memestertrucks | MAY TDM

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Things are a little stranger than usual at the gas station and garage. Namely that gravity just isn't working as it should. Objects float, pieces of the floor float... Even unlucky new arrivals can also find themselves floating! It's going to be a challenge to get around without any scrapes or scratches... Though at least there's what looks like a hospital nearby? Granted, it's an upside down hospital, but it's better than nothing.

01: SUMMONING CIRCLE

Drifters come to with an odd floating sensation hooked into their stomachs, and instead of laying on the concrete find themselves drifting a foot or two above the floor. An unfortunate few may be stuck on the ceiling. Whether they crash down hard into the floor (and the various vials, daggers, and broken glass scattered about) or remain floating in the air is a coin toss.

Still, it might be best to lend a hand with pulling them back to the ground, and hoping gravity will work as normal in another breath or two.

Once they make their way out, they can see a gas station and garage located in the midst of strange, floating rocks… And an upside down hospital close by, for those who had a rougher landing.

02: START UP 

New arrivals will have a similar experience to before; a Convoy waiting for them, and a collection of vehicles, one of which feels like it belongs to them. The key to the vehicle may already be in the ignition, on the dashboard… It may have even been on their person, ever since they woke up in that garage. Either way, Drifters have the keys to the vehicle now.

…But there’s a few rough edges on these vehicles. Flat tires, cracked windows and mirrors, maybe some stuck doors and locks; all of them the sort of thing that requires two pairs of hands and supplies. The garage can take care of the (sometimes floating) supplies… Now it’s just a matter of finding some extra hands.

And hopefully no one's vehicle has decided to float. But one can never be sure in a place like this.

03: HUSKS AND HAUNTS

The inverted hospital seems to have trouble deciding the exact formation of its hallways, whether the new arrivals should be walking on the ceiling, floors, or walls. But one thing that is certain: this place isn’t entirely deserted. Warnings of “Beware the Husks” have been spray painted on the walls. Metallic bodies line those same halls, some of them broken open. A wet trail leads from the broken Husks to the rafters… Where several odd monsters wait to drop down. Some look like they’ve merged with the hospital equipment, while others look like they’ve been cobbled together from different body parts. And all of them look ready to turn the newcomers into a corpse, or part of a specimen collection.

Strange, malformed chimeric creatures that are Unknown stalk the hallways. Unknowns come in three different colors, red aligned with fire, green with poison, and purple with lightning.

Adding to that are the various screens flickering on, and diagnose new arrivals as infected. The screens declare the infection seems to be contained, but requires further study… And if the monsters aren't enough to worry about, there’s also the restraint systems trying to activate and tie the new arrivals down.

04: TESTING (CW: Needles)

The deeper someone plunges into the hospital, the more the building reacts to them. More defenses are deployed, treating them as thieves or intruders. Traps and monsters alike wait for them, with syringes melded into the forms of attackers, or lining places where someone might step or reach for. The syringes make a quick bite on skin… But it’s only a few minutes later where the effects become clear. Something in those syringes is now in the blood and forcing monster transformations. There might be an antidote amongst the supplies… Or the newcomers might need to rely on each other, in order to stay anchored.

The needles can also force temporary Swarm traits, along with:
+Group Mind: compelled to link thoughts with other Drifters, to share emotions, memories, and achieve cohesion.
+An increasing reliance on telepathy/empathy/etc in place of speech.
+Increasing collectivist mindset. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few; this becomes more evident during high stress situations.
+Compelled to hunt and share their prey with others.
+Gravity Affinity: If possessing wings or the ability to wall climb, may freely hunt/traverse corrupted gravity areas.

05: LONG WAY DOWN

A portion of the gas station breaks away with groan and a rumble. And it is slowly pulled up and up, taking a portion of new comers with it! They (and anyone watching) will need to act fast, as gravity starts to go weird the further they rise. They’ll need to find a way back down, taking any supplies from the now-floating garage that they can grab.

What’s more, they are drifting closer to the broken moon, and that seems to be having a strange effect on those stranded on the new floating ruin. They may start to feel their control fray, and their forms shift, the higher they rise.

In terms of getting back down, there’s a handful of tow lines in the ruin that might work as ropes. There’s also a few pieces of rock that are floating up more slowly, and could work as stairs back down… Or there’s just jumping and falling fifty feet and hoping for the best.

