March Adventure: Swim with the Current and Float Away

[lifeaftr_mods]

NEW ISLAND: AI'TUOH

Who: Anyone who feels brave...or particularly lawful
What: A city worth exploring, and a people worth meeting
When: March 10th and onward
Where: Ai'tuoh
Warnings: The themes you might associate with strict punishment and rule-based dystopias will abound, along with nonconsensual drugging/sedation for those found guilty in the streets. Otherwise, mark as needed!

The Overview: Ai'tuoh
The dawn of the 10th will see the appearance of the promised island on the horizon. The smooth, even planes of city walls rear across the expanse of sandy beach, but beyond that, no particular discerning characteristics can be immediately glean. That same morning, characters will awaken from a brief dream, wherein the Storyteller will advise that the new island accessible via mana pool - and they suggest, with some trepidation, that you do not make the location of said mana pool on the new land immediately obvious to the natives. It's clear that something has put them on edge, though they've yet to say what.

Welcome, adventurers, to the island of Ai'tuoh.

Our City, Our Rules
Ai'tuoh is home to a sprawling city, built of smooth, sandy stone. Its architecture is simple, precise, and uniform, valuing utility above all else - function to the exclusion of form. The homogeneity of the people of Ai'tuoh extends beyond the similar, monochrome spectrum of their apparel. Despite the gradations of skin color and the subtle shifts in the shades of their hair - all falling within established limits, of course - they all appear to be more or less human. But most striking of all is the stern warning emblazoned across the city's gates. It translates as follows:

May those who violate our law be cleansed in the Standing Water.

The Unerring Law of the people of Ai'tuoh can be found in the library, which contains little besides some five hundred copies of the same dispassionate lists of various laws, most of which you've probably already broken by the time you've entered.

If you plan on stopping by, we'd recommend taking the time to explore the docks first - those that frequent that particular area are rather more forthcoming to travelers. You might find someone sympathetic to your plight, willing to offer some helpful hints.

Holding Cells: Awaiting Your Trial
Those unlucky enough to be caught by the concealed militia taskforce of the city will be sedated on sight of their violation, and will wake in a small, smooth-stoned room. There are no windows, and only one door - and it won't be opening under your duress. The holding cell into which you've been deposited is beyond barebones; while clean and uniform, it lacks even the basic commodities of a bed and bucket. It seems that there's no need to plan for keeping prisoners in the long term. No one drops by to visit, and no one addresses you if they pass through. Your only company is in your cellmates, who you might be able to hear through the walls, provided you raise your voice over the soft, buzzing hum that permeates the air; a magical suppression field, to ensure that those with particular talents cannot exert them to break the law's hold.

The barracks are sorted into clusters of several buildings, each with variety of cells hidden in secluded pockets. To contrast the uniformity of the city itself, there is no such order here; the buildings are designed to be difficult to break into, and even harder to orient oneself in.

Those who are being kept in holding until their cleansing will not be in complete isolation forever. There are a number of militia who patrol the prison areas to ensure peace is being kept...and some might even be open to conversation.

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For OOC information about Ai'tuoh and the city's laws, please see our recent OOC information post!

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Feeling a tad adrift? Make sure to check the Locations Page, which has details regarding the starting areas and a handy map for those who feel better with a bird's eye view!

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LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

the docks | ota

[aftrnpc]

[The docks are home to the single inn present in Ai'tuoh, and one of the only two-story buildings. It has been uncreatively titled, with its signage merely proclaiming it to be "The Inn" without any additional trimmings. The interior is just as flat and dull as the rest of the city of Ai'tuoh, fashioned as it is from soft, sandy stone and clay.]

[Most of the staff seems absent, assuming there's much in the way of staff at all. One particular individual seems to be doing the lion's share of the work, though they hardly seem to mind at all. It's clear that they can recognize who does and does not quite fit in.]

[In between clearing tables, pouring drinks, handing over keys to rooms, they might pin you with a knowing look paired with the barest lift of eyebrows. One has to behave carefully, in case any of the citizens about might be concealing pointed needles up their sleeves.]

