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

"Fuck!" The swirling wind has only started to kick up when Presley wraps an arm around Felicity's waist, and grabs the railing with other hand. This is far from the most stable position (why isn't there a wall here), but Presley refuses to die like this, and he is not seeing Felicity tumble to her death either.

The gusting wind feels interminable. Presley's eyes squeeze shut, but he feels the unexpected spray of tarot cards, and just as suddenly as it started, the wind dies down. Presley peeks around them. No one died? Unfortunate. "I have a new suggestion. What if we just leave Webberley here?"

Edited (no one in this group is helpful) 2020-06-04 19:33 (UTC)

"I wasn't going to fall." It's Felicity's way of saying thanks, and also an outright lie. Presley 100% saved her life. "And don't be ridiculous. We're not leaving Wyatt." He wouldn't leave one of them behind.

Of course, she has no idea how to save him. She'll leave that to the others. It's called delegating. "Maybe someone can figure out which cards he was... looking at..."

She trails off because she just noticed what Presley's holding. Her tote bag.

"Well that's gonna be a bitch, 'cause I wasn't paying that close attention," Mary Grace says, picking a card out of Wyatt's hair. It's... a guy? It's a guy. "We could just start fuckin' laying three cards down at a time."

Mary Grace hiding behind him is better than her falling to her death but is definitely a little annoying. Patrice takes stock of the others, reassuring himself that they're all there, before he starts to think. He's got a decent amount tarot experience unlike the rest of his roommates, so maybe this won't be too hard? If they don't get blown to hell again.

"Do you not know how to grab a hand, Mary Grace? Anyway, first one is a wands card, second one is a cups, and the third is probably Death," he says, glancing around, reaching for one of the cards on Cassandra.

"I'm going to have to think about what specific cards the first two are, but it's going to be a little hard if they're all still blurry."

Edited 2020-06-05 00:51 (UTC)

The card on Cassandra's shoulder is the five of cups, as clear as day. In fact, looking at the cards that are face up, they all seem perfectly clear and visible now.

Edited 2020-06-05 01:14 (UTC)

"Ooo, I got a few wands," Felicity says, bending down to pick up some cards. "And a-- huh." The corsage on her wrist is glowing. "Guys?"

The tote slung over Presley's shoulder is momentarily forgotten.

Presley collects the cards stuck to the railing, dropping them into his Pouch-gifted tote as he goes.

"If the answer fell off the building, I'm going to kill Webberley." He turns to see what Felicity is talking about. "Did you... pick that up in someone's memory?"

"Wyatt gave it to me for prom," she replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Didn't anyone pay attention to the fact that they went together? Do they not know she won Prom Princess? She blinks it all away and goes on.

"So I guess it's technically not from his memory..." which means it's not the linchpin. Her shoulder hunch slightly. "...but still kinda cool, huh? I think it means we're on the right path." She nods. Definitely.

There's no evidence to support this claim.

Edited (okay, done taking tags!) 2020-06-05 01:37 (UTC)

"Ohhhh, did my guy Wy spring for the premium package?" Mary Grace asks. "Did someone's mama raise him up right?" She elbows the stuck Cassandra, like the compliment will travel back in time, and plucks another card off her. "I've got a... Magician? Oh, and here's a bunch of cups, like eight or nine of 'em."

"This is the present card!" Patrice says, confident, almost excited, as he looks at the card he's taken from Cassandra. Maybe it isn't such a hassle to be the only one that has the information necessary to solve this. He leans to set it on the table, but, after a moment, thinks better of it and keeps it in his hand, in case the wind blows again.

After he settles back on his heels he looks up, eyeing Felicity's corsage. It's weird, but not exactly informative.

"....the past one is the six of wands. And did he make that?"

Edited (more confident) 2020-06-05 02:18 (UTC)

Patrice probably has the right idea, because a light breeze blows past, making the cards on the floor skitter slightly. The one in the spiderweb wobbles precariously.

Checking the cards he's collected so far, they appear to be mostly swords and pentacles. Useless. Presley drops his cards on the milk crate, and walks past the immobile boy and his mother to check the cards that were blown to the wall. "And the future card..." He reaches up and tugs down the one caught in the spiderweb, spinning on his heel to flash it at his friends. "Death."

"I got the six!" Felicity announces and flicks the card in Patrice's direction. But she's a witch, not a magician, and the card nosedives to the porch. She picks it up and walks it over to him.

Edited (just wanted to get this in before work starts) 2020-06-05 17:19 (UTC)

Should have held on to that card a little better, Felicity. Just as she's about to pass it to Patrice, she loses it, snatched away on a breeze and carried across the porch to that green smoke. It flickers, sort of appearing to move and sort of not, like a holographic image, but that doesn't stop it from carrying the six of wands up, up and out of sight.

At first, it seems like it might just be gone, trapping the group here forever, but a keen eye will spot it on the floor above little Wyatt's home, stuck in the grille of that window AC unit.

Edited 2020-06-05 18:12 (UTC)

Mary Grace tries to lasso the card.

Mary Grace manages to lasso the AC unit.

She meant to do that.

Mary Grace holds the rope out to the others. She's done her part, get to climbing, someone else!

"Tang is the tallest," Presley calls out, not moving from his spot.

Edited 2020-06-05 18:38 (UTC)

"Ughhhhhhhh," Patrice groans, because he doesn't want to do anything else but he also assumes that time is of the essence.

"I'm also the best looking, and I'm telling Wyatt I did this whole thing by myself," he complains, tucking the first two cards into his pocket as he heads over to assess the situation. Presley is a little right, though - he shouldn't have to get up as high to get a hold of the card. Even so, this is terrifying, especially given the wind earlier, and he doesn't want to do it.

It looks like if someone tall enough climbed up the porch railing, they might be able to stretch and grab the card, though it would put them right in that green smoke.

"I'll spot you," Mary Grace offers to Patrice, who is obviously the one climbing up into that smoke. "If you fall, just angle your ass toward me 'n' Pres."

Edited (SORRY I'm done now lol ) 2020-06-05 22:41 (UTC)

Presley tucks the Death card into the safe confines of his tote bag, and moves within spotting distance. "You're in good hands," he says, full of reassurance. "We're experienced."

Edited 2020-06-05 22:48 (UTC)

Felicity gives Patrice a thumbs up. "Smoke's harmless," she says. Or maybe she's already so screwed up that its effects on her are imperceivable.

Patrice flips off his friends before taking off his jacket and wrapping it around his face, tying the sleeves behind his head to give him at least some protection.

"You guys seriously don't have anything to help me out?" he asks before starting his ascent, voice a little muffled by the fabric.

"Your butt looks nice!" Mary Grace offers, as moral support.

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice

MEMORY: Practice