peckenpaugh | HE IS HERE

Entry tags:

! ic/ooc,
* endgame

HE IS HERE

the vines have run wild

it's over Everything is in shambles. Walls and floors torn and broken from roots and branches sprouting through. They block doors and crowd passages and pulse with sick life. The Thing sits in the center of it all, angry and starving, its trunk both still and moving in ways you catch only when it is in the corner of your vision. Branches that look less like bark and more like skin stretch in every direction, lush with shadowy leaves and dotted with bits of glowing blue. The ruined floor is littered with those little twinkling dots. Seeds. Everywhere, seeds. They hang on boughs, and rest on banisters in the upper levels. The one thing in this nightmare that doesn't radiate that awful, pervasive hunger.

The roof is gone, replaced with a writhing canopy of shadow and muck. Some parts of it are complex spiderwebs of tendrilly shapes, others solid formless movement. The only consistent thing about it is that it is terrible to behold, faintly nauseating to look at for too long. Ash rains down between gaps in its branches, and what glimpses of sky are visible are nothing but swirling gray clouds. What stars still shine are magic, man-made, floated between balconies by prom committee before the dance.

Those remaining begin to stir. Each one of you has heard Pocket's words, "Find the roots." And if you want to save your friends, your family, the holler — hell, maybe even the world — that's exactly what you're going to do.

You climb from protective cocoons of dying moss, push your way past walls of solid ice, emerging into utter destruction. Things move and make noise at the edge of your vision, but for now, at least, all is calm. What to do? Where to start?

it's ruined Among the twinkling maple seeds are the dropped possessions of students and staff, lost when they were pulled away. A compact mirror, a cell phone, a pair of glasses, cups of punch spilling across the floor. A single red heel sits at the edge of the jagged pit that peers down into the Sorting Path. The air here is hot. Too hot. If you jump, you'll surely be boiled alive.

Though locked when everyone tried to flee, vines and roots have torn the doors to the auditorium off their hinges. The splintered remains of heavy oak doors litter the entrance halls and stairwell alcoves, leaving an open path outside. Not that you'd want to flee, by the looks of it.

A cool night breeze is the only relief from the growing heat of the auditorium, yes, but even that is tainted by the heavy scent of flowers. Outside, vines and purple flowers have exploded over every surface. They climb up lamp posts, engulf buildings whole, hang from trees. It would be beautiful if it weren't horrifying. Campus is unrecognizable.

there is no hope Roots and vines clog the way to the Sorting Path, and most stairwells are completely obstructed by the growths of that horrible tree. Up above, something buzzes and wails, a mockery of a cicada's cry, and beyond that the twittering of birds nesting in the tree's highest branches.

Pouch coalesces in the middle of it all, a one-winged magimagicicada, weak and weary but undaunted. Resolute, if not reinvigorated. He bends down to touch a seed, and the moment his obsidian fingers light on it, a blue-white portal to somewhere else rips right through reality. A memory begins to play. Somehow, the bug seems to know what he's seeing.

She gave us what we need, the one who ran says to the gathered students, his voice in their heads as much as the air. Let's all not let her down, huh?

Find your friends. Find my siblings. It's time to fight.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[?MODERATED? - we may pop into this memory]
[CRITERIA: 4 Replies Per Character Minimum]

It's a little insulting how much Elflock Falls celebrates Peckenpaugh of all places. They're just some stupid public school, and they're not even that good at, like, anything. Except maybe throwing up, apparently—which they can have.

But surrounded by fair rides and the smell of food both fried and covered in sugar, the disgruntled Miss Celestial Bread begrudgingly looks for something to enjoy. Arms crossed, frowning deeply, Celestial wanders through the midway, eventually stopping in front of a funnel cake booth. Fuck it, she decides, a resigned mental sigh as she joins the line. This'll do.

Then she hears the sharp pop of a balloon bursting and her head snaps to attention. There's two blonde girls across the way throwing darts at balloons. One smiles at her and throws a dainty wave her way, and, despite her very best efforts to be annoyed, Celestial smiles back. Hmm. Must be the sugar's fault.

"What're you smiling at?" some guy behind her asks and Celestial groans and rolls her eyes.

"I'm enjoying myself, Iago," she huffs, dropping her arms to her sides. "It's a festival." Iago Goodliffe swings around to her front, sugar-dusted funnel cake in hand, an obnoxious smirk plastered on his face that does not inspire that same warmth from Celestial. If he looks a little green around the gills, she doesn't notice, because she doesn't care.

"You ride the Gravitron yet?" There's something shitty about the way he asks the question, but Celestial is too irritated right now to figure out what.

"No I didn't ride the Gravitron, why are you as—"

And then, immediately and very unfortunately, she finds out exactly why Iago was asking. His shoulders hunch, his eyes go wide, and Celestial yelps, jumping back and knocking the funnel cake up and out of his hands.

She's not fast enough, and everything freezes as Iago vomits right on her shoes.

"...Do we actually have to save her?" Merlin asks dryly and exchanges a glance with Armani, clearly disgusted by the scene that's playing out in front of them. Not to mention this girl's shit attitude. Despite this complaining, however, he gets to work almost immediately, drawing his wand and proceeding forward. His eyes linger on the foul mess between the two Malstrom students and he steps pointedly around it and them.

If the shoes are the linchpin, he's out. He's not touching those. Celestial can figure this out by herself.