06: PSYCHIC ECHOES 

There's one last quirk to this area; a few scattered bits of odd plantlife, and the odd dead brain monster. While these things aren't a threat on their own (beyond being unnerving) they still pack a psychic punch; mainly in the form of temporary psychic abilities.

It's possible that after coming in contact with either plants or corpses, newcomers will find themselves gifted with either empathy (projecting or receiving emotions) telepathy, OR the ability to share their dreams with others, and having their dreams influenced by others in turn. This effect fades in just a day or so, but is still capable of causing mishaps.

MICRO ENCOUNTERS:

PLEASE NOTE! These are small bits of set dressing for players to include in threads if they wish, rather than full fledged prompts or events. You may handwave your exploration of these areas, or thread them out.

Broadcast: The garage contains a few burnt out monitors. But a handful of them are playing a message over and over again on loop, filled with static. It’s a recording of important looking people in lab coats advising people to remain indoors and avoiding all objects falling from the sky. Especially “moon shards.” They insist that they are working to contain and cure the infection, but the safest action is to remain inside.

Warped Air: As seen in Long Way Down, the air overhead has strange warped pockets in it. There seem to be slightly different shards hanging suspended in the air, looking more silvery than the surrounding rocks. Almost like it could have fallen from the broken moon overhead.

Medical supplies: Most of the medical supplies found in the hospital seem to consist of healing salves and potions, a handful of healing herbs, and a few antidotes for poison or sickness. As for reverting transformations… It’s advised that new comers be careful of taking any experimental medicine. It may revert a change. It may also leave them hallucinating nightmares and fears, and they’ll be wanting someone close by to help administer the drug.

NAVIGATION || RESERVES || APPLICATIONS

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"Deacon?" he scoffs, "Are you talking to me?"

As he stands and turns around, he was expecting someone a little bit different, but doesn't show as much in his expression. He changes his face all the time, so who is he to judge?

"Name's Oscar," he smiles, clearly having taken that right off the side of the vehicle he's so concerned about. "How d'you do?"

[At first, she dismisses the familiar voice in the disjointed garage. Trick of her imagination, lingering hallucination, another voice that just sort of sounds like her.

And then she actually sees her. Right there, with her own car. Right in front of Faith's face.

Son of a-]

...B?

[That one word- one letter, even- is all she manages to say. It... okay, it feels stupid. She feels stupid. It's like her brain went into standby mode. In fact, the only thought that manages to surface through the shock is a slightly resentful observation:

She's even got the same kind of car as Faith. Of course she does.]

No. Not this place. Not again.

Ren swallows hard and refuses to shudder. This place haunts his dreams, the place where he failed Akechi the first time. As he did then, he says now to the apparition in white and red:

”It’s not too late.”

It was never too late, until it was February 2nd.

“Why do you think I refused that deal, in the end? I didn’t want a puppet version of you any more than you wanted to be one. I wanted you.”

Goro Akechi, the broken, angry boy who only wanted acceptance and love. Outcast, assassin, criminal, detective, friend, rival - special. Ren’s fingers grip the knife tighter.

“Damn it, Akechi, why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to hear it from him?”

Takuto Maruki, the madman with the face of a friend, wielding kindness like a weapon, and Ren helped him, without even realizing it. Remembering that part of the entire conflict makes Ren sick.

“You could’ve told me. I could’ve done something, if I knew - if I had more time. We could’ve done something. Together.”

That was what Ren wanted - the two of them, together. He throws his knife to the ground and moves to close the gap between him and the other boy.

“I fought a god to save a world full of strangers. Don’t you think I would’ve done the same for you?”

He presses his lips together, and he shakes his head.

“I would’ve done more.”

The only thing Deacon acknowledges that statement with is a low hum and an unwavering smile. Danse would call him on his bullshit, but that's part of his charm. It makes him both reliable and also reliably fun to mess with. 'Ole Reliable. That's you.' Deacon thinks loudly, then immediately realizes that he can literally see the other man's mind working, and realizes that Danse can probably see his as well. Oops.

He takes a step forward, pats Danse on the bicep, and then steps past him in the direction where his companion has practically marked for him on a map, just assuming he will follow.

"Aw, come on. She's beautiful. An old-world relic. A little high in sodium, but I won't hold that against her."

