W̧E̷E̡̕K ͡3̴

[strangerpeople]

W̛E̷͞E̶̵K͏͘͠ 3̸̡

[You got a phone call that morning. It wasn't the realtor for the vineyard, like you had thought. Instead, it was a scientist.

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.]

Comments

[poorlovefool]

I guess that could be useful. You don't have any offensive capabilities though?

...Wonder if I could make my light more burny if it's through the glasses...

[incendiarize]

None that I know of. Doesn't mean they don't exist - I just haven't played around with it much.

Couldn't hurt to try? Unless there's a vision the second you put me on, those can hurt a lot sometimes.

[poorlovefool]

Uuhh... umm.... what if we think about happy thoughts?

[incendiarize]

Hard to say. The random ones are kinda.....random. And I wish I could say I only get deaths when I try for them, but I don't.

[To die will be an awfully big adventure?]

[poorlovefool]

Well is it least easier to control with better resonance??

[wait he said he hasn't played around with it.]

...You have no idea, do you.

[incendiarize]

No clue. I've only ever tried resonating with three people, once each. That's no way to find patterns.

[katzenpfote]

It doesn't matter how close you are with them?

[Not that they're like the bestest friends to ever friend but.]

[incendiarize]

I can't see that doing anything but helping, but I think it's mostly inherent to individual souls? Like, I'd barely talked to Ambrosine before trying it with her, but it worked well enough.

[Enough to go through Jun's death again, anyway.]

[poorlovefool]

Guess trying it's all we can do... but I'll leave it to your close friend here, since I'm nice.

[take this Caleb he doesn't want to die.]

[katzenpfote]

[You know what, sure. He grabs Arthur... huh. Pretty light. Let's see what happens if he puts the 'glasses' on.]

[strangerpeople]

[welp]

cw: self injury attempt

[katzenpfote]

[He watches the scene in muted horror, trying to pull away from what he's seeing but knowing he has to see it to the end.]

[But everything getting into him, even with the boy pausing the memory and explaining - he's listening, recording, but his entire being thrums with a dull ache, and he can feel pressure on the sides of his skull and still feel IT under his skin and when the vision fades he falls to the ground, clawing at his arms like a man possessed.]

Take them out!

[incendiarize]

[He's half expecting Charles to acknowledge Caleb's presence, but it looks like it's just a straight replay. The only thing that makes it less awful than the first time is that he knows what to expect.

But Caleb's reaction is enough that Arthur wonders if he's going to be going across the room. What will happen if he breaks while in weapon form? He'd rather not find out.]

Caleb! Caleb, it's over, it wasn't really-- nothing real happened! It's just a vision! Not even a new one!

cw: self injury attempt, dissociation

[katzenpfote]

[He's still on the ground, shivering. It doesn't sound like he can hear Arthur. The bandages are slipping, revealing arms with light scars on them. His breathing is rough and ragged.]

[unwittingking]

[He wanted to stay silent-not upset anyone and all-but seeing this?

King’s going right to Caleb’s side, notepad and pen forgotten, as he tries grabbing his arms to keep him from doing anything.]

Caleb-calm down. You’re okay! It’s okay! You’re here and you’re okay.

[He’s panicked, but he’s trying to be soothing as well. He doesn’t want either of them getting hurt right now.]

[backuphero]

[There's a lot of Jonathan that still doesn't trust King - which is why it's actually him that all but flings himself over to Caleb's other side, not the one that'll vanish after half a minute. (Mk. II is, presently, apologizing to Vita for jumping up so suddenly and rushing into things again, because he can explain things while the rest of him moves.) Still, another pair of hands is useful. He grabs for Caleb's wrists, trying to stop the... clawing.]

No wonder you knew what to do, damn it, I should have asked -

King, get the - get Arthur off him?

[unwittingking]

Got it!

[He’s not yelling, more still panicking as he plucks Arthur off of Caleb’s face as careful as he can. He doesn’t want him breaking either, but he’s also not sure where he can put him for now, so...he’ll put them on himself and pray that this isn’t another big mistake in his life.]

[strangerpeople]

[well ok then King]

[unwittingking]

[King freezes when it starts. He’s never done this before, and it’s startling to say the least. And when the vision continues...

Caleb will feel King’s paws tighten around his arm, only barely holding back on digging his claws in. And anyone close enough might hear him say something.]

Stop it, stop it...

[And it’s only when it’s over does he actually take a breath, having unknowingly held back as it went on. He expected bad things from that, but...that was new. And so surprising, he can’t help but mutter something else.]

Charles...Meg...

[incendiarize]

Nnnngh...

[Arthur relives it, every time. So feeling the takeover like that, twice, in quick succession, does a number on him. It's not a good time.

He is aware enough to not try and turn back while still on the corgi's face, after last time. But maybe he'll just. Quietly recover as a pair of glasses for the moment.]

[unwittingking]

[It’s at that moment that King realizes that he’s doing something stupid again. Caleb went thru something with Arthur, then he did. Arthur’s gone through at least two visions quickly, and King knows what one of them is this time.

He’s quick to get the glasses off his face, and sets them on them down, on a chair, so they can’t break.]

I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-I wasn’t expecting...I’m so sorry, Arthur.

[He needs to stop doing this...]

[katzenpfote]

[The bandages are slipping, but his movement is calming slightly, still shaking. He rocks back and forth, breath still rough, but he tries to focus.]

[He's on the floor. There's people around him, which is mortifying. His skin is as unbroken as it usually is. There's someone holding his arms, which is distressing, but he forces his gaze to flick up. The sound of that voice so like his so close to him makes him blink and suck in a hard breath, his face flushing bright red.]

... I... apologize...

[Frumpkin trots over and leans against Caleb's forehead, and the tension eases out of him a bit more.]

[... And then there's a tiny 'prrt!'

... Did you just fart in my face, Frumpkin?

[Frumpkin says nothing, but looks very smug.]

[unwittingking]

[He’d reply but King’s having his own moment]

cw: memories of dealing with a disoriented slowly-dying parent & a traumatized spouse

[backuphero]

I know it's normal to say that after you throw up or something, but...

[Jonathan cuts himself off, shaking his head. Caleb's aware enough to apologize, he still knows where he is. He's not feverish. He's not fighting him. This is Caleb, he's skinny and redheaded and not the old man.

And he - Jonathan - is not maybetwelve and scared. He's not, he's too tall to be. He's eighteen and he's worried, not scared. They're on the floor, both of them, in a little gray box of a house, he knows where he is too. He tries to breathe steadily, tries to calm down, and manages it about as well as his voice double has.

He can't even really laugh at the cat's sense of comedic timing, the noise he makes is more of a cough.]

You okay for me to let go, or... I am really bad at this, but...

...d'you need a hug?

[That's what you do when someone panics that badly and then comes back, right, not just when it's your wife?]

[katzenpfote]

I... I'm fine...

[He doesn't lean in for a hug, but he does lean against him for support in sitting up. It's almost like leaning against Beau and he huffs, doing his best to smile a bit.]

You've got some guns on you. Pretty impressive.