[Still, if you have questions, you might find this particular citizen to be more forthcoming than most. Now why would that be?]

[crosslaced]

Excuse me. Please pardon me if my manners are poor- I'm new to the city. How much is a room?

[okay I'm not saying he wants to cosy up with his boyfriend in a bed I'm just saying. He misses beds. So must Damen, being fellow royalty. And he doubts he can afford two rooms maybe.]

[souris_keteer]

[Who has two thumbs didn't read the rules before coming over? THIS GUY.

So he breaks about idk 6 of them just by appearance alone, heading right to the nice man with a big smile on his face.]

Hello! Good day to you!

[prettypurpleparlor]

[There's those who don't fit in, and then there's those who don't fit in.]

[Muffet is dressed neatly and soberly, having left behind her usual red adornments and wearing a skirt made from some of Tataru's leftover cloth and the scarf she'd given her- both plain and undyed. But for all that nothing about her appearance breaks any known rules, her clearly visible inhumanity stands out against the monotony of this city's people as much as the pale purple of her skin stands out against its' unpainted buildings.]

[Her expression is calm and serene, the sort of politely unreadable face she might make while at the negotiating table with an untrustworthy businessperson, as she patiently walks up to the bar and waits for the innkeeper to be available to speak.]

[tenthstreetbred]

[The Storyteller's nervousness sets Shepard on edge but it doesn't stop her from journeying to the new island the moment the path is open. She almost considers wearing her armor but that would certainly set any people she meets on the same knife edge as her. In the end she chooses to be diplomatic and when she appears on the docks she's dressed in her casual Alliance wear- which, while muted, still has some pesky dark blue and black colors running through the grey.

The Inn is a must stop, of course, because if she is to stay here for any extended period of time, it's the best place to be. When she enters she looks around a bit in surprise at how empty this place is. Most worlds she visited had the inns hopping with people. But then again... things are different here.

One employee seems to be a whirlwind of work and when they give her a Look she walks over to where they are and gives them one of her own, leaning back on one leg and crossing her arms.]

Hello to you too. Do you get much business here?

elf sale - two for the price of one

[hellawrath]

As soon as the new island appears on the horizon, the elves are fucking ready. This is it. The moment they've been waiting for. Resources, information, hell yeah, but also, real beds? A long bath, maybe? Their chance to shine, literally for once, as they employ every bit of island glamour that would've been wasted on their fellow grubby castaways like pearls before swine.

And where better to kick off their assured conquest of this city than a local bar? Or... the only bar, or inn, or whatever. The twins enter like they've already won the place in a gamble. Lup is bedecked in every seashell brooch and shiny pebble necklace she owns, hair done up in a cascade of locks and fresh flowers, red cloak draped skillfully over her busted arm. If all eyes are on her, that's frankly where they belong. She's here to make an impression as well as some deals.

Possibly the rabbit's nervousness should have given them pause. The foreboding as fuck warning over the gates definitely did, but at that point the train to hustleville couldn't be stopped.

"Boy, I sure hope this isn't happy hour," she quips towards her brother at the sight of the bare interior. Not even a pool table, seriously?

[thejaw]

[When the man still manages to find and pin Brian with a rather sharp look, despite the fact that he's tucked himself away in a corner and attempted to look as inconspicuous as possible, (you still have your mask on you absolute idiot) it unnerves him.

Not that, like, it takes a lot to do that. The wind blows. Brian is unnerved.

He decides the best way to address this discomfort is to wait until the suspicious inn worker is headed towards the desk, approach as though he has a bill to pay or a request to make, and press a piece of notebook paper down in front of them.]

you know something
why do people keep staring

[Could be the pockets. Could be the yellow hoodie, or the big red sad face on his mask, or the notebook he keeps making use of.]

holding cells | open to those in captivity

[aftrnpc]

[So you've gotten yourself in a spot of trouble. Maybe it was due to some petty theft. Maybe you just had some overly complicated hairstyle, or your wrists were jangling with bracelets, or you refused to relinquish your weapon, or you were found guilty for the abominable crime of having pockets. Whatever the reason, you're here now: trapped in the solemn gray squares of Ai'tuoh's holding cells.]