This isn't exactly the hospital experience Donnie had been expecting, and the more he sees of the place, the more reluctant he is to keep looking. But they need supplies, and medical ones especially would not be something to overlook.

He still hasn't found a suitable replacement to make his bō from, but he's hardly unarmed as he carefully navigates the overturned hallways. After his first encounter with the yet functional backup systems, he feels better having at least some kind of weapon in hand, and one fashioned from his ninpō is infinitely better than none. Unfortunately it's also very showy, a bright thing outlined in neon purple, and indeed it looks like the entire thing could have been a hologram of sorts, some construct of light, yet he grasps the staff in hand like something very solid.

The turtle teen had seen the screens and their readings, already on the alert. Someone's triggered them already, which means-

Donnie gasps when he sees someone has been bound and already secured into a seat. "Hang on!" he says, as though the old man has any other options.

He moves in, either heedless of the warning or taking it into consideration as he dashes over, tucking the unusual, feathered wings that seem mismatched for the rest of him, tight against his soft, leathery shell. His staff is a blur, arcing in a smooth spin that sends the syringe and the mechanical arm it's attached to, flying as he alights on the top of the seat's back, allowing for his wings to spread only just slightly to help him balance.

Faith has been picking through the hospital alone, for the most part. She'll help out anybody she hears being attacked by the creepy frankencritters, but otherwise, she's on her own. When she hears the sound of a skirmish, she approaches it to do just that.

And arrives just in time to see a lanky Japanese kid going absolutely batshit on one of them. In fact, just as she's contemplating running in to give him a hand, he summons that... thing. Arsène, he called it? Why did it kinda remind her of-

The thought is cut short by the whatever-it-was lobbing some sort of fancy spell. In her direction. She's forced to jump aside, out of cover, as the wall she was hiding behind is destroyed along with the creatures that had been standing in front of it.

"Woah, woah, damn! Think you got 'em, yo!"

Faith takes a step up next to the old guy- kinda stuffy, seemed like a pushover, but at least he wasn't whining, she could work with that- and peers down the side, then at the cables.

"Lemme go down first, I can catch you if you fall."

As if anticipating his likely rebuttal, she flashes a slight smirk and adds-

"Don't worry, I'm stronger than a look."

Summoning Circle

This is not the hospital.

This is also not the front. This is nothing Edward has ever experienced before. He's floating, like he's swimming but without water, swimming in the air, and he doesn't like it. He can't seem to control where he's going, and this room isn't one he knows.

After flailing through the air for awhile, his hands outstretched and grasping in front of him, Edward manages to find a wall. He's somehow able to grasp it with just the pads of his fingers, clinging to it like a spider, and the strangeness of that won't occur to him until later. For now, he's simply grateful to be secured somewhere.

"Hello?" His voice is soft and polite, even here, tinged with an upper class British accent. "Is there anyone out there?"

Testing

Somehow, Edward has made his way to the hospital. It made the most sense to make his way there; he'd been in one before arriving wherever this is, and perhaps someone he knows might be there. There might even be a doctor who can treat his eyes, although that is an ever-dwindling possibility and he knows it.

But this isn't a hospital like Edward knows. It's messy, and chaotic, and dangerous, even more so than the field hospitals. The one thing is has going for it is that it isn't coated in mud, blood, and shit, and Edward is able to walk through it without mud trying to suck his boots away.

Unfortunately, even without the mud, there are still sharp things strewn about, and Edward winces when one of his wandering hands is pricked by a needle.

As he keeps exploring, his head starts to fill with little flashes, little tidbits that seem to be coming from somewhere else. Fragments of voices, images, memories, that aren't his own. It's troubling, and Edward tries to push them out of his mind. When he does, he unknowingly pushes out images and words of his own.

help

over the top

let's go boys, let's show the hun what we're made of

whistling, falling whistling

explosions, the wet smack of dirt and mud landing from great heights

wordless screaming, endless, cries for help, cries for mother

And colours, bold, ugly swathes of colour, rippling through his mind like waves. Dark, muddy reds; darkness that isn't empty, darkness that's full of shining metal teeth; khaki brown splattered with bright, arterial red.

Psychic echoes

There is so much to avoid here, so many dangers. Being unable to see them only compounds things. Edward eventually made his way out of the hospital, but stumbled across an insidious little plant. It wrapped around his ankle before he was able to rip it off.

