[log] Noisy Black, Part One [closed]

[snowblindmods]

Characters: anyone who signed up for the Noisy Black event
Location: an office building
Date: Morning and Day 260
Summary: You wake up in a room.
Warnings: nothing of note for this part, please note any specific things that happen in the comment sections of your posts

Sinners Top Level
Converted Top Level

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CONVERTED

[snowblindmods]

The room you wake up in is a dormitory. You wake up on a bed, in a heated building--you wake up under blankets! It's probably nicer than where you went to sleep, even if the whole situation may be a bit alarming. All of the other converted are there as well, so you have company. All of your things are gone, and most of your clothes are missing as well: you've been stripped down to only one layer of clothing. That clothing has been washed, however, and so have you, so it's not too big a deal.

Exploring your surroundings, it seems like you're in an office building, judging by the grey carpeting, tiled floors, and large windows that look out onto what must be the industrial zone. There are symbols of the prophet under each bed and on the wall to the staircase and elevator. It looks like the elevator might work, but there's something strange: you have no urge whatsoever to leave the room. You can talk about how it's probably a good idea, how it would make sense to explore, how it's unsettling that you don't want to leave, how you need to leave, but you won't. You won't try to remove the prophet symbols, try opening up the ceiling, or damage anything at all.

At least for all of you there's three large bathrooms with shower stalls and hot water and a kitchen stocked full of food for all of you to eat. For now, aside from the little--quirks--you feel pretty normal. Enjoy that.

[fifty]

[This is all very alarming and unsettling and America is very worried but also right now he is cooking hamburgers with about four cookies stuffed in his mouth.]

Oh 'y god, guys, 'ere's so 'uch 'ood!

[Don't talk with your mouth full, America.]

[equal_shots]

[The neat corridors and orderly setup are all very calming to him, enough that he doesn't instantaneously question why he has no desire to run.]

It's very unbecoming to talk with your mouth full like that.

[averytinyparticle]

Is there root beer and ice cream?

[This is the most important question he's ever and will ever asked. He doesn't even really wait for an answer before running to the fridge. He can't believe he's actually in a place warm enough that the idea of eating ice cream in a cold beverage doesn't make him feel sick.]

[keepscalm]

[England is both disgusted by America's eating habits and drawn to the smell of cooking meat. He pinches America's ear (because of course he's hovering closely enough to do that...)] I know I taught you better manners than that.

[armoured]

[Al is similarly alarmed, and now staring slightly wistfully at the way America is stuffing his mouth. He is hungry and he will eat, but he still has no tongue and therefore no tastebuds, so all he eats is just sustenance anyway.]

I can tell you're making the most of it, huh?

[warriorscribe]

[The only thing that draws Enoch away from that wonderful bed is the equally wonderful smell of cooking meat. He hovers in the doorway of the kitchen, watching the burgers cook with open longing.]

It feels like an eternity since I smelled anything so inviting. Do you think there's enough here for everyone? I'm...ah, not sure which "everyone" I mean, really. But is there enough?

[darkincrement]

[ He's left his helmet on the bed and is standing by the window with cookies in hand. Squinting at the scenery to try to figure out where they are. ]

Strange.

[ That about covers everything. Chomping on another cookie as he wrestles with the whole concept of not wanting to escape. ]

They must have adjusted us.

[ And he finds himself not bothered by this. ]

[keepscalm]

[Not that England is particularly fond of Vanitas from what he's seen on the network, but there aren't that many of them in this comfy little ward. They'll probably have to cooperate to figure out what's going on.

So England elects to respond as he investigates one of the symbols of the Prophet beneath the beds.] Yeah. You don't want to leave, right?

[armoured]

[Al doesn't actually recognise Vanitas, as they've only ever communicated by text before, but that doesn't stop him coming over and being friendly.]

You don't want to leave either?

[At least it's not just him.]

I keep thinking about how I need to get out and find the others, but I just can't seem to get to the door.

[keepscalm]

[There's something so utterly wrong with all of this. Not just the accommodations, which have sprung up out of seemingly nowhere, but the sudden and utter lack of self-preservation instinct. England knows he should be trying to leave. He knows nothing good can come of something like this. He should escape before something else happens—something worse.

But he can't act on it. The thoughts feel like an obligation, like when he tells himself I should stop drinking now as he orders another pint. It's...nice here. Nicer than anywhere else in town. Why should he leave? It would make more sense to take advantage of it while he can.

Which is how he finds himself in the kitchen. And he tells himself again, never partake of the Fair Folk's food, but the allure is too strong. After almost nine long months, he can finally revisit one of his strongest and most comforting routines.

As he waits for the water in the kettle to boil, he speaks to the rest of his fellow captives in as gentlemanly a fashion as he can.] Would anyone else like a cup of tea?

[fifty]

I want coffee. [He could make his own coffee, of course, but he's not right now.]

