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wake up

You open your eyes. And then immediately squeeze them shut as a cloud of chalk dust gets clapped in your face, the student next to you looking surprised— but the sort of surprised as if they're faking it, barely suppressing a laugh. "What're you dozing off for, transfer student?" they ask, going back to wiping clean the chalkboard you two are standing in front of. "The sooner we get everything cleaned up, the sooner we can go home!" Another classmate tosses a wet rag at the side of your face, laughing as if a joke— if it weren't strangely warm to the touch, with dark red stains smelling strongly of iron.

All characters open their eyes and wake up in one of the classrooms around school. Whatever they remember last, it's lost in a thick, sleepy fog, the drowsiness still wearing off and making it difficult to reconcile the fact that they've never seen this classroom or these people in their lives, but somehow, it feels like they've been here forever. The other students all act familiar towards you, calling you by name and encouraging you to help clean the classrooms as part of observing the Vernal Equinox. Buckets of soapy water are set on the desks around the classrooms, light pink suds spilling over the sides, and both students and faculty can be seen hard of work scrubbing dark, stubborn stains out of the walls and floors. "It must be absolutely spotless," they murmur under their breaths. "All evidence must be erased."

You don't have to stay and clean. You could throw the rag back into a bucket and flip these strangers the bird and exit the classroom. But those who don't help clean even a little will find that they leave sticky red footprints wherever they walk, creating more work for everybody else and becoming very easy to track down and """accidentally""" knock over the backside of the head with a mop handle. Besides, it's not like you can walk out of the school and get back to whatever you were doing before. Your feet may bring you to the front door on autopilot, but the doors do not open for you, and neither do any of the windows no matter how hard you try to pry them open or kick them in.

Careful, though. On some windowsills, particularly on the third and fourth floors, rests a stack of five flat stones one on top of another: a gorinto to those who recognize such a thing, a pile of rocks to those who do not. The stones are all damp with water, topped with a scattering of wisteria flowers, and flanked by cheap packaged snacks. Whether on accident or on purpose, the moment you touch any of it—-

wake up

You open your eyes. The last thing you remember is touching a wet stone or trying to swipe the rice cracker beside it, and in the next moment, you're somewhere else inside the school. Characters who touch the gorinto or its offerings will find themselves pulled into a memory of high school life, one that feels like theirs, although they recognize that that's impossible. There's the feeling of being classmates with the other characters- perhaps two characters are seat partners, or best friends, or rivals, or club members- but despite the familiarity, do not know each other's names or recall ever seeing their faces before. Essentially, live your pre-established cr high school au dreams.

The memories fade in and out of different scenarios, but they all start off the same: You open your eyes.

(tw: implied suicide)

You're standing in front of a window, cold fingers wrapped around your wrist and pulling it away from the pile of stones. Perhaps another character has come to your rescue, or else one student in particular who shakes his head, whispers "don't," and walks away.

wake up

You open your eyes and wipe a bit of drool off the corner of your mouth. There's really no shame, when half the students sitting around you in the auditorium are half asleep as well. As if coming out of a dream, the characters don't remember getting here, just that they are now- sitting in uncomfortably hard plastic chairs in the back rows in the auditorium, the school principal's flat, droning voice reverberating oddly off the walls of the large room. No matter how hard you try, you cannot get up out of your seat.

"...and now, let us congratulate the graduating class," the principal says, stepping back from the podium. A single student rises to her feet and meets the principal at the center of the stage, her long dark hair falling across her face as she bows and receives her diploma. "Congratulations, graduate. May your life be full and prosperous. Please, if you would say a few words..."

The girl straightens and pushes her hair out of her face with one hand— she has no other hand, the entire sleeve of her right rolled all the way up to the shoulder and pinned flat. She forgoes the podium and the microphone, but somehow, her voice rings out clearly and reaches all the way to the back of the room: "Keep your eyes open."

