SilverPaw

Nightland

Valerian Nico Alvarez-Knight

Valerian couldn’t tell Emily was annoyed from her expression, but her manner of speech was definitely a bit different than usual – at least for a moment. When they initially felt rather awkward for interfering when they usually wouldn’t and causing a briefly somber mood in Emily, her nearly immediate change to being all plucky left them feeling confused. Should they be apologetic and guilty or relieved she’d listened to their advice? They weren’t sure, and ended up with a jumbled mess of emotions, which ultimately swinged towards Val being tentatively glad for the development.

They caught a glimpse of her journal, and cocked their head at the sketches. They were fairly good, and seeing it brought a slight feeling of nostalgia. Once upon a time, Valerian had carried a sketchbook everywhere they went, too. Nowadays, they usually drew from memory or photo and video references (which they sometimes made themselves). They still did go out to sketch here and there, but it was a more organized, purposeful activity nowadays. They smiled at Emily’s work, but did not comment upon it, still preoccupied by her previous words.

“Uh, I- Thanks for listening, Emily,” the words of gratitude were hesitant but genuine, spoken as if Valerian was enacting some rarely used advice they’d received. Which was pretty much the case, though channeling one of the things they’ve learned from the Doctor (that expressing themselves was often better than keeping it all in their head and staying quiet, and that people were especially receptive to words so practicing that was good) was painful now that Stanton was dead.

Their heart clenched at the reminder, and they brushed a hand through their dyed hair, feeling the loss keenly. They’d never get to see Stanton anymore, or talk to him, or learn from him…no more getting helped by him. Would the group even remain together? Or would they get different therapists, have to meet with new people? Valerian bit their lip as they considered all this, forgetting their initial intention to relay to Emily that they may have an idea or two about the ‘make doors’ thing they heard her mutter about.

Then…despite all of Valerian’s precautions, the pair closest to the mirror was sucked in and transported. Even Val, who was one of the victims, didn’t know how it happened. One moment, they were in Stanton’s office, and the next…well, they were still in Stanton’s office, but obviously different. It was as if the building had been destroyed at one point, then left abandoned for years. “Oh,” was all Val managed to utter before they slumped down, half-leaning on the wall next to the mirror rather than fully collapsing.

“They got us now,” they whispered, desolate. The irritating mantra of Don’t go was on a loop, and the frustration of being subjected to that was what eventually got Valerian going.

They pushed off of the wall, sighing, glancing at the mirror. Surprisingly, not seeing their reflection was weirder and more off-putting than seeing it. Fuck, we have to get back somehow. So, now I’ll be forced to make a portal myself… Honestly, they were scared more so than determined, but nonetheless they decided to do the first thing that popped into their head.

Valerian began searching for and picking up mirror pieces, trying to collect all of them and slot them back into their proper place. Maybe, fixing the mirror would fix the gateway that’d brought them there. If not, they’d have to find something else, and Val didn’t think that’d be so simple. Not that anything about this situation was simple, really.

“I might be able to restore this,” they commented quietly for Emily’s sake, glancing at her. “Wanna help or…?” they trailed off, looking from her to the presumed source of the stranger's voice. Their priority was finding a way back, but based on all that Emily had said before they were transported, Valerian was uncomfortably certain she’d now want to approach what she thought was a helpless victim.

Nightland

Hey just so you know, I was waiting for a Valerian post before going, since Emily was the last one that talked in their conversation. I can post first if you'd like but I thought it would be best if you went first instead of me. If we're taking turns, that is. I know there isn't a post order, but, idk. Just letting you know. I can post I've just been holding off to see what Valerian would do.

and i would feel dumb if you were waiting for me, lol

@Zoey Boey

No, I'm not waiting for anyone, I just didn't have the occasion to write yet.

Nightland

Valerian Nico Alvarez-Knight

There was no verbal answer from the mirror, but Valerian sensed a sudden change which inspired their curiosity; perhaps the gateway was manipulating them to make them cross over. However, it was difficult to resist the unexpected fascination with the thing, as if they were already being drawn in. The metallic scent wasn’t a coincidence; Val got the impression that it was related with the murder. Was it a creation of negative, sacrificial energy? Is that how dimensional pathways opened? Despite the gateway being opened, however, the shadowy being was still trapped; if one were to enter right then, would they be transported into the same prison straight away, or would they end up elsewhere?

