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❅ SHITTY LITTLE TOWN ❅ PART 2
There's an article in the local paper, but word travels through the town hours before the first newspaper hits a doorstep: a man went missing down the mine, and they couldn’t even retrieve his body for his wife to bury. The official story is that there was a freak cave-in while the night crew was working, that no amount of preparation or technology could have prevented the act of God that left one of the arterials from the main mining cavern obstructed. Given that it was the night crew, there was only one witness, and he was violating protocol and too far down another arterial to hear or see what happened; because Goluboy has a zero-tolerance policy for breaking protocols, he fired the surviving miner. Goluboy has informed the newspaper that there will be no further efforts to recover the body.
Thus, two events are happening in town this weekend: Ms. Cygne’s debut ball, and a protest against the mining conditions outside the mouth of the mines.
Out in the woods, the fog has been thick to the point where subsistence hunters can’t venture in more than a few yards, and there seem to be strange sounds, almost like music, soft tank drums and ringing, emanating from the murk. It almost feels like the menace of the woods is...encroaching.
PROMPTS
a) PROTEST OUTSIDE THE MINE
The rage at Goluboy has been a long time brewing, but the people who live in his apartments wisely don’t appear at the protest. Instead, it’s all about twenty people who have just managed to avoid being dependent on Goluboy’s grace who have shown up with posterboards and a loudspeaker, rallying during the miners’ workday. This was all coordinated the day before my word of mouth, and it isn’t particularly well organized; people frequently end up blocking the mining equipment, and the foreman shouts at them to stay away from dangerous areas with marginal success. The three people with loudspeakers end up talking over each other and the chants are piecemeal and overlapping; however, the fact that people are upset about the perceived lack of safety for the miners and particularly for the abandonment of the missing miner’s body. Bring Him Home is the main chant and the only one that seems to get any muscle to it. The fired miner seems to be the person leading the most vocal chants.
The administrative staff from MineCorp have been asked to come field complaints from the protesters, armed with nothing but some talking points from the MineCorp mission statement (something something synergized comparative advantage for diversified innovative solutions something something labor is our most precious resource yada yada). One scruffy man seems to have hijacked the protest with his loudspeaker and is rambling about the animal maulings in the woods. At some point, Goluboy arrives in his armored Ford F-250. He calls over his foreman and has an annoyed conversation, and then he gets out, bodyguard looming behind him, to talk to individuals, putting on an evidently forced smile with gritted teeth.
The rage at Goluboy has been a long time brewing, but the people who live in his apartments wisely don’t appear at the protest. Instead, it’s all about twenty people who have just managed to avoid being dependent on Goluboy’s grace who have shown up with posterboards and a loudspeaker, rallying during the miners’ workday. This was all coordinated the day before my word of mouth, and it isn’t particularly well organized; people frequently end up blocking the mining equipment, and the foreman shouts at them to stay away from dangerous areas with marginal success. The three people with loudspeakers end up talking over each other and the chants are piecemeal and overlapping; however, the fact that people are upset about the perceived lack of safety for the miners and particularly for the abandonment of the missing miner’s body. Bring Him Home is the main chant and the only one that seems to get any muscle to it. The fired miner seems to be the person leading the most vocal chants.
The administrative staff from MineCorp have been asked to come field complaints from the protesters, armed with nothing but some talking points from the MineCorp mission statement (something something synergized comparative advantage for diversified innovative solutions something something labor is our most precious resource yada yada). One scruffy man seems to have hijacked the protest with his loudspeaker and is rambling about the animal maulings in the woods. At some point, Goluboy arrives in his armored Ford F-250. He calls over his foreman and has an annoyed conversation, and then he gets out, bodyguard looming behind him, to talk to individuals, putting on an evidently forced smile with gritted teeth.
b) DEBUT BALL
Ms. Cygne’s debut ball at her mansion is the event of the year, with all the lavishness than this sort of town can muster; beautiful dresses, a chocolate fountain, gift bags with expensive accessories and bonbons, fine sparkling wines, and invitations embossed with gold leaf. Plenty of the little treats are the sort that were presumed extinct in this town; no one’s seen a pair of Gucci sunnies or eaten a Ghirardelli’s in years here.
