PLAYER PLOT: fear is the mind-killer

[fullmoon]

CHARACTERS: You and all your least favorite things.
LOCATION: Shipwide.
WARNINGS: Violence, gore, monsters, psych trauma. (Please warn for any potential triggers—e.g. medical horror, eye stuff, recollection of past sexual trauma—in your subject lines.)
SUMMARY: Boggarts. See the plot post for a full timeline if you want to forward-date; otherwise, watch this space for updates.
NOTES: Whatever happens, however this ends, remember that it's Draco Malfoy's fault.

JAN 22

If you've been paying attention, you should already be on edge. Ward and Resnik have returned without many answers. There's the dead pirate again. The Tranquility is being pursued. People are talking about violent confrontation like it's inevitable, any cycle now. Any day. And now Morgoth is back, somewhere in the corridors.

If you keep an eye out, you won't find him. But you might find something else.

JAN 23

Never mind about Morgoth.

JAN 24

Despite very well-intended claims to the contrary (see above), the mounting evidence suggests that boggarts can be killed. Also, there's probably more than one. Sorry about that.

Comments

Locked to Robin (peckish4action) | cw: violence, general horror

[50000volts]

The walk back from Comms is generally an uneventful one. At this hour, there's hardly anybody up and about, and usually Darcy likes it this way. Today, however, her footsteps seem to ring out a little too sharply in the halls and feel like a beacon for unwanted attention. She slows her pace, tries to step quietly. It doesn't seem to help. Feeling incredibly uneasy then, she stops in mid-step.

The next bootfall sounds anyway.

No. Not boots. Maybe heels?

Darcy is petrified for what seems like forever, until finally she wills herself to look over her shoulder. It's nothing, she tells herself. There's probably just someone down the hall, coming toward her. Just because she's often the only person around doesn't mean it's always true. There's no one there, but that doesn't mean they aren't just around one of the bends. Sound carries, after all. That's just science. Taking a deep breath, she starts walking again.

The rhythm no longer matches her own steps. In fact, it's not a rhythm at all now. Darcy begins walking faster. The lift isn't much further. She'll be there before long, and then once she's safe inside, she can laugh at herself for being so paranoid. Paranoia may serve her, though. Especially now. But even as she's making her quick clip through the corridor, the footsteps get louder. ...No. Those aren't footsteps. What is it? What is that...

Tapping.

With a sharp gasp, Darcy takes off on a sprint. Fuck this place, fuck this place, fuck this place... "Please, no," she whispers to nothing – but something – in particular. "Not this again."

Rounding the corner send her colliding with something solid. No, someone. Darcy screams and goes scrambling back, a flurry of windmill slaps as she tries to put distance between herself and her attacker. – No, that isn't right. She isn't being attacked, is she? A familiar voice reaches through her terror as if she were underwater, someone calling to her from the surface.

"Darcy," it – no – he says, "Darcy, calm down. It's me. It's--"

She recognizes the voice, and it draws her back to the here and now, makes everything clearer and sharper. But it's not the name she should have heard. Why did he give her that name?

"Ryuuzaki?"

His hands on her shoulders hold her steady, keep her from stumbling backward again. She doesn't hear the tapping anymore. Was it all in her head? Is this it? Is she finally losing her mind?

"Is something wrong?" His voice is dry as ever, making concern sound perfunctory at best. It's a comfort in its own way. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Darcy laughs at her own expense, chin dipping down and eyes shutting as she shakes off the lingering vestiges of fear making her feel too heavy to stand on her own. "More like heard one. Are you on your way to-" When she brings her eyes up to him again, his face is wrong. Like it's distorted beneath a film of oil, erasing and contorting. "No. Oh, no. No no no no. Not you. Please not this."

Fingers like claws sink into the skin of her arms and Darcy shrieks, pulling away with a tear of fabric.

Again, she begins running, though this time back the way she came. She doesn't think she can dodge past this... thing that wears Ryuuzaki like a grotesque costume. If she can get back to Comms--

But what if it has Ryuuzaki's nanites? Will she even be safe in there?

Her lungs burn already from the exertion, she still hasn't regained her strength fully since her return from the halls. A glance over her shoulder shows not-Ryuuzaki down on all fours now, loping after her and growing more monstrous with each passing moment. A manticore. Don't look back, she begs herself. Looking back only slows you down. It doesn't matter. A clawed hand finds her ankle.

Darcy screams as she goes down.

[peckish4action]

Robin heard the scream and slipped out of Comms, eskrima sticks at the ready. From his point of view, the creature didn't even look very much like Ryuuzaki, so he didn't register the possibility. He just saw Darcy being chased - the thing catching up to her, and launched himself towards them, more going by the walls and partly the ceiling than the floor.

"No, you don't!"

The stick slams into the creature's skull a moment after Darcy goes down, with all the weight that a leaping bound can deliver, and Robin lands firmly on the creature's elbow and wrist, forcing him to release Darcy's ankle. Then he flips over her, grinning widely even though his eyes - behind the white-out lenses - are definitely on the monster.

"May I lend you hand, here?" In an exaggerated chivalrous offer to help her up. "Elevators. I'll cover you."

And he makes a mental note to nanites-code a room for himself closer to the elevators on SOME of the levels, one of these days, in such cases. But that's for later. Now? Helping Darcy up, and spinning behind her to face the creature again.

"Did you get hurt by the fall?"

cassandra anderson / open | cw: psychological + sexual trauma

[mindtricks]

RESCUING

[ anderson is afraid — peach trees taught her how to continue even when she was terrified, how not to let it paralyse her, or maybe she always knew how to do that deep down and peach trees just brought it to the forefront. she can acknowledge her fear and still move, still fight.

(she's scared of morgoth and she's scared for the people she cares about, she's scared that she won't be able to make a difference and she keeps thinking of what morgoth did to her, none of it forgotten and none of it easy to come to terms with.)

right now, she's afraid, but the sharp sting of fear isn't her own — it's someone else's, and anderson grips her primary weapon a little more tightly and forces herself to keep going, towards what is making them so afraid instead of away from it.

their fear isn't hers, and she wants, needs to make a difference, to help. ]

REQUIRING RESCUE

[ morgoth is dead, but time and space don't mean very much to the tranquility, it seems, and he's back.

the events of arima aren't something anderson likes to think about too often, but thoughts of what happened creep up on her despite her best intentions all too frequently: in the showers after the jump when she remembers how little her own nudity at these times used to bother her, how it was just a small inconvenience to be ignored, before, how it is a vulnerability now, how she has to remind herself that it doesn't actually make her weak. in the mornings or late at night when she's half asleep and can no longer remember whether she knew her father, whether her mother smiled or cried more often before she died, when she can't tell what is real and what isn't anymore, what her childhood was like. at random times when she needs to forcibly remind herself that there are no scars on her back, that she was not whipped and raped in peach trees, that she rescued herself and dredd that day, that there was no other outcome.

morgoth had overwhelmed her entirely, had swallowed her mind until she'd almost lost herself, drowned her in a sea of blood in his mind. (it wasn't real, none of it was real and what happens in someone's mind cannot hurt her, she knows that, but the memories still feel real today even though she knows none of it happened in reality.)

most of the time, anderson can handle her own fear, but standing in the corridor faced with morgoth, she's still. her eyes are wide and her jaw clenched like the fingers where she's holding her weapon in a grip tight enough to make her knuckles stand out white against pale skin.

she doesn't shoot, and she doesn't move, barely breathing.

morgoth is dead, but faced with him now anderson feels entirely helpless and afraid. ]

EXHAUSTION

[ she's exhausted. it's one thing to live with a constant backdrop of other people's thoughts and emotions — anderson often thinks of her mutation and what it lets her hear to something akin to a radio. eventually, you learn to blend it out or pay attention to it when a song comes on you want to listen to &mdsah; and another entirely to live with the backdrop of this many people faced with their worst fears and nightmares.

the terror people feel is too strong, too overwhelming to blend out or for her to shield herself against, and while she tries to help where she can, that just puts her in closer proximity with things she'd like to avoid.

like people's fears.

like morgoth, but she's not thinking about that, can't unless she wants to lose herself in the terror that's around her mixed with her own. it's hard enough to distinguish between her own emotions and those of others, right now.

there are some people who understand. there are some people, too, whose emotions she's never felt and whose minds have remained closed off from her even when she tried — she seeks them out now, anything for a moment of quiet to catch her breath, to make sense of what she's feeling. ]

[ ooc | her plotting comment is here! all of these are open, though, and i figure she'll encounter morgoth more than once, so there shouldn't be any continuity issues. ]

requiring rescue;

[unguard]

[ Bellamy doesn't know what's haunting this ship. He doesn't know who Morgoth is, or what Boggarts are, or Anderson's history. He doesn't even know Anderson that well, apart from her name and her gift, but even so, when he slips through the halls and stumbles upon her locked into a stare, he can see by her expression that he needs to step in. To do something, because the look on her face is the same look he's seen on countless teenagers as they looked into the darkness, the fear of death, the fear of pain.

He approaches slowly, boots thudding tentatively on the metallic floors, wary eyes flicking from Anderson to the nameless being he's never seen before, one that doesn't even remotely seem to notice him or acknowledge his presence. It's uncanny valley, the way this stranger seems to show no indication that there's another person in time or space, they only have eyes for Anderson.

He's not usually one to get involved in someone else's business, but he's also definitely not one to sit back and watch while something like this unfolds.

As soon as he's within reasonable distance, within a couple yards of them, he speaks up carefully. His voice is low and guarded, a dangerously pointed edge to it that he hopes the stranger picks up on, though his attention and his question are directed solely at the person he knows.]

Anderson, is everything alright here?

Cullen || Open + closed to Cole || cw torture, gore?

[troops]

[A. Open, helping!]

[At his core, Cullen is a protector. It's why he originally joined the Templars, why he rebelled against his commanding officer, and why he ultimately left them to join the Inquisition. He's used to positions of power and has sacrificed almost everything to better help those in need.

Which is why, when he hears of magical monsters on the ship, his first reaction is to grab for his sword and move out through the halls. He's been trained to deal with situations like this and he's armored, searching methodically, though not recklessly. Without the lyrium, he's not as strong as he once was- with the withdrawal symptoms, he's a good deal weaker now than he should be, but he can't stand by and do nothing while people are traumatized by these creatures.

