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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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It isn't the bloody rag that's strange. Nor does it feel unusual to be laughed at and called transfer student in the same breath. Even the fact that she doesn't recognize this place fails to register as all that alarming. No - it's the chalk. The chalkboard. This, more than anything, makes Homura stop and stare and suddenly realize that something is not right. For some reason, she overwhelmingly feels like she's staring down a real-life anachronism, like her teachers should be using digital whiteboards that could be cleared with the press of a button. That's what they'd used at some point, hadn't they? Or... hadn't they always used them? But here she is, standing in a classroom which itself feels so familiar.

What is going on?

Homura stays to help clean anyway. She has no idea who these other students are, but she is a transfer student, and everything about that feels correct, at least. Using a sponge, she scrubs at a rust-colored stain around the classroom door. It looks like an old bloodstain; the pinkish water is clearly tainted with blood, too. This also does not strike her as particularly unusual or upsetting, although she vaguely senses that perhaps it should. For some reason, she finds herself staring at her right hand instead. Her palm and knuckles and fingers are completely bare, and that feels weird.

♢ vacant.

This is wrong. How, exactly, she still doesn't know, but after half an hour of wandering the school, she finds herself hopelessly torn between feelings of familiarity and being totally lost. That alone is enough to conclude something is wrong, but the more her memories clash with her surroundings, the more obvious it is that disorientation is the least of her problems.

Homura ignores anyone attempting to engage with her in the halls. If asked to help clean, she complies for a cursory moment before continuing to wander. The gorinto on the upper floors finally make her stop and pause. Reminiscent of graves, they stand out ominously. And a few of them have people standing beside them, staring vacantly into space, hand reaching out to touch one of the stones or offerings.

"What are you doing?" she asks flatly upon approaching one. No answer. After another moment, she pinches the sleeve of their outstretched arm and yanks on it roughly, breaking the contact with the gorinto. "Can you not hear me?"

♢ congratulations.

Even after the invisible force keeping them all in their seats disappears, one thin, raven-haired girl stays in her chair and watches the people around her begin to filter out. The expression on her face is completely blank, but she studies the crowd so closely that there must be many thoughts racing through her head. Once enough people have left to give her a chance to scan the room for whoever chose to remain, she stands, smooths out her uniform, and flips her hair over her shoulders to set it back in place.

With several people lingering nearby, perhaps with the same mindset she has, she might as well try to confer with them about what the hell is going on.

"A graduating class of one person," she says to whomever she might make eye contact with or be approached by. "Do you find that normal?"

♢ trapped.

Homura is managing to keep it together - you could say she's had a lot of practice - but this situation is stressful, even for her. The disorientation from earlier in the day is long gone, replaced now with the horrible feeling of being trapped and powerless. None of this makes sense - where is her Soul Gem? how is it even possible for it to be gone? - and yet she needs to get home anyway, somehow, some way.

She stakes out a small area to claim for herself in front of her locker. Using chairs from nearby classrooms, she forms a shoddy desk and collects a small supply of paper, pens, and other supplies. Homura is going to do what she's always done: start again. This will be her new work space, her new collection of intel.

It begins with a few sticky notes and papers taped to her locker, detailing the scraps of possibly useful knowledge she's collected so far, but she needs more. So even after she uses her spare clothes to set up a makeshift bed, she sits up when she hears someone walking around her campsite in the middle of the hallway and commandingly asks them, without a greeting first, "You - Do you know anything about where we are, or how we got here?"

((ooc: canon point is not yet decided, feel free to switch to action brackets if you prefer!))

Um...

[ It's probably (almost surely) not normal, but Ala doesn't really have a lot of context for how high school works in general, whether everybody's supposed to graduate or just the best, or what a full graduating class numbers to. ]

She's gotta be, like, really smart or strong or something, right? The competition at this school must be super tough!

[ That isn't an answer to the specific question she asked, but at least this girl if giving the situation some amount of thought. Homura looks her up and down, quietly sizing her up. ]

Look at how many people there's going to be in each grade this year. [ She gestures to the people around them, which is still a large crowd despite all the people who have left and are still leaving. ] Yet, only a single person from last year's class is graduating... and even then, not all of her made it, either.

Um, hm.

[ They're valid points, ones that Ala might have thought on her own but honestly is trying hard not to give them the consideration she should. It's weird, okay?! She'd been perfectly happy just playing the part of a student and clapping along to the end of graduation and not thinking anything more of it, figuring she'd deal with anything direly wrong when it happens. Things aren't dire yet. Maybe by the time it is, it'll be too late. ]

Sometimes people are just like that?

[ Missing arms? It feels rude to ask anybody about it. ]

Maybe last year's class was just really really small... or they all transferred away! Or, or they all got sick and couldn't come to graduation, or... [ There's a lot of excuses she could come up with, but in the end, that's all they are. ]

Nobody else made a big deal about it. I thought that's just how it is.

...it's normal for me, if you look at things a certain way,

[the forty-seven coffins that stood silent in the command room during the Grand Order are a testament to that,]

but you're right. All of this is wrong. [Ritsuka's face is relaxed as she's looking at the sole graduating student, at her one arm, but her scarred hands tremble. She can't tell if it's the heebie-jeebie kind of nerves acting up or the literal slightly-singed kind of nerves acting up, but either way, she can't stop it.

Becoming closely acquainted with the specter of death (literally, in Ritsuka's case) doesn't mean the fear of it goes away. She just got better at dealing with it. And right now, she sees forty-seven coffins on that stage alongside the last student standing.]

You're another "transfer student," right?

[ Normal for her? Homura has no idea what she means by that, but considering the strange circumstances, it's possible that she's actually supposed to know but doesn't remember at the moment. She stays quiet in response, choosing to watch the girl instead.