Most of the festivities take place in the massive ballroom that anchors the mansion, and they spill out into the lawn, where Ms. Cygne has insisted on a sit-down dinner rather than a “ghastly” buffet. The lady of the hour is quite active, making sure to check in with every single person at least once to make sure she’s getting praised for her hosting skills and getting a good look at every youth who’s appeared. The youths themselves have been pressured, by family members, teachers or Ms. Cygne herself, to present themselves as elegantly and politely as possible, and to make a “good showing” at their first event as a notable, respectable young person who may be a contender for Ms. Cygne’s prestigious scholarship.
At the table, people rub elbows with people they may not necessarily speak to otherwise, all brought together by the commonality of being someone Ms. Cygne has deemed noteworthy. Almost nobody allows themselves to get too inebriated, but one woman has a bit too much champagne and begins to cry at the dinner table; her friend, another woman in her thirties, ushers her to the powder room, where she composes herself while everyone awkwardly changes the subject. A few people do mannered waltzes in the ballroom, and out on the lawn, people mingle and make toasts.
Ms. Cygne’s debut ball at her mansion is the event of the year, with all the lavishness than this sort of town can muster; beautiful dresses, a chocolate fountain, gift bags with expensive accessories and bonbons, fine sparkling wines, and invitations embossed with gold leaf. Plenty of the little treats are the sort that were presumed extinct in this town; no one’s seen a pair of Gucci sunnies or eaten a Ghirardelli’s in years here.
Most of the festivities take place in the massive ballroom that anchors the mansion, and they spill out into the lawn, where Ms. Cygne has insisted on a sit-down dinner rather than a “ghastly” buffet. The lady of the hour is quite active, making sure to check in with every single person at least once to make sure she’s getting praised for her hosting skills and getting a good look at every youth who’s appeared. The youths themselves have been pressured, by family members, teachers or Ms. Cygne herself, to present themselves as elegantly and politely as possible, and to make a “good showing” at their first event as a notable, respectable young person who may be a contender for Ms. Cygne’s prestigious scholarship.
At the table, people rub elbows with people they may not necessarily speak to otherwise, all brought together by the commonality of being someone Ms. Cygne has deemed noteworthy. Almost nobody allows themselves to get too inebriated, but one woman has a bit too much champagne and begins to cry at the dinner table; her friend, another woman in her thirties, ushers her to the powder room, where she composes herself while everyone awkwardly changes the subject. A few people do mannered waltzes in the ballroom, and out on the lawn, people mingle and make toasts.
c) EXPLORE ELSEWHERE [Link]
OOC: Please feel free to thread with each other at any location in the town. Available NPCs are bolded. Please indicate in bold in your comment if you would like an NPC to tag in, or reach out to Em or Juliet specifically. We request that each player only request one NPC per character so we may respond quickly. Thank you!
OOC: Please feel free to thread with each other at any location in the town. Available NPCs are bolded. Please indicate in bold in your comment if you would like an NPC to tag in, or reach out to Em or Juliet specifically. We request that each player only request one NPC per character so we may respond quickly. Thank you!
There is gossip around town that characters can be handwaved as knowing that might drive some questions about the town and npcs:
- The spooky deaths in the woods that have been going on for ages.
- Mining disasters like this have happened before, always before the announcement of a big new mining vein opening up.
- Children who take Ms Cygne's scholarship never come back to the town, and their letters are very formulaic.
- Goluboy's wife died under mysterious circumstances, his girlfriend went to jail for the murder, and he is about town courting again.
- Cygne has a pond full of so many beautiful swans, aren't they lovely!
- The curfew sure is heavily enforced. Is it because the sheriff knows something about the monsters in the woods and is withholding information?
❅ Deja Vu: Characters may optionally start getting some very brief flashes of memory or deja vu but this will be brief, confusing, and alarming rather than revelatory and full memory regain will not be possible. Still, players can opt to have this cause a feeling of possible unease or un-rightness to the situation that can be used to drive characters to have questions or be suspicious enough to investigate areas and situations.
❅ Event Length: This part of the plot will involve an npcing stage. It will last approx. two weeks before the last part, part 3, though this end time may be shortened to match player pace if npc threads progress quickly.
❅ New Intros: If your character wasn't introed in part 1 you can handwave they've been there the whole time and just intro in part 2.
❅ New Characters: If you app a new character and want to intro them at this time, assume they arrived just in time at the location the plot takes place in to be caught up in the magic drawing everyone in. They would have gotten the Man in the Moon's spiel from the welcome page right before being magically sucked in.