[Most militia who breeze past won't acknowledge you; you are expected to pass the time in penance for your wrongdoings, or, more realistically, speaking to whatever unseen cellmates might be clustered in with you.]

[Most militia tasked with guarding the condemned won't deign to grace their prisoners with a second glance. Only the Water will see to your fate now.]

[Most won't. Save for one.]

[Despite her diminutive size, she holds herself ramrod-straight, close-cropped hair and heavy fabric indistinguishable from that of the normal citizens. It is only the look to her eyes that paints her as different from the rest of the stone-faced natives to Ai'tuoh. She is not nearly so adept at masking the rabbit-hearted curiosity, the nervous alarm with so many strangers in one place.]

[And if you speak to her, she may even answer.]

[raygunner]

[ Akechi, meanwhile, is terribly annoyed by this whole thing. Pockets, really, how else is he supposed to carry around a bit of food just in case he can't find any? Totally ridiculous.

What he doesn't expect to see is... this girl. ]

Excuse me, miss.

[yallstupid]

[Honestly, it's a miracle Guzma wasn't arrested sooner. With his jangling, gold chain and skull pendant, the golden watch on his wrist (long since stopped), and his mismatched hair color--oh, and the heinous pockets he's shoved his hands into...it's plain to see he's among the many that are being held captive in the cells.

Upon waking, he first takes note of his knuckles,curling each finger with a satisfying pop. They're raw, red, and aching. Heh, nice, means he probably struck the asshole that tagged him - a small victory, and he'll pin it to his grossly offensive hoodie with honor and pride. He's told the gist of what happened to him and the other prisoners from those around him - those held captive, that is. Unreal, these people, and he's ready to cause a whole lot more havoc, if he can.

First thing's first, he checks himself for his pokeballs and curses softly when he notes they've been removed. Oh, if they do anything to either Golisopod or Ariados...well, they'd better be ready to brawl two brutish bug types, that's for damn sure. Those two don't go down easy, and neither does Guzma.

He makes faces at the guards as they pass, flipping them the bird or making very crude noises (fart sounds; he's making fart sounds) when they trek past, until he either gets bored by their lack of reactions, and then soon notes there's one guard that's particularly near to him. Raising a brow, he leans against the barred door and picks at a bit of dirt under his nail before looking up and whistling.]

Yo. Homegirl.

[souris_keteer]

[Mickey sees the look in her eyes, and decides to take a chance. Can't get much worse than the situation he's in now, right?]

Hello. What's your name?

[thermalwind]

[It had been the shape of his armor and the faint light it gives off in the dark that got him caught. He'd remember that for next time. He paces the length of his cell and when shift changes happen feels along the walls. If he's to break everyone out he needs to know if he even can.

But each time he sees one guard their eyes hold a curious light. The rest pay him no mind and he to them. One time she passes he finally speaks up.]

Hey. I want to ask you a few things. You can ask me a few things in return. [Why not state that curiosity. Carefully.]

[unpurify]

[So baseball bat, Add-Ons and pockets make it pretty easy to pick out an outsider even when the Batter's appearance more or less fit in with the city's rules. Jury's out on red eyes however, but he honestly has stopped caring by this point. It seems every one of them breaks these laws by merely existing.

And whatever happens, happens in turn.

He's been passing time by watching the guards go by. Whatever was going on in this place made it impossible to communicate with his Add-Ons so that's out. And it's very likely that a jailbreak isn't going to be very easy. The guards don't appear to be willing to give them the time of day either.

Well. Save one. He sees that curiosity girl.]

Do we make you nervous?

[finethanks]

[Eichi is a mess. It's a miracle his skin was healed of his burns, or he'd be even more of a mess— a less attractive one, too, which he'd rather not be. Instead, he's just a boy in his friend's tracksuit that doesn't quit fit him. The shorts are shorter, the jacket and shirt show his midriff if he moves too much, but at least they cover him more than the burnt remains of his starfes uniform.

