Piper 90: Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goneawaymod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
goneawayworld2020-08-08 01:55 am
goneawaymod) wrote in goneawayworld2020-08-08 01:55 am
Entry tags:
- #memshare,
- #rig logs,
- adora,
- alloran semitur-corass,
- bunnymund,
- catra,
- dan sagittarius,
- guts,
- kevin armstrong,
- nora valkyrie,
- remy lebeau,
- rogue,
- ronald mcdonald,
- ronan lynch,
- sam winchester,
- saturday,
- setsuna higashi,
- stacia novik,
- tenten,
- ✘ aleifr bjornsson,
- ✘ remus lupin,
- ✘ sirius black,
- ✘ steven universe
Invasion!
Who: The New Hires
What: Sudden Memory Share
Where: Their Memory Palaces
When: After Intermission
Warnings/Notes: Possible in every memory, warn in subject lines.
Contact.
It's during a pause in their day. A nap. An idle moment looking across the Top Deck. Taking a slow breath between reps in the training room.
The New Hires are connected. Mental pathways locking together, they're forced into one another's innermost beings. Thrust into one another's memory palaces where the mind collects and stores everything that makes them who they are. The core of their beings are only a few steps away and no one can help the violation.
To make matters worse, it comes with no explanation or no ability to pull out and stop. Once they're through the first memory, perhaps they can find a way out, but they're already witnessing some event from their host's past. And, if they left, who knows whether or not they'd end up accidentally invading another memory palace?
And if they were there, who was in theirs?
[[So, how this works: the memories can either be viewed in spectator mode or experiencing everything themselves. The person whose memories are being shown, the host, can watch as their current self or take the form they had of their past self.
They cannot control the first memory shown, the player decides that, but they can control any other memories they'd like to show people. Of course, there's always the option of an extreme emotional reaction bringing up memories unbidden.]]
What: Sudden Memory Share
Where: Their Memory Palaces
When: After Intermission
Warnings/Notes: Possible in every memory, warn in subject lines.
Contact.
It's during a pause in their day. A nap. An idle moment looking across the Top Deck. Taking a slow breath between reps in the training room.
The New Hires are connected. Mental pathways locking together, they're forced into one another's innermost beings. Thrust into one another's memory palaces where the mind collects and stores everything that makes them who they are. The core of their beings are only a few steps away and no one can help the violation.
To make matters worse, it comes with no explanation or no ability to pull out and stop. Once they're through the first memory, perhaps they can find a way out, but they're already witnessing some event from their host's past. And, if they left, who knows whether or not they'd end up accidentally invading another memory palace?
And if they were there, who was in theirs?
[[So, how this works: the memories can either be viewed in spectator mode or experiencing everything themselves. The person whose memories are being shown, the host, can watch as their current self or take the form they had of their past self.
They cannot control the first memory shown, the player decides that, but they can control any other memories they'd like to show people. Of course, there's always the option of an extreme emotional reaction bringing up memories unbidden.]]
no subject
"Hey, you think I want to be here? I've got enough shit going on in my own head." Having traveled into someone else's dreams before, he could firmly say he preferred his own. And that was saying something. "I'm guessing you don't know how I got here either?"
no subject
"Not a goddamned clue," Stacia snapped, but Ronan's answer at least seemed to have mollified her sufficiently that she wasn't going to take a swing at him. "Dragging other people into my head isn't the sort of thing I can do."
The two blonds from Stacia's memory are busy preparing to light the contents of the dumpster on fire at this point. Their accelerants of choice aren't improving the smell.
no subject
He took a step back. He looked around. "Do you think we can just take off or are we stuck watching--" He waved his hand at the scene. "Whatever's going on."
no subject
no subject
He made his way to the car and, because he was Ronan, opened his mouth. "What kind of monster was it?"
Knife-fighting something if that was your only weapon didn't seem like a bad idea to Ronan personally, but he got the sense that if he said that Stacia might wolf out and rip his throat out. Not his favorite way to die in a dream. Memory. Whatever.
no subject
"I'd threaten you about getting boot prints on my car, but neither of us are actually here, so I suppose you can take your fun where you find it," Stacia replied. She snorted at his question as she began to ease herself around the car.
"I don't know the specifics obviously, but judging by the way it was going runny by the time we arrived, I'm guessing it had something to do with rot or decay or something similar." She gestures at the buildings around them. "If we did a little digging, we'd probably find out that something around here is literally decaying from the inside out. Not technically our territory, but we let the locals know to keep an eye out."
no subject
"It was already dead before you killed it? That's fucked." He didn't sound terribly disturbed by it. One of his friends had been a ghost. He'd already come to terms with the fact that the dead didn't always stay dead. This was just another world's version of that.
no subject
She and Ronan didn't even get a foot beyond the car before their surroundings changed from city streets to a breakfast nook on a fall morning.
"Oh, come on!" Stacia stomped her foot. "Not cool!"
