myironeyes: (Default)
[Open spam, basically anywhere]

[He drifts. He expresses the will of the place he is in. If someone tries to interrupt a performance or deviate from the script in the Opera House, he will prevent it with a snapped wrist or an effortless backhand into the wall. Someone upsetting the ghosts in the stables or interfering with the banquet, anyone doing too much damage to the walls, or fighting the inhabitants - he hurts them until they stop. Somewhere, he acquires a broadaxe, heavy and eerily crystalline, not the little obsidian hatchets he knows, but light in his hands. The brief moments of brutality are like scraps of food to a starving hound. But he does not always kill, even though Ruin's chasms in him yearn too. The place is not concerned with how fast the intruders die. And before any of his own concerns, he is its hand.]
myironeyes: (Default)
[Public, text]

First. Everyone should stock non-perishable food and water. More than you need. And carry some on you, if you can. Those who remained themselves kept possesions on their person when they switched over last time. I will prepare small packs for anyone who would like one. Volunteers who wish to do the same may meet me in the kitchen after the end of dinner shift.

Second. Medicines, if you need them. Can the infirmary provide small amounts of disinfectants for everyone? I will make up suture kits, and if anyone does not know how to sew, I can teach you. It isn't difficult.

Third. Everyone should arrange signals with those they trust, so those who have not been remade can recognize each other without being revealed. We should also share anything that might help those from this reality gain our confidence and cooperation if we are changed - many there would have overthrown it if they could.

TW for suicidal themes/plans/contingencies )
myironeyes: (Default)
[Public text + open spam, the afternoon of Iris's reunion with her bus]

There is fresh pie in the Dining Room.

[Or anyone could encounter Marsh in the stairwells or in the Dining Room itself, appearing in a stern swish of black shrouds to drop them off, one each, steaming slightly, at neat intervals. He needed to do something with his hands, and for once sewing felt insufficient.]



Confidential to Kelsier, Iris, Nathan, Zane, Touko, Riddick, Ben, and Sylvanas. )
myironeyes: (Default)
[Spam in the infirmary, shortly after this thread.]

[Marsh arrives gingerly bearing an unconscious, injured Riddick. He has several damaged ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and possibly a conscussion. Marsh answers questions curtly and does not interfere with Infirmary staff, but nor does he allow himself to be sent any farther that a few feet from Riddick's bedside. He's angry and worried and agitated, not that anyone who didn't know him well would be able to see it among his usual scowls.]

We have reason to believe he is not in his right mind. Are there restraints available?

[OOC: open to Infirmary people, whether official or just hanging around there, and to anyone who knows about the fight and wants to check in on Marsh and Riddick before Zane's announcement.]


[Spam slightly later, near/after Zane's public query, for Riddick and then Ben]

[Riddick wakes up, ribs taped, his shoulder back in its socket and wrapped with an ice pack, wrists and ankles in metal cuffs, with Marsh looming attentive and still beside him.]


[Private to Iris]

[He's even more shut down than usual.]

Please come to the infirmary. Riddick appears to be one of those modified.

You can...help. Right?

[Please.]

Profile

myironeyes: (Default)
Marsh || Steel Inquisitor

March 2015

S M T W T F S
12 34 567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293031    

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jun. 4th, 2025 02:15 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios