welcome_rpg | welcome to mayfield: day 4

[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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He's braced himself for the pain in part to make sure his own instincts didn't freak out upon being "attacked," and so he doesn't make all that much of a fuss over the initial bite. What he wasn't prepared for was the way the blood-drawing would feel; this wasn't like a normal wound starting to bleed out. It was...nice? No, odd. That might be a better word for it. He wasn't really sure what to make of that.

When she pulls back, he's shaking his head a couple of times as though to clear it.]

That...worked, then?

It worked.

[She licks her lips, releases his arm, and puts a foot or two of distance between the two of them. She almost seems jumpy, now.]

It's potent. Your blood is potent. Strong. Invigorating. Too strong, I think, maybe. But good....

[And now she's looking this way and that, regarding the distant malformed drones with paranoia and hostility.]

[As soon as she releases his arm, he can't help but check out the wound. It's definitely not bad by his standards, but his standards include things like regularly getting hit by an electrified sword.]

Too strong?

[Oh. That...as much as he might try to deny it, he was still the Joker Undead. Strong enough to make the other Undead afraid of his power...

And now he's a little concerned with the sudden jumpiness. Really, this whole place was freaky. That was nothing new. The drones were nothing new. The surroundings were nothing new.]

...are you going to be all right?

Stronger than human blood. Different. I'm... I'm not sure. It'll pass. It should pass. I think? I think. Father never mentioned...

[That thought is apparently lost, as she has become quite fixated at one particularly alarming-looking set of drones. They were fused at the hands, and had mouths that took up their entire faces.]

...these things are hideous.

This probably isn't something he could have forseen...what with the Undead of my world seemingly being different than others...

[The idea struck him as odd. Having a father. Having someone older to care for you and to warn you of things like that...it wasn't anything Hajime had experienced. He was tempted to ask what it was like, but now probably wasn't a good time. Yet he might have, in his earlier days as a human...

His attention is quickly drawn to the drones. They're nasty enough to draw him out of his pondering.]

I've never seen anything quite this...grotesque. I'd try to destroy them, but I'm not quite sure how well that would work.

We're in completely new territory. An entirely new land. Lupines, father told me never drink from those, but... but there was never anything else to not drink from, so... so...

[Her attention is all over the place now. Her eyes dart from the horrible drones to Hajime and back agan, back and forth, back and forth.]

...leave them be. Until they do something. You might need your energy. I might need your energy. [...wait, what?]

Out of curiosity, what would happen if you were to drink from one of those?

[He's a little concerned at the sudden shift in her behavior. Hungry was one thing, but this seemed to be something else. The last bit of what she said definitely catches his attention, and not in a good way. He's heard variations on that before; most of the other Undead seemed to have designs on Joker's power for one reason or another.

She's suddenly quite jittery and going on about his energy? Oh, yes, he's wary. He's hiding it, but he's on guard for further erratic behavior.]

Perhaps it would be a good idea if you got away from those drones...

I'd be overcome with rage. Rage at everything. My Beast wouldn't be able to resist it.

[She seems a little more focused, talking about that. A little. She seems to catch his expression, catch herself in her ramblings, and then forces herself to fixate on the strange drones.

This is so awkward.]

...yes! Excellent idea. Excellent. And... and perhaps... maybe we need to split up. To... throw them off our courses. Right? Yes?

Rage...?

[He wondered if perhaps draining the blood of an inhuman species might impart certain traits, in which case...there's a possible problem here.]

That...might be best.

[Maybe? Should he really leave her alone like this even if she's setting off a few personal alarm bells?]

Rage. [There's no need to explain, right? It explains itself, doesn't it?

She's already taking steps away from Hajime, smiling awkwardly.]

We'll... catch up later. You'll be fine, I'm sure. The both of us will! We're survivors, aren't we? Ahah... ahahaha...

[He considers her behavior for a bit, and then gives her a nod, trying to act like nothing at all is wrong...but let's face it, you're disturbing an Undead a little bit, Natalie. That takes some doing.]

Yes, we'll survive. We're both the best suited for it, after all.

[Nosferatu are specialists at being disturbing. Sometimes, it just can't be helped.

She, too, is trying to act like nothing at all is wrong. Her steps are becoming less jittery and more relaxed, the more distance she puts between herself and Hajime.]

We are, aren't we? We truly are. Still, take care! Be careful.

[Well, at least she seems to be calming down somewhat the further she gets away from him. He'll turn to leave in the other direction.]

You take care of yourself as well.

welcome to mayfield: day 4

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