Feel free to have him stumble across your character, if you like! He will do his best to protect them- if the boggart decides to combine his fears with theirs, expect, uh... fleshy lumps in the environment and/or aspects of abominations.]

[B. Open, help!]

[He's able to discern the nature of the demons quickly enough. It's important, always, to keep your wits about you, even when facing down your darkest fears. Demons know that, they're waiting for you to scream and give into madness. You cannot let them.

Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Cullen is trembling, his back pressed firmly against one of the walls. Around the corner is a demon, twice the height of a normal man, claws scraping against the floor with a sickening sound. He can't defeat one of those things, not on his own, and without the lyrium, there's no hope at even trying to come out alive. His hands are already shaking from it, terror and deprivation all at once, and he grips the sword tighter.

Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.

If he doesn't try, it will kill others- he knows this. He can't run, and so he steels himself, sets his jaw tight and rounds the corner. Without a shield, there's not much hope of deflecting blows, and so he has to strike first, to hope that mounting an insurmountable offense will be enough to protect him.

He rushes, charging the beast and lashing out with his sword. The blow is blocked easily by the creature's bladed forearm, knocked aside as if it were nothing. The demon chuckles, low in its throat, and strikes with its other arm.

Cullen acts before he can even think about it, summoning forth the power that's not there anymore to smite it, try and knock it back before it can hit him. It results in a weak strobe of force that branches out from his closed fist, the power flickering and pushing weakly against the target. It's not enough to knock the demon back or even deflect the blow, but it manages to weaken enough to where a single attack won't break any bones.

He's knocked back though, sword clattering to the floor as he slams against the wall behind him. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.

This isn't going to go well.]

[C. Closed to Cole | fade_away]

[Uldred is dead.

Cullen had seen his corpse over a decade ago, he'd helped the remaining templars clear out the tower. He'd seen the twisted remains of the abomination that the blood mage had become. He knows that he's dead, knows that there's no way to come back from beyond the Fade, no matter how much blood is spilled, no matter how much magic is spent. Uldred is dead.

So why is he here? Why is Cullen shaking as he backs away from the man? He looks unassuming enough: slender, wearing simple mage robes, bald, a small staff in his hand. He looks like any other mage, would almost look pleasant if not for the sickening smile on his face.

A sword won't help him. Nothing will help him. He's here, he's aboard the ship that travels between stars, he's come so far since those days when he'd broken under the strain of torture, but in a single moment, none of that means anything. In a single moment, he's back to that day, to the point where he'd shattered and been driven far enough to beg for the mercy of death.

He can't fight this. He never could.]


[D. Anything else!]

[fade_away]

[Uldred is dead.

Uldred is dead.

Again.

Alright, back up once more.

It wasn't like the thing could do much with Uldred's face. Perhaps it could have access to some of his more terrifying abilities, but most of those were too lethal. Certainly, the ones that caused such fear in Cullen couldn't be properly replicated by this thing wearing his face. That didn't really matter though, because as he moves to advance on Cullen, a gray-green cloud seems to explode behind him, the skinny 'demon' boy kicking him hard in the small of his back with both feet only to spin his wicked twin daggers in his hands and bring them up, over Uldred's shoulders to stab downward into his chest. Uldred - the thing that is wearing Uldred's face - is dead before he hits the ground. Most importantly, it's dead before it had a chance to notice Cole, to turn to what he feared. He has dealt with Despair once today already and the thought of doing so again...

His fears are not important. His despair is second. Cullen's drew him, again, as it has many times before. Cole sheathed his daggers onto his back once more, leaving the body where it was, approaching Cullen with caution.]

... Cullen?

Dorian | open | cw: psychological trauma

[sparkler]

[a: please help!]

[It's not fear Dorian feels at first. It's confusion, then anger, and only then the creeping, paralyzing fear that has him wanting to run, but too frozen to do so.

He's seen a few things - mentions that something was going on, that things weren't normal, that perhaps terror was stalking the ship. But though he noted them, he hasn't allowed them to interfere - Dorian still wishes to learn what he can about this place. And so he went walking, as he's done more than once since arriving here, trying to learn the layout of the ship and where everything is. He's not without defenses. He is wary, careful, but not frightened into staying in his room.

He didn't expect this, though.

An abomination before him, an unsettingly familiar figure that never fails to send a shiver down his spine, a reminder of what mages can become if they lose themselves. And perhaps if that was been all, it would be fine - Dorian will not falter in battle against an abomination.

No, it's what the abomination was before that terrifies him.

Dorian has control, Dorian is strong, Dorian is an incredibly talented and skilled (and handsome) mage. Dorian would never fall to that sort of thing, never even consider blood magic, never lose himself and become one of those - things.

But it was his face, his body, his slightly unhinged smile that he saw. It was him who lost control, who twisted and mutated into that hideous creature that stood before him, and it is that which freezes him in place, terror coursing through his veins.

He's strong. He'll snap out of it, he'll fight, but right now - all he can do is stare in horror.]


[b: helping]

[Dorian isn't one to sit idly by while frightening, apparently demonic things are roaming around terrifying and threatening people. Not when he's already seen what they can do, when he's been terrified into helplessness himself. This isn't Thedas - he doesn't know what might work against them - but he's more than willing to try. The first step is to learn more, so that he knows what he's facing, and only then will he be able to - what? Craft a spell to send them back where they came from? Find whatever's brought them here? He's not sure yet. With so little information, he has no real idea what he's doing.

But he's still doing it. Demons - spirits? ghosts? - on the loose is, after all, something he has some small bit of experience with. Dorian holds his staff at the ready, searching for signs of these creatures, looking for people who are facing them. He'll help, and he'll learn what he can. His own fear is tightly tamped down, locked away in the back of his mind as something he really can't waste time on right now. He knows it could come roaring back at the wrong time, the wrong place, but that isn't something he can focus on at the moment.

He walks down the halls with confidence - sham confidence, perhaps, but what is Dorian good at if not projecting an air of confidence that he may not entirely have? It may be comforting, at least, to someone that he meets who is far deeper in the embrace of fear than him.

He turns down another corridor, spots a flicker of movement, a sound of fear, and speeds up his steps. He can help, and he can learn, and perhaps that will ultimately help all of them.]

A

[troops]

[He knows their enemies well enough now to know that the demons tend to shift and alter themselves to accommodate new fears when being faced with more than one adversary. He's seen it happen by now, monsters twisted into half-recognizable horrors, and half-something else entirely. It makes them even more formidable if possible, and so Cullen has had to be careful when helping the others, lest their fears develop aspects of his own.

When he sees Dorian's back from down the hallway, Cullen keeps this in mind, but helping an ally is ultimately more important. They're able to do far more when they're fighting together, and so he calls out, moving up to join him.]

Dorian!

[The mage seems frozen into place, and when Cullen finally gets a look at the monster over his shoulder, he realizes why. It's- grotesque, revolting, and he finds himself hesitating when he realizes that it shares Dorian's features. His eyes stare out from beneath his brows, tattered robes familiar despite the blood and disarray. Cullen forces himself to move next to the other man, drawing his sword- and the attention of the abomination.

It looks to him, sees him, and nothing about it changes.]

I trust you know how to fight these.

[It's pointed, direct, meant to pull Dorian out of himself and into whatever battle they're about to have.]

[birdarang]

helping!

[ Okay, so he has no idea what's going on. But then again, it doesn't seem like anyone does. The thing he does know is that people are in need of help. That's the only thing that's keeping him calm while the rest of this ship seems to be throwing itself into chaos.

It actually feels kind of good as he's racing through the corridors, down into the gardens. This is what he's supposed to do. Helping others and finding trouble, and fighting against whatever disturbances may be there. Robin can't even describe how wonderful this feels.

Despite some weird Dark Lord or whatever making his way through the ship. That doesn't feel good at all.

A noise nearby attracts his attention. Robin bounds in that direction, preparing for...well, he's not sure what to prepare for exactly. But he's determined to help. ]

in need of help!

[ He knows that something isn't right around here. The way people are acting, and the posts that are coming up on the networks. Robin's not sure who is causing the trouble or why, but he needs to figure out what it is. He could go try to meet up with others, but that idea just...kind of rolls past him. He's too used to the scenario of 'if there are no Titans with me, i must do it alone'. So, that's what he figures he's going to do.

Robin turns down another corridor, trying to pick up any clues of somebody needing help, anybody. But instead what he catches is the glare of a mask. Was it a mask? Whatever it was, Robin quickly stopped and looked around. It was dark. It was quiet....... ]

Alone again, Robin?

His hands quickly clenched into fists as he spun around, his heart leaping into his throat. He knew who that was. He knew- ] No...

[ A man steps out of the shadows. One that Robin knows a little too well.

He wants to be angry. But his hands are shaking, and his guts are twisting into knots. He takes one step backward, then another. ] You're not supposed to be here! [ Stay calm. Easy. This isn't anything he can't take care of.

Slade is quiet then, and approaches with his hands pressed behind his back. That one eye stares down on him, and it feels like Robin is being crushed. Memories that he thought he escaped from here make themselves known once again. Watching his friends dying before his eyes...a pain so horrible that it left him completely numb, begging......

Robin charges forward with a cry. He brings an arm back, tensing the muscles, ready to punch, but is suddenly shot away. His back hits something and pain lances through his body, and he falls to the cold metal floor. And although he tries to be brave, the fear is making itself known.

Stay focused, Robin. Breathe. Robin gets to his feet, watching Slade carefully. Slade had to be stopped, no matter how he felt. ]

HALPING at in need of help

[peckish4action]

[ On the one hand, Robin is glad that they had a little bit of time of respite, right after the jump. He seriously needed to catch up on sleep. On the other hand? People's nightmares coming to life all over the ship is exactly not the kind of stuff that he's been looking forward to. ]

[ He hears the scruffle down the corridor, familiar voices echoing off the room doors, and runs towards it. He shows up behind Slade, eskrima sticks at the ready. ]

Hey, Robin? Deathstroke got beef with you or something?