Now, though, they're quite cold on the floor of this prison, and the drugs for the sedation are sitting heavy in Eichi's system. He as all of what seem to be usual symptoms for him, though more exaggerated, and beyond that, he's dizzy, he's anxious beyond belief, and his eyes won't stop crying.

His gentle coughs are accompanied with sniffles thanks to this, and he's probably a sad sight when the guard finally passes by him.]

Excuse me. [Immediately, he's going to try his best to communicate. He may have been breaking multiple laws at once, walking around in this outfit, singing to himself and laughing at strangers— but he still has a tactical way of thinking. Seriously, though, why couldn't they take a joke?]

My body is struggling against the sedatives used to bring me here. To be honest, I'm not sure I'll survive, my heart is beating so fast... May I have a blanket? It's so cold, and I need something to dry my tears.

[...He's also just a spoiled rich boy who genuinely thinks he'll get things if he needs them.]

[alittleditty]

[She was practically a walking example of everything not to do before, and she's even more that example now. A miserable sniffling mess, shaking like a leaf with fear. And trying to plead at least once to anyone who happens to walk by.]

M-miss, miss, please! P-please hear me out.

[not here] check yourself before you wreck yourself

[crosslaced]

A wooden signpost has been set up next to Ai’tuoh’s mana pool. From 11/3 onwards, it displays a summary of Ai'tuoh's laws!

[yallstupid]

Cell Block Tango

[It's well after his conversation with the Guard that Guzma finds himself growing bored of the wait for this so-called 'purge', and extremely irate about various things surrounding this obscene community and its demented rules. Now, Guzma is a walking, talking violation of this whole damn place - wild and crazy clothes and hair, an assortment of jewelry, and a heated temper and violent reaction to many things. Heck knows he absolutely decked the one that tagged him, his knuckles are raw and still throbbing a little, and he holds that victory like a badge of honor, rubbing over his calloused hands gingerly.

Now, he knows the rules of this place, and he knows he's, uh...not exactly a law abiding citizen in any way, so as he takes a takes a seat in the far back of the cell, he turns to his cell mate (if there is a poor soul trapped inside with him), and flashes a wicked grin before uttering a very insincere apology for what he's going to do next. Clearing his throat, the man claps his hands loudly together, the sound echoing through the sandy hall of the cell block.

Got your attention? Excellent. Because he's going to begin humming a tune, slapping the stone and his knees in a rhythmic fashion before belting out at top volume--]

It's all the same...

[Know this song? Great! Because Guzma expects - and encourages - others to sing, hum, or clap along with him. And the worst part? Besides it being obnoxiously catchy and probably going to get stuck in your head...he's got a pretty damn good voice, and even rocks the guitar solo with hard smacks and bops to the stone and his bent legs. If he's told to pipe down, the miscreant only continues, upping the volume and flipping the guards off with a hellish grin. Wanna stop 'im? Climb on in and try, mates. Or, for those brave souls trying to bust people out? Just follow the sultry sound of this screaming stool pigeon.

Of right--the songs? Yeah, uh...they won't stop coming and they don't stop coming, and

they

won't

stop

coming.]

[catpiper]

[Okay, so Ren can get on board with singing the blues away-that's not an issue here. She's supportive, actually, of Guzma's attempt to become Enso's next top idol and his middle finger cat gestures just show his dedication to the cause. It might be a good thing Ren's the only audience he has to appeal to right now because she seems on board, despite the look on her face saying be quiet and hide. She doesn't want anyone to focus on him-that's dangerous. He could get hurt, sent away for testing, put to sleep again.

It's all bad and she hates this.

Inching closer and closer from her nice patented Ren Corner, she slowly works her way to his wild ass side. She thinks this is probably a bad idea, all things considered, even if a part of her quietly hums along the closer she gets because on some level it's comforting. She wants to sing too, but that's a hobby for when you're happy and safe and none of that's happening here.