The two actual occupants of the room were Stacia (noticeably younger, but it's hard to say how much), who was stirring a bowl of oatmeal, and an older woman preparing a bagged lunch at the counter. The younger Stacia eyed the woman from behind, clearly weighing something in her mind -- but the expression evaporated the moment the woman turned around, smiling, to place the bagged lunch on the table.
"Thanks, Mom," the younger Stacia said, then smothered a yawn with her hand.
"Yeah, thanks a lot," the Stacia who accompanied Ronan muttered.
no subject
...But it was also definitely something he'd do.
Then the memory shifted and well, he wasn't too surprised. It was too much to hope for that he could escape that easily. At least the smell was gone.
He looked at Stacia's mother or rather how her mother acted, her body language. He'd seen enough shitty mothers lately and he still wasn't entirely sure how much of Stacia's hate was just at her mom keeping secrets or if her mom was just legitimately terrible.
"Did she poison the food?" he asked, deadpan.
no subject
"Mom?" the younger Stacia said, turning in her seat. Her mother turns around with raised eyebrows. "I had a weird dream last night," younger Stacia continued. "Can I talk to you about it?"
"Of course, sweetie," her mother said, returning to the table and sitting down across from her. Past-Stacia began to spin a story of a dream involving what was clearly werewolves, watching her mother's expression as she did.
Her mother's expression went from polite interest, to concern, to -- was that genuine fear? -- and then a sort of distracted confusion. Present-day Stacia points at her.
"That. That right there. You saw that, right? Where she looked scared, then looked like she didn't understand why she'd been scared?"
no subject
So far this seemed close to his own family life-- before. Although confusion and fear weren't emotions he remembered seeing on his mother's face except for those few days after his father died.
"I saw it. What about it?" It was more of a genuine question. He actually wanted to know more.
no subject
"I knew the werewolf stuff came from Mom's side of the family," she bit out. "I was trying to feel out if she knew about werewolves, or if the split was further back in the family tree. Not everyone with werewolves in the family become werewolves; most don't. Sometimes people who don't shift leave, because some werewolves are assholes who treat non-shifting family as breeding stock."
She took a deep breath and slowly let it out, pulling the edges of her Rage back in. God did she hate the way some people treated Kinfolk.
"She was scared. She knew something. But then she looked confused, so I thought she'd repressed it. Traumatic memories. So I decided not to tell her. I told my sister about it and that we couldn't tell Mom because Mom had been hurt so badly that she'd shut those memories away."
Stacia wrapped her arms around herself. "I opened a door and she refused to walk through it. She never followed up on this conversation, but a year and a half later she stalked my boyfriend because she knew he was a non-shifter and that I was a shifter. But God forbid she talk to me about it!"
There was something red and raw under the anger in Stacia's voice. Pain, a sense of betrayal.
no subject
"Did she repress anything?" Ronan's voice was surprisingly calm. His normally harsh voice was almost soft as he risked poking the hornet's nest. "Did you ever get to talk to her about it?"
no subject
Stacia shook her head.
"It's possible that she's repressed some stuff," she said. "But not the existence of G-- werewolves. Not the fact that her kids might shift, or our kids might shift, without any warning--"
The room flickered, flashing briefly to the woods at night, but Stacia thrust it away. Bad enough she'd almost dropped 'Garou', she definitely didn't want to get into her First Change.
"She remembered enough to stalk my boyfriend, and when I confronted her about that, she refused to apologize for 'protecting her family'." She snorted. "Some 'protection'."
no subject
And if they hadn't lied to Matthew to begin with, his heart wouldn't have been broken.
"And then they leave them to pick up the pieces and continue their fucks ups." He sounded close to miserable. "Doesn't make it right, but at least she cares about you."
Packed lunches and kisses on the forehead. That used to embarrass him. Now he'd give anything to have that again.
no subject
Sure, if those Silver Fangs had only broke into the Novik home and slapped Rada around, Stacia probably wouldn't have killed them all. But there's no kill like overkill when it comes to demonstrating that you're a big bad wolf who shouldn't be messed with, and being able to protect things that are hers is part of Stacia's reputation.
"I just want her to acknowledge that she hurt me. She doesn't even have to say that she wishes she'd done it differently, or that she wouldn't keep things like this from me in the future. I just want her to say she's sorry that I've been in pain."
no subject
He stared at Stacia's home though there was nothing fascinating there.
"Would it make a difference if she did?" he asked at last. "It wouldn't change what happened."
no subject
Stacia huffs, but takes a moment to consider her response.
"It would," she says. "It would tell me that she wants to continue having a relationship where we care about each other. Where she's still my mom, even if we don't see eye-to-eye. Right now, our relationship is wounded, and that wound is rotting instead of healing. If that goes on, she won't be my mom anymore. We won't be family in any way except biology, and biology isn't much on its own."
no subject
And suddenly, he found his patience had reached its limit. Really it was amazing it had lasted this long.
