ph_logs | September Mini - Ghost of the Past

September Mini - Ghost of the Past

GHOSTS

THE

PAST

The Visitor's Center

Just where the sands of Tawny Beach begin to fade into soil, grass, and cobbled roads, there is a new building. Much like the House of Cards, it seems to have appeared from nowhere overnight. A large and round structure of tastefully stacked stone, it seems to fit perfectly in between the town and the marina, with an exterior door facing each side and at both entrances. It reads, "VISITOR'S CENTER," in bold letters.

In mailboxes throughout town, there are flyers, advertising "offworlder visitation" running from September 6th to 19th. "Make appointment today!" it advertises cheerfully.

Regardless of which side you enter, the same receptionist sits at the desk on either side--- a pretty-faced young man with braided black hair, wearing dozens of pieces of delicate golden jewelry. He is working hard on some sort of paperwork or taking some phone call when you come in, but he quickly sets it aside to welcome you. "Hello! Welcome to the visitor's center! Would you like to make an appointment?"

Your host artfully dances around questions regarding the place, its abrupt construction, its purpose, and what your appointment actually entails, assuring you it's "self-explanatory." He'll gladly inform you that "people you know" are here for a visit, but won't say who or why or for how long. But you'll sign up for your appointment anyway, for one reason or another. Perhaps you don't even really know.

At the time of your appointment, you are sat down in a tasteful meeting space of your choosing (the options are listed below) and your guest is brought in. But it is not who you expect. In fact, in all likelihood, you do not know this person at all. But don't worry, they've been briefed, and they'll pass the information along to you if asked.

You see, you are not here to meet someone from your own past, at least not at first---- you're here to meet someone close to one of your friends or neighbors. And they're here to speak about that person to you.

Take as long as you need. The Visitor's Center does not close.

How It Works

Visitors.
Each offworlder on the island can have up to 2 "ghosts of their past." This is not meant to be literal, as these so-called ghosts will generally be no more dead than any other offworlder. Your ghost can be anyone who "haunts" you in some way, which can mean whatever makes sense to you. It does not necessarily need to be someone with a negative opinion of you--- it can be someone who loves you very much! This person can be from any point in your timeline, including after the incident that brought you to Pumpkin Hollow. It can also be a past version of yourself. Regardless, your own visitor is not actually the person you are here to meet. Your visitor will be meeting with one of your friends or loved ones from the island, and you will be meeting with someone else's "ghost."

When speaking to a "ghost", you will notice a few things about them. The first is that they do have a sense of where they are and what they're doing---- they know that they're here temporarily, and that they've been asked to speak about or on behalf of someone they know. They're aware of who the person is that they've come to speak about as well, and they seem to have all of their memories intact aside from being a little fuzzy on the actual process of getting here. The second is that in most cases, they seem to have regular needs like any living person. The upper floors of the visitor's center have hostel-like sleeping areas, bathrooms, a cafe, everything a person might need. The third is that they seem to be weirdly forthcoming when asked questions. Perhaps you're not familiar enough with the individual to notice such things at first, but it becomes evident that they're pretty open about the person they're there to speak about even when they don't seem to want to be.

Want to speak to your own visitor? That can be arranged--- but your ghost must speak to someone else first. But not to worry, there's plenty of time. (Despite the IC dates, OOCly this can be backtagged as long as desired!)

Locations.
There are plenty of places to meet with visitors within the Visitor's Center. If you'd prefer a more public meeting space, some lounge areas have been set up on the beach, or the cafe or recreation area within the center are all available. The beach meeting spaces consist of clusters of folding beach chairs or picnic blankets, and while swimming season is largely over, the view from the beach continues to be stunning this month. The cafe is a quaint bistro on the rooftop of the center with a round serving station in the middle and outdoor tables around the outer walls, which feels both spacious and intimate at the same time somehow. And the recreation room is an interior space on the second floor full of spaces for communal games, some of which are too modern to be there. (Not electronics, but definitely Cards Against Humanity.)

If you'd prefer a more private space, there are a number of tasteful meeting rooms, including those with tables as if for a more formal meeting or those with couches or chairs. One of the latter sort even has a fireplace!

However, visitors are not able to go further afield than the beach. If they attempt to go into town, their feet will plant themselves firmly to the ground outside. They will not be able to be pushed or lifted to get around this, and anyone who attempts to force it will be summarily accosted by the staff and their appointment will end immediately. They may not be eligible for another.

Rules.
As far as OOC rules go, there are a few perks and limitations worth knowing. Any "ghosts" that you write are eligible for AC bonuses for the characters they are attached to. If you are writing a ghost for another player's character, you may decide where the AC bonus goes, but please make a note on your activity check indicating what you're doing. You may write your ghost from your existing journal (with or without a unique icon for that ghost, just as long as you make it clear), or create an independent journal for the character. As mentioned before, you can absolutely play a ghost for someone else. If you would like to have a non-member friend drop by to play your ghost, you may absolutely do so if you clear it with a mod, preferably by having said friend send the mod journal a PM. Be aware that if you recruit an outside player to write a ghost for you, you are responsible for their behavior, and any AC-length threads on their end will not be eligible for transfer because that will just kill Drake probably.

