Who: Guy Cecil (trepidity) and Zelda Hylia (breaksthefontech)
Where: Ordo 3
When: Late evening of the 23rd
Style: [action]
Status: Closed

( If you do not believe you can do it, then you have no chance at all. )

Who: Lloyd Irving and friends/visitors
Where: Zelda's house
When: Please specify the time of day! Any time of day from roughly 11:00 PM the night before and on is fair game.
Style: Whichever!
Status: Open to people with any sort of reason to visit Zelda's house

[Kratos hadn't given Lloyd much say in the matter, and frankly Lloyd hadn't been up to arguing at the time. Still bloody and traumatized from being kidnapped and tortured, he hadn't resisted when his father had brought him to the safest place he could think of, the house shared by Zelda, Zelos, and Dhaos, where he'd been cleaned up and settled into a bed.

But no matter how he closed his eyes, no matter how he tried bury himself under every blanket he had, he couldn't sleep. He couldn't sleep. Every time he tried, his mind snapped back to knives and needles and pain and a smile as Kvar laughed and ripped his Exsphere out and gray-green hands reached out to slaughter all his friends.

He wouldn't get any sleep that night, and anyone who came into his room before morning would find him sobbing brokenly. Later in the day, it would be easier to talk, but it would still be rough. Nightmares have a way of lurking in shadows even when you're awake.]

Who: Kyon and you.
Where: Anywhere and everywhere.
When: September 24th, anytime from morning to late afternoon.
Style: Action spam.
Status: Open.

( here i am without you. )

Who: Yukari, Yosuke, and anyone passing by
Where: The Plaza
When: Backdated to last day of curse 33 (bodyswap)
Status: Open! to ridicule and embarrassment

[Yukari had made it a point not to really show herself much this week, with her being stuck the way she is. Knowing-- or, well, hoping that it would be the last day, however, assuaged her somewhat, and she finds herself wandering around the plaza. It’s around the end of the month, about the right time for new people to be arriving. New and old...

But no matter how many people she’s met or seen, human or not, she hadn’t expected to run into... herself.

It takes her a moment to process it. And then it hits her.]

Yosuke?

[Oh. Well this was awk. Especially since Yosuke was in this outfit. (minus the tanktop in the second link--)

Anyway. He jumps a little when he hears his name being called. Oh.]

...Oh...hey Yukari. [He’s a little sheepish right now. Oops?] What’s up?

[She’s. Just going to pause, and stare at her own midriff, exposed. Why she’s even surprised to see this, she doesn’t even know. She won’t even answer his question.]

Wh- What are you wearing?!

...What do you mean? What’s wrong with what I have on?

[There's another pause, because there are simply no words. But finally, she sputters:]

Tch! Only everything!

[......Welp. This will end well.

Jump in? Laugh? Pop some popcorn...?]

(( OOC: backdated joint curse post! replies will come from tsuncanned, who is Yukari in Yosuke’s body, and garbagedyne, who is Yosuke in Yukari’s body. also, Yosuke-mun is still on hiatus so replies from her might be slow! ))

Who: The Summoner and The Orphaner
Where: Summoner's hive in the woods.
When: Backdated to last day of curse 33 [Body Swap Curse]
Status: Closed

( Read more... )

Who: Yuan and anyone who wants to run into him!
Where: The plaza.
When: September 24th, late afternoon.
Style: [Action]
Status: Open.

[When Yuan awoke, it was in the streets of Vatheon's middle district, around 2 PM. To say he was disoriented would be an understatement. To say he was paranoid this was another one of Mithos' tricks would also be an understatement- He was almost sure of that. Some sort of 'punishment' for betraying Cruxis' ideals. It'd be just like him.

But then he'd found the welcome brochure and began to read. The more of it he'd absorbed, the more his head started to hurt. It seemed more and more unlikely Mithos was responsible for this, but that knowledge did nothing to settle his anxiety. If there's one thing he didn't like, it was being 'stuck'. Was he really supposed to believe there was nothing he could do to get himself out of here? And who else was here?

He would use the communicator to ask these questions, but after looking it over, he decided he didn't trust this device as far as he could throw it. There was no telling who would be listening, after all. He pocketed it for future investigation, but there was no way in hell he would be using it right now. So instead, he decided to seek out this Welcoming Committee. It seemed to be his safest bet for getting more information.

Starting later in the afternoon, anyone would be able to find him in the plaza, either staring up at the welcome building indecisively or observing people as they passed by. At some point, he would actually enter the building to see if anyone was inside, only to return to the plaza afterwards.]

Who: Sufferer and whoever wants to mob join him
When: September 24th, early afternoon
Where: in the Plaza to start
Style: whatever you like!
Status: totally open

In the beginning, there was pain.

( Talk of blood and torture under here )

His mind whirls, remembering Vatheon, images coming to him in fractured, fragmented half-memories--Karkat, growling crabbily after getting a hug... Dualscar's fins, moving under his fingertips... Sola, asking questions with that plaintive look on his face... Zelda... Johnny... Jacob... Dave... Disciple... Spider... Psii...

Psii.

He tries again to get to his feet, but his wounds and the chains on his wrists are too much, and he topples forward again, groaning as the arrow digs deeper into his side. He's worthless, useless, he led them all down the wrong path, everything he told them was wrong, he's a failure, he's failed them all...

Sufferer looks up at the bubble's dome, his eyes so bloodshot they're red almost all the way through, and his jaw works, his teeth grinding together and the tendons in his forearms standing out as he tries to clench his hands into fists. His voice is raspy, his throat raw and choked from the last time he spoke, centuries and seconds before.

He throws his head back and screams at the bubble's dome. "FUUUUUUUUCK!"

His voice ripples and echoes back to him, distorted, animalistic, the cry of a brute instead of a savior. Slowly, he bends back over his chained wrists, resting his forehead on the irons, and the red that stains the cold steel is not blood this time.

"...fuck."