the world. She's likely to be more thorny than usual if approached, as well. ]

sad tony | open

[inebriety]

i (i'm cheating they all have ghosts)
[Tony's no stranger to hallucinations, Anthony staring up at him as he huddles as close as he can to Tony attests to that. He's also not surprised that Anthony is reacting to the ghosts, the boy lives as a mass in his head after all. What is surprising is what ghosts his mind has conjured. If he had to guess, he would have expected Jan or Hank, not his father constantly reminding him of his obligations.

'I made you my heir for a reason, are you going to let Gregory's resentment go to waste?'

He doesn't acknowledge the words or his presence, going about his day to day life as if none of this was happening.]

ii
[There's a sizeable number of empty bottles surrounding Tony as he's taken full advantage of the free flowing drinks. It's a lot even by his standards and it's all due to the ghostly teen that sits across from him. Pale and bloodied, Peter Parker sits in his tattered costume smiling ruefully at Tony.

'Do you think I'd still be alive if you actually trained me like you were supposed to, Mr. Stark?'

This is one ghost he can't just ignore and his glass slips from his hands to smash on the floor while he cradles his head.]

You're not actually here, you're in Valhalla. Thor promised me you were.

iv
[To get away from the ghosts of people he knows, Tony decides to partake in the Test of Courage so he can surround himself with ghosts of people he doesn't know instead. It's almost soothing to only have to watch for physical dangers.

Or so he thought until he smells burning flesh and hand at his back pushing him down a long flight of stairs. Luckily he manages to hook an arm around the handrail so he only stumbles a few steps. But it's with horror that he turns around to face the charred remains of his twin brother.]

I didn't mean to, I only wanted to stop you. I didn't know he'd do that.

[What remains of Gregory's face sneers at him and the smell of his burnt flesh is overwhelming. Tony can't bring himself to move and can only watch as Greg approaches.]

ii

[worldsaway]

[Thor doesn't immediately notice the ghost, because Thor is preoccupied both by the sound of a smashing glass and hearing his name from Tony.

Concerned, he approaches and crouches in front of the other man, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.]

You look ill, Tony. Have you had your fill for the evening? [Tony's binge drinking is definitely something Thor has noticed, but it's difficult to account for how much is too much. Of course, he hates to make him feel babied, so he tries not to act too concerned.]

Do I need to carry you home already?

Jason Todd - Open

[hititwithacrowbar]

ii - It's A Deadman's Party
Jason almost hadn't come to the feast, but free food and a chance to mingle with people he didn't nessisarily know was always a fun idea. He had pondered many ideas of what to dress as for this party, standing long in front of the mirror in each. Before he just defaulted back to the Red Death, it was just as funny to him now as it was when he first arrived. He no longer had the old masqurade mask, so a new one was fitted in place. Over the red and black shirt and vest black suit slacks and his new black fancy suit shoes. The floor length red cape had been fitted in place before he had headed to the party.

At any given point once Jason arrived he could be found at the feast tables, or walking around admiring the decor, ever now and then he would stop someone and compliment their outfits or recommed a dish with the simple words of "It's to die for." he was mostly ghosting around this time, playing up his role as observant death.

vi - Tonight on Fear Factor!
He knew it was a stupid thing to do, going into a haunted house with his history, but being told it was a test of courage he had been all about it when he first walked in. That had been about an hour before. Since then the hairs on his arms and back of his neck had risen. His skin was crawling, everything felt wrong and yet, he still refused to leave yet. Seeing ghastly scenes played out before him he forced himself to stand still.

Nothing beyond that had happened to him yet but he didn't like this place, it was sheer stubbornness that kept him from leaving.

V - Wild card

Dave Strider | Homestuck

[chumpelstiltskin]

[i. ghosts]
[As soon as Dave discovers the spiritual events to come, he's about ready to call out of work and hide in the house until it's over. Sure, he's had some cool adventures, learned some things about himself and died more than a few times (technically) himself but he's still not ready for this sort of emotional shake down. Mortality is confronting and he's seen a lot of goddamn death. A ridiculous amount. The walking reminders are not something he's really interested in participating in.