Of course, their wonder was not enough to actually test it out, not right here and now. But perhaps…if they could create a small sample on their own, experiment in more controlled conditions? If their suspicion of a killing being required was correct, however, they didn’t want to have to do anything with it. Perhaps it wasn’t the murder per se, but the ritual manner in which the act was committed, or the supernatural nature of the perpetrator? They weren’t sure, but the mirror or the shadow within had managed to implant the impulse of investigate and create within their head. Those thoughts did not feel entirely their own, yet Valerian was driven to act on them. They clenched their palms into fists, and refrained from going nearer the void leading who-knows-where.

The metallic scent which they’d nearly adapted to abruptly strengthened, and Val whipped their head around wildly to try and see what caused it, since the mirror-door in front of them did not seem to be changed in any significant way right then. People were milling all over, and there was no sign of the killer – whom Valerian was sure could be the only one to cause such a change in the scent. Had it returned and possessed someone, or was lurking close-by? They did catch sight of Linda who was returning from the direction of the offices, but if there was anything odd about her, Valerian couldn’t quite put their finger on it. As they were turning back to the mirror, she seemed to stop not far away, observing both Emily and them. Val still felt her gaze burning into their back when they refocused on the mysterious prisoner on the other end of the interdimensional path, and it was this distraction which had caused them to nearly miss Emily’s words and actions.

“Wait,” they exclaimed, though it was still not quite a shout, flailing as they thrust their arm into the empty space between Emily and the mirror to stop her approach. “Please, just,” they pleaded frantically, hoping to stop her in time, though they were caught off guard despite their earlier determination to prevent exactly such a thing. “L-look, how’d weknow they’re good?” they tried to appeal to her good sense. “What if they’re---the killer or–or someone likeit? Shouldn’t we makesure what’s goingon withthis? If-if we should save’em, you can’t help ifyou get trapped too,” they rushed to explain, stumbling over their words in places and forcing two or more to emerge from their mouth in a single breath in others, making a sacrifice in clarity in their haste.

I, the Demon King, Will Summon My Own Damned Heroes!

Thank you for everything, Z. As far as I'm concerned you did exceptionally well. Even if closing things up makes you feel dissatisfied, I believe there is plenty of cause for you to hold pride with what you've managed with this RP. You're a great GM, and knowing when something gets to be too much is part of that. So, thank you also for informing us. Since I'm sure running this by yourself has also been taxing, I do hope you'll be able to rest a bit better now that we're officially done. Try not to stress yourself over what you may perceive as 'letting us down' or 'forfeiting a duty' (since even if you're a GM, this is in the end a hobby, not a job). Because first and foremost you're a single human being with your own life, worries, and so on. I do hope things work out as well as they possibly can for you. I wish you the best, and take care of yourself.

Nightland

I'm continuing for now, it's enjoyable.

Nightland

Valerian Nico Alvarez-Knight

Valerian stood by the entryway, dazed and trying to gather their bearings. Some people were in the room with them, some were outside. Scarce but serious conversation was being exchanged, though they missed much of what was said. When a familiar tone of voice was directed at them, however, they were transported back to the here-and-now with a blink. They turned around in Emily’s direction, determinately ignoring the body posed next to her. “Oh,” they uttered. “Right, the cops,” they trailed of, not at all sounding convinced. However, they knew Emily was correct; the last thing any of them needed was to become a suspect.

They were not looking forward to the questioning they’d surely all have to undergo. Val really didn’t need something like that, and they were sure some of the others felt the same. At Emily’s following offer of cookies, they winced, and raised their head to momentarily stare at their chin. “Uh, I,” they stammered a bit as they reminded themselves to be polite even if hysterical laughter was on the brink of escaping them, “I really can’t eat right now,” they eventually managed a polite phrase, though it was still heavily tinged by disbelief.

Valerian turned away, and was about to leave Emily to her own devices, when she caught them off guard by complimenting them. They blinked at her questioningly, eyes affixed on her torso, as if her blue hoodie held the mysteries of the world. Or rather, the mysteries of Emily in this case. “Thanks,” they expressed their gratitude faintly. It had been a while since they’d last been praised so genuinely, and it was a completely unexpected occurrence in the present scenario.