[ Also known as: never, ever let your fear show in a fight. ]

open;

[majestyofthethrone]

[She just wanted to go back to her room.

She's been in the music room for a few days, now, sleeping occasionally, curled in the corner, but mainly playing the violin like a maniac and subsisting off some food carefully gathered from the kitchen. She looks it, too, tired and a little unwashed, but mostly tired. The insomnia's kicked in something awful, this time.

She drags her feet a little as a result.

The sound is what hits her, first; there is someone there, around the corner. She doesn't know who, or think of it too much, because why wouldn't there be someone there? It's the sixth floor, a lot of people live there. So when she looks over-

-when she looks over-

The last time she saw him, he had his hand elbow deep in her chest, if it could be called a hand. He was made of light and fury and his wings sweeping around him, covered in eyes. It had been so painful, but she couldn't pass out, she couldn't scream or cry, she could only keep trying to put her hands on his and push him away, but she couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't.

He has a sword, this time, burning, and it takes every bit of willpower she possesses not to run right away, but she does drop the violin that Lucifer gave her (is he here because of that, does he know, is the first thing her terrified mind can conceive of). He sees her, of course he does. Last time it was Raphael, Raphael who said you'll destroy the Throne before you pull it out of her like that, don't- and then a blaze of light that made him stop, but this time he has a sword, designed for cutting, and-

She doesn't think much past that, she scrabbles, then, turning tail, knowing she isn't fast enough, but trying anyway, running, towards the lift, and she sees her violin, in it's case, and opens her mouth. No noise comes out. No noise ever does.

He's coming closer, fast, and she keeps pressing the button, hoping, hoping, hoping the lift will open soon. When it does she goes right in, she doesn't even look to see who might be there with her.]

[rebelled]

[he's out the door the moment her message comes, for all the good it does. but once the second reply comes, he heads straight for the lifts, his blade in hand. he knows he won't be much use. that potentially, he's walking off toward his own death. but he can't just leave her alone. he can't abandon her, no matter what the risk might be.

every lift is called on the floor, forcing them to stop as they reach him. it isn't until the fourth ding of a lift arriving sounds that he finally knows it's the right one. for all his grace may be in tatters right now, he can still feel her. it's impossible not to.]

Seraphim.

Jennifer Keller | Open [CW: Parasites, body horror]

[forsometimenow]

[Jennifer doesn't mind the late night medbay shifts- not really- but her insomnia had been spiking lately what with one thing or another. Her inability to properly sleep consequently meant that she felt herself falling asleep and generally feeling sluggish at inappropriate times.

Like now, for instance, when people were being scared and attacked all over the ship, and she had to be awake and alert for any patients coming in, either needing something to calm them or injury treatment.]

... yeah, gonna hit the coffee and take a walk.

[It's a mumble to herself as she rises from her seat, rubbing tiredness from her eyes, and soon she's wandering near the pods with a cup in her hands... and it's then that she senses movement out of the corner of her eye. She squints, studying... then chides herself, thinking she's just being paranoid.]

Get it together, girlfriend. People might need you.

[But she's sure she sees it again as she begins to walk away. She turns to look at the nearest pod... sees what looks like a body inside... and leans in...

... before, suddenly, she notices movement. Within the pod, within the person's body, it's a parasite, and she doesn't know how to get them out...

She begins to back away, a cry for help rising in her throat, but that turns into a full-fledged scream as the corpse falls through the pod, through the solid pod, and the faceless featureless person's chest begins to swell, and though she knows she's a doctor and should be helping them, she's frozen in place.]

[atent_dead]

[Granny's used to working odd hours. Things that needed witching didn't tend to keep to daylight schedules. And when there's no need of witching, well, babies are notorious for deciding to make their entrance whenever they pleased as well.

And she's never one to ignore a cry for help. Especially with strangeness going down on the ship. She hurries over, broom in hand. It was remarkable, how many people's fears responded to a good brooming.]

What is it?

Leoben Conoy | open | later in the event | action format ok

[hairlocked]

Leoben took his time moving through the ship. There was an unusual feeling in the air, people were unnerved, sharing their dismay on the network, circulating their concerns warily. Leoben listened and watched as though through a two way mirror, observing, hovering back. He had the advantage of working with different groups of people.

His ability to hang back didn't last. It couldn't. The things moving about the ship found him eventually, not that Leoben knew what he was looking at--the problem was that he'd been looking for Kara for so long, that when he finally found her, bloodied, her jaw unhinged beyond life, her flesh burned, her eyes white and unseeing, he was certain that she was the real thing.

She couldn't be dead. After all his searching he'd expected to find her alive and well. Desperately needed her to have survived on the ship the way that Ward and Resnik had apparently seemed to. She had to be out there somewhere, alive.

And he fled, because he was afraid, and found himself tangled in corridors, and managed to find his way back by luck. Then he'd see her again, and flee.

The monster found him in one of the elevators, trapped where he couldn't immediately escape. For a moment she wasn't there--he pressed the button for his floor, turned around to watch the doors close, and there she was.

Her flight suit charred, her head askew, the flesh on her jaw peeled back to expose bone and teeth. Her eyes, corpse eyes, cut holes in him, and Leoben threw himself back against the wall, his instinct to run overwhelming. She couldn't be dead. It wasn't possible. She had to guide them to Earth. If she was dead then his prophecies were wrong. The future was a broken thing and everything he believed in collapsed around him. It was enough to drive a robot mad.

"Get away from me!"

Cornered. No way out. She raised a grotesque, rotting hand and touched his face, and Leoben tried to twist away. "But I love you," cooed the corpse.

"What are you--get back! You're not Kara Thrace!"

But despite his protest she was unbelievably strong, leaning in and pressing her ruined lips to him, a vile mockery of a kiss, the taste of which lingered. The elevator door opened - not Leoben's floor, the loom of corridors waiting for him - and Not!Kara flung him through them. She needn't have bothered. He didn't need convincing, he put his head down and ran.

Ai Enma | open | cw: spider, emotional abuse?

[shallbeavenged]

[A: Needs Help]

[Ai was walking down a corridor when a familiar voice filled the hallway.]

So this is where you have run off to. Did you really think you could escape me girl?

[There is a massive spider on the wall in front of her. It seems to be speaking somehow. Its voice deep and cruel. Ai's eyes widen and she takes a step back.]

I didn't mean- I don't even know how I -

LIES! You sought your freedom, you ran. You left your assistants to my mercy and ran to save yourself. Shall I tell you what I did to them when they could not produce you?

[Ai seems to falter at this and then falls to her knees]

No. ....please no. I didn't run...I didn't mean to leave. It wasn't their fault.

They refused to believe you left, so I had to draw it out of them. You should be proud, they were loyal till the end...

[The spider will continue telling Ai her worst fears until someone else steps in or she snaps under the pressure and attempts to attack it herself.]


[B. Offering Help]

[Now that she's not about to have an emotional breakdown and burn down half the ship Ai is on the hunt. Because something is doing this and she's going to destroy whatever creature tries to hurt her or even the other people on this ship.]

A

[acapriciousthing]

[She spots the spider first. Because it's massive. But then she spots the girl. This has been happening to a lot of people. She's no stranger to it either, though it's been a bit more... abstract for her.]

Ai!

[She'd promised to be there. And she keeps her promises.]

open

[dino_zarf]

It's not the first time Wash has seen strange things in the shuttlebay or the corridors outside. This was Tranquility, after all. What he wasn't expecting quite as much was... a little girl.

A little girl, with dark curly hair. Dark skin, but not quite so dark as Zoe's. He'd know that little girl anywhere, even if he's not sure what she's doing here.

Something's wrong. The little girl is crying. "Daddy!"

Wash hurries over to her, but she doesn't seem to see him and moves away. "Daddy, help!"

[compressioncoil]

Kaylee was still getting used to the hallways, and she'd been told some strange things had been going on. She'd listened to the networks, whomever this Morgoth guy was. Spooky, alright, but not reavers.

Released from engine work early, Kaylee figured she'd head down to find Wash and see what was what in the shuttlebay and if anything needed fixin' down there. What she sees as she rounds the corner is unexpected. A beautiful little girl and Wash.

"Wash? D'you need-" Daddy. What in the black? "Wash? Uh, lil' girl? Meimei? What's wrong?"

ota (with a locked portion for Dean) ; cw: violence, general horror, clowns

[familybusiness]

Open;

[Sam fucking hates clowns.

So, of course, the first time he runs into the boggart haunting the ship, it comes at him with huge gnarly teeth, white face paint, and a big red nose. Not to be missed is also the large butcher's knife it carries, which gleams oddly under the lights.

He doesn't know it's not real yet, doesn't know why the hell there's suddenly some killer clown on the loose, or why it doesn't die the instant he shoots a bullet into its head.

But he'll keep trying until it goes down. He just hope no one notices how seriously freaked he is, considering the kinds of things he used to.]

For Dean;

[Once he's sure of the supernatural nature of his previous clown run-in, (it didn't take too long, honestly), Sam texts Dean, asking him what he knows about this this, what he's heard. It's not the first time he's gotten frustrated as hell over having a lack of a way to do any real research; he feels like he's going into this thing completely blind, without any way of getting any sort of upper hand, and he's not used to that.

Things have weaknesses. It's always been his job to figure out what it is. Not being able to do that is...pretty much the worst thing.

While he waits for a response from his brother, he starts wandering the halls, looking for the thing. Now that he knows it's mostly in his head, he's not nearly as afraid.

Little does he know that it can keep changing...and that it's not satisfied with the fear he's putting out anymore.]

[righteously]

[ Today has seriously not been Dean's day. He's run into the friggin' thing twice already, and while he may have underestimated it the first time, the second proved just how rough these things can be to handle. Maybe not deadly, sure, but the things they can do to your mind?

They're screwed up as hell. So when Sam texts him, Dean shoots a reply back in a matter of seconds.

you can wound em, but you can't really kill em. they just keep on keeping on. trust me, taking em on alone ain't the best idea.
where you at?

Because if they're gonna do this thing, they're gonna do it together. No way he wants Sam to have to deal with the same kinda crap he went through.]

Bellamy Blake → the 100 cast.