Now he's sitting at a campfire that someone else has made, clutching a stick he found that he's been using as a cane. If anyone gets close, they'll be clobbered by the waves of emotion emanating off him. There's fear, bright and snarling and yellow, and a few streaks of a strange, deep green, which glimmers to the surface and then disappears. But mostly it's despair, huge and purple and overwhelming, suffocating, billowing out of his every pore.

[OOC: Edward is a WWI veteran who was recently blinded by a mustard gas attack. He's not adapting well to his new disability and can be short tempered about it. If anyone wants to probe at his emotions or temporary telepathy, they're going to get walloped with WWI imagery and memories.]

[There's someone else in here with him.]

[For just a second, Edward thinks it might be Nurse Crawley, but no. When the woman speaks up again, it's with an American accent. He twists in the air, still floating himself, and manages to get turned around towards the direction of her voice.]

Can you keep speaking?

[He reaches out, feeling through the air in front of him with both hands. His eyes are scarred and grey, the skin around them puckered with barely healed wounds.]

If you keep speaking, I can try to come towards you.

Palpatine's rescuer sounds young, and his charge in speaks of youthful recklessness, but then Donnie demonstrates an intriguing level of skill. The staff smashes away the syringe, sparing Palpatine its contents. Then his wings unfurl, letting him alight stop the chair. Palpatine looks up.

"Well done, my boy!" He tugs at the restraints over his wrists, but they hold him tightly. "We should make a quick exit from here. Would you be so kind?"

"Of course. Thank you, young lady." Palpatine gives her a grateful smile, and steps aside to allow Faith access to the cables.

"But, please be careful regardless. It would not do for you to be injured on behalf of an old man like myself."

Exploration of the hospital makes for strange bedfellows. Palpatine had initially wished to explore alone, but the hospital had employed defences that made that plan untenable, so he'd fallen in with Deacon. And that was before he learned these creatures were lurking inside.

And of course, the man is a quipper.

He has to pick up the hem of his red senatorial robe to run, but for a man of Palpatine's age he keeps up as they run. "I think a suitable hiding place is called for, don't you?"

"I wasn't entirely certain at first. I had... suspicions, yes, and now we both know that they were wrong."

He grimaces, still avoiding direct eye contact. "My memories had a hole in them because of Maruki's assumptions. He altered history to 'save' me, and to bring me to you, and yet..."

The engine room melts away. In its place, a room appears. Relatively well furnished, comforting... Polished, wood floors, a splash of green from the window outside. A heavy blanket thrown aside...

A shelter for wayward souls.

Another memory of Akechi appears, deeply distressed. By some miracle, he hasn't thrown his phone. It sits on the nearby pillow, reading February 4th. Still, unhinged laughter bursts from his lips.

"Fuck!

"...I had to grapple with not only my survival, but the memories that filled the void that Maruki left behind. I was in no condition to talk to anyone. So, for a time, I remained here, piecing together what happened, while I searched for what to do next."

Unlike his memory counterpart, the real Akechi blows a soft sigh.

"You would have moved mountains for me. I knew that... But I also knew you were in a rather difficult predicament without me to take the fall for you. So, once I had composed myself, I chose to take every bit of knowledge I had acquired from my time as an assassin and use it to take down any scraps of the conspiracy, not only for my revenge, but to prevent any stragglers from harming you or the others."

Watch out!

[When Palpatine had his support suddenly cut off, so did another-- a young woman in a flurry of pink, inexplicably holding a daikon radish, was dropped in a heap right on top of him.]

Oh no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!

[The pink girl squeaked, all boney knees and treacherous high heels, as she scrambled to climb off.]

- are you okay?

[The skinny teenager found a temporary partner in a young woman in pink, her hair too crisp to be out in the field but her footing oddly skilled in her heels as she picked her way around the debris. Felicia had no idea what what was looking for, but she was good at spotting little details amid the wreckage. A sealed pack of bandages here, a bottle of what something that looked similar to a vulnerary there, all made it into the deep pockets the coat she had scavenged.

And the knives were quick to fly at the sign of danger.

At that moment, she hovered near Ren in a fretful manner, brows knit in worry.]

You might feel fine now, but it could be poison. There's a lot of strange potions in here and it doesn't seem safe.

[Her boots were scuffed and debris from her own fall stuck to her hair, but for the moment Felicia was grounded-- and eager to help. She heard the voice call and waved brightly in reply.]

