snowblindmods: (Default)
Snowblind Moderators ([personal profile] snowblindmods) wrote in [community profile] snowblindrpg2018-10-27 03:28 pm

[log] Event: Metamorphosis, Part Three

Characters: everyone
Location: all around town; note location in subject line
Date: Night 415 onward; note time in subject line
Summary: They break out and they wake up.
Warnings: extreme body horror, unreality, eldritch horror, absolutely definitely 100% include warnings in subject lines/before your comment if the subject line isn't long enough
phaseshifter: my art, dns >8OOOO (>:IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII)

[personal profile] phaseshifter 2018-10-30 09:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The slag puddle is A Concern. Hopefully Rhys wasn't standing in it long enough to get sick. And, you know, he should maybe keep any open wounds away from any residue or whatever. Angel's about to fuss-slash-remind him of this when he drastically overreacts to that brief little shove. Um, what the heckie. ]

Are - are you seriously ogling yourself right now? Is this really the time??

[ She can't look annoyed at the moment, obviously, but she'd totally be making the face if she could. You know the one. ]
Edited 2018-10-30 21:39 (UTC)
headjacked: (pic#11766933)

[personal profile] headjacked 2018-10-31 06:24 am (UTC)(link)
Hey now... a-any time is a... a g-good time to appreciate art.

[ If she's going to be goofy, he's going to match, and maybe their last memories will be of a shared smile or an eyeroll or something other than pain and tears. Please. He'll take anything. Rhys maintains a tiny smile while clumsily shifting the shirt back over the glowing Siren-crack on his chest.

She doesn't need to know.

The slag puddle is thinning out and reaching him at the wall, despite valiant (read: weak) attempts to kick at the goo. His poor, poor booties. ]
phaseshifter: ([anomaly])

[personal profile] phaseshifter 2018-11-03 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Wow, Rhys. A shared smile? When Angel's face can't even move?? INSENSITIVE AF. She stares dully at the slag pool with detached disinterest, only snapping out of her funk when the sludge reaches his toesies.

Oh, yeah. Right. Her bad. She starts a little, which is horribly unnerving to watch. All those segments grinding against each other. Gross.
]

That's my cue to go before I drown you, isn't it.

...Don't go out in the snow now that you've touched the slag. It'll hurt. Just sit - sit somewhere safe and quiet 'til it wears off.
Edited 2018-11-03 20:19 (UTC)