CALCUTTA • JULY 2025 EVENT

[uruz]

EVENT: CALCUTTA

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I am caught, tangled in

( content warnings: body horror, surreal horror, post-apocalyptic themes )

You wake with soil under your nails, something sharp in your mouth, and the scent of damp rust in the back of your throat. The sky is not night, but it is no longer day. Around you, a city's skeleton lies tangled in ruin and overgrowth in the crisp, tail end nips of autumn— skyscrapers strangled by vine and mycelium tower around you, streets are cracked open like wounds. No sound of civilization. Only wind, soft and low like breath.

You are not where you should be, and you are not entirely who you were. Do you remember the dream you had? Perhaps barely, perhaps almost too vividly. You will likely find a mask nearby— one you find familiar. While you may not have the same urgency to wear it as you did within the dreamscape, you at the very least feel the need to carry it with you now.

Some wake in subway tunnels pulsing with bioluminescence, others in penthouse ruins swallowed by moss and red ivy. Rooftop gardens filled with brittle blossoms. Empty galleries hung with paintings that seem to shift when you’re not looking. Vessels are absolutely scattered. You can wake up anywhere that's possible within the bones of this city. Life endures here, but it is changed. In the streets, rats with slick, glowing underskin scurry between collapsed signs. Pigeons wheel overhead, blind-eyed and silent. Dogs and cats roam in feral bands, some marked by fungal growths, others with bodies too long, too many limbs, or split maws bursting with tendrils. Deer can also be found roaming the enclosure of what used to be Central Park, and will open their strange mouths when they seem to stare at you. Seem, because they no longer have eyes to do that with. From deeper shadows and thicker canopies come the zoo escapees: a moose that climb walls and have a petrifying gaze, herds of zebra stand frozen like littered statues until they hear noises, to which they will scatter like roaches. Sewer grates rattle beneath your feet, and something wet and ancient stirs in the depths— Hippos that release toxic gases when threatened lay in the waters and gnaw on anything they could get their teeth on. The most gentle of them all are the giraffes; they still attempt to nibble on the falling sunset leaves where still gathered, and will even come up to humans who offer anything green for them to eat. There's so much more left unsaid, if you're unlucky enough to come across them.

The flora is no safer. Familiar trees such as maple, ginkgo and oak still grow in parks and fracture ciment with their powerful roots. Plenty of the bark is etched with a strange set of sigils that hum when approached. Ivy pulses with low light and throbs when touched. Entire buildings are choked with fungus: spires of mushroom growths that sway despite the absence of wind, spores spilling like ash when disturbed. Moss spreads across broken windows in fractal shapes, responding to movement, to emotion with colors beyond what you could imagine. Wildflowers bloom in moonlight— roses with petal-thorns and daffodils exhale perfume that clouds your thoughts.

And still, the city seems to watch you soundlessly. Beneath your feet, the soil responds. Something old sleeps in the brickwork, the concrete, the iron bones of this place— and your presence has stirred it.

You'd better get moving. Survive.

NOTES:

• You must find shelter, water, and food. Anything that can be found in city stores is plausible, but much of the food will be expired or ransacked by the lives before yours, or animals. The Host-fauna are edible if you can stomach it, and some may talk in tongues before they die. The flora is a mixed bag, from harmless to not.
• The environment is reactive: Touch a wall and it pulses. Step into an abandoned deli and the shelves might whisper for a second.

OPTIONAL TOKEN EFFECTS

• Tokens will feel a strange resonance when near remnants of human structure, especially things tied to strong emotion (graffiti, photos, childhood toys, street art, music).
• Tokens will feel warm when close to sites where others have suffered or are remembered deeply. These sensations are disorienting but emotionally vivid, almost like deja vu.
• Tokens could experience nosebleeds or migraines near intense emotional hotspots. This is their magic wanting an outlet, but too newly formed to pour itself out.

OPTIONAL OFFERING EFFECTS

• Offerings will feel the thrum of the Murmur, like a second heartbeat in the earth, when near fungal flora or decayed nature.
• Offerings will feel oddly familiar with the world around them, as if it recognizes them and vice verse. Scents linger longer and skin responds to temperature or emotion in exaggerated ways.
• The act of hunting and consuming host fauna is euphoric, but only for a moment— followed by a haunting awareness of their own anatomy shifting from the inside in ways they should fear.