He hides for a few days, but comes to realise that living beings require food and socialization. There's only so much of him that John can endure, he's sure, so he slaps on a hoodie and heads out into the city to stock up.

Initially, he's able to tolerate the dead randos floating around. Annoying? Yes. Creepy? Yes. Chilling? Yes.. Okay, there's not much good about them, but he doesn't feel like he's about to piss himself and he considers that an incredible bonus. Eventually, he starts to see a flash of a ghost more familiar
than the rest. He can't seem to catch sight of it long enough to identify it, so he pushes onward and resists the urge to run home like he desperately needs to shit.

Memories of a brother with a knack for scaring him are flooding back. All his childhood paranoia of puppets appearing out of nowhere are hitting him. Nowhere is safe. Not the bed, not the couch, but places full of people.. maybe?

Dave makes it through the grocery store and decides to embrace the day. He's already out, he'll just walk the long way. He's not walking the long way because he's scared of being followed, that would be ridiculous. The odd flash of a ghost hasn't stopped, and he's starting to wise up. He obviously just needs to act calm, take a sip of AJ and the ghost will realise he's not playing along with these shenanigans.

After a small pause with no sightings, Dave proudly decides he's gotten the better of the ghost. He steps forward, a proud man, but a tickle on his neck has him leaping forward and shrieking like someone half his age or less. He grabs at the back of his neck in horror, as if totally unaware that he's in public, feeling for... a leaf. It was a leaf.

Dave clears his throat, trying to proceed as if he didn't just scream in public.]

[ii. ghost 2]
[After a few days of restless nights, visions and glances of a familiar ghost and tragic, near misses with leaves Dave is... tired. He's almost too tired to jump when he's scared, but occasionally a weirdly timed shadow or thud will get a morose groan out of him.

He pushes himself to go to the coffee shop and he buys himself a goddamn obnoxiously sugary frappucino. He needs to drink it around the safety of others, obviously. He's lifting that baby up for a sip when finally, fucking finally, that figure appears. In the seat in front of him. It earns a gasp from Dave and, in turn, he releases his cup onto his front and lap.

He looks down in surprise, then back up to the seat, which is now empty.

With a defeated noise, Dave rests his head on the table in front of him. His hair is getting soaked in mocha and he's too tired to care.]

ghost 2...

[fuckhelicopters]

Holy shit, kid.

[ amused isn't really the word to use for javier's tone, because he's honestly not. dave is clearly stressed and wiped out, and that's not something that he really enjoys seeing in literally anyone else. however, uh - well.

there's no denying the way that the defeated way he kind of just rests his head in his spilled drink is pretty comical, and javi works to school his expression. this guy's clearly having a rough day. ]

Hey, get your hair out of that. What were you drinking? I'll get you another one.

[ yeah, he's definitely using the weird, vaguely paternal'y-uncle tone that he usually reserved for his moody nephew. ]

Ivar "The Boneless" Ragnarsson | Vikings | OTA

[ragnarsson]

I. Ghosts From The Past (A)

[Once Ivar realized that there were ghosts in the city, he couldn't help but get his hopes up. He waited with hope that his parents would show up, both dead now for almost a year. Fortunately for his emotional state of being, he wasn't disappointed. The first of them to come is a tall woman, with a sharp, angular face that is very beautiful, despite being in her fifties. She's dressed in ornate clothes and has the bearings of a queen. Only from the back is it apparent how she died, a single arrow wound fired from her back into her chest. This is Aslaug, Ivar's mother. She had doted on her youngest growing up and he'd been very close to her.

She stays close to him, asking him all sorts of questions about the city. There's an easy smile on Ivar's face as he tells her, the kind he rarely has anymore.]

