Twisting Paths of the Dungeon, Somewhere, Thursday

[makemyownway.livejournal.com]

The pathways of the dungeon had changed overnight. Anyone who had stayed in a room beyond their welcome had found themselves booted out back onto the hallways that belonged to their camp and feeling pressed down by the sudden increase in gravity. The doors of yesterday had closed. Other doors had now opened.

And other routes.

[ pathways | gremlins | space battles | room of the past | flooded room | free space | strange vault | ooc NOTE: room doors not belonging to your camp will lock when you enter. so please designate whether you're from camp 1 or the joint camp 2/ camp 3 ]

Comments

An Aged Door

[makemyownway.livejournal.com]

The wood on this door looks old and dusty. The make of it looks ancient.

Step in here and you'll find yourself on an endless misty plain, the skies reflected in the endless salt flats (http://fineartamerica.com/images-medium/bonneville-salt-flats-kristen-massucci.jpg). Except... as you look closer... images begin to form. Familiar images. Images of a past you may recall, of loved ones at key moments in your life, or the absence of them...

Painful in and of itself, yes, made even more complicated if you came here with a friend.

[ Room of past memories. This room might show you any possible part of your past you might want it to call up in close detail. Anyone you bring with you will also be able to see it - and you'll be able to see their memory. ]

Re: An Aged Door

[whenshewasnice]

Natalie had been laying low for the past couple of days, keeping herself busy around the camp. But enough was enough, because sitting around wasn't going to get them out of here, and she needed to feel more useful. So, she didn't let the change in gravity stop her, although it slowed her down. And once she'd made her way to this door and stepped through, she was pleased to know she could move freely again.

Except that there didn't seem to be much of use around. In fact, it was all just salt flats. That was, until something seemed to shimmer in the air. Natalie rubbed her eyes, and blinked. It didn't go away. Something came into view. A house. A frontyard on a sunny summer day. A car parked on the curb, with people inside, ready to go.

And two children standing outside the house, embracing. A girl, blonde, in a summer dress, tears streaking her face. A boy, with slightly darker hair, holding her tightly.

They were eleven.

Natalie knew this because she knew what she was looking at: the day the Ingrams moved away. And it was pointless. Why show her this? She carried this day in the back of her mind wherever she went, so what was the point of showing it to her again? There wasn't even anything to loot here.

Pointless.

But she couldn't look away.

[Omg I have an icon that goes with this memory! Open for camp 2/3 folks.]

Re: An Aged Door

[lockestheway]

"Kuso," Peter cackled, out of breath, as he shoved the door shut behind him. "Back to Earth standard!" Heh. Not bad. Certainly much better than sticking around that camp right now.

He turned around in order to get a better idea of where he was and how hard he might have to run, except wait, wait-- "Natalie?!"

Re: An Aged Door

[not_a_whiner]

The room had been empty when he got here. Kaidan was sure of that. It had also been flatter, emptier, unending.

But the water at his feet had changed from still over sand to running over concrete. The sky was still a sharp blue, but now something very familiar hovered near, and there were walls surrounding him.

"Bomb is in position!"

That was his own voice.

He spun around and saw himself, in that thin grey wet suit-like outfit they used to consider armor. Standing in front of him, Shepard. Behind him, several marines and a bomb.

Virmire.

"Shit," he whispered. "No."

"Commander, can you read me?" Ashley's voice called across the comm, and shit, shit, shit, he knew how this went-- where was the exit?

[[ open to anyone from camp 1, because i am mean and believe trauma is made to be shared. ]]

Re: An Aged Door

[suitably_heroic]

"Oh, space."

The door shut behind Atton and he could move again. Didn't feel like he was wearing fifty pieces of ferrocrete around his neck or something! Breathing in relief, he leaned back against that door for a minute or two.

There wasn't even anything trying to kill him.

After those two minutes had passed, he stepped away. Looked empty. Nothing to fight, but nothing to loot either. Eh. He'd live.

Then the ground turned black beneath his feet. Stars winked into existence. The bright lights of a thousand starships all crowding around the same planet. And he knew. He knew, so he stumbled backwards. "I'm not doing this!" he snapped. "I'm not doing this again, you got me?!"

No one responded. The ships moved as they always had. His own, well away from the fray, unknowingly made safe by the loyalty of the man inside of it.