Characters appearing from Ghosts of the Past can also appear in the Villain's Lounge or be apped in later as permanent characters (but not both, as the two are mutually exclusive) and will have some unique lore from entering the game this way!

Ghosts are not capable of lying and will generally feel more compelled to be forthcoming when speaking to anyone OTHER than the person they're here to represent. However, they cannot be forced to meet with anyone they do not want to see or to answer questions they adamantly do not wish to answer. The compulsions are relatively subtle. They also do not have to volunteer information they weren't asked for if they don't want to. None of these compulsions are present if they speak to the person they are there to see. Their memories are generally accurate to whatever point you bring them from, meaning that they can be whatever you want.

If you're visiting with your own ghost, please be aware that threads between two characters played by the same person are never eligible for AC and this is still the case in this instance.

Staff.
Last but not least, there's a chance that you may encounter the staff of the Visitor's Center around. There are two men and two women--- Daanon, Caspian, Reyelle, and Nephera, respectively. Those here in February may recognize them from Merrymeet. They look fairly normal, generally appearing as humans (or an elf, in Nephera's case), but in reality they are the members of the Court of Betrayal. Whenever they speak about their "Manager," they are referring to Eligos. However, this is not immediately obvious, especially to those not familiar with these particular demons. If you know, you know! [ I will be keeping my demon thread load super light, so please feel free to handwave interactions with them as you see fit! If you want a demon thread, please reach out to me for plotting. -Rose ]

CODE BY MARWOOD

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"...Would it hurt, to see him again?"

There's a softer tone there, something that breaks through the haze of intoxicating murder, as she takes the second sheet. Folds it over, until it's a long and flowing shawl to place around her shoulders.

Daisy makes a noncommittal noise. "He was... the first time I learned people who say they care can turn on you. Like— like it's nothing. Like I was nothing."

Nothing haunts her more than how Calvin's assault didn't even seem to be about her. It wasn't a newfound grudge, it wasn't a long con fulfilled, it was just an attack of opportunity. Nothing to do with her at all.

"He needed blood. And you were there."

The words of someone who knows the Slaughter by a different name. Sometimes, it's just that simple. You don't need a reason. You just need to kill.

"Yeah," Daisy breathes. "We were kids. Doing stupid kid stuff. Then something touched him and... I was the closest target. That's how it felt. Then everything changed."

Her whole life from that moment feels set in stone.

Fever reaches forth, a light touch to turn Daisy's face towards hers, to meet her eyes.

"Walk with me back to town? If I hang out here in just sheets, I'm liable to get sick, and everyone will think the Blight is back."

It's a tissue-thin excuse. But this isn't a conversation to be had out here, if it's a conversation Daisy wants to have at all today. It's been an unspoken yet constant understanding between them - not to push, not to dig farther than the other person allows. And when they do want to talk, when they allow it, it needs to feel safe. It will be safe. Hasn't Fever proven that, marked with gore for no other reason than Daisy asked?

Daisy lets her gaze be turned. Her tongue drags over her teeth and she nods her head back towards town.

"Alright, c'mon."

"My place, or yours?"

The question is tossed out when they cross over into the town borders, easy as anything.

"Yours," comes quickly as an answer. Half because Fever still only has sheets, half because she still feels a bit weird going back to her house recently.

"Sure. You can see how I redecorated."

The apartment feels a lot more like Fever when they enter. Still small, but there's a sense of her actually living here. Fresh wallpaper, a richly colored couch and armchair, generic art replaced with nature sketches from around the island. A library book and a quilt carelessly tossed on the couch, a strange little cabinet with a circular mirror tucked to the side with a few random items atop it. A tiny fern by the window that feels somehow nervous to be here. Little things that add up to the impression of someone trying, at bare minimum, to fill their space with things they like.

"Is this a talking sort of conversation, a 'distract me until I calm down' conversation, or both?"

The spits and spurts of lived-in personality are familiar in their way. Daisy's own house had certainly started to feel more like a home, until... well, things got depressing. Which she's not going to think about and instead just appreciate that Fever's settling.

"Looking nice," she says, before sighing. "Honestly, I dunno. Maybe both?"

In answer, Fever draws near, her tone dropping.

"Okay. We'll start with the latter."

And when Daisy feels ready to approach, they can. Better that than think about the other her in those walls, run the risk of telling her that. Fever instead decides to kiss her soundly, as had been mentioned earlier, a degree more relaxed from the murder and being allowed to bask in it. If she can share some of that feeling, she will. But most of all, their pasts are currently stopped from coming any closer than they are.