[unguard]

[ After hearing everything he's heard about what's going on, after having it explained to him and seeing a few people dealing with it for himself, Bellamy's on edge. This isn't something they're used to dealing with; fear, sure, but fear monsters? Smoke... creatures that manifest your enemies, or spiders, or... whatever? It's not something he's keen on experiencing first hand, and he's more than interested in keeping whatever this is far, far away from his crew.

He's most of the way down the hall toward the kitchen when his phone buzzes in his pocket, signaling a text from Clarke.

we're having a meeting. there's a private access alcove on my floor that seems safe, meet us there as soon as you can.

Apparently she's got the same thought in mind, getting everyone together, keeping them sharp. Since they last heard the thing was a few floors up, he figures her meeting point is good enough, even if it is a little weird. He'll ask her about that when he gets there. He doubles back, heading the way he'd come, his feet charting a familiar path down winding hallways past her door and into the spaces beyond.

The further he walks, the more weird this all seems. There are better places, more centralized, more populated than where she's directed him to, and he can't help but thinking-

It doesn't matter. A little relief nudges away his tension when he catches sight of her from the end of the hall. Evidently, she's chosen a spacious access alcove beside an unused airlock, something behind a thick door of shatterproof glass that muffles the sound of their conversation. It's not what he'd have chosen, but the rest of the group doesn't seem to mind. Not judging by the way Octavia's laughing at something Jasper says, or the way Raven's sequestering herself away from Clarke just like he figured he would be. The way Finn's staring all doe-eyed at Clarke, and Clarke's got her mouth pursed into an unhappy but determined line as she waits.

She catches sight of him as he approaches, eyes lighting up as he can see her kicking into business mode, and he slows to a stop outside of the glass. Waves his nanite-coded arm in front of the scanner.

access denied, it beeps.

His brow furrows. Clarke shoots him an expectant look, and he scowls.]

You locked the door from the other side, I can't get in. Open it.

[He says, frustrated. He can see her mouth the word what, and if he strains, he can just barely hear it through the glass.]

The door, it's not working.

[He repeats loudly, enunciating clearly so she can see every word. Her brow furrows in confusion, and she shoots a look at Raven. Says something he can't hear or make out, but Raven seems to understand because she starts screwing around with the panel on the other side of the wall.

He huffs in annoyance, flicking his gaze over the rest of the members of the group, who seem unconcerned. Too busy chatting with one another (or pointedly avoiding one another) that none of them see the green light illuminating the panel on the far wall where the airlock doors are sealed.

He frowns, knocking on the glass to get Clarke's attention.]

Tell Raven to stop, I think she's accessing the wrong one.

[He orders, and Clarke's brow furrows in confusion.

He jabs his finger to the glass, pointing behind her toward the shuttle bay doors.]

The air lock seal is activating, tell her to stop!

[His voice raises an octave, but she still doesn't seem to get it, because he can see her mouthing what? His hand slams down onto the glass, voice rising to a yell.]

TELL HER SHE'S GOT THE WRONG-

[Octavia rises from her seat, the first to notice the thin seam splitting the airlock doors. Her hair starts to fan, pressurized oxygen met with sudden vacuume in a way that's becoming unstable, and she backs away from it slowly, knocking into Jasper in the process. It catches everyone's attention rapidly, and Octavia backs all the way up until her hands are pressing against the thick safety glass.

That thin sliver keeps parting, from a centimeter to an inch, to two inches, and she whips around to pin him with a frightened, questioning look. He can see her mouth move, he can just make out the frantic way she says Bell?

And then all hell breaks loose. Jasper and Finn launch themselves toward the door, struggling to keep it from parting to no avail. Clarke starts yelling at Raven, who starts yelling back, and he can see the room depressurize. From beside them, a wrench flies off of a crate and shoots backward with force, disappearing out of the airlock and into dead space. The crate starts sliding after that, and the pressure becomes too much for Jasper and Finn, who start to lose their footing as they desperately scramble to grab ahold of cables, wires, anything that will keep them from flying out in turn.

Bellamy can feel his hand slamming against the glass before him though he has no conscious memory of choosing to do it. He tears his eyes away to search for an access panel on this side, for something, for anything but the wall is flat and bare apart from the nanite scanner.

His eyes are back up in time to see Octavia's feet being pulled out from under her, the airlock doors widening to a foot, two feet, and he can feel himself start to yell.]

OCTAVIA- OCTAVIA!!

[Clarke, one arm wrapped tight around a metal bar, shoots an arm out to grab Octavia's wrist. Finn and Jasper have less luck, cables tearing away like they're nothing against the suctioning force and their weight. Finn is the first one to go, pulled out as though he wasn't putting up any fight at all, eyes wide and startled as he's consumed by space. Jasper follows shortly after, there and gone in an abrupt and cruelly anticlimactic second.

Raven is next, she'd been working on getting those doors closed for too long, never found a way to stabilize herself, and she's drug clawing the floor and screaming until she clears the barrier, lost.]

NO- OCTAVIA, NO- NO- NO-

[There's nothing he can do but watch, eyes wide, palm slapping the glass over and over again as though it's going to yield to him, and of course it doesn't.

He can see Octavia's grip weakening, he can see her staring up at him with wide and terrified eyes, screaming his name. Bellamy, the sound never reaches the glass, not anymore, and she's only half way through it when her fingers finally give out. He can feel his voice lock up as he watches her go, the ever-widening airlock doors an unforgiving force that leaves only Clarke in the end. His voice is a little choked, gone hoarse as he stares into her eyes, blue and afraid and resigned.]

CLARKE, HOLD ON-

[The force doesn't suck her out. Not like the others. He can see the moment she gives up.

He can see her let go.

She follows her crew out as the airlock doors finally open fully, and everything is still. He can still see them through the glass, floating yards away now, drifting further out into space, eyes wide and unseeing, movement slow and gentle, Octavia's hair fanning out around her, weightless.

He collapses against the glass, palm flat upon it, frozen in disbelief, unable to accept it even as the horror of it all courses through him.

They're all dead, floating, and he'd sat back and watched it happen.]

[romancekiller]

[At this point Clarke has already heard about the most recent occurrence of whatever was going on with the ship from the network announcements discussing this. It sounded all too ridiculous and she can't really say she understands it completely given her lack of dealing with anything like this ever but then again she had found that applied to most things on the tranquility from the couple months she has been here.

She's been lucky so far that she hasn't personally experienced it and while she had her own issues to deal with even without this going on, that doesn't make her any less worried. She is just walking down the hallway considering texting the others to check in with them since it one of the suggestions was to pair up or stay with a group of people to lessen odds of being affected. She reaches into her pocket to get her comm device but before she can do anything, suddenly she can hear Bellamy desperately shouting starting with Octavia's name only to hear him calling out her name next. He seemed pretty close by from the sounds of it and Clarke doesn't even hesitate for a second as she picks up her pace, practically running to find him. It's not long before she turns the next corner, that she finally spots him leaning against the wall with his back facing her. The shouting had come to a complete stop but whatever it was that happened, his body language clearly indicated to her that he definitely wasn't okay. He seemed so transfixed on staring at the wall that he hadn't noticed or heard her approaching either]

Bellamy? [She moves closer and reaches out to touch his shoulder as if that might help with getting his attention] Hey. What's wrong— did something happen?

OPEN - choose your own adventure with Heather

[sweetmotherofgod]

[HEATHERS - fuck me gently with a chainsaw]

[It starts gently enough. Tiny, dark-haired girl in a blue gingham pinafore, clutching her sketchbook to her chest like it's a talisman against everything hiding in the dark. She's harmless, though you wouldn't know from the way Heather cuts her eyes away, walks in the opposite direction, or - in weaker moments - stands and screams "what is the POINT of you?!".

Maybe you're less lucky, and you find her with gritted teeth while a negative image of herself - pale skin burned to blackened blisters, dark hair, eyes full of blood, two natural legs and neither of them working like they should but lolloping along like a marionette strung wrong - shambles towards her, lifting a katana with a shaky hand.

Or maybe you find her at her worst, heel of her palm pressed to her mouth while a small girl who looks just like her except for the age (she's seven, or so), the long dark hair swirling around her face, the navy blue dress with crisp white collar and cuffs, and the suffocating stink of burnt flesh and hatred surrounding her as she floats forward, levitating with the toes of her polished mary janes pointing ballerina-precise to the floor.]

[TILLMAN - you never say shit but you take care of business, don't you?]

[Or maybe you see her faced with something that's somehow worse than any of those - her dear, dear friend, broad-shouldered and stoic, looking at her with a fond expression in his stony-blue eyes that's far more familiar than the blue glow of circuitry in his left arm that now matches her right leg. There's a line of similar work along the side of his face, disappearing into the dark stubble at his jaw, and it glows brighter when he sets his expression.]

Hey, kid,

[he says, with an underused voice that sounds like a fork caught in a garbage disposal. There's pain in his eyes, and strain, and neither of those nor his new robot additions will stop her from stepping towards him.]

k

[sorrycharles]

[ A door whisks open and there stands Erik with his knuckles tucked in under his fly, making last minute adjustments under slacks that fit too loose. He’s in a hurry, is all, belt rattling short to a stop, shoulder forward, elbow back.

Caught fast in the open frame of the doorway, he fixes on the floating girl first, teeth glittering, cock in hand, his eye struck pale with fear.

In the next beat, he claws his free hand around Heather’s far shoulder and absconds back into the restroom with her: a gaunt, bearded man wearing an eye patch. Muscle plucks up the back of his forearm like steel wire when he wraps her in close, rescue by hook or by crook. His hand is dry. The door swishes shut after them.

Two of three of the lights are out.

There’s a reason he was in a rush to get out of here again. ]

Levi | OTA (and one closed)

[surveyor]

I. It's a titan, Charlie Brown!!! | prior to infodump network post- notboggart

DID SOMEONE SAY MINDLESS NAKED GIANT? No? Too bad, because anyone unfortunate enough to come across Levi once the notboggarts have begun to spread is going to be treated to a scene straight out of a comic book or video game. The thing is massive and misshapen, proportions exaggerated but still human-esque enough to be disturbing; barely visible from far away but terribly clear if you're unlucky enough to get close is the moving outline of hands, fingers attempting to claw their way out from the semi-transparent skin of the titan's grossly distended belly. Someone's in there, and they're alive.