On the opposite end, a flicker of light. General Surik's ship.

He shut his eyes. "I know," he snapped. "I know this should've killed me, but it didn't, okay? I know we're all really disappointed! But I'm alive! So what's the point? What's the point?!"

No response.

Of course not.

The Mass Shadow Generator had been activated, and the vortex came, sucking in every ship that had come too close to the planet, crushing them, shoving them into the heart of the planet until Malachor V cracked and burst and sent the echoes of tens of thousands of deaths outward in an instant.

His soul cracked. But this time it was only metaphorically.

[ atton's camp 2/3, but prooobably not terribly sociable. ]

Re: An Aged Door

[ktarian-wildman.livejournal.com]

After dealing with the zombies yesterday Naomi wasn't sure what to expect when she decided on the next door she was going to explore. She entered and at first it didn't look like anything and then she saw something.

It was the Forest of Forever.

Or rather it was the charred remains of the Forest of Forever and she knew what was coming. She could see Flotter and Trevis and then a third figure arrived, her Uncle Neelix who she hadn't heard from in a few years since communication with the Delta Quadrant was sketchy at the best of times. She was only about five years old and she could see the back of her head from the log she had hidden behind.

"Naomi please let me talk to you,"

She watched her five year old self allow Neelix to sit next to her, to try and explain why he hadn't told her the truth about her mother. "Until we know for sure what happened, no one's giving up on the rescue attempt."

"You really think they might find her," she didn't want to get too hopeful.

"Yes," Neelix nodded.

"How do I know you're telling me the truth this time,"

He seemed to hesitate, "I've never told you this before but when I was much younger I lost my mum, in a terrible war, my father and my sisters too. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me ..." she listened to him recount what happened ro her younger self, the tears building when he got to the part of trying to stop her from wondering and the what ifs.

Her younger self placed a hand on Neelix's cheek, "don't be sad Neelix," she said softly.

Naomi stared at the scene playing out in front of her, not moving from where she was standing.

[open to camp 2 and 3!]

Re: An Aged Door

[robinonadderall]

Stiles had decided to be a responsible (and pants wearing!) person and let Derek be his werewolfy shadow without a fight today. He had learned his lesson yesterday after the zombies. A lesson that would likely only last a day or so.

"Well this looks desolate."

[For Der-bear!]

Re: An Aged Door

[nookiepowered]

After poking around for two days, Bo had cottoned on to the fact that if it looked like Fandom on the other side of a door, it probably wasn't. Whoever designed this place had a truly warped sense of fun, but with that in mind, she was actually a bit relieved to step into something unfamiliar.

Until she started walking, and the salt flats slowly became grasslands and then farmland and then a wandering country lane in the middle of a spring night, every step less and less unfamiliar, and far less relieving.

When Bo spotted the idling car by the side of the road, her first thought wasn't Maybe that's the way out of here?, but, "No. Nonononono."

The windows were fogged up, but the sounds from the back seat were so clear, she might as well have been inside. "God, Beth..."

Because she was. "We shouldn't... oh. Oh. I... Kyle..."

If she banged on the window, would they stop? Would her fist just punch through empty mist? Bo would have to get past the frozen with horror stage to ever find out.

[Open to anyone from Camp 2 or 3 if desired!]

Re: An Aged Door

[allie-vamp.livejournal.com]

After how many days down here, Allie knew to expect something when she opened a door. She couldn't help hoping for something to hit, just to feel like she was doing something.

Unfortunately she picked the wrong room for that.

The images formed, slowly at first, and then faster, until the rain was pouring down onto two figures huddled next to an old abandoned car as the lightening flashed and thunder rumbled.

"Lucas?" The small, disheveled boy asked.

"Dead," an Allie that didn't look any different then the one who'd walked into the room said. "The rabids got him."

The boy covered his mouth, panic evident on his face. "Oh god, oh god..."

Allie flinched, knowing what was to come and turned to try to find the door.

Re: An Aged Door

[nottrivial]

Last night's surprise about Sparkle had motivated Alec to get on his feet today, despite his uncomfortable feeling that his feet would rather be rooted to the floor. Exploration brought him through a door onto a beach, and just as he thought that this place would do nicely to serve as a hideout spot for the time being, the scene began to change.