Daisy exhales and presses back into the kiss, relaxing just a little that might soon become a lot, all firmness and teeth that she's never too careful with if she doesn't have to be. Tries not to think about anything outside the walls of this apartment, not directly. Not besides the thrum of grateful desire.

Does it help, Fever wonders, if she gives more to it? Not asking Daisy to be careful, letting her decide how long this goes on, if it'll move to more. Offering her control over the situation. Fever wants her, and gladly, but it's not about her - it's about what she can give, how she can turn the situation so that Daisy feels like she's on solid ground.

Even if Calvin doesn't stay dead, he at least felt a great deal of pain. The blood that Fever didn't get, along her jaw - that's proof of it. He's there, and Daisy is free.

Even in the moment Daisy's not sure how far to take this, how far she needs to let herself be distracted to deal with— all of this. Even when she backs Fever to a wall, she's no more sure, only following instinct and whatever the next thought in her head is one by one.

So much of who she is comes back to that day. To Calvin. It's a frustrating thing to know, but not one she can simply erase.

One thing at a time, improvising what to do next. It's how she lives her life. It's why she's here at all, back against the wall and practically melting. Oh, they've done this dance, and Daisy doesn't need to treat her delicately - she can take it, can take the frustration and the stress and clear her mind. That must be the satisfaction from Calvin's death putting her in such a good mood.

So instead her hands go into Daisy's hair, keeping her near, kissing her like she's been waiting for this all day. It'll go as far as it needs to go.

Teeth at her lip, claws not bothering to be careful when the only fabric at risk is sheets. Daisy only withdraws to draw lips and canines over Fever's jaw and throat, instead, hearing and feeling the thrum of the blood in all those vulnerable pathways beneath the skin—

It's the thought of how easy it would be to tear into it that slows her, has her pressing her face into Fever's throat and breathing deep.

She feels Daisy slowing and doesn't rush her, instead making a choice to tilt her head back. Exposing the soft, vulnerable parts of her neck, the unguarded places. Trusting her, deliberately, and yielding control without a fight.

The passion and the desire is there, but Daisy doesn't need her to fight back, to rip each other bloody. She needs something that is not the Slaughter. Something to say, you're here now, and to let her bask in it.

For a long moment that's how Daisy stays, focused on her pulse and on the beats of quiet in between, grounding herself in the space where it all overlaps. It's hard not to think of how this need for control she's always had all comes back to that day, but there's no use to be found in such thoughts—though that makes them no easier to deny.

Exhaling, she murmurs, "I could kill you."

It's not a threat.

"I know."

That's simply a fact. Something Fever accepts and leans back against, steadier in her life for it. Daisy could kill her, at any given time, but she doesn't, because she doesn't have a need to.

Still, her pulse is steady. This apartment is quiet. There's only the faint murmur of the world outside, a haze that barely means anything.

Even now she doesn't really understand how so many people have come to have more faith in her self-control than she has. How many people look at her and see someone worth trusting instead of a danger. Sometimes the thing that Calvin, the Hunt, herself, made her into still wants to assert her place on the hierarchy, the unstoppable apex predator that you either escape or die.

Daisy squeezes her eyes shut and just breathes.

Her breathing is steady, even. And when she moves to shift them, she brings Daisy with her. Asking, not demanding.

"Come here."

To the couch, which is as comfortable as it looks. Lie down, and keep breathing, so Fever can put her arms around her - easily snapped, easily broken - and just hold her. Asking nothing. There's no Calvin here. No Hunt, except what Daisy has in herself. This is safe. This is quiet.

Rest, she wants to say, feeling for all the world like the beast that took up vigil at the entrance to the cave.

Daisy stiffens, at first, but after a moment she relents and lets herself be guided over to lie with her. There's a ready tension in her that never quite fades, but she tries to just remember to breathe.

Time slips away, but Fever doesn't seem bothered, is in no hurry to be or do anything else. Coming down from the high of murdering Calvin is a slower thing than it would have been otherwise, and though she still has the familiar headache starting up, it's not unbearable. Just a dull throb instead of a spike.

No one's come, no one's even walked down the hallway. A corner room is best to know when people are coming, a tiny bit of advance notice. It's almost like they can pretend she just came over to be here, just for this. Just to exist, really.

It'll be Daisy's choice, when she wants to get up. She'll be protected, as long as she wants.

Daisy's not sure she'll ever be truly used to things like this. But she lays there, and she closes her eyes, and she focuses on the quiet around them, and she doesn't move for a long, long while.

"...killing him was never really the end of him. But I still didn't expect him getting dug back up. And put back together. To get shoved at people."

Quite literally, she didn't exactly bury the guy in one piece.

"Based on what someone told me, I think that place is meant to hurt us. One way or another."

Herself. Calvin. They plucked out the worst, and set them loose in their little pen. But Fever's voice is quiet, nonjudgemental.

"Some bastard's out there laughing, I'm sure."

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