With that parting message, she steps off the stage, disappearing into the mass of students who stand and fill the room with applause, drawing the graduation ceremony to a close. Characters find that they can now get up and move, which is a good thing because the other students are all pushing and shoving to get out of the auditorium and out the front doors, phasing right through the closed doors. Like a sieve, the school empties out, leaving behind the dregs.

wake up

Your eyes are open and the school is quiet. None of the students or faculty remain in the school, and all the staff— the principal, faculty, nurse, and counselor's— offices are locked. A skinny black cat flicks its tail from where it sits on top one of the lockers, where characters can find a copy of the school calendar showing the next two weeks to be spring vacation, with the school being closed for the holiday.

At least, with school vacated, it's clear from those left who's in the same boat and allows the chance for exploration away from prying eyes of the other students and staff. Introductions are probably in order, a discussion of what the fuck is going on, maybe also a plan of attack— or a plan for survival, at the very least, because there is no way out of this school. What ingredients are left in the home economics kitchen is going to have to last everybody the next two weeks. The student store is already empty. The water runs pink. The vending machines don't respond to jostling or being kicked over and brought to the ground, only the last dozen "merit points" on your PDA that you can't earn any more of, with class out of session. The snack you've been hiding in your locker should probably be saved as a last resort. The cats are starting to look tasty.

Hang in there. School will be starting again real soon.

OOC

✽ Characters experience the recurring feeling of drifting in (school life) and out (canon life) of sleep up until the graduation ceremony, after which they will have full awareness and come to their senses. Pre-established cr is possible to some extent, as a varying degree of familiarity may remain, but all characters will be strangers to one another unless they know each other in canon. All npcs will know the characters' names, but characters will not know each other's names until introduced.

✽ The second prompt occurs upon a character touching a gorinto or any of the offerings surrounding it. While touching it, characters fall into a trance and experience different scenes of high school life, with examples given in the prompt but players are free to play out any aspect of normal school life taking place at any time during the school year.

stopit

npc contact page

locations page

✽ As a reminder, all doors and windows leading outside are locked and cannot be broken. From midnight until 6AM, all sound disappears from the world. Characters are free to use their PDA as a network, but it is text (and shitty touchpad art) only and all threads are public.

✽ TDM threads may be used for bonus activity after April AC is submitted.

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[That particular realization hasn't quite hit Clamor yet, but... well, there's a certain novelty in being able to move around freely again, and if this is a dream he's not ready to wake up from it yet. So, he might be actively avoiding the thought. But it's fine, probably. It's not like this is the first time he's dreamt about being stuck at school.

His expression softens, now that they've established Noah was worried about him. If that's the case, better not to let the kid fret himself to death.]

I was just in the other room. I wasn't gone for that long, was I? [spoken teasingly, although... he's pretty sure they haven't been apart for long, right? it sure feels like they were together just a minute ago.] What about you? Have you been staying out of trouble?

No, but...

[Noah clenches his fists at his side for a second, looking every which way, contemplating the situation. No, Clamor wasn't gone for that long, as far as Noah knows anyway. They were literally just together back home, but he doesn't recall walking into a school and collapsing on the desk and changing into this weird uniform.]

I haven't been in trouble. [He might be pouting slightly, but he hasn't done anything! Well, except for refuse to clean and track bloody footprints that he's still unaware of through the halls.] I woke up on a desk in the classroom down the hall to a bunch of... um... weird students talking about "erasing evidence".

[Which is suspicious, of course, but the more pressing matter in Noah's mind is:]

So, um, why aren't you a sickle right now?

Weird students, huh... there is something weird about all of this. [Clamor was willing to play along a little longer than Noah, apparently, but it's not like he learned much else from it. The school feels strangely familiar, but it's definitely not Seven Tower, and... even more definitely not Elrianode, or anywhere else they've been to recently. Which brings them back to—

Right. The thing he was trying not to think about.

He pauses, looking down at himself, flexing his hands a little... nope, still not a sickle. Getting his body back should be an exciting and memorable event, but this is pretty anticlimactic.

Suspicious. He doesn't like it.]

... Honestly, I haven't the slightest clue right now. Can you remember anything else before you woke up?