This was Fandom. The warehouse section of Fandom - just a little bit more run-down than that same district in the island might look, say, today.

Alec didn't know what he was doing here for a moment, but then he caught a few words spoken in two familiar voices, but sharply cruel:

"A little disappointing that no one was actually brought in."

"Some of our colleagues are losing their touch. Or they're too focused on playing with their toys that they forget that the whole point is to capture the traitors."

What...?

Alec slipped between two warehouses, seeking out where the voices were coming from, but he couldn't see the speakers just yet -- at least, not until he saw a skinnier, somewhat more stubble-having version of himself exit a building with his stele in hand and take a furtive look around.

He knew where he was now.

"Do you hear anything?"

Alec could. He could hear his own double's breath as this other version of him flattened himself against the warehouse door, waiting.

Then, Natalie. "Yes."

Where the hell was the door?

[[open to camps 2/3!]]

Re: An Aged Door

[abakingmetaphor.livejournal.com]

And behind door number two...a bunch of nothing.

Only except it was. As Buffy stood watching the air started to shimmer and mold itself until she found herself in her house in Sunnydale. Buffy gripped the hilt of her sword a little tighter and wandered around the house, feeling a tug of nostalgia as she noted all the old furniture and pictures on the walls.

Buffy stopped dead in her tracks when she heard her own voice coming from near the front of the house. "...still a couple nice guys out there. Hey flower-getting lady! You want me to pick Dawn up from school? Mom?"

A horrible feeling settled in the pit of Buffy's stomach. She found herself moving towards the living room even though she knew she wasn't going to like what she saw.

The other Buffy was already in there by the time she reached the living room. "Mom, what are you doing?"

From over her own shoulder, Buffy could see her mother's body lying on the couch, looking exactly as she had when this moment happened three years ago. Her doppelganger frowned, not understanding just yet. "Mom?"

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back tears. This wasn't real, it wasn't real because it had already happened.

The thought didn't make things easier, not when she could see the realization dawn on her own face. "Mom?"

She couldn't watch this again, she couldn't. Buffy turned to leave but she still heard the whispered "Mommy?" come from herself before she walked out of the house.

[Oh sure, open to camp 2/3 people though I'm about to leave for work FYI]

Re: An Aged Door

[nonelikemesince.livejournal.com]

Anakin should have had a bad feeling about this, but everything in this place gave him a bad feeling about something. Looking up into the sky showed him exactly why.

Sernpidal City was crumbling to pieces all around them from the sheer force of the seismic tremors shaking the entire planet, and the wind was kicking up so hard that it made piloting difficult. They'd gotten as many refugees crammed onto ships, including the Falcon, as possible, but there were still beings running around on the surface. Praying, panicking, trying to help each other.

It wasn't hard for Anakin to pick out Chewbacca in the crowd, gesturing wildly toward the Falcon with the arm that wasn't carrying refugee children. He was racing through the ship's packed hold toward the landing ramp almost before he heard his father's order to help, but as soon as the kids were in the ship Chewie was running off again, and Anakin didn't have to think twice about following him. There were more refugees out there left to save, and as long as they had a second to spare to do it . . .

Anakin could see his father standing on the Falcon's landing ramp, shouting at them: "Come on, it's ending fast!"

They'd have gone sooner, if not for the toddler trapped under a bulkhead, but as soon as they got the boy free they really were heading for the Falcon, Chewie carrying the boy while Anakin kept pace as best he could, struggling against the wind and drawing on the Force to aid their progress.

He was concentrating so hard that he didn't notice the windborne piece of rock flying toward his head, and it startled him so badly that he lost his command of the Force and started spinning away like a damaged snubfighter -- badly enough that he lost consciousness.

When he came to he was in the Falcon's hold, with no sign of Chewbacca; he bolted for the cockpit and collapsed into the oversized -- empty -- copilot's chair.

"Where is he?" demanded his father, and Anakin reached out in the Force to find him.

"To the left, around that corner!" When Han ran back to the hold and left Anakin to the controls, he couldn't even revel in the rare, coveted chance to fly the ship in such challenging circumstances.

Not when his last sharp turn afforded him the sight of Chewie standing in the street, and behind him Sernpidal's moon falling inexorably toward the planet's surface. Not when Chewie started toward the ship only to get knocked down by another blast of wind that flung debris at the Falcon and forced Anakin to have to fight to get her back into position.