You must tell me everything that you have done since you left for England. [Ivar will happily jabber on and introduce anyone he meets to his mother.

The other one that shows up is a rough looking sort of man, bald head covered in faded tattoos and scars, with a long, scraggly beard to complete the look. He looks like he's seen better days, especially bloodied and beaten up as he is, but there's a sharp intelligence to his face. His eyes are a piercing blue, the exact same shade that Ivar inherited, making it obvious that this is Ragnar, his father.

Ivar is a little more reticent around this ghost, but it's only because he's afraid of getting too close again. He'd had his father in his life for such a short period again before he'd lost him. When encountering him, one might find him staunchly ignoring Ragnar's presence, who mainly sits back and makes dry comments about his son's childish attempts not to have to face him.

Eventually, Ivar can't help but give in, and start speaking to his father. One might encounter them here too, talking quietly to one another.]

Why do you look so sad?

[Ivar's eyes are filled with sadness and old pain which hasn't healed in almost a year's time.]

Because you're going to leave me again.

[Ragnar kneels down, placing his head against Ivar's in a sign of affection, though he can't feel it.]

Enjoy what you have for right now. Face the future when it comes.

Ghosts From The Past (B) tw: mentions of gore

[The problem with being a Viking who has killed a lot of people is that eventually someone is going to haunt you that you really don't want. Thus Ivar finds himself with a fat man with scraggly black hair and a beard following him around. For anyone wondering what killed him, well, his entire back has been flayed open, ribs broken, and two pieces of skin ripped right off to create a pair of 'wings.' His main purpose seems to be annoying the young Viking, since King Aelle can do little else.]

Do you really think you will succeed in this war? You're doomed to failure, just as all Vikings are.

[Ivar glares at the figure from the past with angry eyes.]

Shut up.

[The figure goes on.]

You won't win. And you'll end your days regretting all that you have done, just like your father.

[Ivar's eyes blaze with fury. He wheels forward until he's face to face with the slightly-transparent ghost.]

I told you to shut up. Or I swear by all the gods, I'll find a way to kill you again and send you back to Hell.

[A flicker of fear enters the old king's eyes and he falls silent for a moment, though he doesn't disappear. If anyone could follow through on such an absurd threat, it would be this stubborn young Viking, who had given the king such a painful death the first time around.]

II. The Feast of the Dying

[Admittedly, Ivar had come to become a little nonchalant about the various holidays after six months of them. But this one was pretty damn cool, with the sights and specters of death all around, so he felt the need to actually put forth some effort in participating.

He'd gotten an ornate mask and a simple black robe, deciding to go as a servant of death. It seemed like an appropriate enough costume for someone as violent as the teenage Viking. He could mostly be found admiring the vast amounts of decor or sampling the amount of eclectic food selection. Frankly, the fact that some of them looked like body parts amused him to no end.]

IV. Tests of Courage

[Once Ivar had heard about the chance to prove one's bravery by staying overnight in a haunted house, he just had to do it. And, unfortunately, you've now been roped into his plans, whether willingly or unwillingly. Ivar has dragged you along a home that formerly served as a boarding house, where a man would carve up each of his victims one by one. Ivar's all too eager to enter and experience it.]

Come on. This will be fun.

[Well, if one considers hallucinations of blood-splattered walls and an axe-wielding lunatic chasing them around the house to be fun, then yes, it will be fun. Otherwise, Ivar and you are going to be in for one hell of a night.]

iv.

[thisisamazing]

[Hiccup was just passing by, honestly. He's Night Fury-less, having sent Toothless home ahead of him, but Ivar has managed to 'convince' him to try this haunted house thing. He doesn't necessarily look like he's armed, but he does have Inferno at his belt, the blade retracted into the handle, so at least he's... sort of prepared...

No, he's not prepared at all. He's nervous.]

I think we have very different definitions of fun...