It's why she waits until the second chorus before finally saying-]

They might hear you.

[Like that wasn't the point??]

frisk/kittu | ota

[souldeterminant]

i. you're not the big fish in the pond no more

[They're good at this kind of thing.]

[Granted, it takes them a bit to catch on. Not too long. Within hours of departing the docks and seeing the city for themself, Frisk notices things. The steel imprinted into each individual face. The children following at the perfectly proper distant at their parents' heels; bowed, quiet, unsmiling. A toddler who raises their chubby arms and coos and is hushed instantly by their father, his eyes darting to a row of identical buildings in the distance.]

[After that, Frisk gets a very good idea of what they're dealing with.]

[The first day, they find a pile on the docks and sit, observing. They go into the city. They stay away from the barracks, but spend plenty of time in the marketplace, watching goods and commerce exchange hands while sitting under the shade of an apple merchant's tarp. They spend some time at the library and read the rules. They keep their weapon concealed; their locket, thankfully, they've always worn underneath their collar.]

[Throughout it all, Frisk never says a word. They know better.]

ii. you are what they're feeding on

[Starting from the eleventh onwards, Frisk can be found lounging about the first floor of the inn, dressed in a dull beige coat that reaches to their knees. For the most part, they sit quietly at the bar, the tables, holding empty glasses or chewing on crackers, continuing their silent observation of those who come and go.]

[If someone catches their eye -- especially someone who's obviously breaking the laws of this place just by standing there and existing -- they might slide up, pulling down their hood.]

If you need help, I can run errands. Or get information.

i.

[mamaterasu]

[You know what's funny? Trying to watch a handful of clunky humans try to catch a very wily, and extremely slippery canine. You know what's funnier? Getting caught, finally, and shoved into the most bare-bones of cages and expected to just...y'know, stay there. Withing the hour of her capture, after taking a quick nap to regain her strength, the wolf breaks out of her cage with ease, and trots merrily right out of her so-called prison with very little effort as well. And the first thing she does with her freedom? Take a ripe little shit on their front steps.

Fuck da police.

Of course, she's learned a bit from this jail break - this place is bananas and she needs to pretend she belongs to someone to even be permitted to walk the streets (and probably not poo on anything else). It's very easy for her to navigate the dark alleys and tight quarters of the market stalls - the people here are so busy with their buying and selling that they barely notice a flicker of white in their peripheral. Ammy utilizes both her stealth and her speed here, until she picks up a familiar scent.

Perking up her ears, the wolf follows her nose, snuffling at the ground before beginning to track the smell. It's not one she's scented in some time, but her nose is far superior in terms of memorizing. In no time at all she's located her target, and Frisk might see the fluffy, white nose peek out from under the tarp of the stall next to them, snorting loudly as her nostrils flare with their scent.

Found you. ♥]

gabe goodman | ota

[ungrieved]

[He took more precautions than is typical for him, certainly. Nearly being torn to pieces by a creature that could change its shape at will, only to be rescued by a hulking goat of a monster - that'll incline someone to be more careful as time wears on.]

[Someone was kind enough to erect a sign with the rules on it nearby.]

[It was as much a shock to him as it probably was to anyone else to learn that he could reasonably skirt most of the rules with little cost to himself. His hair, his clothes - all in reasonable coloration limits, as long as he doesn't wear the scarf or hat that Muffet offered him. His pockets?]

[It takes only a moment to trim them off with the help of the razor he's barely needed to use since he got here. He can enlist Muffet to sew them back on later, if he needs it, can't he?]

[He enters the city slowly, with more care than he has possibly exerted in any effort in his life. As the days pass on, he starts to grow bolder. Blending invisibly in with the citizens - that's a familiar thing. It's like being home. Like being unseen, unheard. It still tickles, an unfair instinct that pulls at the edges of his fingertips, that leaves him craving the urge to grab someone's shoulders and shake, scream in their face, beg them to stop ignoring him.]

[He stomachs it. Quietly, furiously, with a squeezing, pained lurch to the core of his belly, but he swallows it down.]