(There's a flash of green, too, up by the giant's mouth, insignificant next to the teeth, at least to anyone other than Levi; it's a pretty good thing no one here knows him well enough to understand what that's about, or interpret his stony expression properly: he'd probably die of shame if anyone could actually read his sorrow over the sight of humanity's last hope- his closet friend- being lost at last. He can and will mourn later-- right now this thing needs to go, no matter how it got here.)

Levi himself will be a dark blur ricocheting inexpertly between the walls of the corridor, swearing and swinging jerkily around the pillars; his movements give the impression of something that ought to be smooth but isn't- somehow, curiously, despite having found a means to replace it and the close watch he's been keeping on his supply... He's running out of fucking gas. Bad day bad day bad day--

Typically, the only way to take down a titan is to utilize the maneuver gear... Anyone up for trying something new??

[ooc:] COMBAT OPTION!! Since this isn't actually a titan, I feel like if someone else were to approach and distract the boggart they'd probably be able to shoot it or blow it up or burn it down rather than just the one weak spot... UP FOR ANYTHING TBH THE MORE RIDDIKULUS THE BETTER COME WEEB OUT AND KILL A TITAN. As an extra note, Levi's Lineface McGee and won't appear to flustered much if at all, but telepaths/empaths will absolutely feel the freakout coming off of him in WAVES.

II. Closed to civics | post titan, pre-SUPERBOGGART!!

It's not real, he knows that now... But still, after everything that'd happened back home before he'd been brought here- and after feeling the "titan"'s breath on his face and smelling the blood- he wants to know. He needs to be sure.

Cautiously (but quickly), he makes his way back to his room, swiping his arm irritably across the panel before shoving inside with more force than is really necessary.

"Erwin."

Sweaty and disheveled, he's not looking so good.

III. Playing this 'greatest fear' straight and not even sorry about it THANKS ISAYAMA | sometime later on in the week before any Plans are nailed down for killing this thing; SUPERBOGGART!!

Despite the fact that he isn't quite reckless enough to go after the damn thing on his own, Levi's luck is just shitty enough that he wanders into it anyway. CHEERS. He's tasked himself with prowling the areas he's familiar with, and is absorbed in looking for any stragglers who may have wandered too far- or been lured away since from what he understands this thing is more than capable of that- when it happens. Gradually, at first, but the further he flies down the narrow hallway the more he begins to notice a change as something spreads across the walls and floor, inky splotches blossoming from between any cracks and crevasses in the otherwise smooth surface. He doesn't need to get closer to know what it is: mold, dark and creeping and alive in a way that he's never seen. Space mold...? This ship really is fucking filthy, something needs to be done about this... But not right now- he has more important things to worry about. It can't actually kill anyone from all the way over here, as nasty as it is.

When he moves to make a sharp turn and leave, however, he'll find his way blocked, closed off, a solid wall where the hall should be that's just mottled and disgusting as the rest of the corridor with one horrible exception: the stains there shiver slightly, emitting a cloud of spores that seems to be drawn directly to him. Suppressing a shudder, he evades them easily enough at first as he makes an abrupt about face to look for an exit... But as they hit the other spots on the wall they multiply, a chain reaction that fills the entire space after only a few moments, a dark curtain that's impossible to avoid and thick enough that he can feel it coating his throat with every increasingly ragged breath. He moves to cover his mouth with one hand only to find that they're there, too, stuck fast and spreading. He gags.

He's gonna fucking suffocate, they're gonna stain his lungs black and eat him alive from the inside, it's probably already happening--

Coughing, panicking now that rational thought has been put on hold by the very real sensation of his chest tightening, Levi disengages from the wall- because that shit, it floats, doesn't it, so lower is better- and continues his search for a door on foot. The room is getting darker- or maybe that's the filth growing right over his eyes- and while he does eventually locate a door he finds it stuck fast or locked or both--

Sure won't stop him from trying to bang and swear his way through, though. It's only locked from the inside... Help a brother out?

[ooc:] Psychological misery / boggart kill team recruitment option! Once the door's open I'm down for the SUPERBOGGART being done with Levi and gunning for your character OR disappearing OR whatever the hell you want. I'm easy like that.

I. Hook and Tackle = basically 3d maneuver gear

[fade_away]

[No matter how good one is at a poker face, pain is like a siren and Cole can hear it from miles away. He's drawn to it, like a moth to a flame, even with his own fear running alongside at what these things become when he gets too close. He keeps as deep into invisibility as he can, giving chase to the rapid movements of Levi and his own Fear. It looks a bit like a Giant, like the one they saw fighting the dragon on the Storm Coast, and then subsiquently falling to the dragon. The Iron Bull had still very much wanted to fight the dragon and was very sad when the Inquisitor said no.

Maybe if he can help, if they can take it down quickly, it won't have time to even notice Cole is there. He's completely invisible until the moment he strikes, having circled around, make quick work of some climbing that only a rogue can do with such speed and efficiency, and delivering a move that on something smaller would easily harken death from above as he slams into its chest with his full (small) weight, sinking his daggers into the flesh.

This will be a new experience, if nothing else. Giants didn't go down easily either.]

Chell | open

[toomuchtenacity]

[A: GLaDOS]

[She hears the laugh before she turns around to face the dark corner of wherever she is. That laugh is far far too familiar.]

Oh it's, you

[And suddenly she's in Aperture again because there is no way GLaDOS is here. But there she is. Giant chassis hanging from the ceiling moving to stare at her. Why her? Why couldn't it have been Wheatley again? The A.I starts to talk and Chell straightens up, stiff and unmoving. She needs... ]

You know I never did tell you I lied about those humans, it's probably a good thing you ended up here because I'm not sure if you're not the only person alive back home. I don't suppose you'll try to drag yourself back to Aperture if you do manage to escape because I did tell you how unwelcome you are. Which reminds me.....I did find your file you know. Your real file. It turns out you volunteered for testing.

[Throughout the entire thing the A.I is moving as though talking and Chell stands still, even as GLaDOS moves closer.]

It's funny really. You sold your entire life away for $60. And you never even got that. Sorry but we don't pay murderers. Company policies.

[And this will continue until one of two things happens, 1 someone finds them and if you do and have heard Chell talk before you might wonder why she's staying silent and just taking this abuse. or the other, she figures a way out and runs like hell until she comes up to another boggart and why can GLaDOS teleport? This ship hates her. ]


[B. Scientist]

[Apparently not liking being ignored, whatever this is has tried something else because there's a man with a labcoat with an Aperture Science logo on it and this should not stop her in her tracks. But it does.]

"Ah there you are. We've got your papers almost all filled out. Your sixty dollars will be given to you at the end of the testing. Now we just need you to sign a few papers."


[C. Random woman]

[Or maybe you come across Chell backed up against a wall as someone who looks a bit like her, but older is staring at her....and crying.]

"You never came back. ...we looked and looked but we couldn't find you anywhere. Chell why?"

[She wants to run but she can't, and she feels too afraid to punch the women like the scientist but this is not real...this can't be real....it's not allowed to be real. And she wishes so much that GLaDOS would show up and tell her she's alone in the world and that no one cared about her because knowing she left that behind would be so much better then if this is true.]

www.youtube.com/watch?v=RB-RcX5DS5A

[judex]

[ This isn't unlike home, or the Fade. That's nothing to be thankful for, but Fenris isn't confused by it, at least, and afraid in a way that makes him angry instead of paralyzed; he always looks a little like a feral cat when he's on patrol, feet bare and shoulders hunched, but now he looks like he's hunting something. It's the frozen quality of Chell's stance that makes him pause when he sees her ahead of him, not the unfamiliar person talking to her. He doesn't know every face on the ship. But he knows what fear looks like. ]

Chell.

[ He comes close enough behind her that he could touch her shoulder, if he were the sort to touch people. His hand is on his holstered gun instead. ]

Rey | Jan 22 | Locked to Elsa

[circumitus]

For the first time in several days Rey has decided to be sober. It's easier to think with her head clear, but there is the problem -- it's easier to think, and thinking can be a dangerous thing.

Her head hurts, too, and her vision is still hazy from last night's hangover that's hauled over to the next however many hours it's been. Every step is carried with all the weight of stones dragging at her heels, when she turns around a corner of a three-way hallway.

There's a flash. The air is scorching hot.

Rey turns, and stares at a familiar burning face.

Her own burning face.

Halfway down the corridor, a good safe distance from her own self that is watching her. Flames envelop its naked form, the clothes singed from the figure's sheet-white body -- not that you can really see much to begin with. Its hair is all but gone save for the flickering fire and sparkling embers, giving a strange impression of waving strands over its head. The eyes are black, hollowed out, yet somehow it seems to be looking right at her, canting its head to the side while judging its counterpart as it drags its fiery feet towards her.

It's identical to Rey, that much is obvious. Bearing the same scars on her face and body, to the missing fingers on her right hand.

"You're not real." This place has messed with her mind before. It's just doing that again, of course.

The figure makes a strange, twisted expression, almost as if offended.

In a wave of heat, the air ripples, and an energy bursts from the burning woman's body. The sheer blast is enough to throw Rey off her feet, sending her backwards and into the wall.

She tries to gasp but can't breathe, the wind knocked out of her. The world spins. Her eyes pry open to see the blurry image of the burning woman taking her time moving towards her.

"Bitch," she mutters drunkenly.

[coldhardy]

It's still hard for Elsa to believe that she's missed a whole month -- and in that month, the closest friend she had seems to have gone. She can't wish for Lizzie to come back, not in good conscience, not any more than she can wish that Anna would arrive. She also missed threats from the outside, or diplomacy, she's not sure which. The distinction would dictate how she would deal with them if it were merely a matter of protecting Arendelle and acting as its queen, but the situation here is different, and she doesn't understand the matter as fully as she'd like.

Either way, she's become comfortable without the gloves again. After the jump, she'd looked for the man she and Emma had attacked, and he'd seemed to be gone. Gone home, perhaps, she hoped. His apparent disappearance -- his freedom -- had nothing to do with her, it wasn't her amends, but maybe it would compensate him for what she'd done to him. And maybe she could make some kind of real amends by helping others where it's necessary -- moving forward instead of slipping back into the fears of childhood. So, as she returns from baking a few apples in one of the kitchens, her hands are bare and her dress is blue and sparkling.