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And I wake, say your name

( content warnings: sensory distortion )

One night— it doesn't matter which, time has loosened— your mask beckons. Something is encouraging you to put it on. It sears cold when you do. A pressure behind your eyes grows sharp, then splits. Suddenly, the silence inside your skull isn't yours anymore.

The Murmur is stirring.

A psychic thread pulls taut through your mind like a bow ready to shoot. Language might fail. Images are the easiest to come first— flickers of hands, blood, feathers, fire. Then voices, soft and reverent, speaking your name in words you don't know but understand. Some speak back. Some yell. Some sing. You sense others, Tokens humming with potential, Offerings heavy with heat and pain.

You are not alone. You never were.



NOTES:

• Your gamewide "network" is live! Try to reach someone through the Murmur. Perhaps a thought, a memory, or just a name. Players are welcomed to create prompts within this log or post to the network community proper.
• Communication may come in fragments. Images repeat, words loop, emotion surges without cause or by accident. One name in particular echoes:

Espera.
You may try to reach for her, even if your chances are slim. You might end up contacting someone or something else entirely.

OPTIONAL TOKEN EFFECTS:

• Tokens may begin having their first access to inner magic. Not enough to use consciously, but enough to glitch with use, accidental or not. A friendly reminder that characters should not be able to use their magic with ease, yet. Keep in mind they should all have a realistic adjustment period.
• Tokens may have sensory overlaps: seeing sounds, hearing memories, tasting colors.
• Tokens may be energy sensitive. Areas with high ambient emotion (graveyards, burnt apartments, memorable objects) seem to strengthen their clarity but exaggerate their magic in startling bursts.

OPTIONAL OFFERING EFFECTS:

• Offerings may have their transformation accelerate when using the Murmur's network, albeit in a way that glitches in and out. A friendly reminder that characters should not be able to use their transformations with ease, yet. Keep in mind they should all have a realistic adjustment period.
• Offerings may hear less words, more songs, breathing, scent— nonverbal communication that may be overwhelming.
• Offerings may experience intense somatic reactions while using the network: twitching limbs, sudden pain, the sense of being stroked or watched.

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Wrapped and quartered

( content warnings: body horror )

As the days bleed together, the city begins to still. Where once the overgrowth pulsed with strange life, now it withers back into itself. The streets grow colder. The air bites. The mutated fauna, once noisy, prowling, goes silent. Ivy wilts, retreating from the moonlight. The mushroom towers collapse in on themselves with wet sighs. Even the buildings seem to hold their breath. Your own exhales frost in the air, hanging like ghosts. Above, the sky splits at the seams— crimson bleeding in from the edges, as if the moon itself were being peeled open at the arrival of winter.

And then: the masks begin to thrum.

It is subtle at first, a hum at the base of the spine. A low vibration felt rather than heard. But it grows, constant, inescapable— as if something is ticking down inside you. The masks react even when untouched, glowing faintly, twitching. You feel it in your chest. A second heartbeat. You're urged to put it on.

A voice, familiar and female, threads through the Murmur like static on a broken radio. Espera says:

"If you have not Tethered . . . do so. Before she bleeds in full."

Your body responds before your mind does. Magic stirs in your bloodstream— volatile and half-born. For some, flame dances along their fingertips, mirrors twitch in response to their gaze, or their pulse sings in electric rhythm. For others, bones shift beneath skin, teeth ache with growth, limbs feel wrong. Something is changing about you. Slowly. Irreversibly.

NOTES:

• Animal hosts may react reverently to tethered pairs. Lone vessels are ignored, followed, or violently met.
• Winter is here in full, but it doesn't seem natural— it is a forced shift. The city feels colder, quieter, and more hostile. Even the corrupted ecosystem seems to brace for something larger.
• Magic is awakening further. All vessels, Token and Offering alike, begin to experience supernatural phenomena more intensely. These changes are often involuntary, especially under emotional or physical duress. Powers may flicker, trigger, or distort, reflecting the vessel's inner state. They should not have control of it yet.
• The call to Tether is no longer subtle— it is urgent. Even characters who resist connection may optionally feel the biological/spiritual pressure to Tether. Those who remain untethered may begin to feel destabilized, sensitive to The Murmur, and/or experience the subtle beginnings of Succumbence.

