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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.

You open your eyes and the inside of your left wrist is stinging; you stop scratching, pulling your other hand away before the angry red lines on your skin splits and bleeds. Somebody calls your name, just as you see a pan slide off the stovetop out of the corner of your eye, and the stinging on your wrist flares to a searing burn, hot oil splattering you and the person next to you.

You open your eyes. You're flat on your back in a room that smells of paint thinner, your chest is heavy, and it's so hard to breathe. Something is crushing your throat- a fluffy white cat with golden eyes, purring and kneading away, but then somebody calls your name and its fluff puffs twice its size in surprise, claws sinking into your throat, hooking and tearing as the cat scampers away.

You open your eyes. A kendo shinai comes down hard on your head, the one in your hand failing to come up quick enough to guard, your classmates groaning in sympathy all around you. Your head is spinning, you feel sick.

You open your eyes. You and a friend are seated side by side in the clock tower, back to the walls and feeling the resounding toll of the bell fill your entire being as the count reaches ten, eleven, twelve. The world turns to silence. Your friend opens their mouth to speak, but you cannot hear them. You cannot hear anything.

(tw: implied suicide) You open your eyes. Your classmate sits on the other side of your desk, a spread of sandwiches and juice boxes between you and the window to your side providing a clear view of the upper branches of the wisteria tree in full bloom. And the strangled look on an upperclassman's face as they fall headfirst from the sky on the other side of the glass, hurtling towards the pavement of the courtyard below.

You open your eyes—-

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 is an npc and will be available for threading in his toplevel during the vernal equinox and graduation day, but not during spring break. After the game opens, he will be available as a student for threading on the npc contact page. The graduating student will not be available for threading in this TDM.

✽ During spring break, all npc students and faculty will be absent from the school, with exception of one white cat and one black cat. For this TDM, in addition to the areas greyed out and inaccessible on the locations page, the faculty office and nurse's office are locked and unavailable, as there is no staff. The library and club rooms remain open, but supplies will not replenish themselves.

✽ 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.

Comments

Rachel Gardner | Angels of Death

[koroshite]

Cleaning Duty;

[Slap. The sound of the washcloth colliding with the side of her face seems to reverberate through her whole head. Rachel feels it slip like a living thing down the side of her face before it glances off her shoulder and down to the ground with the same wet splatting sound.

"Eeeeh, do you not have any reactions or something?" The words set off a chorus of laughter amongst the gathered students. It's both light-hearted and filled with viewed passive aggressiveness at the same time.

Oi, Ray! Wake up, will ya? Things are coming into better focus now and the feeling of disorientation is receding enough for Rachel in her continued muteness to kneel down enough to pluck up the washcloth at her feet.

She pauses, holding the lump of wet material in her hand. Pink suds drip from it and she wrinkles her nose just a little. It smells like...]

Blood.

Highschool Dreams;

[Rachel had her wrist in a white-knuckled grip as she stands, head reeling from the dizzying display. A name called, the purr of a cat, the tolling of the bell ringing through her body and her friend --

Her friend. A friend? What friend. She had never --

Suddenly the sensation of someone being close shoots through her like a bolt of electricity.
She turns sharply, eyes wide and knuckles as white as ever and face just etched with startling fear.]

Zack?

[She knows the moment that singular word rushes out in a tight breath that it isn't correct. Yet it feels like the only word she wants to say.

No, this was a friend. A classmate. Why doesn't she know them?]

Left to Roam;

[Things are beginning to feel more grounded now. Rachel is beginning to get her bearings at least. The school is easy to navigate at least and she doesn't ask many questions about why that is. Most schools were laid out in similar fashions, yes?

As the realization of their plight settles on the gathered students Rachel listens to much of the discussion with the cold expression of a statue. Others have tried the offices already and declare them locked and so on.

This is when Rachel finally speaks up, the statue of a girl's voice as soft as one might expect from someone who looks so bland expression-wise.]

Have you looked for ventilation systems into the offices?

[Hey, it's worked for her before, don't knock it.]

Home Ec;

[With few other options survival is key. And if Rachel if good at anything it's managing to survive on little to nothing. It helps that she's tiny to begin with but she knows how to ration things out.

That's what folks can find her doing in the cooking portion of the Home Economics' rooms. She's dug out whatever was left in the cabinets and has sat everything out on the counters. Whatever pots and pans there are are laid out as well.

She's likely delving into the fridge whenever someone else walks in, taking count of whatever ingredients may be left in there as well.]

