cultmirror | Recent Entries

[Silco's voice is smooth, slippery. The Murmur sneaks in like a whisper in your mind, full of promises. If it's just a tiny bit sinister, well, maybe you're reading too much into it?]

How heartening it has been to see everyone sharing information so readily. [So helpful, so useful.] In the difficult situations that seem common here, we certainly will all find it easier if we can work together. While we all seem to be surviving, I think we can do better than that.

With that in mind, I would propose a cooperative organization made up of those in this city who would like to support one another. We could work together to secure safe housing, protect one another in times of danger, and assist in scavenging necessary supplies. Those who have been brought here have a wide array of skills. Consider the possibilities that a bit of organization might bring.

For example, if you have something you wish repaired but lack the skills to do so, your current options seem to be shouting aimlessly into the void in hopes that someone will help or asking anyone you meet and hoping someone knows someone with the right skills. Then you must negotiate a trade, or pray that they'll help you out of the goodness of their heart.

If we operate in this spirit of mutual aid, you would be helped by someone trustworthy within our little organization. No trade would be necessary, because you would already be providing aid in your own way - food to a central storage area, perhaps, or protection for those who need it. I'm sure you can see how this might make life a little easier for everyone involved.

My own expertise lies in this sort of administrative support - connecting people with each other, organizing what needs to be done, and ensuring things are kept fair. I would be more than happy to use my skills for a purpose like this.

Let me know if any of you are interested. The first step in creating a community is getting to know one another, after all.

faa

[ Freddie's voice comes across the Murmur as he dons his mask, its long black beak and brilliant feathers an isolated face of a Cedar Waxwing eclipsing his own, even if he doesn't recognize it as such. That voice, recognizable to the right audience as from New York but not the city they currently inhabit, naturally falls into the cadence of an in-flight announcement without his awareness of the way he defaults to the familiar. ]

Hey. For those who don't know me, I'm Freddie, I live on the Upper West Side. Before I was a pilot, I was actually in physics. ...I'm sure everyone's noticed the voids popping up around here. If any of you have fallen into them or seen inside of them, let me know what you found. Or any other observations, if anyone's gotten close to them. How they behave, how big they are, whether they carry sound, whether their size and placement are consistent. I'm not Einstein or anything but I want to try to gather what information I can. Thanks.

whomthebelltolls

[CW: Dissection, parasitism, just generally really goopy medical grossness.]

[Unfortunately, Maria doesn't really know about nor believe in content warnings, so those who are browsing the Murmur near the end of Week 3 or beginning of Week 4 of February are going to run smack-dab, face-first into Maria dissecting a Lesser Guardian.

The image is mostly from her perspective, but she has dressed down into just her undershirt, with the sleeves rolled up. She's wearing her leather gloves over her hands, and her hunter's trousers, all of which are splattered in thick, black sludge. She stands in what appears to be the lobby of some kind of old office building, with the Guardian laying dead on a table. Nearby, a few reappropriated bottles and mason jars contain the same thick, black sludge, as well as some strange slug-like creatures.

The Lesser Guardian's torso is cut wide open, with its void-black musculature under its weird, smooth skin exposed. A knife - not a scalpel, but a flip-blade knife from some collector's case or another - lays nearby. The whole thing has the vibe of a very ad-hoc surgery theater. Or mortuary.

Without much warning, she reaches into the torso cavity as movement catches her eye, and comes out with a thick, black slug that wiggles weakly in her fingers a few times, then falls limp. Disappointment prickles through the Murmur.]

... The creatures haunting about this month are more interesting than I had hoped.

I would like assistance with a few things: Firstly, more of them to study. I've hunted a few, but it's been difficult to obtain a pristine specimen. I am willing to go with a hunting party. Secondly, a place to store and perhaps better investigate them, if anyone knows of a safe place. [And that's all she really needs from the Murmur, but she does step back to the Guardian's side to continue, for those that didn't immediately try to turn it off or change the channel:]

For those interested: Their blood is some sort of thick sludge, and they are full of these... phantasms, as I have never seen them before. [She motions at the slug. She does not explain what a "phantasm" is, nor why she called the slug that, before she continues] But the phantasms die quickly after being removed from their hosts; I'd like to find out how to preserve them.

Their flesh and bones seem to be structured like some sort of sapient... wasp's nest, as well. [Guess who's going back in to peel the open skin flaps of the Guardian, and showing off the honeycomb structure of its flesh and muscles on that small sample.] I damaged this one's head when I slayed it, so I would especially like one with an intact head that I can study. I want to see what its brain looks like.