Edited 2020-06-08 19:16 (UTC)

"It's the right thing to do," he responds with a soft laugh, not taking Merlin's prickliness too seriously. What he says-- in huffs and surly tones-- and what he ends up doing anyway-- the noble thing, inevitably-- are two very different things.

"Honestly, the vomit everywhere at the festival was super gross. I hope it's not the Root we have to touch." He'll touch it anyway. Or very sweetly try to get Merlin to touch it in his stead, then praise him for being so brave.

"Funnel cake, maybe? Hopefully?" He tiptoes to touch it as it flies from the Goodliffe child's hand. (Doesn't Armani know this kid from somewhere? It's fuzzy.)

While the assertion that this is the right thing to do is met with an exasperated groan, Merlin seems to agree because he nods begrudgingly and stops to examine Celestial. He kneels to get a closer look at her ruined shoes, scanning along the sides and the back for a place that's vomit-free and safe to touch.

"So gross. And a waste of funnel cake," he agrees, sounding downright offended, "I don't know what any of them thought they were proving. But we can save the worst for last. Before this guy came over, her focus was across the midway. Worth checking there before...you know."

Edited 2020-06-08 22:54 (UTC)

Armani clasps his hands behind his back, humming thoughtfully as he scans the area where the girl had been looking.

"What if it's the whole funnel cake booth and we have to try to carry it out of the memory? Or even the ferris wheel?" Linchpins so far have, thankfully, been manageable sizes. But is that the nature of them, or has he just been lucky so far?

"I guess I'll go check the dart game. She was looking over at the girls. Are you good with the shoes?"

Because he isn't good with the shoes. He's gonna go touch the very clean, vomit-free darts in their hands.

The possibility of a massive, unmovable linchpin earns a pensive frown from Merlin but he just shakes his head, "...Reducio? Anyway, let's find the thing before we go inventing problems. We've got this." He refuses accept the possibility of being outmaneuvered by a dream object, especially in front of his friend. Plus, this is the right thing to do. So they'll figure it out.

"Go on. I'll be there in a sec," he adds stiffly, finding a clean section on the back of the right shoe. It's small, but not so small that he can't fit a few of his narrow fingers there. He presses his fingertips against the leather carefully and waits to see if the shoe starts glowing.

Edited (An EW face.) 2020-06-09 05:48 (UTC)

While Merlin deals with that, Armani thoroughly touches every individual dart in the girls' hands, hopping up on the booth to touch the one flying mid-air, and then he begins touching balloons.

The dart in the taller blonde's hand sparkles gold under Armani's touch. Looks like Armani's found the linchpin! She's got a good grip on it, but he should be able to get it free if he tugs hard enough.

Armani hops up and down, waving the dart at Merlin. Look! He found it!! Give him the attention and approval he craves!!!

In the process of moving back from Celestial and Iago and their mess, it takes Merlin a moment to realize that Armani is waving him down and performing a little victory dance. When he notices, though, he grins and the expression is equal parts eagernes, pride, and relief. Now they can get on with this. And nobody has to touch...that.

He jogs over to meet the Thorntrail, "That was quick. You don't miss a thing. Ready to get the hell out of here?"

Edited 2020-06-09 16:56 (UTC)

"I play lots of video games!" he says cheerfully, then twirls and swings the linchpin around with flourish like he's a magical girl and this is his Cutie Moon Rod. "Let's go!"

It's a good thing Merlin got his hand out of the way when he did, because the memory lurches forward with a shout.

"What the hell, GOODLIFFE?" Celestial screeches. Iago puts his hand on her shoulder for support and she shoves it off forcefully.

"I didn't mean to! I just—" he splutters.

"You couldn't turn like thirty degrees to the left?? You had to—you HAD to—YOU HAD TO—"

"Uh." Three feet away, a funnel cake vendor stands just outside the door to the booth, paper dish of funnel cake in one hand. "Do either yinz still want this, or, uh."

"Dear god, no," Celestial snaps, while Iago perks up.

"Oh hell yeah, I got room now."

As Iago grabs his ill-advised second serving, the door to the funnel cake booth stands ajar, leading not to a minimum wage job in a booth but to Peckenpaugh's auditorium.

[MEMORY COMPLETE. Replies met, linchpin found. You can continue to thread here or head back to Peckenpaugh through the portal.]

The expression on Merlin's face as he watches the rest of the scene play out suggests that if the chance to rescue or abandon Iago falls into his lap, he'll definitely be doing the later. He shakes his head and makes a move to grab Armani's arm, pulling them both toward the funnel cake booth exit.

"Boys are gross," Armani notes. It's the last thing he says before he's pulled through.

Edited 2020-06-09 17:33 (UTC)

Armani and Merlin have completed the memory "Not the Shoes!"!

When they emerged into the auditorium, the portal snapped shut behind them.

Somewhere in Elflock Falls, Celestial Bread was freed! Elsewhere in the auditorium, woodsmoke, a magimagicicada was also set free!

Merlin and Armani each receive 5 tokens for completing the memory.

They receive another 2 tokens for finding the linchpin before the cap, and 1 token for not grabbing the frozen puke.

You can check your token totals in Pouch's shop here, and maybe see if there's anything worth grabbing while you're there!

Edited 2020-06-09 18:49 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

HE IS HERE

MEMORY: Not The Shoes!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes! - COMPLETE!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes! - COMPLETE!

Re: MEMORY: Not The Shoes! - COMPLETE!

MEMORY: Not The Shoes! - COMPLETE!