morphogenia: (so begin walking)
kamala khan | ms. marvel ([personal profile] morphogenia) wrote in [community profile] sixthiterationlogs2018-06-22 03:19 pm

open | she'll always be seventeen; that girl has love

WHO: Kamala Khan
WHERE: Fountain, Inn, around the village(s)
WHEN: June 21-23
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Near-drowning, mentions of potential death scenarios and horror game elements

Fountain-

It feels like a dream at first. Who wakes up underwater without a clue as to how they got there? Anime heroines. Maybe she fell asleep while streaming something, she thinks. Ammi will be mad at her for being wasteful again. It is a short-lived reflection. Kamala quickly focuses on holding her breath once the common-sense kicks in. Now isn’t the time for daydreaming. The unpleasant burn from water filling her nose and ears makes this real enough to take seriously. She pinches her nose with her thumb and index finger to be safe. Precious seconds tick by as she thinks about what she should do. The obvious answer is kick her way to the surface. She might have done it any other time. She knows her own strength. She can take whatever is waiting for her at the surface except for one thing. That is what holds her back. The last time she woke up in a strange place, seemingly unbeatable monsters ripped you bit by bit for making a sound. It is possible they took her back somehow and she ended up in the wrong spot like the others did in that dust storm.

Her heart fills with dread. She needs to shrink. It will minimize the sound; give herself a shot at survival. She closes her eyes and wills it to happen. There is no soft glow or weird sensation that comes with her cells rapidly responding to her will. Okay now she’s panicking. Her heart beats rapidly in her chest as she prays for her body to respond. Go small. It is our best chance. The only response is her lungs burning for air. She must ask herself some very hard questions quickly. Is it selfish to go up there knowing she is going to make noise and get whoever is nearby killed? Is it better to drown than be ripped limb from limb? She must decide which is the least selfish way to die.

In the end, her Ammi decides for her. She can hear her scream for her beta. Maybe this is all a bad dream. She is scaring Ammi with this behavior again. Kamala kicks hard until she reaches the surface and hangs onto the side of the fountain like a lifeline. Water pours from her nose, mouth, and ears as she struggles to breathe. She doesn’t know what will happen next. Will her mother pull her into her arms? Will a monster kill her? The only thing she can control is the need to get air into her lungs. She vomits water along the side to accommodate that need.

Eventually her body starts to settle. The spots behind her eyes fade as oxygen reaches her brain. She looks around, visibly disoriented. Neither outcome has happened. No monsters or mother to greet her. This place isn’t Reims. Is it one of the cities mentioned by the others? Somehow the bugs are still alive there in that case. Kamala has no way of knowing why or how of any of this. She can only proceed cautiously.

Every move is painful to her. She flinches at every slosh of water, at her feet when the touch the ground, and the weight on her back that doesn’t belong there. The clothes, hunter green scrubs of all things, that do not belong to her make noise as she moves. The water dripping from her hair and body does too. She wants to cry. Why not when everything is working against her? At least it will make her feel better. She quickly shoves the thought away. She needs to be brave like that boy who had the creatures running past him and never made a sound. She needs to try even if it feels like she is doomed to fail because of things outside her control.

She moves her soaked hair close to her chest to minimize the dripping noise and very slowly starts to walk. The terror and determination are plain to see on her face as she advances with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Any direction is better than no direction. Proceed with caution when approaching the soaking wet teenager since she is visibly spooked by whatever noise you will make.

Inn –

There is a party outside. People are making noise like it is a given. Kamala is so exhausted by her fear and near-death experience at this point that she doesn’t even try to stop them. She thinks back to her conversation with Frank suddenly. It is difficult to figure out what is real and not. Her answer was so simple yet sincere. It doesn’t matter if you are with the people you love. Her family isn’t here. Nakia and Bruno are not here. It is so exhausting to be strong without them again, she thinks. The fire ahead of her looks comforting even if it is noisy like the people outside. She takes off her backpack and curls in front of it like a child. She just wants to sleep for a while. Why not when everything is already so dangerous? She pulls the backpack into her arms and pretends it’s her sloth as she drifts to sleep.

Whenever someone tries to wake her or comes to close, Kamala quietly asks the same thing without fail. “How can you tell when something is real or not?” Maybe she’s getting a fever. This was not one of her better plans.