Sure! This is all pretty bad, isn't it?

[She called as grabbed a nearby step ladder and trotted over. For someone talking about trouble, she didn't seem troubled at all.]

This isn't my first time being somewhere weird, [she explained.]

We'll figure it out!

Ren silently takes in the change of scene, absorbing the pain of the memory. He stays quiet until Akechi’s finished speaking, and then he can’t keep quiet any longer.

“You make me so angry.”

His hands curl into fists again, red leather of the gloves softly squeaking with the sudden movement. His face twists in a contortion of pain, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You keep criticizing me about making assumptions, but didn’t you do the exact same thing? Assume that we couldn’t help? That we wouldn’t?”

If the Phantom Thieves had been given every scrap of information Akechi held back, they could’ve come up with a plan, together. They could’ve at least tried. Maybe Ren himself wouldn’t have been able to do much from juvenile detention, but Makoto could’ve found a strategy, Futaba could’ve worked some hacker magic … hell, Ren has a blood oath with a particularly tenacious journalist and an ex-yakuza member, among others. They were all able to work together to free Ren from incarceration. What could they all have done for Akechi if Ren only had the knowledge he needed? With eyes once again open, he continues:

“I don’t care about your high and mighty rationalizations - you chose to do everything all alone. You chose to keep information from me. You chose to manipulate me. Again.”

It hurt less when Akechi’s manipulations were all stacked in place to work against Ren. It was far easier for Ren to accept those misdeeds when he believed Akechi only wanted him dead.

“Is that really how you think you care about me? By distorting the truth to keep me in the dark? Keep me away from you?”

He shakes his head, voice trembling.

“You are such a hypocrite. You want to be loved and accepted, but you keep pushing me away when I’m standing right here.”

Akechi bristles, eyes glued open and posture tense. It's not undeserved. No, Ren is far too inclined to bury his feelings. Much too quick to place others first.

It's not surprising to see him break like this. In a way, it's cathartic. Earned. Exactly what Akechi deserves. Anger is easy. Resentment is simple...

But that's not what it is, is it?

Ren wanted to help, that much is clear. It's in his nature. He gives and he gives, even to those who don't deserve it. Akechi is chief among them.

"I wasn't manipulating..." He tries to protest, but... hm.

Selectively hiding information until the last minute, to control the situation...

Damn it.

Love and acceptance... That particular phrasing knocks him squarely back into silence.

He averts his eyes again.

Where words fail, the emotion-projecting properties from the sagebrush step in.

Fear. So much fear radiating from him, against his will, but he can't move. He can't run. He can't do anything.

"...Why? Wouldn't it be simpler if..."

It's so disorienting. Why does Ren have to care? Doesn't he know that it'll only hurt him in the end? Akechi isn't stable. He isn't truly righteous.

Even his mother didn't...

A man like Deacon knows that hiding doesn't do anything but delay the inevitable. They can lie in wait for their eventual demise, or they can face it head-on. That said, he has always excelled at stealth operations; the best in the business. Ask anyone at the Railroad if you don't believe him (and you shouldn't- but they'll all correlate that story).

An eyebrow rises behind Deacon's shades at his unlikely companion's suggestion, and he looks the man up and down before shrugging.

"You stick out like a sore thumb, pal. Did you have to wear the red dress? I'm more of a hiding-in-plain-sight kinda guy."

[Akechi had been watching. He doesn't know this woman, doesn't know her story, but she's certainly determined...

But then she falls. Her skin pales. Clearly, something is wrong.

Finally, he makes his approach, swooping down and landing on a piece of nearby floating rock.

He's... quite the sight. Black, crow-like feathers cover his face and neck, with rounded ears like a big cat twitching amidst his honey brown hair. Hooked horns curve out from his forehead, black with thin, white grooves in them...

And crow-like talons poke out of the fingertips of his black leather gloves, while a scorpion-like tail rests idly.

But he makes no moves to attack, simply watching.]

It's never pleasant. This world has a way with toying with us...

[But it could be worse, he supposes. He's grown accustomed to his own changes, at any rate.]

Deacon has his own vehicular problems right now, but it hasn't stopped him from scoping out the rest of the convoy and becoming rather intruiged with the horned individual currently puzzled by their jeep. People of all kinds, he supposes. Given the world he comes from, he's fairly unfazed.