[Noah leans against a nearby wall, trying both to look cool and seem like he's not totally panicked right about now. He might succeed on the former. The latter is a total loss. With his arms folded over his chest, Noah nervously pulls at the sleeves of his blazer.]

N...no. I can't. I'm not sure how we got here.

[Noah isn't an expert, but he's pretty sure he doesn't have time to enroll in a whole-ass high school. They've got stuff to do! That stuff does not include getting a high school degree!]

I feel like my memories have been tampered with. Again. It feels like I've been here for a while, but I know that can't be true. Do you... uh... do you think it could have something to do with Henir's Order?

You were telling the Masters about your memory, and we decided to go to Demon Realm. We must've had to make preparations for that... ugh, but it does also feel like we've been here awhile. Everything between is all muddled.

[He sighs, folding his arms as well. Enrolling in some sketchy high school definitely wouldn't have been part of that plan. Not that he's against Noah furthering his education, but in a place like this? And why would Clamor enrol? He's a little too old to be a high school student.

At least having arms is nice. Gotta think on the bright side...]

I don't know if it's the Order, but it might be another illusion. That would explain my appearance and both of our memories being altered. But if it is an illusion, it must be a potent one. I don't know if I can even use magic like this.

We may have already been caught in the spell, but if we can talk like this, that's good. Focus on what's real, and don't let it try to distract you. We should take things slowly for now. Rushing with this type of spell would only make it more dangerous.

Ugh.

[That's really all he can manage in the moment. A simple "ugh" with undertones of "what the fuck", but he's pretty sure if he said the latter he'd get scolded.]

You're right. I don't think I can use my magic either. Not that I've tried... But, um... let's walk around and see if we can get our bearings. Maybe there's some kind of hint o...or something.

[Noah sort of just starts walking at that, trying to think and getting nowhere, really. He's been conscious in this place all of ten minutes or so, and he's already freaked out. Justifiably so, but still. He pokes his head into a classroom nearby, finds that there are students in there, too, and decides he's not going in there. The last thing he wants is to interact with any of the students at this school, thanks.

So, down the hall he continues, only stopping for a half-second to look at Clamor and snort,]

Nice glasses.

[he absolutely would get scolded, who taught you that language young man??]

Right. No use standing around—though it is nice to be able to stand around! [haha having legs am i right?

Clamor follows along dutifully, trying to stick close to Noah's side. As usual, the kid is a painfully easy read... which only makes him worry more, but at least one of them knows how to hide it. He's definitely not letting Noah out of his sight any time soon. Someone here has to make sure the kid doesn't have a panic attack.

So far, more of the same—classrooms, weird students... Noah snorting at him.]

Eh? [He pauses, reaching up to touch his face, and... ah. Yeah, those are different. Too many lenses. And definitely not his style. He cringes a little.]

Hmph, some manners! Not everyone is gifted with perfect vision, you know! If I need an extra tool to read my books, what's wrong with that? [except he is also just gonna... take those off... stick them in a pocket for now until he actually has to read something. it's fine. definitely not embarrassed by these dorky glasses.] You, on the other hand, should consider dressing like that more often. You almost look your age for once.

[He learnt it somewhere, don't worry about it.]

Says the guy taking his geeky glasses off! [Noah teases, loudly at that — for a kid who wants to avoid talking to anyone else, he's definitely making a scene now!] And what do you mean, "look my age"? I've always looked my age, thank you!

[No, honey, you look like you desperately want to be in an emo boyband.]

Unless you're implying that I look older, in which case, I can get alcohol, right?

[NO!

Bantering, at the very least, makes him feel a tiny bit better about this whole situation. Noah probably would have perished from anxiety already if Clamor was nowhere to be found; being alone is the last thing he wants. Not again.

Still, he can't spend all day pushing Clamor's buttons (well, he can, but it's not optimal at the moment). Onwards and upwards! Or, well, onwards and... slightly to the left, to poke his head into what appears to be an empty classroom. Cool. Maybe there's something here?]