Wildcard -

Kamala will be wandering around until she starts to get an idea of what is happening here. Feel free to encounter her around the village or villages as she figures out what exactly is happening here. This can be anywhere from her first through third day. Obviously after the first day she will be in a less depressing state so I would recommend then!
underpinnings: (Default)

[personal profile] underpinnings 2018-06-26 04:13 pm (UTC)(link)
In changing track, she at least asks a question Owen can answer. No one's given him a name for the village, and no one seems inclined to name the continent they're slowly discovering.

It's also a question that makes incredible sense, for her actions and for--his own experience. They called them clickers back home, but who knows what they're called in other countries. Who knows what all the little cults and communes across the map told the kids, to explain the monsters in their world. To convince them to keep quiet when one moved into the area, or when a runner advanced to that stage.

"Something like that, yeah. Aggressive, blind so they hunt with sound." She's still dripping on the dusty grass, but he can tell this is more important. "Having encountered anything like it, here. Worst thing I've seen is a badger on some kind of adrenaline from an insect bite. Knocked over a tree." Which had been about as loud as things got, around here, and nothing had been drawn in to attack the villagers.
underpinnings: (not mclovin it)

[personal profile] underpinnings 2018-06-29 06:16 pm (UTC)(link)
His returning gaze is steady, considering: "We'd have dealt with it if you did." That much he knows by now, about the people here. If you show up with a problem, it gets sorted. If you fall ill, they find a solution. Self preservation isn't the strongest priority--or maybe a smarter sense of preservation, that understands the group is greater and safer as a whole.

He hasn't taken down the traps in his house yet, but he's at least started showing up for events, meals. And he wouldn't paint an uglier picture than necessary of the place, even if he suspects the peace won't hold. "Trouble takes its turn following everyone, most people here won't leave you outside with it."

Where he falls in that group, he isn't quite sure, but his actions of late say he wouldn't either. The smile doesn't quite inspire one of its own, but he nods amicably enough. "It goes both ways, with those things. One of them bit a guy and he punched the thing out, from what I hear."
underpinnings: (vulnerable looking forward)

[personal profile] underpinnings 2018-07-03 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
Maybe it is; he can't say he experienced it enough before this place, to test the theory. To believe in groups at all. Something always sours, something always goes wrong. He'd found settlements dead or overrun for carelessness, not a single malicious action evidenced in their history.

People try; people fail. Survival is a stone you push until you can't anymore. Maybe the best you can do is dig the path a little clearer for the people behind you.

Kamala is one of them, for her youth and her offered name. Owen scrubs a palm on his cheek, venting the discomfort of--knowing, too much of these people and not enough of this place. "Owen. I pass through, most of the time. But plenty of people stay; you won't be alone, unless you want to be."
underpinnings: (not mclovin it)

[personal profile] underpinnings 2018-07-05 10:32 pm (UTC)(link)
It's funny: Owen has long associated people with danger, or at least the unknown, and all the longer associated being alone in a small space with safety. Now he's learning from a group with good intentions, trying to impress their worth on someone new, and finding that places like his cellar make him tight in the chest, sweaty.

Months ago, he'd have told her to hold onto those instincts. Stay quiet, go unseen. Months ago, he wouldn't even argue for her to rely on herself, because he would have slipped into the trees and left her to sink or swim entirely.

Now he's pointing toward the inn and taking the first step toward it, lagging to let her follow. "I'll stick with you 'til you're settled," he promises. "We'll get you a room at the inn, plenty of people stay there, and you should eat while they're serving dinner."

underpinnings: (sidelong over shoulder)

[personal profile] underpinnings 2018-07-10 04:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Owen hasn't been blown off since he was a teenager: he's been the one blowing others off. Canceling plans, taking solo gigs, splitting from the party when suspicion and anxiety weighed too heavy on his sternum.

"I don't know," Owen says, lifting his regard from her to the party around them. "Feels more like I walked you fifty yards into something you could have worked out for yourself."

The right hand lifts, aborts; wrong hand to put on anyone's shoulder, when the point is to put them at ease. It drops just as much for his sudden focus on her friend. She might call him that, but looks like a big son of a bitch, and the way she hedges that a lot reminds him of being eight, trying to explain why his apartment wasn't one anyone could enter. "You need help with him?"
underpinnings: (skeptical in yellow)

[personal profile] underpinnings 2018-07-11 03:18 am (UTC)(link)
The explanation helps, keeps his hackles from getting properly up. But it isn't something she owes him or anyone else she encounters. "No is a complete sentence," he says, words dismissive but tone--not really. She doesn't have to explain herself. She doesn't have to persuade him down. He'll respect the no.

Anyone who doesn't, well, the offer of help stands.

"He'll probably be glad to see you, then. Don't keep him waiting on my account."