And not when he realized that the only thing he could do was to get the ship the kriff out of there before the moon hit the planet and destroyed them all in the explosion.

The last thing he heard as he punched the throttle was his father's voice, desperately pleading with him to get back to Chewie.

[OOC: Camp 2/3 folks more than welcome.]

Re: An Aged Door

[arsenicmauls]

Gert. Ten years old, with long brown hair braided all the way down her back.

"You must have left the gate open, honey," Gert's mother was saying. "Your pet must have escaped somehow."

"No, I didn't!" young-Gert was sobbing. "You're lying, I know you're lying!"

In the real world, Gert sat down and put her chin in her hands. If this was all the room was going to throw at her, she could manage. She'd been through way worse by now.

[[open to camp 1!]]

Re: An Aged Door

[brat_inslayage]

Kennedy stepped into the room and... found herself in Buffy's old back yard in Sunnydale, blinking against the unexpected early morning sun and the man pointing a gun at her and oh god not this please not this, not again.

"Shut up!" yelled Warren as he jabbed the barrel of the handgun toward Kennedy again. Except no, it wasn't Warren, it was Willow but she was barely even acting like herself any more. "Shut up, you do not get to say her name! Offering it up to whoever's there, tricking me into kissing you..."

As she watched her memory-self stand there frozen she could remember exactly how it had felt, the sting of the accusation and the terror as a more Willow-like expression came back to Warren's features and she stammered, "I didn't-- I didn't mean... what I'm saying, I can't make-- Kennedy, I can't hold on, he's winning."

"No," said Kennedy in the memory, moving a cautious step closer. "Not gonna let that happen."

"I'm being punished," said Willow-not-Warren, all the anger giving way to grief. "I kissed you, just for a second, but it was enough: I let her go. I didn't mean to..."

Somehow, that took on a whole different meaning now; Kennedy flinched visibly, unlike her memory-self, who began, "Kissing me didn't mean--"

"No," Willow cut her off. "She was with me. We should have been forever, and I... I let her be dead. She's really dead. And I killed her," she managed as she slumped to her knees in the grass and began to cry in earnest.

Reliving that was bad enough, but the fact that the memory stopped right there was even worse.

[[solo_sword told me to. so open for camp 2/3 people.]]

Re: An Aged Door

[solo_sword]

Jaina had weapons now, and she felt much better about this whole situation now. And this room didn't look outwardly harmless, though she knew better to trust that. She'd just expect something to come out of the mist, like that time the fog made them hallucinate and attack people.

Instead what she got were images. She recognized the interior of the worldship at Myrkr, and her stomach twisted into knots at the realization of what she was seeing. There was the firefight, with the Vong firing on a group of teens and young adults, some people she hadn't let herself think about in years, who should have been escaping. Instead they were watching as Anakin, looking exactly as she'd just seen him, except dirty and bloody from spending over a day here and taking an injury trying to save her. He was fighting, lightsaber whirling around, deflecting bolts- and taking quite a few of them himself- the glow of Force aura surrounding him the longer it went on.

And there was Jaina herself, eighteen years old, next to Jacen, both of them crying as they watched, knowing what was happening and that they couldn't stop it. She couldn't hear it, but Jaina knew when Anakin told them through the Force to go. Jaina refused, and Jacen had to pick her up and carry her in prder to make her ho, following everyone else out as they had to leave Anakin to die.

And here she thought she'd gotten over that.

<[Shanie picked it! Open for 2/3!]

Re: An Aged Door

[throughaphase]

Kitty liked going out. She didn't like things trying to kill her, but she did like seeing what she was facing, and she liked finding supplies that she thought might be useful to someone. This room didn't seem like it'd have much at all, though, and she was about to turn back when she saw the images begin to form.

There was a pool, and a hulking male figure sitting beside it, looking totally lost. Immediately Kitty knew what it was: it was the night Illyana died, when her brother Peter hadn't been able to get back in time. He'd arrived back not long after and had to be told, and then everyone was so concerned about telling him they were sorry and trying to help that no one would leave him alone. It was only a moment before Kitty, only a few years you get than she was now, showed up and slowly walked over, sitting down next to him. And then without saying a word, she just wrapped her arms around him, and he hugged her back, and they just stayed like that, not talking.