She's about to turn a corner when she's surprised by a wave of searing warmth coming from the connecting hallway, and she hears a woman's voice: "Bitch." It's all alarming, and it piques her curiosity, and she looks around the corner without actually stepping into the next corridor.

There's no point in asking if the woman needs help, even less in chastising her for her language: she's been knocked down, the burning figure is advancing on her, and it seems to be preparing to blast her again. There's nowhere for her to go, no one else to help her. The figure is hard to look at. The heat makes Elsa's eyes water. She realizes almost instantly that she can put an end to this -- that she's made to put an end to this. She steps fully into the corridor, behind the woman who's been attacked.

"Stop!" At the moment she shouts, she puts out her hand, and a wall of ice forms between the woman and the figure. This is easy and natural to her, one of the rhythms of her life, like waking and sleeping, like breathing.

The ice immediately begins to melt. She concentrates, and it doubles in thickness. Maybe it won't hold out, but Elsa might be able to buy some time. She can create enough barriers that maybe the attacker will give up, or maybe there will be enough time to call reinforcements.

octavia blake; ota (does it count as forward dating if it's oztralia)

[tectus]

[ 01.22 - ʟᴇɴᴅ ᴀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ]

[ she's wandering, because that's what octavia does. it's the best way to stifle the lingering, rising feeling of claustrophobia at being stuck in here, and every time she reminds herself of just how big this ship is, it keeps it at bay a little longer.

so she's wandering. not anywhere in particular, and not with any real purpose, but she's certainly alone, and that's when she hears footsteps. not too concerning, right? it's a big ship, and there's a lot of people here, someone running into her in a hallway isn't a big deal. except the footsteps speed up - they are literally running - and she can't help it, she starts feeling a little stressed. octavia has spent all this time very aggressively reminding herself that the dangers here aren't the same as the ones on the ground - and then, as if prompted by the thought itself lol the footsteps behind her have gotten close enough that she can see what exactly is running behind (or after) her - and in this case, it's probably after.

a reaper rounds the corner and stops, all but growling at her as octavia freezes for exactly two seconds. it's all it takes. the man - or what used to be a man - takes off, snarling, and octavia is only moments behind in reaction time as she takes off on a hard bolt. she knows exactly where she needs to get, the lockers, where she's left her machete for secret safekeeping. it's the only thought she can allow herself as she sprints down the hallway, reaper fast on her tail.

head on collision is imminent if you don't get out of her way fast enough, or perhaps being dragged with her to the lockers where she intends to make her final stand with the bloodthirsty person tailing it after her. maybe she gets taken down in the hallway on the way there, and she needs a little help getting that thing off of her. dealer's choice. ]

[ 01.23 - ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ]

[ a weapon in her hand and the grim set of determination in her jaw presents a very different image of octavia. she's still scared, there's no doubt about that - knowing they're the product of some kind of magical fear creature isn't exactly doing much to make her feel better, but despite the slight tremor in the fingers of her free hand she isn't backing down. as if hiding in her room was ever an option here.

there's some crap about "facing your fears" (thanks, bellamy) echoing in the back of her mind as she carefully makes her way down the halls, and she adjusts her grip on the handle of the machete that arrived with her. it's not anything flash, could do with a sharpen and a replacement to be honest but it's sturdy and she 's pretty happy to rely on it even if it doesn't actually kill the creature coming after them. what would be a fatal blow to the reapers seems to be doing as good a job as anything to disperse the thing, at any rate. besides, there are others around, people who don't have machetes and the mantras of big brothers and mothers muttering away personal motivation. there are people around who don't know how to face their fears, so for them - octavia is here in all her pocahontas'd, slightly grim looking glory. come help her fight off a reaper, or maybe even have her swoop in and save the day. maybe they can even back to back save each other. maybe someone should give her a weapon a little better than a machete. just saying. ]

[ 01.24 - ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢs ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ]

[ "face your fears" is all well and good, and she's gotten damn good at recognising these things for what they are, but it can't last. she might be remarkably good at steeling her jaw and swinging around a big old weapon like a pro, but whatever they're up against here is better, frankly. whatever they're up against is damn good at adapting, and that's when things start to change.

she hears the snarling and octavia has the gall to roll her eyes. 'not this again' she thinks, and she's practically about to make a snide comment to that effect out loud as she turns to face the blood stained man stalking up to her. it's only as she turns, with a laugh on her lips and a look of tired derision on her face that she realises something is different. it's lincoln, he's here, and all that knowledge of 'not real' and 'worst fears' goes right out of her head. ]

Lincoln- [ she holds up her hands quickly, eyes wide as she tries to slowly get closer ] I thought- you weren't here, I looked everywhere.

[ the words clearly have no effect on the reaper-slash-boyfriend, who just keeps advancing with a blank look in his eyes, but octavia keeps trying to plead with the unresponsive man until he's barely out of arms reach. it isn't until he lunges for her that she breaks off with a sob and starts to run again - not as fast and not as far as the first, because it's lincoln, but once she rounds the corner and dries her eyes, he's gone.

and that's how it starts.

first it's lincoln, because he's already been the creature of her nightmares, but soon the net is cast further in her mind and it becomes other people she cares about, even people she knows. her brother, trying to tear into her throat, or clarke, trying to drag her away by her hair. in time it can be any familiar face, even new acquaintances of the ship, and if anyone gets close enough to be within it's range, maybe even someone near or dear to your character, too. better run. ]

1.23

[overdraws]

[ The only people Allison expects to see out right now are other members of SEC, mostly because of Tyke's warning. Mostly, the only people she has seen out are other members of SEC, because all of them have been working as hard as they can to find this thing and destroy it or contain it or whatever can be done with it.

Which is why she's surprised to see Octavia when she rounds the corner. Allison's got her bow at the ready, not taking any chances with this thing, and it takes her a moment to process who it is. They ran into one another, briefly, at the jump. Allison didn't get her name, but she's friends with Raven and Finn and was there when Allison had to arrest them both with Sirius' help. Something tells her she shouldn't be surprised that she's out. Especially not with that machete in her hands.

Allison approaches carefully, bow loaded but pointed at the ground. ] Hey. You're not supposed to be out here.

{ locked to bellamy }

[tectus]

{ cw: violence? }

[ she can't fight, because it's her brother. she shot lincoln to stop him killing bellamy, but when the monster is bellamy, what the hell is she supposed to do? so she runs, because she has to get him away from people first, and she runs slowly to keep him following, because she needs to get him to the medical bay. clarke has done this before, she can do it again. octavia can save her brother. she has to.

except it's hard maintaining a pace between 'out of harms way' and 'keep coming after me', and being bait was so much easier when she could just lie on the ground with a weapon in one hand and her tongue between her teeth to keep her from crying out. it's harder when it's your brother trying to tear out your throat with bare hands, and she abandoned her machete somewhere along the way, anyway. weaponless and desperate, she keeps the twisted form of her brother half running after her, and she almost makes it to medical. almost isn't good for much, but there you go.

almost sees a hand close around her throat, and before she knows it she's fighting for her life while staring into the eyes of the one person she never thought would be capable of actually doing something like this. she should know it isn't real, but this is different. this isn't a nameless faceless monster, this is bellamy. it's only just that she manages to drag his hand off of her, and gasping for air she drives her elbow into his nose and runs. there isn't time for dangling the bait now, she has to get away and fast.

octavia is still crying - from the crushed windpipe, she'll insist, but there you go - when she rounds a corner and slams sharply back into her brother. she doesn't wait long enough to see that he doesn't have the bloodlust, doesn't have the anger, or the vicious growl of the reapers. she doesn't wait long enough to see that this isn't the twisted form of her brother that had been stalking her before, she just swings her fist back with the intention of landing just about as solid a punch to his jaw as she can manage. ]

[unguard]

[Earlier today, Bellamy watched his sister die. At least, that's what the boggart he'd run into wanted him to think, and those few minutes he actually believed it had been torture. Having the spell broken by Clarke helped get him back on track, but what he really wanted just to be sure was to talk to Octavia- even if it was just for a few minutes. Just to see with his own eyes that she was really alright, and to make sure she wasn't suffering through the same kind of thing he had to deal with.

Knowing their luck...

On the bright side, thinks he understands now, though, the way these things work and the best ways to defend against them. You either let the scene play out, you wound the boggart, or (as in Anderson's case), you convince the victim that what they're seeing isn't reality. Usually it's some sad or touching scene, some deep root-you-to-the-spot fear that keeps people paralyzed, and so when he seeks out his sister during one of these attacks, he's not expecting a sucker punch from a girl who's five foot nothing and a hundred-something pounds soaking wet. He's definitely not expecting it to hand so hard it sends him staggering backward.]

What the hell?!

[Is almost snarled, one hand coming up to press against a lip that- yeah, that's split alright.

Nice right hook, baby sis.

There's a burning demand, a question written clearly all over his face as he stares at her. A question that's answered less than a second later when another figure joins them in the hall, half obscured by distance and shadow, pausing to catalogue the two of them. It has a familiar figure, a shape Bellamy thinks he recognizes, and his brow furrows.

Is that...?]

river tam; ota + not; 01.22 or 23

[perceptum]

[ cast/close cr ]

[ whether it be in the med bay or personal rooms, at one point or another river finds the people she needs to track down with terror in her eyes and desperation in her voice. it might not be immediately clear what the issue is, because she doesn't speak immediately so much as grab hold of a hand and yank, but eventually she stops long enough to speak - and when she does, it's not good. ]

They're here, [ she mutters, trying to do her best to usher them out of the room and into the hall. ] they're here and they've found me and we need to go.

[ her urgency is such that she even starts pushing if need be, clearly desperate to get out of there as soon as possible, and it almost looks as if it pains her to stay still this long. ]

You don't understand, we have to go! They're coming, they'll kill you!