Only because I don't need them right now! Besides, my usual lens is far more stylish and practical, not like these blocky things. Whoever picked these out has no idea what suits my handsome face. [and he pauses to adjust his monocle... which is still not there, so this only kind of looks stupid]

Oh, you look your age alright, but you're always dressed in those dark colours and hoods like you're some kind of suspicious person... and absolutely not, kid! Why are you even thinking about that kind of thing?!

[it's a wonder they're not being scolded for yelling in the halls

Well. At least he's distracted Noah from worrying himself to death, even if now Clamor is stuck thinking about the dangers of underage drinking. Ugh, where did he go wrong? Surely he's been a better influence than that! Who is this kid even trying to rebel against??]

I keep telling you, you should enjoy your youth while you have it... oh. [As they come up to the classroom, he finally glances down long enough to notice those sticky footprints they've both been leaving behind. This isn't concerning yet, but] Did you step in something? What is this, paint?

[The rebellion is against his life in general, or so he'd like to think; teasing Clamor is also a fun pastime.]

I am not a suspicious person! [is Noah's final statement on the matter. Dark colours and hoods are comfortable, alright?

Eventually, someday, some time, someone is going to tell them to shut up. Right now, though, Noah is rifling through the first desk he sees in the empty classroom, looking for any hints. The rustling of papers stops abruptly once he actually looks down and realises what Clamor is talking about.]

Uh? ...no? I don't think so.

[Wait, that reminds him—]

When I woke up, it was because someone threw a rag at my face, which smelled a lot like blood. But I don't... I don't think this is blood, r-right...?

[Logically speaking, if he had stepped in a puddle of blood, the footprints would likely look a little more faded, considering how much walking they've done. Illogically speaking, this school has been nothing but bizarre so far, so maybe not. There has to be some sort of correlation to the tang of blood on the cleaning rag and the fact that he's currently tracking red footprints through the halls.

He turns white as a sheet, not that he wasn't already a pale kid to begin with, and slumps down into the desk chair. Ugh, his stomach hurts.]

[Ah.

Yeah, that's... not paint, huh...

Both of them are looking a shade paler now, but he can't be losing his cool in front of Noah. Deep breaths, Clamor. Gotta keep it together.]

Calm down. This is just an illusion, remember? Don't let it get to you.

Is there anything in the desk? [More distractions? More distractions. Please, just think about anything but the trail of blood they've been tracking everywhere.]

R...right. Yeah. An illusion.

[A really realistic one, but an illusion. They'll be fine. All they have to do is find their way out of this. Find their way out, and in Noah's case, stop feeling like he's been here before.

How many times in his life will his memories get tampered with? He's pretty sick of it, to be frank!]

There's... uh... I think this is someone's math homework. [He holds up a few crumpled pages and waves them around, and to be honest, he's not really sure what he's looking at. Seems difficult.] A few pens and pencils... nothing important.

[Putting everything back in order, he slides to the next desk, which is empty, and then to the one after that, which is equally as messy as the first.]

You know, you have arms now. You could help me look through people's homework. [He'd meant that to come out in a teasing tone; it sounds anything but, with his voice shaking the way it is.]

[It's totally an illusion and he refuses to accept any other explanation. I mean, how else would he have a body again? What kind of weird school would kidnap people, mess with their memories and then have the courtesy of giving him a new body somehow?? Ridiculous.

Anyway... he really is just watching while Noah does all the work, huh. Which is, to be fair, how things would normally go between them, so it's not until Noah reminds him of the whole "having arms" thing that he realizes he's being a bit of a dick.]

Ah, right! Sorry, I've just gotten so used to... never mind, I can start on this end! [because it really would be rude to make Noah do all the work. He slides into one of the desks of the next row, wasting no time before diving right into things. He rustles some papers around productively.]

Looks like more homework... oh, they skipped question twelve. Tch, that's not even a difficult one, if they answered thirteen correctly they should know how to do this one. Sloppy.

[... he, uh, might be taking a minute to grade this random teenager's homework. Old habits die hard, okay?]

It's fine. [A little half-chuckle, barely audible over the shifting of objects.] Not having arms for so long must've sucked.