She knew it'd go on like that. She hated that she saw this, too, because it was a twofer in personal pain. Illyana was gone, and this was when Peter started spiraling, and soon enough he'd be gone, too, taking it upon himself to prevent what happened to Illyana happening to anyone else.

And now Kitty had graduated from annoyed to seriously mad. There had to be something In a room she could punch, right?

Re: An Aged Door

[6buckstohisname.livejournal.com]

You know, Dean had actually thought he caught a break with the new room being empty. That was, of course, until it suddenly looked like Stull freakin' Cemetery in Lawrence. He could see Sam and Adam--Lucifer and Michael--as they stopped and stared at the arrival of the Impala. When it came to a stop, he watched himself step out, looking almost at ease as he addressed the duo. "Hey. We need to talk."

Wow, he really had balls. Just, you know, an objective observation.

Lucifer shot a glance to his brother before sighing and turning his attention to the other Dean. "Dean," he said in a tone that was gentle in a way at odds with how Sam really spoke. It had, at the time, helped differentiate between the two of them in Dean' head. "Even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid."

"I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Sam," that Dean said.

Dean looked away, watching as Bobby and Castiel arrived without being seen by the pair of freakin' archangels. Too wrapped up in family drama.

"You're no longer the vessel, Dean," Michael said, stepping forward to interrupt. "You got no right to be here."

"Adam, if you're in there somewhere, I am so sorry." Yeah, and there was Cas lighting up that moltov cocktail in the background.

Michael made a bitchface that would have put Sam to shame. "Adam isn't home right now."

"Well, then you're next on my list, buttercup." Wow, had he really been that freakin' flippant about this? "But right now, I need five minutes with him," Dean in the memory said, gesturing toward Sam's body.

Which was the final straw for Michael. "You little maggot. You are no longer a part of this story."

And, thank god for Cas now. "Hey, ass-butt!"

He threw the now flaming bottle of holy oil at Michael, causing him to scream in pain, lighting up like a freakin' bonfire before he disappeared. Yeah, that had not been the smartest plan, but it was all they had at that moment.

"Ass-butt?"

Cas gave a little shrug at the admonishment. "He'll be back. And upset." Understatement, man. "But you got your five minutes."

Which would be when Lucifer reminded them all of his presence. "Castiel," he said with deliberate calm. "Did you just Molotov my brother with holy fire?"

"Uh... no." Cas was the worst liar ever.

Not that it would have stopped Lucifer from getting back at him. "No one dicks with Michael but me," he informed the poor guy, snapping his fingers to cause Cas to explode in a rain of blood and chunks of flesh.

He could see the other him tense up, hands balled into fists as he tried to reach his brother. "Sammy, can you hear me?"

Lucifer turned to him him, grimacing as he stepped closer."You know, I tried to be nice. For Sammy's sake." He grabbed the lapels of Dean's jacket, holding tight. "But you? Are such a pain in my ass," he said, shoving hard enough to send the other Dean flying into the Impala, cracking the windshield on impact.

The only thing stopping Lucifer then was Bobby growing the biggest pair of balls ever and shooting him. And shooting him again. He probably would have taking another shot it Lucifer hadn't snapped his neck with a gesture of his--Sam's hand.

"No!"

Dean looked away, not really up for watching what happened next.

"Yes," Lucifer said, grabbing the memory Dean's leg and yanking him down off the car before punching him hard enough to knock a few teeth loose and leave him rattled.

Memory Dean spit out blood, turning back to face Lucifer. "Sammy? Are you in there?"

"Oh, he's in here, all right." He hauled back and punched the other Dean again. "And he's gonna feel the snap of your bones." And then another punch that caused Dean to fall to the ground. "Every single one." And like he could let the fun end there. Lucifer hauled him back up, something almost like a smiled on his face. "We're gonna take our time."

And then he really went to town on beating the ever living crap out of that Dean.

"Sam, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you," that Dean said, not even trying to fight back. "I'm not gonna leave you."

[[OPEN SURE. Camp 2 & 3!]]

Re: An Aged Door

[filleauloup]

When Éponine first entered the room, she made a disappointed noise, because there wasn't even anything to take in here, and what good was that to anyone?