[averytinyparticle]

What kind of tea are you making, Mister England?

[Consider this a yes. Quark wants to consume all of the things.]

[armoured]

No, thanks, but I'll take a teabag or two if you don't mind?

[He's already holding his hand out in anticipation, because it looks like there's plenty and he doesn't think England would be mean enough to hoard them.]

I'm going to take a few of everything non-perishable and keep it for when we get out.

[Something he seems to be making no actual progress in doing.]

[warriorscribe]

[The smell of things cooking has drawn Enoch away from worrying over the prophet symbols everywhere, into the nostalgic comfort of an active kitchen, even alien as it is from his point of view with all its sleek appliances.]

Tea... I haven't had tea since...well, before the days numbered into the hundreds here. Beckett had found some, just in time for a number of our companions to fall ill. It was an herbal blend, I think. It smelled lovely. ...I hope he's all right out there. Perhaps we could bring some of this out with us. ...Whenever we leave, that is.

[He smiles wistfully and moves further into the kitchen. It's strange, how he says that, like leaving is such a distant thought. Leave? This? How could he?]

[equal_shots]

[Kid doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he just watches England as he sets the kettle to boil, lips pressed into a thin line. Eventually:]

That will depend on your preparation.

[averytinyparticle]

My hat's gone!

[Quark feels so...exposed. He was wearing so many layers that he's just down to his undershirt and shorts. As long as he gets it back later...ultimately, it doesn't seem worth complaining about. He's clean and his bandages are fresh. He's not cured but...well, everything seems kind of nice.

It has to be a trick. But...maybe he'll worry about that later. One of the adults will probably handle it. Until then, he pulls a blanket from the bed he was asleep in around his shoulders, adorning himself like a king wearing a cloak.]

[armoured]

Quark!

[Al's happiness at seeing the other boy is pretty short lived, concern taking over almost at once. Mother hen mode activating in 3...2...1...]

What happened to you?!

[warriorscribe]

Quark!

[It was one thing to hear about his injuries over text. It was another to see them. But he looks clean and so do his bandages so the moment of alarm passes and Enoch bends down instead to pull the poor boy into a tight hug.]

Oh, you look well cared for. I'm so glad you're safe.

I'm so sorry about Kid in advance

[equal_shots]

[Kid hears the shouting, and turns abruptly to the voice. Unlike the last time they'd spoken, Kid does have both of his eyes. He's just as ill as he'd been before and being stripped to just his slacks and button down highlight how emaciated he is, but he doesn't seem too bothered by it.

What he is bothered by, however...]

You are disgustingly unbalanced.

[KID NO]

[warriorscribe]

[It's more comfortable than Enoch's been in a long time. Perfect ambient temperature, even through warm cloak and sheets - it's a testament to the weight he's lost, really; all the heat his muscles put out would have made the cloak too much.

All his clothes are familiar - cloak, jeans, sandals, but his body has changed. He's shirtless beneath the cloak, revealing the fact that his jeans are now several sizes too small, held up by a bright red dog leash fashioned into a belt, all his bulk shrunken to something leaner. He practically swims in his comfortable old cloak, his shoulders bony without all the muscle to fill out their broad frame.

He finishes taking inventory of himself (where is his tablet?) and looks around at the room, and the others in it, lowering the hood of his cloak. His hair clings to it and, clean and dry and conditioned now and thus very light, fluffs out around his face like a lion's mane when it settles. Thanks, Norfinbury.]

Well, I'm glad to no longer be alone, at least...we're not about to undertake a gauntlet of harrowing tasks again, are we?

[darkincrement]

Was it this nice then?

[He's just in his body suit sans the butt cape. Already piling up some snacks on the edge of a bed. ]

They also took away our only means of communication.

[ Which is different from what he could tell from looking back. ]

[equal_shots]

[Kid is similarly swimming in his clothing, his pants held up only by suspenders that somehow also look far too big. Despite the room being warm, he's shivering. He may have died, but it's done nothing for his MN poisoning.

Or, evidently, his attitude.] Your hair is ridiculous, and it is not even balanced on either side. How do you manage?

[Of all the people to comment on ridiculous hair, Kid...]

[standing_waters]

*When he first starts to wake up the only thing he registers is warmth. So he's happy to let himself doze under the blanket, not quite awake enough to notice anything is off. Its warm and that's all that matters.

Eventually, though, he registers that the voices are unfamiliar and stirs. Then sits there are stares as it takes a few moments to figure out what was going on and how much of what he remembered was a dream.*

Is....is this still Norfinbury?

[warriorscribe]

[Enoch is standing by a window, watching the snowfall outside. One of the late sleepers like him wakes behind him, and he looks over his shoulder with a warm smile of welcome.]

It is, though it certainly doesn't feel like it. It's almost hard to believe we should be out there in that snow...