They did not answer what they saw, as it felt like a rhetorical question. Even if it wasn’t, they weren’t comfortable relaying their musings in this environment. Perhaps if they’d been on their own, but perhaps not. Instead, they pondered on her latter question; should Emily see the same things they did? Some do claim that there are universal experiences, common knowledge – or is it common sense, and there are ways of uniform interpreting that lead to similar conclusions after all…but… When they thought they could clearly express their belief, they did so. “No, you don’t have to. You aren’t I, after all, and…subjectivity is important,” they stated. Valerian briefly wondered if they should expand on their answer, but ultimately left it at that.

They nodded at her following description of a treeline, though couldn’t be certain she saw. They were distracted by Linda’s voice, however, and wandered to the hall. There, they saw that Serena was short of breath, and explaining something about a chase to Linda. When did she? Val realized they must have missed more than they realized, but wasn’t overly bothered by that. Rather, they were concerned for Serena, who’d followed the perpetrator, but she seemed to be well…for now. Two latecomers had arrived, Mia and Cole. The sound of sirens was approaching; someone must have called the cops. Is it the paramedics, too? Someone needs to---take care of it. They didn’t ask out loud however; if an ambulance was coming it was, and if it wasn’t, someone could still make the call later on.

Then, a metallic scent, and not of blood. Valerian whirled around, their gaze inescapably getting caught in the mirror. They had been careless, and it would surely cost them. They gulped as they observed the scene unfolding, a deep black void seeking to devour all. As if in a trance, they approached the damn mirror, though still stayed far enough that they couldn’t touch it. A muted banging was heard, and their breath quickened. Fuck, no, shit, it’s getting out, itsgettingout! Then, a window appeared within the void, far away, and a humanoid silhouette. What is it? Did it already get me? Am I watching myself right now?

With a force of effort, Valerian tore their gaze away, closing their eyes. They regulated their breath, years of practice aiding their attempt. They finally removed their gloves, stuffing them into the same pocket that their phone resided in (the phone they’d completely forgotten about until just then), and began to fiercely scratch at the back of their palms. Ok, ok, okokok, I’m here, right here, not there. It’s someone else---Stanton? No, surely a devious one, can’t be the doctor. In the middle of their monologue, a quiet ‘Don’t go’ resounded from the creature within, and Val reluctantly glared at it.

The artificial calm it spread helped them emotionally speaking, certainly, but that did not allay their suspicions. They believed this was a trap to lull them into a false sense of safety. “Who are you?” they demanded harshly. “And what do you want?” They were simple questions, though the answers – if any would be forthcoming at all – likely wouldn’t be. They glanced aside to keep track of Emily; they didn’t want her, or anyone else, to touch the mirror and be drawn in and trapped inside. Which was exactly what Valerian was sure would happen to anyone who willingly touched the no-longer-reflective surface. Thus, they would also try to stop anyone who went too close to the dimensional gateway masquerading as a mirror.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Jandar Varan

Winton

Frustrated, Jandar ran a palm through his hair, the fingers tangling into a few tresses before he removed the hand from his head. “And what have the centuries of you being captured brought? Has the situation not been the worst, already? Unwillingness to act seems a bit hypocritical to me, Prince,” he confessed, the impatient aggravation evident in his tone.

With a sigh, he grimaced, and thought on the situation. “Look…Must the collar be removed before we cross over to Kaeleer? Will even passing into another realm alert her?” he questioned. The Warlord was not certain how the collar functioned, and hoped SaDiablo knew more. “And if not a simulacrum of yourself…Could the connection between your collar and her ring be faked? Simulated? What counts as removed anyway, is it as soon as it’s off your neck? Maybe it’d be possible to put it on someone else without triggering the alarm?” He hoped at least one of these suggestions would spark an idea that SaDiablo could use.

Nightland

▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ _{G M - t h i n g s}

@Kino End

Any for me? Or will you just put it in the IC post?

Nightland

Valerian Nico Alvarez-Knight

Valerian was startled by the arrival of the ever-loud Emily, who greeted everyone as per usual. Val’s lips quirked up, and they turned into her direction, nodding once firmly. Her ramblings were preferable to uncomfortable silences, and the best thing was that she didn’t even expect anyone (except perhaps Stanton) to pay attention, so Val didn’t have to feel guilty about it if their attention strayed.