Locked to Loki and Crowley, cw: implications of a child being roughed up
Those that recognize him that are a bit more ungenerous may assume he's engaged in some kind of mischief or thievery and is running away.
Two people, though, will get a better sense that something is horribly wrong.
As he runs away from the house, he's an absolute mess. The cocoa soaking his button-down shirt is bad enough but some of the buttons seem to have snapped off, the way they might snap off the shirt of someone in some kind of fist fight, revealing the bright orange t-shirt underneath. His hair is a wild mop like something mussed it up.
His eyes are what's worst. Wide and terrified - but only in the way a child's eyes can be if they already understand there are things in this world they should fear.
I. Loki.
Cato is clearly afraid he's being followed because it's during one of the times he's looking over his shoulder that he accidentally runs into someone. He slams right into Loki, hard enough to bounce off him and fall on his butt.
His clip-on tie must have the world's strongest grip because it's still barely hanging on with just a prayer, but it's close to giving up the ghost, especially since the missing buttons mean his button down shirt won't stay closed at the neck. The tie is soaked in something light brown, like cocoa or coffee, just like his shirt. But something darker and more red-toned is speckled on it.
When he looks up at Loki, his eyes are wild with the kind of terror that shouldn't have been caused by anything at such a classy and genteel event.
II. Crowley.
He hadn't even known Crowley was going to the ball but it makes sense. Crowley likes fancy stuff, like all his records, and it's one of the only regular big events in their super boring town.
It's coincidentally when Crowley is momentarily alone on the lawn that Cato all but stumbles into him, now tie-less. He comes at him like some kind of movie monster, lunging out of nowhere, grabbing his arm with a death grip.
His eyes are wild with a kind of terror that was last seen in them that night a few years ago that he wandered into that bar, completely soaked in blood, a tooth brush in his hand with its handle sharpened to a deadly point.
"I need to get out of here. Please get me out of here."
He looks back to see where all of Cygne's various servants and caterers are, as if thinking he's being followed.
When he turns back, his eyes are welling with tears and the next word is desperate and pleading and comes from such depths in him it's far beyond a sob.
"Please."
The last bit of begging is so plaintive that his teeth are slightly more visible for a moment.
They're bloody.
no subject
There isn't a world where he turns down the request. He won't waste time asking what happened, or fussing over Cato, not when it seems as if there's an immediate threat close by.
"'Course, kiddo, we'll go back to mine." Whether or not the foster family is directly involved doesn't matter, because Crowley knows that Cato won't consider them safe, and getting Cato safe is the priority right now.
He's going to attempt to extricate his arm from that death grip, but only so he can actually put his arm around Cato, a protective hand on his shoulder as he starts towards the car lot, grateful they don't have to go back through the house to get out. "My car's this way, just stick right by me."
Thank fuck he never planned on drinking enough that he couldn't drive. That's not a choice he would've wanted to make.
no subject
He's never actually seen Crowley's car because he usually just goes up to his apartment to visit or crash when he gets locked out overnight. And he barely pays attention right now; he seems to be going through the world in a blur.
But a door is unlocked for him, and he hops in the seat, instantly locking it behind him. Briefly, he kneels in the seat to look back and check a last time if they're being followed, then straps himself in.
Despite the fact he's almost escaped, the panic is only increasing. He's hyperventilating slightly and shaking like a leaf. There's a sound like rushing water in his ears.
The second Crowley is in his seat, he says, "Go. Gogogogo. And if any of her people try to stop you, just go around them. There's no way to know how many of them are in on it."
no subject
No one stops them, at least, and they're able to get into the car without incident.
"I'll not stop until you tell me to, alright?" He's starting the engine as he speaks, not bothering with his own seatbelt before he puts the car into gear and starts down the driveway. "M'gonna drive slow to start, so we don't draw attention."
It would look odd, if he came tearing out of Cygne's driveway, but he wants to reassure Cato that he's not dallying for any reason other than caution. Most of his attention is on their surroundings, but he risks a quick glance at Cato, trying to figure out what the Hell is going on.
"Cygne hurt you?" It almost isn't a question. Who else could Cato be referring to?
no subject
It takes him a second to answer because it takes a second for his brain to register the question over the whooshwhooshwhoosh sound in his ears and the sensation of his lungs being squeezed by a cold hand.