OPTIONAL TOKEN EFFECTS

• Tokens may have unintentional magic surges in times of distress OR the awakening of "comfort zones". Small, warped spaces where reality thins into dreamscape, resembling meaningful memories (a childhood room, a stage, a battlefield). These zones offer eerie familiarity, but not safety from the weather.
• They may feel watched by something divine, but dispassionate— like being studied under a microscope.
• They may feel a need for proximity so great that the body physically aches. In worst case scenarios, you may even fall ill the longer you ignore your body's cry to dissipate your building magic. Tethering will immediately resolve this.

OPTIONAL OFFERING EFFECTS:

• An Offering's new instincts and transformations may begin to surface. Fear of fire. Yearning for music. It will all depend on what you're becoming. One thing that may be shared is a fierce protectiveness toward nearby Tokens.
• They may sense that something is weighing their souls against an invisible scale— not to punish you, but to categorize you. You have the inexplicable feeling that it is also the same thing that is shaping you.
• They may feel compelled to nest or anchor themselves near a Token's comfort zone or with a Token— circling the space like a sentinel or beast returning home. Tethering will make you whole, calm and seen.

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Missing pieces find me

( content warnings: uncanny doppelgängers, possible visions of murder, violence, self harm. )

Winter has settled into everything with soft snowfall. Into your joints. Into the breath you share with others in the dark, or by an impromptu fire with scraps. Into the way your name sounds now when someone says it soft like a secret, or a warning. You've learned to ration warmth like a dwindling supply.

You've grown used to the rhythm of this place: the creak of half-dead buildings, the hollow crunch beneath your feet, the subtle hum that coils through the threads between you and the ones you've chosen to keep close throughout the month. The ones who understand that survival isn't just about staying alive.

But lately, something else has begun to settle in. It's not loud, and certainly not obvious. A shift, like a door left open too long. And that, Dear Vessels, starts in your reflections.

You see it in the fractured edge of glass, or in water that should have frozen weeks ago. In any surface slick enough to cast back your image, you may look, and it looks back. You move, and sometimes it moves too— but not quite right. A second too late. A second too early. Sometimes not at all.

And then it smiles, or frowns, or spits.

It is just enough to be wrong. Unnerving. Just enough to slip under your skin like splinters. You tilt your head— your reflection doesn't. You blink— it watches. And then you turn away. You tell yourself it's the frost. The tension. The light. But when you glance back, it’s still watching you.

Other vessels are seeing it, too, even if they don't say it out loud. They pause at windows. They look into still water a beat too long. They touch their own faces like they're checking for something missing. Or added. Something extra.

At least your reflection isn’t hurting you. Well. Not yet.

NOTES:

• A shimmering surface of any kind could reflect two vessels at once but their reflections are fighting. There's blood between them . . .
• At night, the moon above is bright, ice blue and full, with its edges tainted by a splowly spreading crimson. Characters may notice that in reflections, it is completely red and the tendrils from within spew out. A double take will have this reflection of the moon disappearing.
• Characters (especially those who may not be able to see the reflections) may notice and hear their comrade's reflections laughing or speaking to them— they may even respond and try to carry conversation. Note that it's the reflection that's doing this sporadically, and not the real person.

OPTIONAL TOKEN EFFECTS:

• Tokens may notice their hands glowing in thier reflection, but not outside it. After a few moments, the same magic curls up their arms. Their mirrorselves are trying to access their magic for them, so best redirect anything if you want to avoid possible friendly fire.
• They may realize their reflection is always watching their Tether, even as they sleep. It tilts its head, comes crawling with a knife raised, drives it down— then it's gone.
• They may see their mirrorselves practicing violence on nearby objects, anything they could get their hands on.