But she kept walking anyway, because at least here there was sunlight and open space, and she'd take anything that got her away from the constant enclosed darkness which reminded her far too much of being in prison, and put her in a bad place mentally.

That didn't last very long before everything around her shifted and it was dark again.

Late at night, to be specific, and wintertime in Paris as seen from the space beneath the Pont Saint-Michel bridge, where a family was trying to huddle together for warmth: a mother and father, and a few feet apart from them two girls and a young boy, though the boy seemed to be largely overlooked by his parents. One or two small bags lay on the ground near their feet, clearly everything in the world that they owned.

It hurt, actually, for Éponine to recognize her fourteen-year-old self, before her pretty hair and bright eyes fell victim to the ravages of extreme poverty.

"'Zelma, no, don't cry," she heard herself say pleadingly -- God, she'd actually sounded like a young girl then, and almost couldn't recognize her own voice any more -- to her younger sister, who was clinging to her and sniffling, while Gavroche just tried to stay as close to both of them as he could.

"But it's so cold, and Papa's angry again," Azelma whimpered as the younger Éponine desperately tried to keep her quiet enough that their father wouldn't overhear.

"I know," said her younger self, stealing a quick glance over her shoulder to see if their father had heard. He was always angry these days. "But you mustn't cry, it'll only make things worse."

[OOC: So open for camp 1 people, with some SP as I head home.]

Re: An Aged Door

[bitten_notshy]

Jack must have lost Kaidan somehow. He glanced out over the plain, vainly searching for a door. A salty breeze stung his eyes as the light shifted, coalescing into a dim gas-lit office that seemed to have been elegantly decorated sometime around 1850 and left to fester for the 40 years since.

Jack didn't know why the very sight of the place had him nauseated until he saw the tall, fat, blond-haired vampire leaning on an empty corner of the desk. To be fair, he'd been much shorter the last time he saw it. Jaromir looked straight through Jack as he continued his conversation with a ragged woman. //He doesn't look five,// he said. //Promise you aren't just saying he's old enough to work to get rid of him?//

And then Jack knew exactly what he was seeing and wished very much he was anyplace else in the world.

//He is, he is,// the woman -- Jack's mother -- protested, and jabbed the little boy leaning against her legs in the back to encourage him to stand up straighter. Not that it made much difference, this child still could have passed for a slight three. //Next week he's five exactly. Look at the papers.//

Still sneering, Jaromir thumbed through a sheaf of parchment in his hand. //You're Jews,// he noted, and glanced over the boy. (The adult Jack's skin felt hot and tight.) //I wouldn't have known, so that's not a problem. Is his father living?//

//His father only comes home when the weather is bad and the bars all kick him out,// Jack's mother said bluntly. //If he were dead I'd at least have the money from selling his clothes.//

Jaromir huffed out a laugh. //And the boy himself -- is he smart? Well-behaved? A hard worker? I don't take child servants for charity, Pani Vrazda.//

//He's a good boy,// the woman answered, hands clenched on the shoulder of her son's thin jacket. //Bright as a penny. His sisters made a pet of him and he can be willful, but a good thump on the ear and he remembers he knows how to work.//

//Does he,// Jaromir said flatly, and leaned forward to talk to the boy. From 16 years and more away, Jack remembered his reek of damp wool and old blood. //Ready to earn your keep, little one?//

And, to Jack's horror, his child-self nodded. Nodded proudly, even, pleased to be a man and worth something. Jaromir pulled back but kept his eyes on the child -- as if I were good enough to eat, the grown Jack thought.

//My secretary has the money,// he said. // Argue about the rate and I won't take him on.//

Pani Vrazda shook her head. //He gets to eat and a warm place to sleep, and the rest of us will live through the winter because you have him,// she said, //What's a few kreuzen next to that?//

She hesitated before hugging Jan, patted his head instead. //You're grown now,// she said. //Work hard and mind your masters.//

And with that she was gone -- if there had been any further endearment, Jack didn't remember it. He turned away before he could see anything more; he knew what happened next.

He glanced about, hoping no one had witnessed his reverie.

[OOC: Open to Camp 1.]

Re: An Aged Door

[so_hawkward]

When Clint walked through the door, he was surprised to find himself among circus wagons in a dry, bright field. It didn't take much to bring memories of the circus back--so it also didn't take long for Clint to realize why the wagons looked so familiar.