"She's evil," he manages to say, his voice nearly toneless as he tries to push the words out past the tightness in his chest. "She's not what everyone thinks she is."
This flatness has never been in his voice anytime he's talked to Crowley before. It's emotionally shut down in a way he never is. And it's making it difficult for him to explain. He's definitely slightly zoned out.
He looks down at the cocoa on his shirt, fingers briefly plucking at it. His brain moves away from himself, even in this place of panic, as he thinks, Has she done this to other kids? Is this how she gets them?
It isn't enough to know she's up to something evil. It's important to know her MO. Because it definitely says something specific about her if she's poisoning or drugging kids and whisking them away while they're unconscious.
"I need an empty bottle. Like a water bottle or soda bottle. Before this dries. And then I need to go to the pet store or to stop at my school to steal from the science lab or something. I need a rat. Or some mice."
no subject
"In that case, you'll be staying at my place for a few days." He doubts that the foster parents are in on whatever this is, but they're the sort of people that won't ask questions if Cygne or her people turn up looking for Cato. It'll be safer if they don't know where he is.
No one stops them as Crowley leaves the grounds, turning onto the actual road, at which point he realizes how damn tense he'd been, now that some of it eases.
It's replaced by confusion, but he's made something of a decision to shove down his own feelings in favor of soothing Cato, so he doesn't bother to ask why. "There's water in the boot, but I'll have to stop to get it out. That alright, or you'd rather I keep driving?"
It's up to Cato, whatever his priorities are right now.
no subject
So he'll go with him for now and if there's a point he feels like he's putting Crowley in danger, he'll figure out what to do then.
When Crowley asks his question, he looks around, trying to get a sense of where they are again. Normal road. Even if someone tries to catch up to them, there's room to just floor it.
He could ask for them to wait until they're somewhere safer, but the cocoa might be dried up by then.
"We should stop then."
Maybe by the time Crowley gets back in he'll be able to get his thoughts together enough to make more sense.
no subject
He remembers this sort of fear, the sharp awareness that he needed to get out now or there wouldn't be another chance, and he isn't going to dismiss it or prod too closely at the reasons just yet. The important part is that Cato is terrified and it's within his power to help right now without putting either of them at risk. If it turns out this is a misunderstanding, there's no harm done.
So he pulls over, putting the car in neutral. "I'll leave it running, just give me a shout if you see any headlights."
If he wasn't so uptight about keeping his car tidy there'd probably be a spare bottle in the backseat, but he just has to make the quick trip to the trunk, keeping an eye on the road and an ear out for Cato as he rifles through, coming up with a bottle of water and a blanket.
"Here we are," He comes back with both, handing over the water bottle first and then the blanket, so Cato can wrap himself up if he needs to. "Empty the bottle out the window as we drive, figured you'd want to keep moving."
Which is exactly what he's going to do; as soon as his door is closed again, they're off into the night. Towards the school, for some insane reason.
no subject
What he does next is...odd. Holding the empty bottle between his knees, he shrugs off his dress shirt and tries his best to squeeze the liquid out of it into the bottle. Then he tries to wring out the front of the t-shirt underneath, too, while still wearing it. Given they're moving, the top of the bottle is narrow, and there's barely any liquid left, it's somewhat impressive that he manages to wring out maybe a few caps full. He quickly screws on the cap and then wraps himself up in the blanket, clutching the bottle tightly.
He's not blind to the fact the way he's acting must come off worrying to an adult who doesn't know what's going on.
"I just need to know," he says, staring straight ahead. The words come slowly, like they're being excavated rather than formulated. "She tricked me. She got me alone by saying she was gonna give me art supplies. I didn't think I had to be paranoid about a old lady, especially with the party outside."
He doesn't want to talk about this, not with the place it's put him in, reminding him of other arms that dragged him off, even as he fought the whole way.
It doesn't matter that he got away.
It doesn't matter that he was willing to bite harder this time.
But he knows he can't just not talk about it and tell Crowley to take him random places.
"I think she put something in my cocoa. She kept getting weird about how I wouldn't drink it, and tried to get me more when I spilled it. And when I just tried to book it, her servant guy grabbed me."
no subject
With how rattled Cato is, he isn't expecting an explanation to come so soon, and it takes some control to keep his eyes on the road rather than turning to stare at him in shock. He doesn't hide the anger, though, because this certainly doesn't sound like a misunderstanding.