[ which will just continue in rising desperation until someone restrains her, or they start to run with her. further answers won't come until that point. ]

[ open ]

[ it's not that river usually minds looking a little...well, crazy, let's call it what it is. she's fully aware of the odd front she presents, and on any given day that normally isn't a pressing concern for her - only right now it's heavily working against her. it's a lot harder to impose upon people just how serious the problem is when they brush it off as the ramblings of an already unstable mind, and despite the fact that she knows these men are following her, it just isn't enough.

as she tries to keep away from them and rushes down the halls, she will blatantly stop passers by to beg them not to go the opposite way. ]

It isn't safe, they're coming. The blood will run and no one can stop that, not even the doctors and all their horses too. [ which isn't helpful to anyone, least of all the girl with the matted hair and lack of shoes grabbing at their hands and trying so hard to make people understand that they need to run. ] They're following but you need to go!

[ john blake ]

[ she only has so much time to devote to strangers though, and the threat of these 'hands of blue' she keeps muttering about will see her abandon her efforts after a while and find a corner to hide in instead, as though she could ever hide. it's dark, and she even holds her breath as she hears footsteps approaching. desperate enough, she's willing to fight her way out - and it's probably a good thing that she's far too terrified to be able to fight effectively. she is also, however, scared enough to miss recognising the presence nearby as decidedly not government stalkers. she counts down quietly to steel herself for the impact, then as the person is passing by her particularly shadowy corner river launches.

and manages to swing a fist in the direction of an exposed voicebox before she actually recognises the decidedly not stalker face that she's just all but attacked. ]

[pompous_today]

[Simon knows River well enough to follow her whenever she's like this; however, he still wants to know what's going on, and he tries to get a word in when she finally stops.]

River, who is here?

[Because it's not like the ship is harmless- they both know that by know- but knowing specifics might be helpful, because "they" could mean anything from the Alliance to the mysterious group pursuing the ship.]

open | probably for ilde?

[uncurse]

[ Something something fear monster. That was the extent to which Emma processed Tyke's briefing, really, and she isn't sure what she expects out of the thing for her own part. It will appear as something that frightens you. That could mean anything from a freaking dragon to —

She thinks of Henry, lying in that hospital bed, and shakes it off with a deliberate crack of her neck. Her jaw tightens. Nope. Not going there.

Gun in hand, she patrols the corridors: you can't kill it, Remus had said, but that doesn't mean she can't wound it and maybe keep it in one place. The problem with being the Savior is that it makes her predisposed not to listen to warnings, to try and do something heroic (read: stupid) anyway.

And yet, it's not long before things get really weird: panic seems to mount steadily, and there's no way there's just one of the things Draco, Remus, and Tyke described, because way too many people are losing their shit. ]

holdin' out for a hero

[hedoniste]

( contrary to what are even her own usual expectations, ilde isn't actually completely useless when she's cornered; the world she lives in no longer allows for the luxury of not having at least some notion of how to defend oneself. still-- she relies on misdirection and other abilities largely ineffective against a boggart designed to feed on her own fear. especially when it's so hard to focus on them when she is so fucking afraid--

she bolts, but jasper (or this thing that looks like jasper, wearing a discreet gold cross and the fervor of the zealot in his eyes, with blood on his broad hands) has more than a foot of height on her, longer, easier strides, and she doesn't have the leisure to actually slow down as she fumbles with her communicator for...shit. for who? there are a few numbers ready to go. it only takes her a split-second to make the decision, and the message emma receives is harried, that slightly too high pitched panicky tone that belies the habitual flippancy-- )

You don't happen to have a gun and a spare minute, do you? It's only I'm quite small and he's quite fast and I-- fuck me--

( the sound of a thud, a gurgle. the thing that isn't jasper doesn't actually want to choke her to death, not when the things he can say to her are so much more horrifying than just dying, so there's time to figure out that there'd been the sound of running water and other ambient sounds of the gardens in the background initially, that ilde usually comes and goes via a particular corridor, that she probably couldn't have got far before she dropped her device. )

closed | for hales, for allison & ripley | cw: nogitsune, violence, psychological trauma

[immuno]

[ for hales ]

[ Stay in your rooms, they say. Which would be great, except that they can't stay in there forever. Lydia's out in the kitchen getting food, knife in hand like she's blonde and in a Scream sequel, listening to the mechanical hum that's ever-present aboard the Tranquility. What once made it difficult to sleep now reassures her, keeps the silence from being so oppressive and suffocating.

The trash opens, she drops fruit peels into it, and as the refuse drops into the plastic bag with a sinking sound, something else gives it depth. She freezes, stares at the wall, can't bring herself to turn around.

Then it comes again. A muddy, heavy footstep behind her. Too familiar. Her hand tightens around the handle of the knife, and she slowly turns to see Peter Hale shambling in from one of the kitchen doorways. He's covered in the same mud that he was before her birthday, when he was nothing more than a figment of her imagination, but he's wearing a crew jumpsuit beneath all of it. It looks more like he rose from the gardens than from the Hale house.

Terror gets its hand around her heart and squeezes tight. Slowly, she backs away. Not real. He's not real. The knife clatters out of her hand as he begins to move faster—jerky motions, spitting familiar, manipulative lies at her that she'd been the one to hurt her friends, that he could make her do it again, that—

And then she's tearing off through the hallways, trying to get him behind her, trying to find one of the SEC officers policing because they said they were trying to take care of this thing. It's only when she's in the halls that she realizes her comms device is sitting squarely on her bed. ]

[ for allison and ripley ]

[ Peter's gone. Lesson learned. Except when it's not, because she needs to find Allison. If the archer hasn't already been hurt by one of these things, she's certainly liable to: Allison doesn't show her fear easily, but she has a lot of reasons to be afraid. As many as Lydia. And the things that she should fear, well, they're just as horrific. ]

Allison? [ She heads towards gunnery—if Allison's anywhere, the range sounds like a safe bet. Especially at a time like this. If she's not actively patrolling the halls with SEC trying to help others, she's practicing so that she'll do a better job of it. Lydia rubs her hands over her shoulders, squinting down the corridor to where a figure comes around the corner. It looks familiar, but shrouded in shadows, it's hard to tell. ]

… Stiles? [ She drops her hands to her sides, breathing a sigh of relief. Picking up the pace, she hurries towards him, reaching both hands out to grip his shoulders, then pulling him in for a hug. ] God, you're okay. Stiles, this thing is—It's so much worse than they made it sound on the broadcast. I don't know what's going on. It—It looked like Peter, and—

[ The hand on the small of her back tightens, pulling her into him. Lydia blinks over his shoulder, straightening her back. Something doesn't feel right. The reassurances sound practiced, Hey, it's okay, we'll figure it out. She moves back, and one hand snaps out to grab her forearm, keeping contact. The look is sharp.

Tell me about it. What'd he do?

Tilting her head slowly, Lydia studies his face, trying to pull her arm back only to feel his grip bruising. ]

Let me go.

[ She pulls harder, grows more frantic, but he doesn't. Her firm demand turns to a panicked shout, and Stiles tries to muffle it by grabbing her and throwing her into the wall. A cry escapes her and she raises both hands between them in a defensive move.

The shout, hoarse and hungry, can't be mistaken: What did you see?! ]

You're not real. You're not really here. [ Except it is here: it's just not really that. ]

[overdraws]

[ She's had one run in with it by now, knows that whatever drives these things it's for pain and if Allison hadn't had someone tell her it wasn't, she'd assume it was the nogitsune. But Stiles is fine (she's checked on him personally) and that's not Stiles accosting Lydia, so Allison doesn't even bother with a warning shot or noise. She just fires an arrow into his back. She readies another, and that's when she decides to say something, bow drawn and ready. You know, in case she doesn't like his answer. ] Put her down.

MEDICAL BAY CATCH-ALL | Put Providing/Seeking Care in Subject

[dogbane]

[The instant the joint notice about this boggart goes up, the Medical Bay is on high alert.

Preparations include clean beds, gurneys, surgical equipment clean, criteria for magical healing and blood transfusions and essence of dittany procedures established, and the surgical and recovery rooms soundly locked against anyone that doesn't have the nanites. Staff are neatly divided between work rotations and keeping the network monitored.

The Chief Medical Officer is finally back in the office too, hollow-eyed lively enough, available for. questions. He opens with,] Sorry I fucked off, [a brief assurance about his powers in the intermediate time, and then he closes with:] If shit happens to me, as you know, Ms. Weatherwax is next in the chain of command. But this structure's going to have to be flexible, and all of you as independent as you're used to. We're going to be thinking on our feet for the next while. The situation will be fluid, the moreso when we start to join the combat departments in the fucking corridors.

All right. Let's piss off sharpish.

[OOC: Feel free to throw a tag in here if you want to RP out injuries or medical care! Medical Bay and/or injured passengers may respond :)]

William Tsang | Closed and Preplanned Stuff

[dogbane]

Closed to Remus Lupin | Medical Bay

[Before the notice goes up on network-- before even Lúthien's warning, Medical Bay is quiet. Shipboard clocks report that it's early in the morning, long before the rise of some sun that's well out of the Tranquility's viewing ports. It's a good time to sleep.

Or, if you're the disgraced Chief Medical Officer, to be stealing into the facility as quietly as possible, clutching a big glass jar containing one black goldfish, peering furtively as he goes. Once he gets into the equipment, he starts to rattle around, nearly discreet. Checking on pending projects, confirming maintenance diagnostics on the equipment have been performed to schedule, that his personal (public) files remain available, trying to. Trying to

quit again, with the inhouse console, more experimentally than really in earnest. But Resnik hadn't been joking. REQUEST DENIED still glares up at him through the tiny screen of his comm device, and nothing he tries in the lab does any different.]

Fuck, [he says in the quiet.] Great cunting-- [He smacks the screen with his hand but it doesn't care; he's too busy rubbing his face, in the minutes afterward, to hear the doors hiss open again.]

---

General Starter for Cora, Ned and Snape?? | Medical Bay forever

[William tries not to take breaks, but he has to.

For a given value of 'has to,' which primarily consists of the prickling awareness that the last time he went too long without sleep, without giving in to the itch to shapeshift and use his other powers, he set half the passengers' brains on fire. They don't need that kind of ludicrous psychic bullshit with a 'boggart' afoot, so he takes breaks. Once after six hours, then stretches it to twelve. He isn't tired; he doesn't pretend to sleep. He keeps thinking the staff are looking at him funny, so he stops looking at anybody.

