action;

Feb. 16th, 2014 04:30 pm
othersdie: the low-hanging sun speckled with mystic horrors (Uneasy)
[Justin doesn't bother making a post. Neil has already articulated his thoughts on the door, and anyone who wants to find him will know that he's either at the Police Station or in Xanadu. (He would spend more time in the apartment, but the thought that Neil and Todd might end up separated if the door works is more distressing when he's around them.)

He has a bouquet of pink orchids with him. Homegrown, of course, and intended for one very specific visitor, if she comes. She has to come. If the door works, this might be his last chance to see her.

It might be his last chance to see anyone. Justin is, as usual, not optimistic about the outcome of the experiment with the door. At best, everyone with somewhere to be will leave. At worst--well, he's torn between worst-cast scenarios. Either the City could be destroyed and take everyone with it or the Anonymous Movement could force everyone out. (Okay, the first is worst, but the outcomes are equally distasteful. He would lose the only people he cares about either way.) Such lines of thought make Justin even broodier than usual, which is a significant achievement.

Maybe, for once, the worst won't happen.]



[COMMENTS]
othersdie: we feel, in all of this, a certain lack (Concerned)
[text]

I don't suppose anyone has evaluated the lifeboat situation on this ship.


[action (boat)]

[Justin has received his message and his target. He has significant doubts about the veracity of the message's claims--if escaping is as simple as murder, he can think of a few citizens who should be home by now--but what if it is legitimate? The City has offered false hope before, but what if, just this once, escape is possible? The message's wording was so reasonable...

After an initial inspection of his cabin, Justin chooses to take stock of the ship and its occupants. He wanders the deck and makes his way through as much of the vessel's interior as unlocked doors allow. His jacket conceals a gun. Whether or not he'll be able to use it is anyone's guess. A life seems a small price to pay to escape the City when death is impermanent, but he can't help but mistrust the City. Would he kill for a chance to get out and move on to whatever awaits the dead? Maybe. Justin has been in the City for years; it's a wearying existence. Can he murder without any certainty that the act will have the desired outcome? He isn't sure. The thought of killing someone (again) is sickening, to say the least.

Then again, the someone in question is, according to the anonymous message, Jimmy. It's almost regrettable. The man who shares his face has admitted to multiple murders and armed robbery, but Justin had sympathized with him when they spoke during a body swap. Maybe it'll be easier if he imagines that Jimmy is him.

Justin doesn't look like someone contemplating murder as he makes his way through the ship.]



[COMMENTS]
othersdie: every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter (Underwhelmed)
[A very wet hand grabs the recording device. After a moment of darkness, the device is set down (with absolutely no gentleness whatsoever) on the edge of the fountain. From off screen:]

I'm not surprised you're here.

[After a few moments full of drippy noises--the sounds of someone wringing his shirt and hair out, maybe--the device is retrieved and turned to show a wet and unamused Justin.]

It hasn't been a year, has it?


[COMMENTS]
othersdie: are you exiled in those bottomless nights? (WTF)
[As they sometimes do, the network device turns on of its own accord. There's nothing interesting to see; Justin is hunched over a never-ending pile of paperwork, still trying to put the police force back in order in the only way he knows how.

A group of laughing officers comes into view. One of them--a rather pretty woman--breaks away to set a piece of paper on Justin's desk.]


We found the person responsible for the break-ins.

Thank you. Where is he?

Being held.

And the items reported as stolen?

Found those, too. We just need to get things back to their owners.

Good. Please keep me--

[The officer grabs Justin by his shirt collar and kisses him, effectively cutting off that particular sentence. The device only offers a view of the back of the female officer's head until she breaks away. Justin looks horrified; her expression isn't visible.]

...Updated. Please keep me updated, Johansen.

[The other officers are trying not to laugh. Johansen returns to them, blushing furiously.]

I--yes. I'll do that.

Thank you.

[As the officers retreat (one of them slapping Johansen on the back in a congratulatory fashion), Justin glances at the network device. Of course it would turn on. Thank you, City.

He reaches over to turn it off without comment.]


[ooc: Purple is an npc officer named Johansen, apparently. Action is welcome. Really.]


[COMMENTS]
othersdie: are you exiled in those bottomless nights? (Cursed)
[action]

[Justin, looking older and more worn than usual, is in the garden. If his rumpled appearance or the cigarettes don't indicate a cursed state, his complete inaction should. He's seldom idle, usually, and the police force has been keeping him occupied lately.

But right now, he's sitting under a tree. Smoking. Looking either bored or blank--it's difficult to tell. He's not going anywhere soon.]



[text]

This again. And again, and again, and again. The details change but the plot repeats itself. Not just one weekend a month or even here alone. Listen to the clock. Each tick is just like the one preceding it, like the one following it. Tedious second after tedious second. Identical seconds, adding up to minutes and hours and days and years that blur together into a single unremarkable life until, finally, we have the privilege of dying.

I wonder why we bother living through the tedium.

Why do we consider life so valuable when it ultimately comes to nothing?


[ooc: Cursed with The Years That Never Were. This is a Justin I've been working on for a while, so there's an explanation for the curious. Responses will come from the curse journal, mostly.]