"Depends on who you're talking to." he answers, even though he's certain it wasn't to him. He's just nosey like that. Spy-like instincts, and all.

"Where I'm from? That thing would probably get scrapped for parts. You'd probably get a lot of caps for it, too. Here, I'm willing to bet it's more valuable in one piece." he shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans.

"Unless of course you were asking about me, and then I'd tell you that most of the people I meet don't know what to do with me, so at least you're not alone."

The creatures of the hospital are not unlike the sort of abominations Lucanis is used to dealing with, but as of late he has gotten much more comfortable working with a team, and they greatly outnumber him (even with the presence of Spite, the entity trapped inside of him that's currently making the room glow purple). Spite's wings make the shift of gravity easier to maneuver, and as another creature moves across the outer wall in her direction, Lucanis slides into view behind it, grappling with it and slicing it swiftly with a dagger. It curls in on itself and those wings carry him back to the ground before folding and disappearing behind his back along with the purple glow, loose feathers turning to ash on the floor.

"Beautiful work," he murmurs with a slight nod of his head to the slain monsters before Karlach, then smirking in her direction as his hands rest on his narrow waist. Even if she were not taller than most, he'd seem small, standing nearly a full foot shorter than her even with his exceptional posture.

"But there are more coming. Be ready."

"One sec," Donnie says, eyes scanning the walls of the room. He'd already found out the hard way about the restraining system and isn't inclined to get caught flat-footed again by it. The whirring that sounds behind them has him twist as he drops from the chair, staff smacking away several restraints that shoot out from the wall. While they try to reset themselves, he holds his weapon to the side, conjuring up a naginata-like blade at one end before he moves to slice it through them.

"...okay, I think we're clear?" he reports, however cautious as he steps back towards the man. He has a look at the seat he's trapped in, letting his weapon vanish, dissipating into pixelated motes as he stoops down to pry open a side panel. Some quick rewiring has the restraints pop open.

"You all right?"

“If what? If I threw you away like everyone else you’ve known?”

There are entirely too many rotten adults in their world, and Akechi’s life has been filled with more than most. It’s sickening to think about, and it catches an angry fire in Ren’s heart, in the part where his justice lives.

“When have you ever known me to do what’s simple?” Ren shakes his head, sadly. “Letting you go was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I did it. Because I care about you, and because it was what you wanted.”

Those waves of fear Akechi projects are difficult to endure, but Ren is steadfast in his resolve to not be pushed away by fear anymore. He reaches out to counter the fear with every invisible tendril of love and compassion and care his heart can hold, and he gently reaches a hand out to test if he’ll be allowed to hold the other boy’s shoulder.

“I don’t know why I feel what I do - I don’t know why I care about you so much, I just know that I do. I like you, and I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want you to be hurt any more when you don’t have to. I know I can’t fix the past - I can’t change the entire world for you, but I can build a better world just for us, with you, if you’ll only let me.”

To Ren's credit, Akechi doesn't swat at the hand, doesn't try to break free.

He just freezes.

It's overwhelming, how much Ren cares. How much he's willing to forgive. Why? Why is he like this? Akechi can't comprehend it. The wide-eyed, hopeful idealist who dreamed of heroism shriveled up and died when he was still so very young. The Detective Prince was merely a performance. A sugar coated mask he wore, a lie based around a distant dream...

"What of the others? Do you honestly believe they'd want me in your life?" It's stupid, he knows. It's not their choice. "Sakamoto, Takamaki, and even Niijima-san may begrudgingly accept. Kitagawa, perhaps... But my presence will create friction. It's simply inescapable. Without a common goal bringing us together, I'm a constant reminder of their pain and loss. Boss as well... I know Wakaba Isshiki meant a great deal to him."

Is he deflecting? Perhaps. That doesn't make it any less true.

But there's something his words fail to convey, however soft. Yearning... Oh, how he wants to believe it's so simple. To have someone fight for him, to need him.

But he can't just say that. He's too proud. To stubborn. Far too burdened.

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MAY TDM

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02!

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Husks & Haunts +_+

HOSPITAL TIME (Let me know if this doesn't work)

Take The Long Way Down, by Supertramp

Edward Courtenay | Downton Abbey

summoning

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Summoning Circle-- I'm so sorry

Husks and Haunts

Summoning Circle

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05

Start Up

Husks and Haunts

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