He's busy anyway. Closing stitches here and balancing out the painkillers there, calling in the witches (there are a lot of witches), sterilizing this and throwing that in the laundry, making sure banana bags and protein mixes are up to combat dehydration and maintain blood sugar-- for his staff, mostly. He remembers a thing or five about running a unit of people from Brad Colbert. At the end of the day, even the greatest heroes need to shit, piss, and eat something.

As always, the waiting is the worst part. He winds up staring vaguely through the glass front doors, thinking of nothing, waiting for something he can't articulate. 'The next bad thing.']

Mystique | Closed and Open | cw: medical horror

[anybodies]

Save Me

[Rounding the corner at a loping run, Mystiques then stops dead-short. Face to face with

herself, after a fashion. A likeness.

The creature she sees is grotesque in a way that she's never seen, but vividly imagined, cycles ago when the nanite sabotage contagion had nearly killed her, reducing her to a fetid lump of reeking necrosis and agonized skeletal reconstruction. The version of herself is blonde, open sores soggy-grey and weeping on her arms and exposed throat, a couple of molars already peeking through the spongy translucency of her half-rotted cheek. The other seems to be trying to shift-- blue spines riddle up her arms for an instant, and her irises flash yellow--

but then the other woman's face contorts into a grimace, and the spines recede, no shift in place. Instead, the lesions on her skin rip wider. Despite herself, despite knowing better, despite having seen the damn network post, Mystique takes a backward step. Her fingers tighten around her pistol, an uncertain breath sucked in between her teeth.

The first kick comes for her head, a vicious arc whipping through the air with familiar expertise. Half a mind to block and half to counter, Mystique instead throws herself aside. She won't have that thing touch her.

She can't.]

---

I Save U (in medias res) (OPEN)

Get down!

[Mystique's reflexes are faster than an ordinary man-- than most people. She needs only the faintest telegraph that her request is being obeyed, a shift of torso or knees folding, marking friendly by nanite tattoo and foe by its absence, and then she knows the way will be clear. She pivots on the ball of her foot, the knife light in her fingers. Her musculature channels unimaginable force through the sleek, scaly stretch of her arm, and when she releases, the knife flies true toward center mass.

But boggarts might be faster than an ordinary man, or most people as well. Hardier, too. The instant the knife is dispatched, she's sprinting follow-up toward the other passenger.] Are you hurt?

lmk if this works

[newnova]

[ Sam had been patrolling the halls as Nova ever since the warning about the boggart went out. He was supposed to be the one saving people, not the one who needs saving. But he'd rounded the corner, and there he was, a blood-spattered man in a uniform exactly like Sam's, only taller. Broader at the shoulders. Unshaven. Reeking of blood and booze. Sam shouldn't have hesitated, should have blasted him away as soon as he saw him, but he was a second too late.

"Adomox was right," the apparition had said. "We Black Novas were made to use the Nova Force for our own gain, and we didn't care who we had to kill on the way. And me? I was the best-- and bloodiest-- Black Nova there was..."

Sam was shaking. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't fire, not at his dad. Even if in the back of his mind he knew that the thing standing before him wasn't actually his dad. Wasn't actually Jesse Alexander. Still, he couldn't fire. He just stood there, paralyzed.

Then a knife came whizzing past him, striking the Black Nova apparition in the chest. Pretty soon there's someone at Sam's side and he's blinking himself back into awareness. ]

Yeah, I'm-- I mean, no, I'm not hurt. [ He takes a deep breath. Now is not the time to be scared. Now is the time to attack. He makes a fist, gathering Nova Force energy around it, and aims it at the boggart, preparing to fire. ]

allison argent; cw violence, possible mentions of torture/abuse, closed

[overdraws]

closed to derek hale

[ Allison is tired. It's visible in her face and eyes and the way she moves, but she's determined to stick this one out. Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes. And there were several people on this ship that that applied to, not including her two best friends. So she's still out stalking the hallways because neither Tyke nor Remus have given the all clear that this thing (things? Allison is starting to wonder) is gone for good.

She's had her share of run ins by now, but nothing she's seen thus far has been anything she's been scared of, per se. Octavia's had been people she hadn't recognized at all, and while Allison wasn't fond of the nogitsune, she wasn't afraid of him. Not like she was afraid of what he could do.

She's tired and she's worried, and she's dwelling on thoughts of Lydia and Stiles and Isaac and Cora and everyone and how she has to make sure they're all alright, that even if she isn't the one to take this thing down, she still has to do her part to make sure it goes down. She can't give up, and she absolutely won't surrender.

Which is why she doesn't hear it at first. It's just a laugh, from somewhere behind her, and when it happens the second time, a little bit louder, Allison realizes she's heard it before. She heard it growing up at Christmas time and Thanksgiving, family reunions and get togethers. Allison turns slowly, eyes wide, because at the end of the corridor is Kate Argent. She's covered in mud and blood, her throat slashed open and oozing, but she's grinning wide.

'No', Allison thinks she says but she's not sure, and she takes a step back, her eyes wide in horror.

And then Kate surges forward, shouting Allison's name, claw like fingers lunging right for Allison's throat. Kate slams Allison up against the wall, and Allison's bow and knives clatter to the floor. Kate kicks them away, tilting her head to the side and shaking it, telling Allison that she's broken the code, she's chosen monsters over her own family, and all Allison can do is struggle in her grip, fingernails digging into Kate's wrist, trying to pry her off. ] No--! You're dead--!

closed to stiles stilinski

[ Lydia is fine. Derek is fine, for a lack of better term to use. Allison still doesn't know what's up with him, and that doesn't even include his new found state. Stiles is next on her list (technically before Derek, but he found her, so it doesn't count) to check on, and she's walking quickly down the corridor to his room. She doesn't bother to stop at her own. Allison has everything she needs on her (bow, knives, arrows, comm) and Spot is a resourceful cat with plenty of food. She'll be fine.

She pounds on his door with the soft part of her fist, glancing down both sides of hallway before yelling out his name. ] Stiles? Are you in there?

[ He better be, considering Tyke's warning. If he's not, Allison will scold the crap out of him. ]

closed to remus lupin

[ It's break time at SEC offices. Allison's been running herself ragged and it's plain on her face as she scrolls through her comms device, looking for any sign of the things that are plaguing the ship. Hunting down murderous monsters (magical or not) might be what she was born to do, but it's tough work when you're baseline human. She's already killed two of them, but they just keep coming, and Allison is starting to wonder if they're going to stop. Breathing a sigh out of her nose, Allison leans back in her chair and looks up to the ceiling and then to the side -- sitting up straighter when she notices that there's someone else in the offices with her. Remus, she thinks his name is. The one that had been in Tyke's message as an expert on these things. She gives him a tired smile. ] Remus, right?

[fullmoon]

[ His attention is on his comms device—the questions still pouring in, the apologies he owes—and Remus raises his eyebrows and his chin in acknowledgment when someone says his name, but not his eyes. He needs a second to finish what he's reading, first, but then: ] Guilty. [ The smile he gives her is tight. He really does mean guilty. He's leaning on the edge of Edgeworth's old desk and looking a little ragged himself, but more from worry and lack of sleep than from exertion. That's a bit of why he needs to squint at her for a second before he's able to place her. ]

You're a friend of Sirius', aren't you? Are you all right?

John Kennex | closed and open | cw: violence, ptsd, flashbacks, mentions of gore

[nutsaboutscans]

» Closed to Odessa

[It was a nightmare, it was a nightmare. He chants this to himself in his head, but it doesn't really ease his nerves. Even a nap, and he's having a nightmare. It's like his brain decided he was too happy and was like oh no, can't have that.

He still feels sweaty, his light t-shirt slightly damp. He runs his fingers through his hair, and it sticks straight up from the leftover gel and sweat. Maybe he should call someone once he gets... wherever he's going. He'd been wandering really and hadn't paid attention.

Until now.

When he looks up, he sees the slim figure of a woman, her eyes in shadow and her lips forming a wicked smile.] Hello, John.

[He can feel his heart thudding in his chest, and his hands go limp, dropping his communication device.]

Really, John? Is that any way to greet an old friend?

[His nightmare is real. It's here. She's here. Anna grins, letting the blade of her knife shine in the light.] Just starting where I should have finished... with who I should have finished.

[A flash of the raid runs through his mind. The gunfire. A dead cop. Come back here! His arm around his partner. Myklon red. The blood dripping from the stump of his right leg. Anna, Anna, Anna.

He's not really thinking clearly as he stumbles back against the wall, his heart thundering, sweat dripping from his forehead, and Anna stepping forward, slashing once at his arm. The blood flows, and the only sound for a few seconds is John's labored breathing.]

How's the leg, John?

[she taunts, stepping closer.]

» Open

[It's not long before the not!boggarts pick up on John's fear and a few corner him in a hallway, coworkers of his. But not just coworkers of his, friends of the people he got killed. And they're angry. The confrontation he hoped would never happen.]

You got them killed. All cops with families, friends, neighbors. All wiped out, because you had to be a hero. Because you were sleeping with the enemy!

[John closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying not to let this get to him. But it is. He's frozen to the spot, punishing himself by listening to their words.]

[treasonista]

[ This is not what Odessa expected to find in the corridors near John's quarters. She's not stalking him. Honest. This woman - not one she recognizes, though that's not entirely unheard of with this many passengers aboard - is menacing this man who is not precisely her friend, but isn't someone she wants to see threatened. She pulls a ceramic bladed knife from one of her boots.

That's her job. ]

A lot better than yours is about to be.

[ Her mistake - and one she makes often enough that she should truly know better by now - is announcing herself before she strikes. She could have gone unnoticed. A knife in the back, before anyone's the wiser, but she just can't help herself sometimes. Odessa's attack is parried as the woman John knows as Anna spins around. Maybe he'll be glad now that no one called for her to disarm. "Anna" pushes the offensive, and Odessa has to dance backward, the flash and scrape of their weapons ringing through the air as they put distance between themselves and Kennex. Judging from the manic glint in Doctor Knutson's eye, she isn't afraid. ]