The trembling and the scars don't go unnoticed. Homura's cold stare softens as her eyes trail back up towards her face. After a second, more genuine attempt to recognize the girl, she still can't say that she's ever met her. ]

Yes, I am. [ Her heels clack on the floor as she turns to face her properly. ] What's your name?

Then we're in the same boat.

[Looking closer at the scars tells a story. Most of them are healed-over burn scars, but the ones on the knuckles are particularly nasty—what did she do, try to punch fire?

(Yes. Yes she did. Thanks for the cage match, Count.)

There's an odd tattoo on her right hand. The flesh around it almost looks like it got hit by necrosis before somehow healing over, and while it's most intense near the tattoo, Homura can also see patches of it on her palms and at the tips of her fingers.

More scars line her arms, although fewer in number and intensity. Some bullet wounds. What looks like a claw mark. A chemical burn, maybe?]

Ritsuka Fujimaru, but some of my friends call me Gudako. What's yours?

[Looking down at the other transfer student, Ritsuka can't help but wince just a little bit, but a gentle, genuine smile returns soon enough. It always hurts seeing kids, actual kids, get put into these kinds of situations with her. Onui and Tasuke being too young to understand what was happening was almost a blessing, but her new comrade is obviously old enough to process all of this while she can't be more than, what, thirteen? Fourteen, maybe? And judging from that stare she'd given Ritsuka, she'd already seen more than any girl her age should.

Then again, the world exploded almost literally when Ritsuka was barely sixteen years old, and she's eighteen now. She doesn't really have any room to talk on that front.]

Edited 2021-03-21 20:39 (UTC)

"Beats me."

Kyoko responds to the question with a shrug, nonchalant response masking both relief she feels at the sight of another magical girl and her unease with the situation. The ring that contains her Soul Gem still sits on her finger, but it's no better than a trinket. It's as though the magic within it had been sealed away by the forces in charge here.

She stops in her path, though, opting to lean back against a nearby locker. She pops the top off a can of pringles as she continues.

"I'd say it was a witch, but I've never heard of one that could do something like this." She uses her free hand to gesture vaguely toward the hallway. The setting was too neat, too clean, too normal. It was as though someone had created a tiny, functional universe, rather than the disjointed mindscape maze that made up a Witch's barrier. "Besides," she bites down on a chip, crunching on it as she continues, "This place is full of weirdos."

She glances to Homura with an expectant look now, quirking an eyebrow. "How about you?"

Kyoko. There is little outward reaction to seeing her here, Homura's poker face being too well-rehearsed and automatic to falter from something so relatively minor. But, silently, the sight of her old friend is probably the most encouraging and uplifting thus far.

"It isn't a witch," she answers with full confidence. "Not even the strongest witch in existence has the ability to nullify our powers. We're dealing with something completely different."

Not to mention that prior to finding her Soul Gem's ring in her locker, she'd wandered the entire school - and some areas were quite a distance away from where the lockers were. But she turns to look back up at her notes without bringing that part up. Kyoko is here, but... As odd as it is to ask herself this, who is this Kyoko? which Kyoko is this?

"There are gorinto near the windows on the upper floors that grant visions to those who touch them or their offerings. They seem to be the only aspect of this school that's clearly supernatural or magical in nature."

Ah-

[ Satoko's eyes widen as she's suddenly pulled back into reality by Homura's touch. What just happened? She'd been... by the gorinto, and then...

She'd suddenly become lost in a memory. That's the closest thing she can think of to describe it. It was a memory of spending time with friends, complaining about exams as they'd snacked on crisps taken from the vending machine - an ordinary, everyday scene... one that filled her with a sweet sense of nostalgia.

But now, it's like someone's dunked cold water all over her head. She feels- disoriented, and she isn't sure exactly what's going on. ]

Umm... I'm sorry, what's...? Who are you?

[ Huh? The way the responds suggests that she was literally in some kind of trance. Homura frowns at her, her brows furrowing with consternation, before she looks back to the gorinto. ]

While you were touching the rocks, you were completely unresponsive. A sitting duck. Anyone could have come by and attacked you.

[ She takes a step back, as if to clarify her own intentions following her previous comment. ] What did you think you were doing?

[ ...Satoko cant help but become a little embarrassed at Homura's words. Did she have to put it quite like that? ]

I was just... remembering my time at this school. [ she says, but she sounds uncertain. ] Was I really that out of it?

I wouldn't say anything about this is normal.

[ It seems that Kai's bothered by the situation, too. Out of everyone here, Homura had looked the most calm, so Kai had decided to approach her in an attempt to gather information. He doesn't need to deal with people panicking right now - he wouldn't know how to calm them down, anyway. ]

I don't suppose you know what's going on, do you?

Following the graudation, Rika has wandered the corridors of the school, trying to find something, anything that might give her some clue as to why they're here and for what purpose. So far she's empty handed. She's heading back towards the locker that she somehow knows is hers and pauses at the site of the makeshift work area.

There is something distressingly familiar about the energy of it and the energy of the girl frantically scribbling away at notes and taping them to the front of her locker. Rika stands for a long moment, watching. There's something--a tug of kindred understanding, almost, between the two of them she feels. She can't be sure, though.

"I don't," she says quietly. "I'm Furude Rika. What's your name?" She could switch into a more cutesy mode of address, if she wished. Somehow, Rika feels that she won't need that with this girl.

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wake up

wake up

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OOC

homura akemi ♢ puella magi madoka magica

congratulations

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congratulations (i know you already got a tag for this but it's perfect for gudako)

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trapped

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vacant

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congratulations!

trapped