Of those gathered, she was one of those they felt an affinity towards; Bernard, who seemed to have issues similar to both Emily and themselves, was another. Keandre was an interesting man, one they felt mildly curious about. They had felt an initial wariness towards Russel and Serena simply due to their profession, though that caution had mainly been dispersed until now. Alex was an unknown, troubled by something less well defined, yet Valerian had no urge to pry where it was unwanted.

Since they were turned towards the group, they noticed Linda beckoning them closer, and they abided, approaching. Then, the doctor’s assistant led them inside, and Val noted that it must be time to do so. Though it was not at all unusual that not every patient had chosen to come today, they couldn’t help but be uncharacteristically worried. Hope they’re alright, they inhaled sharply, sucking both cheeks between their teeth and biting once.

They trailed behind the others, though Linda insisted to go last for some reason. Upon entering the reception area, they removed their hood and shook it off. Valerian also loosened their scarf, pushing it below their chin, though they did not remove it yet. Instinctively, their palms clasped each other, and they looked down at them, pondering whether to remove the gloves or not. Before the decision could be made, Linda progressed towards the elevator, and they focused on following.

Honestly, they might prefer taking the stairs, but it’d take longer, and it would probably just make them more anxious on top. So, they went into the metal contraption, and stuck to one of the side walls, neither in front nor to the back. They ignored the presence of other people’s bodies so close to or intruding upon their personal space, which they were well-practiced at doing.

When the elevator doors opened, their head snapped up, and their breath stuttered. It was as if the scent of death invaded from the corridor, and there was a collective stillness; a deer-in-the-headlights look of startled prey. They…didn’t have much choice but to exit, Valerian supposed, even if the notion had their heart beating wildly. They could see what the hall was like; all damaged, and torn apart, as if something had clawed its way out. It was one of their most fearful delusions realized; blatant signs of shadowy creatures manifested, Eaters of light and people and everything one might hold dear.

With Linda in the lead, the group eventually spilled out, though Valerian still felt terribly reluctant. They had the brief thought of, Safety in numbers? but also, Easier to target…Every motion forward deepened their unease, the ominous creaking of the floor grating on their nerves. When they entered the office, and their gaze alighted on Stanton’s contorted form, all their suspicions were confirmed. “No,” the moan left their lips unbidden, a quiet whine of utter despair. “No, no, no, no,” they whispered, a feeble denial.

Their sight was blurring, and Valerian absently realized they were tearing up, crying near-silently. Under the utter horror, a fascination for the cor… – the piece emerged. It was set into one of the standard buddha poses. Left hand raised – shouldn’t it be right? Those fingers…pose odd? Fault of---of age? Artistic freedom? Purposeful? Stanton's eyes had been torn out, stolen. That fact left such a conflicting feeling of right-wrong that their stomach roiled in revulsion. Valerian closed their eyes, thinking better thoughts. May his soul be safe and let him rest in peace. A moment as they tried to collect their breathing, then they once again gazed at the human installation project, taking in further details.

Enlightenment, but perverted; forced by outside intervention; the subject did not have the opportunity to reach it on their own; a warning, punishment for seeking what one might not be prepared for? They walked slowly around the deceased, observing the body, noting a dark powder had been spread around. Metal rods to affix the spine; clever. Cause of death? They did not want to consider that notion too deeply. They did notice that the left arm did not need to be affixed in any way. Muscles locked in; rigor mortis?

Finally, they noticed the piece of paper, which had remained out of their awareness until then. The message…the message, oh god, the message. “They-they’re onto us,” Valerian whispered hoarsely, voice heavily affected by the swirl of negative emotions attempting to overtake their senses. They walked away from the soulless shell, stopping at the threshold they'd crossed not long ago, lingering by the office's door. Their inspection of Stanton was completed, and now they were turning their head left and right as they tried to take note of where everyone was. “We,” they coughed to clear their voice. “We should get out of here,” they advised; they attempted to sound firm, but though they were loud enough for those closest by to hear them, Val’s fear was likely evident.