OPTIONAL OFFERING EFFECTS

• Offerings may wake to burning, superficial claw marks on their sides. Their reflections will be found licking their fingers.
• They may notice their reflection becoming violent with their nearby Tethers; pulling them by the hair, biting into them, prying at their eyes, etc.
• They may see their reflections pushing into existing wounds and feeding, wherever they are.

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megumi fushiguro | jujutsu kaisen

[potentialman]

( Starters beneath, I'll add more throughout the month; if you want a tailored starter hit me up here or at atkascha! )

i am caught, tangled in

[potentialman]

i.
[ For the second time today, Megumi wakes up from a sleep he thought was his last.

Even with the number of people in that dream who made arguments otherwise, some part of him was still convinced that he was still dying, on the way out, and just having one last weird hallucination for the road. That was all, this time for real —

— but no, here he is again. Curled in a ball on his side, in what looks to be a...dorm room?

Definitely not one of the ones at Jujutsu High, though, even before whatever warped this place. There's fungus growing over the walls, a few posters of bands and celebrities he's never heard of peeking through. A stained and water-damaged textbook on the nightstand beside him. It's all in English.

He rolls onto his back, wincing. His head hurts, his clothes are stiff with dried blood and he wants nothing more than to hide under a blanket and come out maybe in a week or two, but that was never an option.

Five more minutes, though? He can at least give himself that much. ]


ii.
[ When he does finally get on his feet and start looking around, he finds his initial guess was right. A long row of single rooms, a few bathrooms clustered together at one end. A lounge with a broken TV.

Getting down the stairs takes longer than it should. He's at least ten floors up, and in places they're partially collapsed or blocked with debris. But he manages to get down to ground level. The wreckage of a dining hall; that'll be worth sifting through but it's not his first priority. A larger lounge, which he doubles back to after — a bank of vending machines.

Bingo.

There are some dents and signs that someone's tried to get into them. The glass on the snack machine is shattered, most of the contents looted, although he spots a few overlooked items that he pockets for later. But the drink machines were evidently a tougher nut to crack...though not so tough he can't manage it, after a few minutes.

The first bottle of water, he downs on the spot. The second he takes to the nearest semi-intact chair, and sets beside him while he starts wrestling his shirt off to get a look at his wounds...not that he's any kind of doctor. Help a bro out?

Or offer useless commentary, if that's your thing. You do you. ]


iii.
[ He gets to starting outside, eventually. The dorm was a good place to wake up, comparatively, and should be a good base of operations at least for the time being, but he needs to know what else is out there.

So maybe this is where you catch him, out in the streets, or what passes for them, crouched in front of the remains of a newsstand and sifting through what's left of a stack of the New York Times. ]

...2023?

[ Well, it's not like he needed more confirmation that he's definitely not in the world he left. ]

ii

[omertosa]

[The university proves to be just as desolate as the rest of the city, but at least it’s something that may wind up a little more fruitful to dig around in. Though at this point, Texas is glad to just spend some time inside and out of the elements for a bit. Plus, it’s quiet.

Or, it had been. Her first step into the dorms greets her with the sound of some kind of minor commotion somewhere past the entrance hall. Part of her wonders if she should just turn right around and avoid whatever trouble it could potentially be—but she’s eager for any kind of answers to what the hell is going on here, and just as confident in her ability to handle trouble as always.

Once the noise quiets, she moves further in with careful steps, eyes sharp. Though the evident source of the noise is immediately apparent upon stepping into the lounge, where she finds a kid settling down to tend to his wounds. Her gaze sweeps the room for anything else of note. No trouble, just some broken vending machines.

She steps over to one, giving it a cursory glance before shifting her focus to the boy. There’s an idle flick of her tail behind her as she takes in the state of those wounds.]

One of those beasts out there get you?

[Useless commentary it is, at least to start.]

[potentialman]

[ He startles, snapping his head around to the source of the voice, but it's only a couple beats before he schools his expression back into something mostly neutral. ]

It happened before I got here.