[COMMENTS]
othersdie: as fragile as a butterfly in May (Anxious: Anywhere but up)
Welcome--or welcome back--to the City.

I'm around if you need me.


[Action]

[It's a lackluster post to the network, but Justin isn't worried about making the strangers feel welcome. There are a very few, very specific people he's looking for. He delayed the post, unsure if seeing them would be a good thing or a bad thing.

Better to regret, perhaps...

Justin can be contacted via his network device or found in any of his usual haunts--the fringes of Xanadu, the police station, the apartment that he's currently sharing with Neil and Todd. He's exceptionally melancholy today (and has been, for some time), which is no small achievement considering his usual disposition. Approach at will. Should anyone choose to check the apartment, they may have to face Justin's recently-adopted tabby in addition to an abysmal mood.]


[COMMENTS]
othersdie: shadows withering the flowers (!Multipurpose)
I don’t remember the curses on a weekend like this being so uniform. It’s a comfort, almost, knowing that so many others are afflicted with the same thing.

It’s also startling to wake up and find that, not only is your body not your own, but someone you know is living a radically different life than they were yesterday. Startling, not surprising. Living in the City makes surprises few and far between (and those few surprises are almost inevitably unpleasant)—or so I think.

If you’re unhappy about your situation this weekend, remember that it won’t last. Nothing, good or bad, ever does.


[Justin is—like much of the City, it seems—not the same gender as usual. Also like many others in the City, he has decided to distract himself by drinking. After stopping by the police station to grab some work to do, he heads to one of the smaller bars in town. It’s not quite a dive, but only just. On a normal day, he would hide in the corner. Cursed, however, he feels confident enough that no one will recognize him and instigate a conversation.

Should anyone meander into this bar, they may see a young, willowy woman sitting alone, staring morosely at a stack of papers and drinking almost absently.]



[COMMENTS]
othersdie: the low-hanging sun speckled with mystic horrors (Uneasy)
If you see someone who looks like me today, be cautious. It may not be me.

[And that short, cryptic message is all that Justin has time for. Now that he's (almost) certain that he is, in fact, awake, he has a nightmare to find. Specifically, he has to find himself.

Anyone out roaming the City and its various dreamscapes may unwittingly encounter something that isn't quite Justin. This Justin, usually a part of a reoccurring dream, is stronger, faster, and deadlier than the real Justin could ever hope to be. He doesn't talk. He doesn't think. This nightmare version of Justin just stares... and, occasionally, kills. Perhaps you'll be lucky and the nightmare will pass you by. Perhaps you won't be lucky...]



[ooc: Naturally, Justin has nightmares about a more monstrous form of himself... and those nightmares end with the monster killing someone (that someone has already volunteered, so no need to raise your hand). Justin will be out trying to stop his nightmare from ending as it usually does, so feel free to have your character run into either Justin or nightmare!Justin. Try not to provoke nightmare!Justin.

Action tags from nightmare!Justin will be coming from [personal profile] ohcurses.]



[COMMENTS]
othersdie: are you exiled in those bottomless nights? (Confused)
[All Justin had wanted was lunch. Unfortunately, the café seems to have embraced a clothing-optional philosophy... along with the rest of the City. So much for lunch or, for that matter, ever leaving the apartment again once he gets there.]

There's a... a curse today, I assume. If you're not affected and you haven't been out today--if you haven't seen anything yet--just stay at home.

Don't check the network, either.


[ooc: Decidedly not cursed. Mortify at will, action as you like if your character is in the vicinity of Café Juliet or just running around outside.]

[COMMENTS]
othersdie: are you exiled in those bottomless nights? (Absinthe: The poet's drink)
[text]

If anyone is looking for me, I'm at the welcome center.  Inside.


[action]

[Justin has been in and out of the welcome center since Friday.  Being welcoming--or talking to people, for that matter--isn't his strong suit, but it had seemed like a fine idea when he had volunteered to cover for Euphie. 

He hasn't ventured outside much, choosing to leave that for the more enthusiastic volunteers.  Still, people do wander in on occasion.  Anyone who meanders into the center this evening will find Justin hunched over the front desk, a book and an unlabelled bottle before him.  He's determined to avoid unnecessary conversation; it may take some effort for visitors to get so much as a 'hello' out of him.]


[ooc: This is late.  Really late.  Backdating is awesome, anything goes, and feel free to move any encounters to a more reasonable day/hour (just indicate the time change, if you would be so kind).  Did I mention that backdating is cool?]

COMMENTS

othersdie: are you exiled in those bottomless nights? (Shock (or very nearly))
[Justin, unaffected by the cold induced by sitting near the fountain that the City had seen fit to drop him into during winter, finally tires of waiting for what he’s convinced what must be a trick of the mind to dissipate and resolve itself into the nothingness of death. For a lack of any other distractions, he fumbles with the device he had found in his pocket earlier.

He doesn’t fully understand why he would bother hallucinating what resembles a camcorder. The brain is truly a strange and unfathomable thing.]


Am I dead yet?

[It’s a ridiculous question. He still exists enough to imagine things; the answer is clearly no.]

If not--if not, I hope this doesn't last long.

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othersdie: are you exiled in those bottomless nights? (Default)
Justin Pendleton

January 2015

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