Wildcard;

[Feel free to throw down any other prompts here. PMs are open for your plotting needs!]

home ec

[parhellia]

[ Oh... hm. Rachel seems to be hard at work, so Ala decides she'd better not bother her, tiptoeing into the room as if her presence hasn't already been announced with the way she'd been skipping down the halls and had to swing the door open to get inside in the first place.

Don't mind her! She's just here for food, naturally, because why else would somebody be interested in the home ec room? Nonperishables have been moved out of the cabinets and onto the counters, which is all a disappointing lack of heavily processed foods. Ingredients aren't always the most fun to eat... But Ala spots a bar of semi-sweet baking chocolate, and that's good enough for a snack. Just going to... go ahead and take this. ]

[koroshite]

[Girl, don't you even.

Ala almost makes a clear get away before Rachel emerges from the fridge with a half-empty pack of eggs and barely any butter to note the other woman trying to make a get away.

Rachel points said half-carton of eggs at Ala like she's wielding a sword.]

Put that down.

[She looks real serious about this.]

[parhellia]

Aw...

[ Ala pouts, reluctantly sliding the chocolate back onto the countertop, like a child caught red-handed with her hand in the cookie jar. She looks to the eggs and the butter and down at the chocolate- and her pouting is instantly replaced with a surge of hope. ]

Are you baking? I haven't had chocolate cake in a long time!

[koroshite]

[Oh, chocolate cake. Rachel notes that one down mentally.]

I'm trying to decide on the most efficient use of what ingredients are left.

[With the chocolate returns and the egg carton laid down she steps back to mull on what's spread before the pair.]

The vending machines don't work. Everything else is locked. We'll have to ration anything we can find. Using what's available in here to produce as much as we can that will stay good and be easily divisible would be best.

[parhellia]

Chocolate cake is efficient.

[ She has no basis for that statement, but she says it as fact anyways, clasping her hands behind her back to relieve Rachel any concerns of wandering hands and making a loop around the counter to see what's all here. ]

Rationing everything sounds complicated, though... There's some huge guys who look like they'll eat a lot! And food on the windowsills that I get yelled at when I try to touch 'em, there's some people who are bad at sharing. Boo on them.

cleaning duty

[taketori]

[ Miyuki had gotten something similar to the same treatment, but he had already taken to cleaning. It felt like it was what he was supposed to do as he tried his hardest to get rid of these stains--

Then he pauses and turns his attention to Rachel, his own washcloth pressed against a wall. ]

Sorry? Did you say something?

[koroshite]

[The distinct iron tang sticks in her nose as she blinks up at the question. He's scrubbing at a particular stain on the wall and Rachel's mind briefly flicks back to another scene of deep red stains.

The scent is gone. She glances back to her washcloth now and while the pink suds remain, they're just... well, suds. The washcloth itself is balled up and well-used but just a washcloth.]

... When did we start cleaning?

[That wasn't what she had said but frankly she can't quite recall what she did say. She's already beginning to straighten out the washcloth and fold it into a neat square of fabric to scrub with.]

[taketori]

Ah... well, it was...

[ Miyuki pauses, mulling over the question. Whatever Rachel had said must have not been too important, as the thought of it slowly starts to fizzle away from his memory. Oh well.

Still, when they started cleaning... hm. ]

I started washing a couple minutes ago, but I haven't really checked the clock in a while. The time must've gotten away from me.

High School Dreams

[bloodandlife]

[Zagreus has been calling to her for a few seconds now, but she doesn't seem to have heard and something definitely seems to be wrong. Concerned, he's approaching with a hand outstretched when she whirls around and says his name--wait, no, not quite. He holds up both hands in what's hopefully a calming gesture and takes a step back.]

Oh, um--it's Zagreus, actually. You were close! Points for remembering the 'za' sound at the beginning, I've been rubbish at remembering anyone's names all day. Such as yours, unfortunately. But, er...is everything all right? You seem to be quite on edge.

[koroshite]

[Had she? The moment she lays eyes on Zagreus it feels like everything else drops off. She only now realizes her wrist hurts from her own tight grip and she loosens it immediately, her expression confused.]

Mm. I've been dozing off.

[What's wrong with her? She's not exactly excited about school ever but she's always been a good student. Today has just been -- weird.]

I think I've been dreaming.

[Maybe? Her gaze turns back to the stacked stones a moment then back to Zagreus.]

I'm Rachel.

[bloodandlife]

Ahh, good old Hypnos paid you a visit, did he? I don't blame you for being disoriented, his boons can be powerful stuff. From the look on your face, though, I'd guess your dreams weren't exactly the pleasant kind. Are you sure you're all right, Rachel?

[He glances past her at what looks like it could be a shrine of sorts, perhaps, or else someone's very stylish stash of snacks.]

What's that?