The Fifteen Strangers Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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15strangers2020-02-09 12:08 pm
strangerpeople) wrote in 15strangers2020-02-09 12:08 pm
W̧E̷E̡̕K ͡3̴
She offered you something you hadn't ever expected: hope.
"I think I've pinpointed where this blight has come from, and how it became so virulent. You were among the first whose crop was infected-I wish to speak to you personally about it."
You meet in a car, and drive to an isolated road. She will not take any chance to speak publicly about it-not yet. She doesn't want to release the information until she is certain. But she felt honor-bound to explain to you, given your own importance in her research. You hadn't known she had sampled your dead and dying grapes, but she did.
"This blight..." She opens a folder, showing you the photos. "Started with a gopher, several years ago. I know, it sounds insane. This disease should only affect certain animal species. But one day, it jumped into vines...the original gopher died a long time ago. But not before it had eaten an entire cluster of grapes in one swallow. It ended up scratching itself on the trellis of the grapevine as it choked to death. Its blood, its body decayed, and helped to water and fertilize that strain of grapes the next year or so, and...well, the seeds from those buds that resulted were sent out to every farm in the area. Then, to every farm in the country, different regions..."
That sounded insane. This woman's theory sounded utterly bonkers. But you can't dismiss it out of hand-you have no better answer.
Before you can say anything more, the woman's phone rings. She answers, and you see her face turn white. You don't have to guess why.
Before, the theoretical gopher had infected the grapes with the blight.
Now, the blight had claimed its first human victim.
-
[The morning hurts. It hurts to know that, even dead, there was that final, terrible moment for the Embarrassing and the Nagging. It must hurt more to know that this will continue, and that there is something out there that is invested in ensuring each and every last one of the Strangers are, if not dead, than broken.
And then, there is IT. IT is the enemy, it seems. But...what is IT? Is IT the one truly responsible? How?
As you try to think on it, you remember your truths, and suddenly, you realize, another has changed:
[That you would. Can you? You know that, whatever your answer, you must find a way to the truth. The alternative is too horrible to even contemplate-if it is even possible to be comprehended. After all-if what you saw is what happens to the dead and condemned, what will become of the living at the hands of the terrible, unknown IT who is your jailer?
Hope that you do not have to find out. Hope there is an answer in the new floor that has opened up in the Building. Otherwise...otherwise you really are doomed.
There are 13 strangers in this place.]
no subject
Nope. I’m pretty sure that, if they’re going to leave clues anywhere on purpose, it’ll be here.
I’d ask if you’re feeling okay, but I’m pretty sure that’s a stupid question.
no subject
Definitely. They don't just put these places here on accident. Especially considering this is another place that was in the Mall.
[ Karma seemed to consider something, his expression almost falling a little. He hates not feeling like himself, but it can't be helped. King may even notice as he brings a hand up to brush some hair from in front of his eyes, how the knuckles are actually a bit bruised and the skin is scratched slightly. ]
Appreciate the sentiment all the same. I guess I could say i'm doing a little better than I was yesterday, but not by much.
no subject
His face softens a bit more, before he writes another note and hands it over.]
Same thing for the ballroom. It wasn’t on the train, but it was at one of the places we stopped at. Figured someone else would look there, though.
I don’t blame you if you were taking your anger out on something, but I hope it wasn’t one of the walls or something.
no subject
Not the walls or anyone else, promise. I ended up just kind of spacing out last night and was somewhat punching the front step of my house.
[ Spoken so casually that maybe it could be worrisome, but not as much as the almost distant-ness to his expression that still stuck around somewhat even now. Even as he adds something on rather quietly. ]
You know... this whole mess would be so much easier if I just stopped feeling something. Like... an off switch.
no subject
Try a pillow next time, okay? Or maybe the dirt?
[Please try to not hurt yourself.]
And it probably would be easier if we couldn't feel anything. But I think it would make things easier for our hosts, too. We wouldn't feel resistant of joining them if we couldn't feel.
[And he is not going to stop feeling resistant.]
no subject
I'm more likely to take the second option unless I can find someone to spar with again.
[ His hand fully lowers and he casts his gaze toward their surroundings quietly; almost pensively as if considering something. ]
You have a point there. [ Closing his eyes, a subtle tension lined his jaw and it took a second to continue speaking. ] They're delusional if they think i'll ever join them. I like being who I am now and not some mindless puppet.
no subject
Either is better than walls or concrete.
And yeah. Not exactly up for being someone's puppet anytime soon.
[It feels uncomfortably familiar to him now...]
no subject
[ It goes without saying but it's out there all the same. He doesn't plan to go hitting any walls or concrete again if something bothered him. ]
Good. I'm glad to see we're on the same page here. Individuality makes us who we are and so does the things that makes us hurt, even if we don't like it.
no subject
You definitely didn’t have to worry about that. I didn’t want to be used by someone before, and I don’t plan to now.
[Yup, he knows how this is familiar now.]