[Knowing how to be invisible has its advantages, after all. He frequents the warehouses, ducking behind crates and barrels whenever someone that looks like any other ordinary citizen happens past. He peruses the farms and keeps to the fringes.]

[But if you're quick, you might catch him slipping the odd carrot or pointed blade or square of dull-colored cloth into the heel of his shoe. Deprived of pockets, he simply has to learn to make do.]

[thejaw]

[Brian, not wanting to lose the place he keeps his notebook hidden, has simply turned his hoodie inside out, so that the pocket is on the inside. His knife hides in his shoe, and the color of his reversed hoodie is close enough to beige that it seems to be passing.

The biggest pain in the ass is the way he can't communicate, but Brian's dealt with that before. He sticks mainly to the docks, occasionally wandering into the city to try and get a better idea of what the hell is actually going on. It's during one of these trips that he spots Gabe, just a flash of movement disappearing behind a crate.

He echoes the movement, pressing himself behind a nearby stack of barrels. He knows he's not meant to be in the warehouse, but it's one of the best places for supplies, and he's not going to just let the opportunity to stock up go to waste.

Brian peers around the edge of his hiding place, trying to determine whether or not he's also been spotted.]

the drifter | holding cells | ota

[hyperlit]

[They were detained immediately.]

[It was not a pleasant experience. The cold chemical pinch of a needle jabbing through layers of fabric to slide into cobalt-colored skin beneath, the depression of a plunger, the head rush of that drug-heavy haze shuttering their eyes and dropping them to the ground in a graceless collapse. From there, the world had faded fast.]

[The wake in isolation.]

[Their stomach lurches, and they spit up a hot pink gobbet of blood, spraying it wetly across the stone. Their sprite. Their companion. Their weapons. Their cloak. Everything, from their helmet to their mantle to their belt to every aspect that defined them as a drifter, every ritualistic trapping save for the gray of their tunic, has been stripped away.]

[Without their companion to orient them, the world spins in a dizzying blur. They hunch up against the crook of the wall. They cannot be grateful for much, like this, but they can be grateful that their vision is so uneven, so spotted with multicolored pulses of vertigo. This way they will not have to look so closely at the exposed patches of their skin - that bright blue splotched with pink, that already ugly canvas pocked with blood sores and cratered with blisters.]

[They have little to do besides huddle there and cough wetly, spraying out the occasional warm clot of blood, shivering against the chill of the cold stone and the heat of their own ever-present fever. Without their apparel, without their sprite to regulate as it could, they are helpless against that tide.]

[It is all they can do to close their eyes into black slits and pray for the jackal god's mercy; for the white god's warmth; for the rabbit god's salvation.]

[Perhaps, if they are lucky, the people here will not be angry that they have stained the monochrome gray with that which leaks from their heaving lungs and every broken sore.]

[savedbyasong]

[Shion had been silent since he woke up in the cells. He sat in the corner knees raised to his chin and tried not to panic. It hadn't really worked, panic had not been far beneath the surface since he had read the rules and though he had managed to keep it hidden for a while now that he had been caught...

The tears are silent, he figures such displays of emotion don't matter now that he's already been arrested but he would rather not anger his captors any further.

He had lost his temper, he should have been better at this. After all hadn't he lived for sixteen years in a place where he had to watch his every step. But that was before... before Rat had rescued him, before he had been stolen from his world, before he had learned that there was so much more and now... even just pretending to be silent, emotionless and obedient had been too much.

He should not have come here. That sign had said those that broke the rules would probably be drowned. He was going to die... No they had to escape. He had made a promise to Aster. He was not going to break it, not like this.

His thoughts swirled but outwardly he was silent, silent and still trying to focus on there here and now. Not other cells that he had been in. They hadn't restrained him, which was good. He didn't think he would be able to keep the fear and rage at bay if they had.

It was probably because he was so still, because he was trying to focus on his surroundings that he could hear the coughing from next door. Sounds that Shion recognised, if not for exactly what they were, then as the sounds of someone who was unwell.