[Rustle, rustle. Oof, this kid failed this assignment. Sucks to suck, Noah supposes, and then he's shuffling over to Clamor to look at what question twelve could possibly be.]

It looks hard. Maybe they skipped it because it was too difficult. Or they just didn't feel like doing it.

[Noah thinks he'd have skipped that one, too, on first glance.]

Whoever made this illusion put that in there to mess with you specifically, because no one else would be bothered by a skipped homework question.

[Smartass.]

You won't improve if you never apply yourself! Honestly, Noah, you better not have skipped that one. If you need help with your math homework, you should know you can ask me for help.

[wait, no, they've already established all of this is fake. Why is he getting worked up about fake math homework? Not that he's going to tell Noah that it's fine to slack on his studies, but—]

—ack, this is trying to mess with me, isn't it?! Alright, I'm... putting this back... [even if he kinda feels bad about not correcting the rest, but...

Next desk. Stay focused. Don't get distracted by fake memories again...]

Ugh, this one's even messier... but I don't see anything of interest. [more homework. He takes out of glasses again so he can see the words without squinting, but really, the handwriting is bad enough that it doesn't matter. This one's a lost cause.]

Why a school to begin with...? If I didn't know any better, I'd say all of this seems normal, if anything.

I'm not doing any homework.

[NO, NOAH!]

I mean, do I really have to graduate from school? Can't I do that later? I was homeschooled anyway.

[Yeah, mostly by a whole cult, which means the homeschooling was questionable in nature. And... right, this isn't a real school, this is definitely an illusory one. A very real illusory school with an illusory Clamor-who-isn't-a-scythe. A very tangible illusion with desks and homework and someone's really poorly-written essay, which Noah is leafing through to see if it might have any hints — a cipher or something.

Unfortunately, it's a very normal essay. No ciphers, no hints, nothing obvious like "if you take the door to your left, you'll be free!"

He briefly considers stealing this candy bar that's in the desk he's currently sifting through, and then reminds himself that this isn't a real school and he's never been here; the food is probably poisonous or something, so he puts it back after giving it a real contemplative look.]

Picking a perfectly normal environment like a high school is a pretty good way to get us to lower our guards, [he suggests after a moment, now checking the undersides of the desks to see if anything is stuck to the bottoms] but I don't really know.

[Regardless, Noah is still resolute in the fact that he's Not Doing Homework, illusory or not!]

[... mental note: make sure Noah does his homework anyway. Just because the school is fake doesn't mean the learning is, and all this talk about math and essays is making him realize he's been slacking in making sure this kid gets a balanced education. Does he really want Noah to grow up thinking schools are a waste of time and that he can just fight monsters and cultists for a living?? There are so many other things a clever kid like Noah could aspire for!

That'll have to wait, though, because breaking this illusion takes priority and he still has some hope that they might be able to manage it sooner rather than later. Clamor puts the papers back in a neat and tidy pile, leaning back in his chair as he looks around the room one more time.]

Hmm, well... you remember what happened with Titania's illusion, right? The most effective illusion spells only need to draw on the memories of the person they're targeting. They pick at a person's innermost fears and desires, construct the environment from their memories, try to trap that person in a world of their own making... it's much easier to let someone trick themselves than to try and guess what might work against them. That's what makes illusion spells so dangerous to fall into.

But as for this illusion—I can't say I've ever been to a school like this one before, and you say you've never been to school at all. So if it's not made up of our memories, it must have been created from something else, and our own memories were altered so we wouldn't notice right away. That's significantly more work than your standard illusion spell. Why go to all that trouble just to trap someone?

There must be some significance to this place... information that would only come out under these specific circumstances, or something like that. Magitech and illusions couldn't be more different, so I'm a bit out of my depth with this one. We'll need to be cautious until we can figure out what they're after.

[To be frank, most of that is sort of in one ear and out the other. He does, however, get the gist of it, and isn't that the most important thing? Getting trapped in Titania's illusion sucked enough, and now he's being told that this is a more advanced version of that, which means that this one is going to be a royal pain in the ass to get out of. Neat.]