[ He looks down, and carefully prods at his torso. The wound where the mystery man stabbed him is closed, though still clearly new, and he's guessing the gash across his back from Shigemo looks the same. Like someone put just enough energy into a healing technique to ensure he'd survive it, but didn't have the time or resources to be thorough. The kind of triage Ieiri would probably have performed, given how many casualties they'd had that night...but he knew where she'd been posted, and he hadn't been all that close by.

So if she didn't heal him, who did? Whatever brought them here? ]

[omertosa]

[Ah. That would make a certain kind of sense, based on the way those wounds look, partly-healed and perhaps too clean to be the result of a beast attack.

Texas, for her part, neither seems fazed nor apologetic for startling him; her expression remains placid and she observes him for another moment before finally deciding to move closer. She settles down to take a seat at the edge of a nearby end table, battered and a little wobbly but steady enough to work as a makeshift seat.]

Lucky to walk away, with injuries like that.

[Stating the obvious, maybe. Or perhaps more of a wild guess. She’s no medic, but she’s been injured in a fight enough times to know what a bad one looks like.]

iii.

[walriders]

[ miles's adventures don't stop despite the weariness coating him from head to toe. there's too much to see here, too many things he wants to find out, too much information to gather. so far his luck hasn't been incredible, but his semi-familiarity with the streets have helped with different places to look.

different stores were always good to look at, finding anything he can pocket to save for later or informational pieces that might help him pick apart why this place is the way that it is, if it's just a copy-paste of the world he knew or if it was pre-existing, changed by the mysterious beings that had invited them here. or if it was something else entirely. so far, he hasn't had much luck in figuring it out.

a voice makes him pause, turn to the speaker, as he had been poking around at different entryways. ]

Yeah. I'm just as surprised as you are. [ it had been 2013 when he had agreed to come here. the jump to the future was an unexpected part of it. ] When are you from?

[potentialman]

[ He whips around to look at the source of the voice, but relaxes quickly, since -- well, it wasn't exactly a threatening way to announce oneself. ]

2018. October...or I guess probably November, by the time I passed out.

[ It had, uh. Been kind of a long night. ]

[walriders]

Aside from the whole, y'know, ruined world thing, is it much different from 2018?

[ things seem like they might have been a little more advanced than from miles's time, but it's also hard to judge when it's a completely ruined world. there are a few things here and there - broken tv screens, old adverts on billboards - that give it away, but he's still unsure.

he stands still, but looks around, observant. ] I'm from 2013. Same place, different things.

iii

[snaggletooth]

[ Another human, and one who can read, too. This one must have been sent to a prestigious training program as well, like Anakt.

Ivan has been trying to put his own skill in reading to use in order to find out more about this city, but none of the technology here has any power running to it, and all of the printed materials he's found have just fallen apart when picked up.

Ivan notably does not keep his distance, eager to get his own look at the stand's contents which do seem salvageable. ]

Two thousand twenty-three of what?

[potentialman]

[ Megumi moves over a step, enough to let Ivan to get in and see things for himself. ]

The year. It was October 31, 2018 before I woke up here, but...

[ But a five year difference definitely means there's some weird shit going on here. ]

[snaggletooth]

[ Earth months aren't usually used outside of keeping track of human life stages. That is a bit unusual! ]

...what is "The United States"? Like liquids, solids, and gasses?

[ What is democracy. ]

i

[paraselinae]

[School dorms, huh? How nostalgic. It hasn't been long since he'd seen his own, but there's just something... comfortable about housing attached to a school, even if it's not the same as the kind offered at Jouin-- he's glad that Jouin gives students their own rooms, though. He can't imagine living with a stranger for years, as these dorms seem to imply.

Maybe Yuzuru still misses mundane life, even if he's already had a taste of power and wholeness.

Yuzuru gets into the habit of checking every room in case of a clue, or some special item, or even something to survive with. What he doesn't expect is... a someone.]

... Huh. You're here. [He half-thought he'd dreamt this kid up.]

[potentialman]

[ There's a lot to be said for being normal. Megumi thinks so, at least; but he never really had the chance to be. Once he started seeing curses, at an age he only half-remembers, that was it. This was his life now...and Tsumiki's, by virtue of proximity. Fighting things straight out of nightmares, getting punched and stabbed and thrown through walls...waking up in the ruins of a place he didn't know, still not quite sure how he wasn't dead.