Those squeamish need not apply.

ar_cane

[ Viktor is, uncharacteristically, putting effort into presenting himself to the full range of audience possible through the Murmur. He's sat in front of a mirror and watching himself through one glowing golden eye that shines through the veil that obscures much of his face. The rest of his body is also easily seen, purposefully so, spindly limbs too long for the chair he sits in so his knees bend near his chest and visible skin darkened at the extremities. He hopefully looks a little more approachable in the oversized sweater and baggy slacks he's wearing, at least. When he speaks, there's no obvious movement of a mouth, but in his mind he makes his accented voice more human, less metallic. He's putting a lot of effort into being approachable without masking what he is. ]

Hello, fellow dreamers. For those of you I haven't met yet, my name is Viktor. In my past life, I was a researcher, among other things. It is a career path that has been surprisingly useful since arriving here.

Previously, a census went out courtesy of Miss Lortel about the nature of everyone's magical abilities and transformations. It sparked my interest in where these powers come from, and where any innate ones have gone.

I'd appreciate hearing any personal experiences regarding the following:

First, if you were born with any superhuman abilities.
Second, if you might have gained any superhuman abilities through other means, but still in your native world.
Third, if you have retained any of those abilities since arriving here.
Fourth, if your new-found abilities bear any similarity to those you previously had or still have.

If you didn't have any superhuman abilities before being brought here, I'd still be interested in learning about your world, whether or not such abilities exist at all. I would like to get an estimate of how many of us did or didn't have any powers before any were bestowed upon us.

[ Bowing his head, the connection begins to dim, but not before he thinks to himself: ] How many times can one man say the word "abilities" in a minute?

closetdweller

[There was a great number of things that Urushihara, the ~~feral cat~~ fallen angel living at the Crosby Street Hotel, had learned in recent weeks.

One: Bonds between people were important, but

Two: engaging in those Bonds and related activities didn't guarantee anything.

So it was that Urushihara- now more regularly introducing himself as Luci thanks to a lot of confusion between people- found himself floating upside down watching the power flicker in and out while he ate his panfried vienna sausages with chopsticks asked a very pointed question:]

Testing. Testing. One-two. Anyone listening?

What's the point of paying taxes to Our Lady of Creepy Stuff if it's not helping anything?

Are we still doing it?

tequila_sunset

[will link Harry’s TL with his altars here when posted, available to be prayed at, vandalized, etc]

Out of the murmur comes an image: an altar made of tires and chains and cinderblocks. Decorated with multicolored feathers and the cleaned bones of hosts. Crowned in antlers made majestic with their twisted metal branches. An assortment of candles sit around the base, flickering with a gentle and inviting light.

An image isn’t the only thing being transferred in this moment. It comes messy with the residue of Harry’s feelings. (A tumultuous mass of mismatched colors and limbs that tear and bite at each other.) He’s nervous, absolutely terrified of what’s to come upon them all, and afraid he’ll be turned away, mocked-

HALF LIGHT - (Stop! Stop! This is a horrible idea. They’re only going to yell at you.)

-but there’s a hope. That if he does right it’ll all be worth it. Nausea boils in his stomachs. Rejection is painful, scary. It’s cold.

His rough voice echoes as if coming from many mouths:

“I invite any and all of you to come worship with me. The world is splitting, its fragile seams are tearing open all around us. The world ends again. The end of ends comes.”

Speaking of her calms the noisy background chaos of his mind. All can feel it: a deep love for Sleep, and the time he’s spent with her.

“You can offer her what you want, your hope, your past, your blood. I once gave her a memory of a song…sharing that with her was wonderful.”

He falls into a nervous silence, not totally sure what to anticipate.

vixenish

Hello, Manhattan. Today, I have another question for you all.

What type of Vessel are you, and what is it, exactly, that you can do? What type of power do you have?

Consider this Manhattan's first unofficial census of Vessels and their abilities. What we hope to do is identify what abilities the same Vessel types share in common, so that newly arriving Vessels know whom they can speak to about their new powers. Better understanding what each of us can do may help us better understand ourselves, too. We can all learn from one another, hm~?

[ and, perhaps, learn something about their most delightful benefactor. ]

This is voluntary, of course, but the more people who answer, the more helpful this will be. Don't be shy.

Megumi?

[ HE'S BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME: ]

I think that about covers it. I'm making record of all of this, so if anyone has concerns, you can also talk to either of us privately.

(ooc; replies will come from either Lortel or Megumi, or both! You can indicate if you'd like either/both in your subject line, or leave it up to us to wildcard!)

sorte

[ the murmur will light up with some activity from Aventurine's corner of it, and he'll be reaching out to everyone with a public service announcement! it will be a little after midday, too, so hopefully no one is disturbed from their sleep by his message. ]

Good afternoon, friends. Now that things seem to have calmed down some, I think it's worth us all getting together for a job well done on everyone's parts celebration and to give the newcomers a better welcome than they were offered.

So let's say... five sunsets from today at the restaurant and bar of the hotel? [ if you don't know him and the hotel, you can have a little visual on a map and such come up in your mind! don't worry, he'll help you get there. ] I'll host as close to a party as one can here. Open bar and snacks, at least. I can't guarantee you any quality full meals, although if any illusionists are looking to do something nice, I'm sure people would appreciate some help with making things taste better. I like to think I'm paying rather well for such assistances, so by all means tell me what you want in exchange for a little bit of your magic.

I'll pay for any other help you might wish to offer, as well. Although we can provide music, musicians playing live would be a very nice addition, I think.

Regardless, feel free to just bring yourself. And if you don't have a good excuse notto come, but aren't feeling like it? You should come, anyway~.

[ btw every excuse except being actually dead isn't good enough ok thanks, you were warned about coming on your own before matters are taken into the hand of higher powers!

~~Disclaimer at the bottom says he's not responsible if any random strangers kidnap you from where you're resisting and bring you to have a good time and stuff. Enjoy.~~ ]

All I ask is if you start any brawls, that you take them outside. The illusions tends to lose their immersion effect when someone gets smashed through a table and said table looks intact even as someone goes right through it. [ like bad graphics in a video game ugh. don't ruin pretendy fun time in apocalypse world. ]

Anyway, overall it sounds not so bad for an excuse for us all to get to know each other better, hm? Since we're stuck here together and all. [ or just come get shit faced and not socialize like an asshole, he doesn't care. ] ( Read more... )

gimu

[ Some sweet time after choso has awoken, a brief span after Lortel's enlightenment, the Murmur shivers. It is the only heads-up that something has begun to thrash in the waters, so to speak. There is no ramp up, no building anything to warn before there is just noise, a sudden burst of intent that sounds like: ]

YUJIII!

[ it tastes like urgency and feels like desperation, but mostly, it sounds like embarrassing. ]

Where are you?! Hold on, little brother! I'm coming for you!!!

opheliac

[ who needs words to clarify what you want or say when you can just think up things? and that is exactly what jinx is doing here. her imagination speaks for her by throwing this into the open wide space of the murmur:]

( IMAGE INSIDE )

licencetoheal

[After some much needed self-care, Julian has a lot more energy than he did in the tunnels. Sure, he's now apparently growing feathers. And fur. And even more scales. And his canines look an awful lot like a lions. And today, for no apparent reasons, his eyes have slits. And now he has two owl wings he had to cut holes in his clothes for, even if one is stubby. Even if it's all barely formed. It's fine. It's fine it's fine it's fine it's fine.]

[Right now he's in the Columbia University Health Sciences library, talking with the weird mask on while carrying stacks to dump in a shopping cart. The unit on low-tech emergency medicine he took in school was meant just for that - emergencies. This situation may wind up long-term. He needs information about the crude drugs, practically Inquisitorial tools, and supplies of this era.]

I suppose I should introduce myself to anyone I didn't meet in the tunnels. I'm a physician. My name is Dr. Julian Bashir. It sounds as if there are only very few medical professionals able to offer their services to the group. I'd like to get in touch with you, if possible. Best to coordinate efforts, even if we operate out of different locations.

And I'd like to ask for volunteers: anyone willing to help me set us up for better circumstances. Whether you're medical professionals yourselves, willing to be trained, willing to help me scout for supplies, or to help me clean to make some treatment areas as sterile as possible. I plan to find a surgery or the surgical suite of a hospital that seems properly defensible, to clean as much as possible. I will feel so much [he steeples his hands] better about this situation if I can at least douse a surgical suite wall to wall in hospital-grade disinfectant. It can be quite the pick-me-up.

I'll be providing routine medical care - mild injuries, illnesses, that sort of thing - out of the medical clinic at the dorms of Columbia University. [He provides the location.] I'll probably establish the surgery nearby in case triage demands immediate intervention for any patients that have a more serious issue that needs to be dealt with.

As for my qualifications, I have extensive training in xenobiology to serve multiple species, which should allow me to help those regardless of any...changes they're experiencing. I'm capable of providing care as a specialist for all bodily systems, and am a trained surgeon and neurosurgeon. I also have a great deal of experience with trauma surgery as a military field surgeon.

Oh, and given the situation is dire, if any of you find yourselves in need of psychiatric care, I underwent the residency and rotations necessary to be able to diagnose psychiatric conditions and can prescribe you medication, though we should make sure to secure a long-term supply before starting a regimen. When it comes to actual ongoing counseling, however, it's... [He cringes a little, thinking back to his evaluations] it's just - it's not...really one of my strengths.

[His evaluator had gotten so annoyed with him she'd failed at all diplomacy and at one point told him he "needed to learn to shut up." Exact words. It's a good thing he hadn't planned to hyper-specialize. He'd survived that residency but not with his professional pride intact.]

Volunteers, locations, and services... I think that's everything. Feel free to introduce yourselves or ask any questions, including more about my qualifications. Also, if you have any general information about the mutations we've been undergoing, I'd appreciate you sharing it. Or you can respond privately with any health concerns you have.

[He doesn't name a price, doesn't make any demands, and doesn't seem to realize that "I can do every specialty and also surgery and also brain surgery and also military medicine and also am equipped to treat different species" may be a bonkers insane claim to make in at least some worlds. It's routine for a Starfleet doctor.]

[It's also of note that for a doctor, instead of dressed respectably he looks like an absolute clown right now. His uniform is trashed so he dressed civilian, and because of the way his body is changing, he went for comfort. Federation fashion is... bold, to say the least and he's found clothes that resemble it. Loud clashing patterns, odd necklines, unnecessarily shimmery fabric, lots of unnecessary flaps. All synthetics. He looks like he got swallowed alive by the ugliest sections of Temu and Shein and regurgitated.]

salaryman

Hello, everyone. Yuuto here.

[ The voice is bright and full of cheer despite all the circumstances surrounding his broadcast. But he does attempt to broadcast to everyone that is not in the tunnels. ]

I'm a little weakened and so only offering commentary on the brave souls that came down to the tunnels. It seems like we're about to begin...

[ He claps his hands together and allows for everyone to see the battle against the monstrosity.

It is broken up in parts as he slips away to get to a safer location and another group does their part. He breathes out a small sigh as he watches everything from where is relatively safe.

Notably through the "broadcast," his emotions seem to become more and more erratic through the feed. It may be because of what he's witnessing but also he doesn't do anything to help. He is just a witness to events and steps back once the Rat King is fully dealt with. ]

... wait, did someone...

[ He has a more thoughtful tone to his voice as his shoulders seem to drop; a sensation felt through the Murmur itself. ]

It seems like we've achieved victory but with a bit of tragedy. I think? I wonder if you die in the waking world... what happens to you?

[ A beat. Longer. Stretched. ]

sihT nsi't good. I kniht I evah ot teg tuo fo eseht slennut.

[ Translation: This isn't good. I think I have to get out of these tunnels. ]

[ ooc: Your character can see however much they want to and get the rest from other characters, if they so wish. It can be said that Yuuto's connection starts to get a little less stable as he starts to destabilize due to succumbrance. ]

for_sake

( so, here are the most important things yoshiki has pieced together from the information he has been unwillingly receiving as of late:

1. the subways are very bad
2. there are a lot of people in the subways right now
3. MORE people are going into the subways, including people he would like to return alive and whole

he's gotten better at reviewing the murmur for information but initiating contact is still tricky. this is why, when he sends out, )

Please survive,

( across the murmur, he accidentally shares the thoughts immediately after the sentiment as well, which is a rapid series of thank god i'm not down there, and this weird fruit is actually pretty good today, and: )

alt

[ ooc: i'm so sorry but this was an enlightened post i cannot take sole credit. ]

vixenish

Hello, Manhattan.

[ her voice is soft, and a little tired, the murmur failing to hide her displeasure at waking up ...

... wherever this horrible place is, other than, presumably, Manhattan. there's a clipped coolness to the way she projects into the murmur, a practically tangible sense of both stubborn refusal and defiant self-control.

little of her feelings, after all, escapes her besides these, a strange amusement and, bubbling beneath it, her faint frustration. ]

You can hear me, can't you? It's been so long. For you, perhaps, if not for me.

My name is Lortel. Lortel Kehelland. I've been here before, you see. I've been told I was gone for several months. To me, though... all I can remember is dreaming. A long, dark dream. Perhaps unsurprising, considering our gracious host, hm~?

There's much I'm sure I've missed. Should anyone care to tell a girl in greater detail what's happened these past two months, I'd be very grateful. [ her smile may be felt through the murmur, though its honesty is another matter. ]

For those of you who don't seem to have awoken down here with us, please check in with me. I'm sure you'll know who you are. If we've not yet met... then tell me, perhaps, what you think of our strange little corner of the world. What has it been like, for you? How have you been changed? [ an echo of a long ago question she once asked. ]

For those who are down here with me, there's something I'd like to share. I seem to have woken up with some strange mask. Not the ones all of us have been given. Rather, it seems to filter the air we're breathing, after testing it out myself. Given our ... conditions, I would, naturally, be willing to share this vital resource. I'll ask only a fair price in return, of course~.

[ I've missed you.

I was scared.

I didn't want to leave.

these things are not said, or shared. but for the briefest moment, she cannot bury an intense and longing melancholy. ]

Well. We'll see all each other again soon, I'm very sure.

snaggletooth

[ A buzzing besets the wearers of masks, building and building. Then, the moment it seems impossible for it to become any louder, it stops. Like an approaching swarm that's ceased all aggression in an instant. There's still something sitting there behind this sudden cessation, however, hidden in the shifting blackness of the mind. A presence, just arrived, awaiting a turn to speak. ]

Hello, please pardon my intrusion. My name is Ivan. I'm standing at the entrance to Grand Central Station.

Before I head below, there's something I believe I should do for my own safety. With an appearance like mine, it would be easy for those of you I've yet to meet to mistake me for one of those other mindless things that live down there, in the dark. That's why I'm going to show myself to all of you now. It may be startling, so I apologize.

Please, brace yourself.

[ There is movement in the mind's eye. There is a light that switches on, illuminating an oily mass that goes on and on, disappearing off in the depths of the dark plane. Nothing gives it scale except for the distinct sense that it is looming, this terrible silhouette that terminates in the pale, placid face of a young man. It looks like a porcelain doll's head has been torn off and placed atop a nightmarish effigy.

He sways softly before allowing himself to fade away once again. ]

There, ahaha... if you're still hearing this, then I have to thank you for at least humoring me.

I realize that my gesture doesn't give anyone a reason to trust I'm not as bad as the next abomination you run into. I won't begrudge you, whatever your decision. There is one piece of guidance I can offer though. It doesn't even require dealing with me in person, fortunately for all.

Just concentrate with me — for one more moment.

[ He's not usually the one to do this. That person has concerningly not been present. At the end of the moment he requested, your thoughts are pulled along, beyond anywhere you thought to direct them. You can resist and the sensation will simply dissipate, but allow yourself to be lead and all will also be well. At the end of the line is a susurrating knot of voices speaking over one another. Echoes that, with just a bit of focus, become clearer. Individual. ]

If this information proves useful, send your regards to the young man named Megumi.

( NOTE: This message will be sent out once the Veteran's nightmares begin leading them to the tunnels. Ivan will be actively searching while communicating and can be intercepted by other characters in the area. His close companion Till may also respond and/or can optionally appear if a conversation thread is converted to action. )

hongtian

[ The Murmur flares to life with the sensation of flint and steel, sparks catching on dry tinder that leaps rather than eases its way into existence. Ruhong does not hesitate: there is a point to this, and she does not much like riding the waves of a connection that she does not control. ]

I have news of One, and an important warning to go along with it.

What has happened this month cannot be allowed to repeat itself—not in any form. Not just for our own lives or for the world here, but for the very places we call our homes.

Our gracious host may choose to listen, or She may not, but I will be waiting to speak of it near the fountain terrace in the park should you wish to know more. The crucial thing is this: She cannot be allowed to have him. And we must find the other numbers before it is too late.

[ She will respond to questions, but she will also be waiting as promised at the location she mentioned in Central Park. Her presence reduces to the low embers of a dying fire, but it does not fade. ]

peripheries

[There a poke at the murmur. It's very direct and eager but not malicious. Like a child poking a stick at a turtle to see if it will move. The image of a young man, hands in his pockets, leaning against nothingness in a cool teen slouch.]

In the world I am from, I was made for a specific purpose. Here, no such purpose applies. Since this path was chosen for me before I was even born, I have no idea what to live for now other than simply because I can.

So I was curious about the rest of you? Do you have a purpose? Was that purpose taken from you by Sleep? Do you hope to find new purpose here in the midst of this conflict?

What about those without purpose at all?

Tell me your answers. I'm very bored.

untilldeath

[There's a light knock at the murmur. It isn't demanding, just gently asking for attention, like tentatively clearing one's throat before addressing a crowd. As before, he's a little awkward—performing is one thing, but addressing an 'audience' is still new.]

Hey again.

[Do you remember him? He's the guy who asked about tethering with a plant before. This time, he actually appears through the murmur with an awkward wave—last time, he only used his voice. He figures if he's making a request, he ought to show exactly who he is, especially given the nature of it.]

So... I can see colors. Uh, I mean, like—around people. I didn't realize before that it wasn't, y'know, normal. I just figured everyone here could do the same, too. Thought it was just a byproduct of being in this place. But, apparently, that’s not the case.

[Absolute news to him.]

I know we're all fighting for our lives out here, but I have a potentially stupid request if you've got a minute. I kinda wanna figure out what the hell it all means. If anyone's bored or curious enough, would you be up to talking in person and answering a couple of simple questions? I just want to see if there's a pattern with these colors and all.

[There has to be a meaning behind them. If he digs around enough, he thinks he'll unearth a bit more. He already has some ideas, but having a wider crowd and some answers to questions might make it all a bit clearer.

There's the likelihood that people could lie. Or purposefully fuck with his results, but... he doesn't want to be underhanded about his reasons and questions to begin with. That sounds too much like an unwitting experiment, and he's not about conducting something like that. So he's hoping for the best.]

You can always opt out of answering certain questions if you want, but I'm gonna try and keep them pretty generic. You don't gotta get into super detail or anything. Just be honest.

[Please...?]

So... yeah! If you're willing, come visit me today at the fountain in that Washington Square Park place. I can, I dunno... draw you a quick sketch or something for your time?

((OOC: The color aura form is here!))

saudades

[The tug at the mental connection between all who dwell in Sleep's domain is gentle, at first, a cat idly pawing at a toy out of boredom, wrapping itself up in the string to encourage you to attend to it. The longer the tug is ignored, though, the more insistent it becomes. The idle pawing becomes a scratch-scratch-scratch at your door to be let in.

When one relents, they're initially met with a sort of mental sigh from a young man.]

No matter how many times it happens, being wounded is always so dreadfully dull for so long. At least I'm not tied to a bed this time, I suppose.

[What's that about? He doesn't seem like he's about to clarify. A few moments of mumbling and grumbling later, he continues:]

I take it the Blood Moon still holds, out there? The call of Sleep's madness seems to be especially strong of late. Perhaps those of you yet resisting its pull might indulge me in a distraction, for a time.

Tell me of a riddle, or a puzzle, or paradox, where you come from. Something that captured your thoughts, in some small way.

I'll start us off. Imagine there exists a certain machine, that is capable of providing you with any experiences you could possibly want, fulfilling all of your wildest dreams and most intimate desires. This machine is guaranteed to work, and once plugged in, you wouldn't be able to tell these experiences apart from the ones you had outside of the machine or otherwise identify them as false. If you could, would you choose to be hooked up to this machine for life, or would you remain within reality?

markingnight

I have good news and ill.

First, Hosts cannot be returned to their original selves. They are lost forever.
However, I was told that as Vessels, there may be hope to rescue even those of us who have Succumbed.

Secondly, has anyone encountered the three-eyed bird?
I spoke with him. He was Three.

He tried to tell me of rituals and Two's remaining fragment. It seems he's unable to communicate for very long.

T_O'S FRAG__NTS: O_E MO_E LEFT
I H_VE THR_E RI_UALS N_EDED
FO_R, Y_U NEE_ US.

𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙿 . . . 𝙽𝙴𝚃𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙺

Recent Entries

001 • community building

week 1. | even in the great abyss, it's the year of the optimist !

001 | Welcome to the Surgery Altar

002 ⚙️ omens in your skies

Week 2 | The Fallen Angel Engages In Tax Evasion

02. (Week One)

oo3 ✦ city-wide census (feat. megumi fushiguro)

early week 4 • party party party

week 1, day 1; good morning

006 — 💥🙉 TELEPATHIC MESSAGING (text) ✦ FAST-FORWARD TO WEEK 3.

001 🖖 The Doctor Is In

TWO; uh oh--!

001 / january 2026 — week two

oo2 ✦ homeward

001 - Hello, World - Week Two | CW: insects

01 - Week 4 (November)

01 - Week 4

002 🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ | Week 4

01; week 2-ish

Don’t give up, skeleton!