Yeah, it's... [He mulls over the words on his tongue for a second, trying to piece this all together when there's really not a way to do so.] ...it's weird.

[Is what he settles on, because what else is there to say?]

It feels too real. And... and I realise that's the point of illusions, but it still feels like this is way too much work just to trap us, don't you think? If I were to make an illusion, I wouldn't go through the trouble of putting in failed homework questions. Especially not for someone who didn't go to a real school.

[Noah really isn't sure how making an illusion spell of this calibre works entirely, although he's imagining it to be something akin to someone standing there and magically forming every little detail down to the dust gathering on the corners of the bookshelves. Because that makes sense.]

...so, uh... what do we do now? Keep looking around? Act natural? [All of the above?]

[Well, it's not exactly like that... but this probably isn't the time for a full-on lecture on illusion magic. Not that he'd really be qualified to do that, anyway. Noah understood the part that was important.

As for what's next... he sighs, standing up from the desk. Sure wishing he studied more on illusion magic back when he was at Seven Tower, but alas.]

"Act natural" is probably a good idea for now. We can keep looking for the way out without arousing too much suspicion.

Keep your eyes open, and don't lose track of what's real again, or I'll have to put these arms to good use. [yes he is going to wave a fist at Noah threateningly, he WILL bonk your head if you start forgetting things]

[What? Those skinny arms? The skinny arms that haven't been used in... uh... a lot of years? Pfft.]

What're you gonna do? [Noah challenges, hands on his hips in the sassiest way a kid like him can possibly manage.] Wave unfinished homework at me? No thanks.

[That's rude as hell.

But, right, acting natural. So far they've done an okay job at that, Noah thinks. Like, other than the snooping around part. He has to wonder about the bloody footprints, though. They've definitely gotten those everywhere, and when Noah takes another step forward, they're continuing. Which can only mean good things. Illusory blood, illusory school, illusory math equations...

Illusory students barging into the room with some mops and shouting at them to clean up the mess they've made— oh dear. Noah wants to pitch a fit, but there's sort of... no way he's getting out of this one. What's he supposed to say? "It wasn't us, ignore the fact that the blood comes from our footprints, we didn't do it." Yeah, right.]

[Wow?? That's rude as hell??? but also he is struggling to think of a comeback because, let's be honest here, they both know that Noah is absolutely the stronger one here physically. Clamor sure wouldn't be able to swing a giant sickle around like that... his only weight training is carrying heavy textbooks up and down stairs...

It's fine, though, because they're interrupted by a gaggle of angry classmates busting through the door. Clamor jumps, taking a few hasty steps forward to stand partly in front of Noah—but once it's clear they're not actually under attack, he does try to relax a little. Well, this is a reasonable reaction, considering they both walked out in the middle of clean-up.]

Sorry, sorry! We were just, ah, looking for something Noah dropped— ack, did I track that around? Here, let me take that off your hands, we'll get this cleaned back up in no time— Noah, you can help too! And make sure to wipe your shoes off first.

[There's still some grumbling and the other students don't seem terribly pleased, but they've been pacified... for now. After throwing a couple mops and a bucket at the delinquent transfer students, anyway.

... they sure did have to track blood across half the room to check all those desks tho, huh. this might take awhile.]

[The only thing on Noah's mind in that exact moment is "why". Luckily, before he can start arguing or even come up with an argument as to why they shouldn't have to clean this up, the students wind up wandering off to presumably finish cleaning the classroom that Noah woke up in.

So, again, with weird high-level illusions and their high-level realism! Noah wouldn't be so miffed about cleaning up after himself if this situation weren't, uh, this situation. Nothing is his fault and everything is wrong.]

I hate it here.

[But he takes a mop anyway and gets to work, because he really doesn't have much of a choice, does he? Act natural, don't draw the ire of everyone he meets, try not to act like he knows his way around in a fight... That's the plan, anyway. Sadly, that means doing chores. And he's assuming Clamor can't just magic it all away, either.

Sigh.]

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