"What the fuck is she playing at?"
no subject
He fixes his eyes on the scenery passing outside.
"And I was - back when -" He struggles for the words. "During the bad time? I was five houses down and he was - people had seen him at my house a bunch'a times. For barbecues and stuff. Pretending to be my dad's friend. Except, what, he wasn't a suspect at all?"
He shakes his head with a nearly imperceptible little shake.
"It all makes sense. They wouldn't look that hard for a missing kid if the Sheriff was already used to missing kids. If she's already used to looking the other way. If all the cops are. For the scholarship kids, Cygne has an excuse for why they never come home, because who would want to come back here, if they actually got out? For me, she knew who I was; she probably thought no one would even miss me."
And she's right that very few would. He wonders how long it'd even take his foster parents to notice he was gone.
"I bet the cops would just say I ran away."
no subject
"Most schools close down over the holidays." So where do these kids go, if they're not coming home? He's more idly musing than anything, turning over this new information while also being worried about Cato and also keeping an eye on the road. He's never liked this awful place, but the most respected woman in town is kidnapping children is still a hard pill to swallow.
As soon as back when comes up, Crowley reaches out to lay a hand on Cato's shoulder, giving what little support he can. "I've no idea what the fuck this is all about, but I won't let her or any of her damned lackeys lay a hand on you, alright? We'll lay low for a few days, figure out what the next move is gonna be. There's got t'be something we can do."
He has no idea where to start, aside from simply running away, like he always does when things get dangerous. Except Cato is a minor; Crowley can't just take him along, not without risking getting in trouble for the exact thing Cygne is attempting to do.
This is so above his pay grade.
no subject
"My school is down Laurel Road, near that big abandoned warehouse."
That's where the skids go to smoke during lunch.
"I just want to know for sure something was in the cocoa. It's important to know how she's going after kids. And if they're being drugged, that means she wants them alive for something bad. If it'd work on humans, it'll prob'ly work on mice, and we have some in the science lab."
no subject
Looking down at the boy does nothing to reassure him. He recognizes Cato; before the recent death in the mine, the boy held the dubious honor of having the most complaints filed about his behavior. He's always been sullen and unapologetic though, even when dragged into town hall literally red-handed from his vandalism. The terror in his eyes is utterly alien. And while his clothes are often a mess, Lowell notes the darker spots on his tie. Blood spatter. From someone else, something in his mind identifies immediately.
Without even thinking about it, Lowell circles Cato until he's standing on the boy's other side. Standing between him and whatever he was running from. He scans the crowd, but doesn't see anyone who seems to be actively chasing him, though with so many people, there's no shortage of possible slower pursuers. He holds out an arm for the boy to pull himself up, still watching for anyone else.
"You were attacked? Running from them?" he murmurs so only Cato can hear.
no subject
"Nobody should trust Cygne," he breathes out, almost too scared to draw in a proper breath. He shakes his head frantically. "She's a liar."
no subject
"Run. I will misdirect her men. You can explain later, when you are safe."
He glances at Cato again, then quickly picks up the discarded tie, rolling it up and stowing it in his jacket. It occurs to him that if Cato does disappear, having a piece of his clothing with blood on it might lead to uncomfortable questions, but... He'd rather have the evidence.
no subject
Almost everyone tied to even the tiniest bit of government or power in this town is super sus.
But this is incredibly clutch. Maybe one of them isn't that bad.
He'll think about thanking him later, when he's not running away from one of the most powerful people in town trying to kidnap him. For now, he bolts, letting Lowell help deflect from his mad scramble away from the place.
no subject
But even with that on his mind, Cato's safety still takes precedence. Lowell watches him surreptitiously, glancing out of the corner of his eye while otherwise keeping up his unobtrusive presence act. Once the boy's gone, he switches his attention to the servants, moving closer to one who is clearly looking for someone. Sure enough, the man notices him and that he's not engaged in any important conversation and waves for his attention.
"Excuse me, have you seen an unkempt young man on the grounds?"
Lowell frowns. "Indeed I have. He was muttering something about ruining Ms. Cygne's night and headed for the stage."
The servant gives vague thanks, then starts talking into a watch device. Telling the others to keep an eye on the stage, hopefully. And with any luck, searchers who might have gone in the same direction as Cato will be diverted. It's the best he can do for the kid tonight.