Still, it caught him by surprise to see himself, younger and thinner and so much more stupidly trusting, walking into one of the tents. He knew what this was before he even heard the sounds--the Swordsman yelling at him, the crack of bones and--he knew Barney had been there but actually laying eyes on him as he ran into the tent made Clint's stomach clench, and he was caught between running away, and watching and remembering.

[Open for camp 1!]

Re: An Aged Door

[mummyspromdate.livejournal.com]

So, there didn't seem to be anything here. Maddie thought that sounded wrong, just because every other place she'd been had had something happen in it. Maybe this was the room just meant to throw everyone off by having absolutely nothing happen?

Then she thought she saw something in front of her, and when she blinked, it only seemed to call into focus an image of herself. Maddie didn't have any problem talking about her powers at all, but she never ever talked about what was done to her to bring them out. And yet, there she was, watching herself strapped to a table while Norman Osborn tried various not-so-pleasant instruments to force her to change form.

There was really, really a reason she didn't like to talk about it.

[Open to 2 and 3!]

Re: An Aged Door

[beautifulsenshi.livejournal.com]

At first, the great emptiness only tickled something at the back of Minako's mind, but she disregarded it. She had her FLAKE bag still for carrying supplies, and her transformer was in her pocket. Yeah, everyone's powers seemed to be wonky, but just having it around was making her feel better.

When ruins seemed to rise up in front of her, she perked up, trotting towards them to see what she could find.

And then she stuffed a fist in her mouth to keep from screaming at the bodies scattered over the stone steps. Senshi. Sailor Senshi. Their faces were turned away from her, but Minako knew them in her gut. Blue hair and fuku, green and brown, red against black.

The people I love are caught in the flames and I can't save them.

And running up the steps, towards a Sailor Venus swinging a large sword, trying to hold off an entire army by herself. Blood everywhere; on her uniform, in her hair, covering the sword as she whirled, cutting through the ranks of screaming soldiers bent on killing her, forcing her farther and farther back, away from the fallen bodies and back towards the top of the palace steps.

And then the scream cut through the air, and there was a young girl, blonde hair streaming behind her as her bare-feet propelled her down the steps, her sliver gown somehow free of the bloodshed around them, and Minako saw herself turn, eyes wide in alarm. "Serenity! No! Ru--"

And Minako saw herself run through by a sword, a man with long silver hair reaching around to cup her face in the mockery of a lover's caress.

"Goodnight, sweet Princess Venus," he said, thrusting farther in, and blood came out the other-Minako's mouth; bright red drops the same color as the bow in her hair. "You should have chosen love over honor."

Somehow, miraculously, Sailor Venus turned, just slightly, to look her killer in the face. "I did," she managed, before thrusting her own sword up through his ribs and into his heart. "Love of my princess, and you have betrayed your heart and your prince."

The man - Kunzite, Minako thought distantly, his name was Kunzite - staggered back as her sword slid out of him, and Sailor Venus fell, her body broken on the stairs of the palace only a few feet from her friends and her senshi, and Minako was already crying so hard that she couldn't see her princess anymore, just hear the screams.

Thank goodness for small mercies.

[Open, yup.]

Re: An Aged Door

[dressedinblood]

"I don't think there's anything in here," Anna said as the door shut behind her and Tony, who she'd left camp with. "Maybe we should..."

She trailed off as their surroundings shifted into the interior of a slightly worn-down looking Victorian house.

"No," she said, anxious, almost panicking, "no, we have to get out of here now."

Re: An Aged Door

[demonbelthazor]

Bel was doing some more exploring, trying to find better clothes and food. He wasn't stuck in a sack anymore, but it wasn't very comfortable, either. This door looked as promising as any other.

Flames rose around him, not burning, but pulling. Instinctively he knew it was to the Underworld. He opened his mouth to call for Phoebe, but he was gone before he could get the words out.

He appeared in the Underworld, standing before the dark-skinned woman who had intervened when Raynor was going to kill him during the rescuing of Benjamin Turner's soul. "Belthazor," she said, inclining her head. "You are needed."

He knew who she was, the Seer, a visionary who served the Source. "What do you want?" he demanded. "I'm not a demon anymore, you know that. I won't serve you, any of you."