Nightland

Valerian Nico Alvarez-Knight

Valerian woke from a fitful slumber, hazy impressions of eerie dreams fading into a gradual alertness. They had a few recollections immediately upon rousing; drowning in toxic yellowish gas, scrambling for breath, bodies mingling close-by facing the same predicament, a mechanical being – contraption? – emerging in their vision, a susurration of voices offering advice, guiding, tempting with forbidden knowledge, deceiving with the unknowable…

Val shook out of it with a sigh, nighttime hauntings morphing into the jittery anxiety of what they already recognized as the start of a Bad Day. Scratching at their inner upper arms, shallowly marking the already irritated skin, Valerian stumbled out of the bed. Thankfully, it was the only one in the cramped bedroom/living room of the dorm, though the bathroom the student shambled to was shared with one other. However, it was early enough that they did not have to wait to have access, and so they did their morning ritual of toilet, shower, tooth brushing, and hair combing, all without ever looking into the mirror. The clear, artificial reflective surfaces gave them the creeps; they always got the feeling that something else was lurking on the other side. Besides, ever since they nearly disassociated from staring into the reflection of their own eyes, they had all the more reason to refrain from checking their image unless absolutely necessary.

The next step was to check their daily agenda – it was a Thursday, which meant Stanton in the evening, thank God – taking their meds (and making a note that they did so), and getting ready for the rest of the day. The routine was mindless, their focus fleeting, thoughts skittering from topic to topic, but keenly drawn to various paranoid musings. Fuck, is it surveillance? Human or non-? Will they get me today? God, I don’t wanna be disappeared like that…A tremulous exhale as Valerian did their best to come to grips with reality, but sneakily checked for shadows that might be too long or too deep, the glint of cameras (or eyes), misplaced sounds. It felt like something was there, observing, hiding, watching; waiting to strike. Val hunched into themselves as they picked their attire, firmly thinking different thoughts. It would soon be Christmas; they still had to get gifts for the family…a family lacking Vivi. With a shudder, they bit their lip; her death was still fucking devastating even three years later (and counting). Closing their eyes, they offered a silent, wordless prayer. Then, a comforting thought. Right, it’s Stanton day. Just get through all else, and you can see him, talk to him. And the others, yeah. It’ll help.

And then you’ll be fine. Just fine. Right. Fine.

***

It was finally evening, and when Valerian stepped off the bus at the station just by the monument, they had a pressing need to meet with Stanton face to face. All day long they’d been plagued by whispers, nearly inaudible voices whispering to them or about them, laughing or urging, driving them to distraction even when they’d plugged their ears with buds and tried to drown out the auditory hallucinations with music. Every person they’d seen today had seemed more suspicious than usual, and they hadn’t been able to shake off the notion that they were being followed even when no one but them was there.

Their black boots crunched on the fresh layer of snow swiftly melting into indistinguishable slush on the salted sidewalk. Valerian paced steadily towards the meeting spot, head tilted down. They drew the coat (black, faux leather) tighter to their body, its hood offering additional protection, and their backpack (carrying a wallet, water, folding umbrella, bandages, gauze, and scissors) slid slightly down their right shoulder. They were glad for all the layers they’d put on for the evening; leather gloves (black, studded), two shirts and a pullover underneath the coat, thick jeans (black) shredded very lightly at the knees which revealed the crimson nylons (very warm) underneath. The wine red knitted scarf was wrapped around their neck and half their face, and the clammy breath being blown back into their face didn’t bother them as much as the cold would. The exposed piercings (eyebrow studs and two pairs of rings, cuff and chain industrial, as well as a pair of crimson crosses for the ears) were cooling quicker than their skin, and the effect was a startlingly cold pinched feeling, almost as if someone had pressed ice cubes there.

Though uncomfortable, the cold was grounding. It was a matter of a couple or so minutes before Valerian was at the monument, though their steps faltered when they saw Linda, the assistant, waiting along those who’d already arrived. Val wasn’t sure why, but seeing her there felt wrong. Still, they walked the remaining few steps towards the group, nodding at the gathering. They recognized all of them without having to look at their faces; Valerian was more familiar with their figure, attire, and – though most of those were currently covered – their hands. He very rarely looked at other people’s faces, and almost never directly into their eyes.

Rather than strike up a conversation, as a few had chosen to do, Valerian lingered on the outer boundaries of the group; still a part of them, but not directly involved with anyone there. They weren’t much for small talk, especially not today. Their gaze darted around quickly, biting their lower lip. They felt antsy, keyed up, tense, and high-strung. If they could, they would be scratching at their skin; they had a brief longing for something sharper. Instead, they crossed their arms over their chest, practically hugging their torso, and a light shiver overtook them. They weren’t certain it was just due to the cold.