"Seriously?" He looked at Stacia's mother, an echo of someone who was still alive. "Do you know how many secrets my parents kept from me? I can't count the lies my dad told." He turned back to Stacia and his expression was as hard as his voice. "He left me with all this shit to deal with and I don't have a chance to ask him about any of it. That wound's never gonna heal but he was still my dad. And I still--" He stopped himself. His breaths were coming hard and he balled his hands into fists as he tried to calm himself down again.
"I don't know if I'm missing something, but unless there's some else going on I don't know about-- I just see a mom who looks like she gives a damn about her daughter. Who's breathing. Do you know what I'd give for that? When you get back, don't waste it."
cw: blood
"You think this is where I left it?" she asked, voice rising in both pitch and volume. "This memory is almost three fucking years old, you dumbass. This is what we used to have, before I spent two years watching my every word at home because I can't tell my father anything and I didn't want to accidentally trigger a traumatic breakdown in my mother. She let me carry that -- alone, for all she knew. And for all I know, she loves the lie she built more than she loves me, because she never warned me."
The scene flickered back to the woods again and Stacia snarled, wrenching it back to the house -- but this time, they were in the entry way, and there was blood on the floor and the smell of burnt flesh to go with a scorched area of wall and tile.
"There's a lot I've done to protect her and there's a lot I would still do," she said. "But right now, I know for sure that she's willing to let me do it alone."
no subject
"Jesus, don't you get--"
Their surroundings shifted. Ronan recognized the inside of his home. It was full of too much life and love. It had everything you needed and then some, rich in its luxurious, mismatched and sometimes eccentric items.
"It was good to meet your friend." Niall said and then he paused. When he spoke again his tone was no longer so light. The front door hung open, evidently they'd just finished sending that friend off. Niall closed it. "Have you told him?"
Ronan looked at the floor. His expression was now subdued. He shook his head.
Niall looked at him until Ronan finally met his gaze. "Remember what I said."
Ronan nodded. "I know. I won't tell anyone."
Niall grinned, full of promise and mischief and love. It froze on his face when his son did not let the conversation end there.
"Can I--" Ronan began hesitantly, cut himself off, then continued with a somewhat stronger voice. "Can I ever tell anyone?"
Niall stared at his son, no longer smiling. "You said you dreamed something last night. Show me."
Ronan reached into his pocket and pulled out a book the size of a pocket Bible. He held it out for his father, who opened it. The book began to play Gaelic music and Niall smiled again, softly now. He closed it.
"It was bigger in my dream," Ronan confessed. There was a question there. He hoped for an answer to his previous question but also for guidance.
Niall handed the book back to his son. "What dreams you have." Now he placed his hands on both Ronan's shoulders. "Keep it hidden." With one last devilish smile he walked away, leaving Ronan lost and alone. As always.
Ronan, the one who lived in the present, held much the same expression for a moment as he stared after his father.
no subject
The change in scene was enough to yank Stacia out of the quicksand of her Rage, and the scene playing out between a younger Ronan and what is clearly his father gave her the time to recenter herself. She stared after the elder Lynch herself, nonplussed. "In case outside confirmation helps, yes, that was a dick move on his part," she said, her voice back in its usual register. Questions begin nibbling at the edges of her curiosity: what reasons Ronan's father could have by dancing around Ronan's questions instead of answering them, whether he was trying to cultivate Ronan's abilities or stifle them. They'd probably be rude to ask though, since she hadn't been invited to be here in the first place, and Ronan wasn't a big sharer outside of his own head.
no subject
They were here, still talking softly together, forever in love in Ronan's memories. His father would forever be full of secrets and now Stacia voiced what Declan had always said.
She was right. They were both right. Ronan looked at the person he had been. His face was softer and somewhere in that lost expression, he saw the hurt in his eyes, and he felt how alone he had been and always would be in this moment.
Anger flared hot within him, coming so quickly from confronting Stacia, it couldn't be contained. All he could think about was Stacai's anger over her mother's lies and his own anger at his father's-- so many, lies-- and the fact that his mother and father were in the other room and they'd disappear in a few moments.
Ronan grabbed a vase full of impossible blue flowers, pulled from his father's mind, and threw it. It crashed against the wall but before the pieces hit the floor, it all vanished. The vase and flowers were back on its stand. Ronan clenched his hands into fists. His body shook beyond control. He had to bite down hard on his lip to stifle any sob. Then he took a deep breath as his younger brother, all smiles and bouncing golden hair, came down the hall.
The younger Ronan stood straighter and he smiled to cover his hurt. It worked.
"I love your friend! Now we can have parties. Your friend can meet my friends."
"I'm not sure it works that way," Ronan from the memory said.
Ronan turned to Stacia. "Matthew didn't even know," he said. He scoffed. "But you know what's really fucked up? My older brother knew the whole time and I didn't find out until a year after my dad..." He let out a breath. "I'm never going to get to ask him why."