"Your destiny still awaits you, Belthazor," the Seer said. She held out her hands, and a sword appeared in them. "Take this. It has been consecrated with a spell from the Grimoire so that it will kill the Source."

"Kill the Source?" Bel repeated, confused. "I can't do that."

"The weapon is strong enough," the Seer said. "I have foreseen it."

"No," Bel said, taking a step back, shaking his head. There were rumors that the Grimoire, a book of black magic equal and opposite to the Charmed One's Book of Shadows, contained magics powerful enough to destroy the Source, but they were just that -- rumors. "This is some sort of trick. You've served the Source for over a thousand years. Why do you want to kill him?"

"His time is done," the Seer said. "A new age is upon us. A new leader will be chosen."

"I don't serve you," Bel insisted. "Send me back home and find someone else to do your dirty work. I won't do it."

"You don't have a choice," the Seer said, looking over his shoulder.

Bel spun around. Even though he wasn't a demon anymore, he could still sense the power and evil of the Source as he appeared in the room in a burst of flame. He grabbed the sword from the Seer and held it before him. Even if it was magicked it wasn't going to help him much against the Source's power. He was going to die.

The Source pushed back the hood of his black robes, revealing his disfigured face, ruined in the battle that had brought him to power over five hundred years ago. Bel had never seen his face before -- only the highest ranking demons were allowed that privilege. "Belthazor," the Source said, looking him up and down appraisingly. He looked at the Seer and nodded.

"The Seer has betrayed you," Bel said calmly, trying to deflect the Source's attention. If he could get the Source and the Seer to fight, maybe he could run and find a way out.

"I know," the Source said in a low voice. A sword appeared in his hand, and he swung it at Bel.

Bel blocked the blow. A human fighting the Source was insane, but he had to try. He didn't want to die, not now, after everything he'd been through to get to this point. Fortunately he had not lost his martial art skills with his demon powers, so he was able to put up a good defense. It shouldn't have been good enough. The Source was just playing with him, that was it. But he saw an opening and took it, stabbing the sword at the Source's chest.

The Source failed to parry the strike and screamed as the blade sunk into his chest. A chaos of dark energy rose from him, and his body dropped to the ground. Bel had no time to react before the energies swarmed him, penetrating his body. He could feel the void in him, the emptiness left behind when his demon side was killed, welcoming it hungrily.

The Seer smiled. "It is done, my liege," she said.

Bel sank to his knees. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. "I don't...I don't understand," he said. "What's...what's happening to me?"

"You will know soon enough," the Seer promised.

Bel blinked and shook his head, when he vision ended, more shaken than he wanted to admit. "That was a long time ago," he muttered to himself. "Doesn't mean anything."


[Can be witnessed by anyone in 2/3.]

Re: An Aged Door

[stykera]

Once he got up off the ground and started moving Stark hadn't wanted to stop and he'd walked, without really knowing where he was going or why, until he ended up at this door.

Once he opened it he stared, disappointed, at the empty landscape. He certainly couldn't do anything of use here. He turned to leave, hoping the door was still there, but jerked back around when he heard what sounded like his own voice crying out.

In front of him now were Moya's familiar corridors. Too familiar. He had gone over and over them, tracing this route to Command in his mind countless times. He whimpered softly. "No. Nonono."

He heard himself speaking now as he ran, trying to find a way that was not blocked by locked doors. "Decompression! Decompression! Where to go? Where to go? Where to go?"

And then he heard this shadow of himself scream as he reached yet another sealed passageway and knew that there was no way to get to where he needed to be. There was no way to reach Zhaan before the end.

He watched himself fall to the ground, howling in despair. And then he watched as he reached up towards nothing as Zhaan's voice echoed in his head. "Stark - Stark - link with me my beautiful. Guide me to the place of rest. Melt into my spirit Stark... So that I may share my last moments, with the man I love."

"Always together. Joined as one."

"Peace of mind, peace of spirit, peace of soul. Goodbye my love."

Stark could only watch, tears rolling down his cheek, as the other him stared into the empty air, hand outstretched towards what would now forever be nothing more than an echo of a beloved voice. He hadn't even noticed that he had fallen as well and was now on his knees, unconsciously mimicking the memory he was being forced to relive.

[could be open for camp 2/3 though I need sleep]