(But he was still better off than his sister. At least he was waking up at all.)

The sound of a voice is enough to get him to push himself into a sitting position. One hand goes straight to his head. He would -- okay, not kill someone for an aspirin, but he can't deny he'd be tempted. ]

I guess we're still not dead. Somehow.

[paraselinae]

The jury's still out on that. [And despite himself, Yuzuru is sure that he is... unless he somehow manages to go back home and see that he somehow managed to survive an angel's blade.

Is it possible to be extra dead? To die twice? He hasn't really asked that of the ghost-like demons he's met, but he's not much of a talker when it comes to the more monstrous sorts of demons. He certainly hasn't asked Tsukuyomi either, but he imagines that if it was possible, it could lock a human out of the cycle of reincarnation for good.

Which is a bad thing for him to experiment with.]

How are you holding up?

iii

[nailed_you]

[That voice, that hair. Yep. It's Megumi. Finally she's found someone that she recognizes in this place. Not that it's going to help them much, but having friends around is always a good thing.]

M-wait. 2023?!

[She was about to say his name, but the year caught her off guard.]

We've gone into the future?

[potentialman]

[ His head snaps up at the sound of her voice, and despite his expression not really changing, there's still a definite sense of relief when he sees her, some tension bleeding out of his posture. ]

I'd guess later than 2023, even. That's the last date on these, but... [ He glances at the papers again. ] There's no way this place would get that ruined overnight.

[ It's not just straight razing, like the fallout of their battles in Shibuya. There's erosion, rot, things growing over the wreckage...

That can wait a minute, though. Since they're clearly not going anywhere soon. He straightens up and gives her a once-over for injuries. ]

You okay, Kugisaki?

[nailed_you]

Surprisingly, I'm just fine.

[Considering the last thing that happened to her? She was just fine.]

What about you, Fushiguro?

[While she might not appear to really care, she was making sure that he was all right as well.]

You haven't seen Itadori or any of the others have you?

[It was a long shot, but she felt the need to ask.]

and i wake, say your name

[potentialman]

(cw: Megumi's continual failure to take his own mortality seriously. Also blood. But mostly the first one.)


[ Megumi's connection to the Murmur is calm, mostly. It exudes the quiet serenity of a cold, moonlit night for long stretches, but there's something pulsing softly under the surface like a hidden current — and sporadically, it bursts, howling out with the force of a hurricane for a few heartbeats before he wrenches it back below the surface. ]


i.
[ "You can't imagine a stronger future version of yourself. Maybe that's because of your trump card? You believe that in the worst case, you can resolve everything at the cost of your life."

It's late afternoon, the dojo filled with warm light and long shadows, and Megumi is sore from having been thrown into the mat more times than he's bothered counting. Not that he ever expected anything else, with an opponent like Gojo, but the frustration bleeding off him is palpable.

Gojo's good at seeing through him — through his moods, not only his moves. And every now and then, he drops the buffoonish pretense enough to say something that cuts straight to the quick.

"Dying to win and risking death to win are completely different, Megumi."

It lands as surely as any of his teacher's punches, a blow to the gut that leaves him sucking in a breath and thinking, how did I let that get past me.

"Give it your best. Be greedier." ]


ii.
[ And yet, even after that. Here he is.

Kneeling in a pool of his own blood, fists raised, ready to trade his life to summon a god.

Not that he's got much left of it to trade, with the wounds he's already taken, but at least he can take this arrogant little shit with him.

"You can't use a shikigami unless you exorcise it. But you can summon them any time you want...in order to exorcise them. Not a single user of the Ten Shadows technique has ever been able to exorcise this one."

It's getting harder to talk. Harder to think. But he's got enough left to do this much.

"With this treasure, I summon...Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga."

The ground quakes. The shadows around him stretch into howling wolves. And as a massive figure rises behind Megumi, looming ominously above his opponent, Megumi finally lets himself fall backwards, and lets his thoughts go to a boy with pink hair and a warm smile. ]

ii.