He moves as close to the wall as possible and breaks his silence to call] Hello? Are you alright?

damianos | ota

[dedamastai]

[It's not exactly what he hoped for when he heard the promise of civilization. He had hoped for another people like the Jormun. A people he could become friendly with, forge an alliance with. Ai'tuoh is . . . unsettling. It's a personal problem, maybe - he'd never minded rules and rituals before his time in Vere, but he'd also never fully realized the extent to which rules could control everything about a person before then. Before there were only two options: behave or die.

This place is not Vere, but it's so close that the change in the way he holds himself is almost subconscious. His eyes rarely raise from the ground and when he walks with someone else, he lags a step or two behind - a collection of small changes that are easy to write off as being necessary for continued existence on this new island.

Damen mainly stays near the docks - less out of fear of entering the city and more from the sure knowledge that people who work in docks are the easiest to converse with. Sailors like to talk, after spending time with no people but their own crew, and he intends to learn everything possible.]

it's me again

[crosslaced]

Damen.

[He's relieved Damen hasn't gotten arrested, honestly. Damen is a loose cannon all the time and if his survival instinct’s kicked in today, Laurent will take it as a victory.

The blonde stops a respectable distance away and twirls an iron key in one hand.]

I found us a room, if you want to get out of the public eye.

Otus | OTA

[pallidscops]

<[ I. ]

[ Otus has been wandering around the city slowly, trying to stay out of the way of the masses, and keeping his small and oafish hands to himself. Things go wrong as soon as he touches something. Or tries to help. And now...

...now his friends are in jail, and while he can't recall the exact reasons why, it has required a walk to process. He's never been afraid to fly-- in fact, flying is one of his favorite past-times! And! Yay, wings! But not here. Here, he minds his business, searching around for clues, for answers, for...anything. They've been kind enough to not arrest him, but there aren't many people on the outside.

He wanders nervously into a narrow alleyway, and when he's sure that he won't be seen by a native, jumps and flaps his way gracefully to the rooftops, hanging his legs over a ledge and watching the city.

So bustling with life, but...empty, still. ]

<[ II. ]

[ his wandering has led him to a Library-- or really, the biggest house of books that Otus has ever seen. He'd kept a few books to himself back in Vale, and he read them with the same endearment that he'd read them the first twenty times. Brave stories of heroes, of owls, saving unfortunate passerby. Outsmarting their foes in a battle of wits-- even just living day to day lives. All fictional, but in the darkness lit by a candle, Otus felt stronger and more empowered than ever to succeed in his training.

To be the best Owl he could possibly be.

He touches the side of a book left on a desk. Rules.

They were all like that. They all were thick, like manuals. No captivating icons of adventure. Not even textbooks.

His shoulders slouch. The biggest library he'd ever laid his eyes on, and...he's disappointed. But it wouldn't be courteous to the people who live here to not even look at their rules-- maybe he's being insensitive.

:C hoo. He opens the first book on a table and licks the tip of his thumb gently while he turns the first page.

The first page, of four hundred and fifty eight. ]

ii.

[souldeterminant]

[Not very light reading, is it?]

[Soon after Otus settles down with his text, there's the sound of another book thudding loudly against the wood across from him, as if dropped halfway in the middle of setting it down. The child that takes the seat across from him doesn't show any sign of temperamental pettiness in their face, but they do let out a soft, short huff.]

[They open the leather cover and let it sit like that for a few seconds, staring blankly down at the title, written in thick, austere lettering.]

[The library seems quite scarce, for the most part. Ai'tuohan laws aren't usually the kind of thing that natives find themselves needing to reference. It's what gives them a bit more courage to glance up from their book and try to catch Otus' eye.]

[They haven't seen him around, but they're pretty sure he's in the same boat as they are.]

docks | ota

[degozarus]

[A makeshift snorkel is no small feat, but with the right ninja training anyone can be the proud new owner of Shinobu Sengoku's Homemade Ninja Snorkel. Perfect for casual fish-watching all the way to more intensive activities like hiding from the scornful eyes of natives and potential law-enforcers by submerging ones' self in water.

