peckenpaugh | 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 - player memory]
[CRITERIA: Defeat the NPC, find the linchpin]
[RESERVED: Tony, Merlin]

Outside Deeplurk, in the evening, before curfew but probably not by much. Despite the hour, Holland is dressed well and fully made up - pearl earrings, pearl necklace, a silk ribbon, sensible-ish pumps, lipstick, eyeliner - though her eyes are a little red, likely from crying. There's a fussy energy about her and it permeates the whole space: discomfort, antsiness, worry, doubt. It layers another sense of uncomfortable heat over the already warm night air, and the tapping of her rings on the wooden railing seems strangely loud. Probably the most disconcerting thing, though, is the litany of what seem to be Holland's thoughts that vibrate through the air. Though somewhat soft, they are constant and fervent.

He's being mean to you. He clearly doesn't like you. He clearly doesn't even want to be around you. Who avoids their girlfriend? You just have to be a big girl and break it off, ok? He's not right for you, anyway. He's very rude. You don't even like him that much, right? There are much better boys. Much better. And even if this dumb one doesn't want you, it doesn't mean the better ones won't.

Those thoughts turn, swiftly, to a streak of curse words that Holland has never uttered aloud as a figure comes into view. It's Tony, ostensibly, but his figure is looming, much taller than he actually is. Tony from Holland's perspective is, of course, towering, and it gives him an almost ominous air.

"Well, I'm glad you could finally make time for me," she says sharply, though her voice shakes. A boat knocks against the dock behind her, also strangely loud.

Tony says something, but it's muffled, obscure; not even the tone is clearly conveyed. It's just some weird static coming from him, and his form becomes blurry, as if seen through tears.

"We're dating," Holland says in argument. "Well, we were. I'm breaking up with you, ok? This is… we're…" Holland can't seem to get out her next words and turns to look out towards the lake. Roughly, she tries to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, but it's clearly too rough - one of her pearl earrings goes flying, arching towards the lake, and the ribbon in her hair comes undone and begins to fall, before everything suddenly comes to a standstill.

Edited 2020-06-17 03:04 (UTC)

"Shit," Holland hisses out loud, and now she's really crying as her earring plunks loudly into the water. She snatches up her ribbon from the ground, turns very abruptly to look at Tony, and then goes to shove past him, though her shoulder connecting with him mostly bounces her awkwardly to the side and doesn't move him at all.

"Don't look at me or talk to me or anything ever again."

As she retreats her heel catches and she stumbles forward a little, wailing out a quiet "For heaven's sake!" before she skitters off towards the entrance to House Deeplurk. The place where her heel had caught in the wood appears to be a hatch with a notch cut out so it can be pulled up.

HE IS HERE

MEMORY: Broken Up

MEMORY: Broken Up