[snaggletooth]

[ Disaster, bloodshed, a scene that depicts the things he's come to realize are cruel constants within the universe. His suffering was not unique.

Perhaps his love was not unique, either.

There is a piece of this reminiscence that resonates with the silent viewer more than the visceral carnage, and Megumi might feel that. Far away, his chest leaps a little at the sight of the boy smiling innocently. Ivan is reminded of the face he keeps so, so close to his heart. Fondly, desperately. ]

Such a winning smile.

[ Ivan would know; he's had... training, after all. ]

You remember it so clearly, it's like I'm there with him.

[potentialman]

He's easy to remember.

[ Even if Yuji hadn't leapt straight into trouble every time Megumi told him to run, even if he hadn't knowingly chosen to die rather than to kill Megumi. He'd still be unforgettable, Megumi thinks.

It's impossible not to hold onto someone who makes being happy look so easy, in their world. Jujutsu sorcerers have to be a little crazy, Gojo said once. Seeing the ugliest parts of humanity made manifest, tapping into their own darkest thoughts to bring their sorcery to life, it all wears a person down, and most of them have been aware of their own power far longer than they've been on the job.

Yuji can still smile like someone from the outside. Like someone who remembers not knowing about all the things lurking under the surface. ]

wrapped and quartered

[potentialman]

i.
[ The air is getting colder.

Winter is normally Megumi's favorite season. He likes the calm of a new snowfall, of a city that quiets when people have an excuse to stay inside. He likes having a good excuse to spend the evening with a book and a cup of tea. (Sometimes, the people in his life will even let him get away with it.)

This is wrong, though. No gradual change in the weather, no changing colors and raking leaves on the school campus. It's like the world just woke up and decided, no, it's time for winter now. Plants furling and shrinking in on themselves. Fewer animals prowling the streets. The wildlife knows. ]

...and yet here I am.

[ Under his breath, not really said for anyone to hear.

Why is he out here, when the city seems like it's shutting itself down and preparing for something big? Supplies and fuel, ostensibly, sure, but it's not like he doesn't have some things ready to go as it stands. The Columbia University dorms have been fairly obliging sources of food, there's a decent amount of wooden furniture he can burn, and he's been proactively searching the floors of abandoned rooms and moving what's worth taking into more accessible stashes. If he has to hunker down inside to stay out of whatever comes next, he's equipped for it.

More never hurts, he figures.

Or maybe he just wanted to get outside while he still feels reasonably safe to do so. ]


ii.
[ When he heads in, eventually, he's got a bit more rubbish to throw onto his burn pile, and with the chill in the air, it's definitely feeling like a good time to use it.

He's taken over the student lounge on the first floor of the dorm to dig out a crude firepit, with a few ratty cushions salvaged from the chairs set around it. He's currently kneeling on one of those cushions, flint and steel out, coaxing a small heap of tinder into a steadily growing flame. At the sound of someone approaching, he speaks without looking up — the fire needs his attention for a bit longer before he trusts it to stay going on its own. ]

Do you need shelter?

[ Because look, here he is, with a decent set-up that he apparently is okay with sharing! Hello, new frien—actually, let's not say anything we can't take back. ]


iii.
[ Eventually, he does drift off to get some sleep. Some pretty bad sleep, by the look of it, because after a bit of tossing and turning, he snaps up into a sitting position, sucking in a deep breath, and the remains of the fire—which had been dying, but still should've had a decent amount of soft glow left—immediately go out.

Doesn't even seem like there's starlight or moonlight coming in, actually. It's pitch black as fuck in here.

At least, it is for a few beats, before the ambient glow returns. Even the fire, oddly—like it didn't actually go out, it just couldn't pierce the darkness for those fleeting seconds. Now it's glowing soft orange like nothing happened.

Megumi just looks at his hands as he catches his breath and his pulse evens out. Oops? ]

( i )

[offseers]

[ footsteps crunch in the snow. noah misses his military clothing and its heavy layers. what he wouldn't give for lanz's coat. or that sturdiness. ]

Never hurts to step outside for a bit.