However, with hands shaking in anxiety and the limited supplies he could find in short capacity, manufacturing did not work out as perfectly as it could.

For a small period of time it appears everything was going smoothly, until water seeps into wavering cracks that fill the idol's lungs and force him upwards. Almost like a dolphin breaching to do a flip -- but instead of delightful chattering noises, he attracts all attention that may have been around him with a loud and clattering---]

PWWWFFAAAAAAH---!

[seafriends]

[ Kanata hasn't even ventured into the city yet for lack of interest in its slated gray walls and threatening welcome sign. It's only natural that he would be drawn like a magnet to the sea, letting his feet soak in the water while looking over the docks.

With his eyes closed and his face to the sun, it's peaceful.. for approximately 15 seconds seconds. ]

-- Uwah?!

[ Kanata startles back, watching The Screaming Disruption breach through the surface of the water, and it takes him a moment to realize it's actually just his fellow unit mate and not one of those fish people from before. He's leaning in out of concern as far as he can without toppling into the water himself. ]

Shinobu~~? [ SHINOBU....??? びっくりしました...??? ] Are you "drowning"...?

Erika Fisher | Holding Cells | OTA

[bitch4bitch]

“Hey, this is bullshit! I didn’t even do anything yet!”

Erika bangs on the door of her cell a couple times, then kicks it before stomping away to pace around the small space. She cannot fucking believe this. Getting arrested sucks, sure, and she’s… trying not to think too much about what might happen from here, but that’s not the worst part.

If they wanted to put her in jail, they could have at least waited until she actually did something wrong. It probably would have happened eventually, let’s face it, but they had no way of knowing that. Which makes this complete bullshit.

“You can’t throw people in jail just for existing, assholes!”

Re: Erika Fisher | Holding Cells | OTA

[proficienciesouttheass]

Should Erika listen in after the lack of answer, she most definitely will hear a loud banging noise - something slamming strongly against metal, followed by a curse of a possibly familiar voice.

"Shit! Ow!"

There's a pause, just for a few seconds before the sound of quick steps, a yell, and a much louder slam, much heavier.

"FUCK!"

Jesus Christ, what the fuck are these doors made of?

"Hey! Someone out there? Hello!"

cells | closed to magnus

[catpiper]

[She hates this place. It's scary. Lonely. Upsetting in a way she can't say she's felt before, as she listens to the sounds of those loudly protesting their capture. They should stay quiet-knows they won't and tries not to focus on the fact they've been trapped for days. That her good days are becoming vastly outnumbered by the bad and she can feel her heart pounding in her chest every second.

It sucks. It's bad. She wants to do something because there's nowhere to hide and maybe-

Guzma's been singing this whole time. They've ignored him for the most part, which is fine with her. As long as he-everyone-manages to stay safe, someone will get them out.

And she doesn't want to call attention to herself like he is, but why not have this tiny comfort while they wait to be set free. So she decides to hum a little tune.]

Pretty spicy eggs

[This place sucks.]

sweet egg child DON'T BE SAD

[proficienciesouttheass]

[ Magnus has been...well, Magnus has definitely been one of the loudest prisoners. When he first woke up in there, pretty much the whole block of prisoners, safe for those still unconsciousness or with some sort of hearing impairment, had to listen to this very big, very loud, very angry man. His attempts to smash the door open, his questions and calls for information, giving way to angry demands and threats. All things considered, Magnus has deal with most things this place throws at him with a possibly odd nonchalant atitude, safe for the most serious situations pertaining his friends.

But this is the first time he's straight up pissed.

He didn't keep his volume for every hour of those days, quieting down by the end of the second day. He's sore, he's mad, and he's still determined to get out. He doesn't know how, but he'll find a way.

He's sat against one of the walls of his cell when he hears that voice. Causes him to open his eyes, to listen carefully in complete silence....

He gets up, walking over to his cell and sticking his ear right out on whatever opening he can reach.

Then he's sure, and he pushes his face against said opening.]

Ren? Is that you?