welcome to mayfield: day 4

[mayfield_mods]

[This carnival seems to be getting less and less maintained by the day. Your nerves aren't the only thing fallen apart: what were previously holes in the sky have expanded to cracks. What parts of the sky that haven't fallen into that strange, warping nothingness are full of brown smog-like clouds.

The carnival itself has become filthy, with trash and grease spots littered everywhere. The walls of the tents, wooden stands, and houses seem to be slightly melted, for lack of a better term. The holes of corrupted nothingness aren't confined to the sky anymore: pockets of nothing litter the carnival, shifting tears in the fabric of reality that hurt your eyes to look at.

A faint buzzing noise fills the air, making it difficult to concentrate. If you listen long enough, it starts to sound like voices. For your own sake, it's probably best not to listen to what they have to say.

You're also not alone here anymore, for those of you operating under the assumption that you ever really were. If you've been missing the friendly drones of Mayfield, fear no more, because scattered throughout the carnival are a few drone families seeing the sights, riding the rides and playing the games. Curiously, unlike the drones back home, these ones don't seem to notice you at all, acting as if you're not even there.

Also curiously: their features are warped nearly beyond recognition. Some are missing limbs or facial features; others appear to have had those features scrambled by Picasso's paintbrush, with mouths on their scalps or teeth on their fingers. Still other drones appear to be fused together at the wrist, or waist, or face. None of them seem to be any more aware of their deformity than they are of you.

...and yet, somehow, you can't shake the feeling that when you're not looking at them, they're looking at you.

New here? That's alright; your missing friends have had plenty of time to get acquainted, and they'll be happy to show you around. Just watch your step, because some of these old rides need some maintenance...]

OOC: If your character damages or affects the carnival or town in a noticeable and normally permanent way, please comment here.

Comments

[noluckduck]

[Oh shit what.

Her first impulse is to just stomp on the things, and she almost goes through with it - her foot was already well off the ground - before realising that it would be perfectly characteristic of Mayfield for the hands to simply pull her down and drown her in the blood, or maybe just bring her into some bizarre alternate dimension. That would be quite Twilight Zone-y, actually. But then again, so is this whole ordeal, so it wouldn't be that surprising.

Plus, there's the whole... not being in a condition to put up much of a fight thing. That could be a problem too.

She tries to keep calm - with relative success; her string of impolite interjections is kept between gritted teeth - and grabs a pebble off the ground. Deciding that's as good of an idea as any other for now, she throws it at the blood to measure its depth.

Or maybe she could just start pelting the hands with more pebbles from a safe distance.]

[mayfield_mods]

[The pebble clatters against the spot where it lands as if there were no puddle at all. Meanwhile, two inches away, the hands are still flailing.]

[noluckduck]

[Well. She would call this weird, but that would sort of imply it wasn't weird before.

So maybe it would be alright to... caaarefully try to... stomp on the hands, as hard as she can.]

[mayfield_mods]

[There is a painful-sounding crack as the bones of the hand she stomped break. This is accompanied by an agonized shriek.

Clover will find that her shoe has stuck to the hand like glue.]

[noluckduck]

Fuck! [The latest developments don't exactly help her keep calm.

She tries pulling herself free, but the effort makes her lose her balance and she lands on the floor, her free leg in an uncomfortable position that seems just short of broken.

She has to try getting her shoe off. That necessitates reaching it in order to untie it, though, and she's still trying to reposition herself in a way that won't render her leg useless.]

[mayfield_mods]

[As Clover is struggling, the non-smashed hand reaches up and clamps on to the shin of her leg. Her pants begin to dissolve beneath its grip, as if it's coated in acid.]

[noluckduck]

[Oh lord, what.

Okay, first priority: tug. She needs to get her leg free; otherwise, well, she's got a feeling her pants aren't going to be the only thing dissolving pretty soon.]