[potentialman]

[ Noah's approach feels...comfortable, almost, in a way that Megumi wouldn't normally ascribe to somebody joining him without warning. The weird link between everyone here is to blame, he supposes, but he wouldn't go so far as to call it comfortable with most of the others.

It should bother him, shouldn't it? Megumi's always held himself apart from even the people who tried the hardest to get through to him. It's disconcerting to feel so immediately at ease this way, but something about it feels right.

This place is confusing. What else is new. ]

Normally I'd agree with you, but... [ He glances around at the streets. ] It feels like something's coming, and we're the only ones who aren't in on it.

wildcard.

[sorte]

🎬 really typical chase scene involving cars for an action drama set in nyc: postapocalyptic horror version.

📍 times square

---

[ the city seems eerily still now, but somewhere, about a block from Times Square; the echoing of footsteps bounce off the walls within an alleyway. splashes and cracks follow the footsteps close behind from larger puddles that the weather has only managed to freeze a thin layer of their surfaces. there's only one pair of footsteps, but they are clearly frantic as they get louder near the mouth of an alley off a main street that would be heard by anyone just about to walk by it.

Aventurine bursts out from the alley, making a sharp skid and pivot to abruptly change his direction 90 degrees, and the sudden sound of hooves can be heard echoing now as they approach like a train: a moose practically explodes out of the alley next, Aventurine's quick direction change just in time to spare him from bring quite literally trampled by the creature. since it has far more mass than Aventurine it isn't able to turn quite as quickly, giving him a few extra precious seconds to make distance again.

cursing under his breath, his eyes are darting around looking for somewhere he can possibly escape to that doesn't have broken windows or doors where the moose can just come in after him, but the migraine he's experiencing now makes it difficult to focus and asses possible strageities. after a few moments, it becomes bad enough that Aventurine has to clutch his head on one side as he continues to sprint down the street. with the moose gaining on him though, the gambler forces himself to drop into a slide across some slush and hide under an old car where the moose can't reach him. unfortunately, rather than being deterred, the moose starts ramming the vehicle to try and knock it off onto its side.

gritting his teeth, Aventurine covers his head, glancing to the other side of the car as he tries to assess if it's worth the risk of trying to make a run for it with the hopes the moose is currently too distracted with the car as an obstacle or just hope that it can't manage to knock it over before it exhausts itself and gives up. ]

[potentialman]

[ It's hard to miss a commotion like that.

From a nearby alley, a head pops out just in time to see the moose charge past, and start unleashing its frustrations on an abandoned car.

He didn't see anyone dive under it, but from the footsteps it seems likely. Hopefully whoever's under there has a whit of common sense, but just in case -- ]

Hey! Whoever's under there, shut up and stay put.

[ The moose turns to look at him, seeming to consider this new factor...and turns back to the car, letting out a bellow and ramming the car again.

Megumi crouches low enough to scoop up a hunk of concrete the size of his fist, and throws it as hard as he can. Which is still nowhere near as hard as Yuji, but he beans the moose in the shoulder. It turns, snorting, and charges.

Ugh.

He backs up a few steps, to the fire escape of the nearest building, and grabs the rail with one hand and vaults over it, instead of wasting precious seconds to go around to mount the stairs like a normal person. Those seconds instead go towards scrambling further up (ignoring the shooting pain in his side that says "hey, maybe twisting that way was not it"), and he manages to be above reach by the time the moose makes contact and sets the entire fire escape rattling with a loud crash.

He backs up a few steps higher. Fighting is a much more dubious prospect, between the lack of his jujutsu and his recovering injuries, and truth be told -- he doesn't really want to hurt an animal that's just going about its weird, mutated business. He starts talking, keeping his voice low and soothing. (A much nicer tone than almost anybody here in Disaster NYC has heard from him, really.) ]

Hey. Nobody's trying to hurt you. I know, suddenly people wandering around again, right? You probably surprised each other. We don't want trouble, either.

[ He keeps up the monologue for seconds that feel much, much longer, until finally the moose eyes him again, makes a snuffling sound that seems almost exasperated, and turns to lumber off down the street it originally came from. ]