idol, idol | OPEN
Dec. 9th, 2020 11:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
venatik posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
strangeaeonslogs⤍ WHO: Levi Martel | venatik
⤍ WHAT: Intro log shenanigans
⤍ WHEN: 12.08 ⤍ onwards
⤍ WHERE: The beach, the village, a park
⤍ WARNINGS: None, really
( Damn this place. He's been here thirty seconds and already he feels dirty and soiled.
The sand isn't helping, either.
He grips the butterfly knife lodged firmly in the sand beside him, rolling over enough to shove it in his pocket. Something tells him it might come in handy later.
He manages to sit with the feelings of uncleanliness and discomfort from being displaced. It takes a minute or two until he's up and trudging away from shore, towards the city. Levi pauses when he notices someone near the entrance of the beach, right beside him. )
You're like me ...
( The bus ride over was a bit arduous through all that forest and fog. Levi found himself wanting to sleep again, to dream, to find himself anywhere but here. He can't sleep, can't tear himself away from the place.
The townsfolk seem wary of him with that darkened eye and the sigils around it, but Levi doesn't feel compelled to hide it. Good. Let them stay away.
The festival itself is nice in its way; he arrives sometime in the late afternoon and promptly buys some taiyaki. It's ... really good. He considers buying some more, making that his third trip to the stand. Sitting at a small table while he stares down the stall, he worries at his lip. )
If I go up for a third time, would the vendor think I'm weird.
( Again, sleep doesn't take him well very often.
Is that because of the nightmares, the coffee he downs like water, the memories, or is it something more organic? Whichever it is, he can't seem to stay awake as of late, and he knows, when he rises, that that's the fault of this damn city. The dreams are strange, unsettling; his days feel weird, numbered.
He finds himself in the park in the center of the city. Right where the well should be, there's ... nothing. Nothing but grass.
A frown twists down on his face; he sits on a nearby bench, absentmindedly tucking and untucking his knife in a series of quick hand movements. Over and over again. Staring the spot down like he did the taiyaki stand, except now he feels far more restless, agitated, unsettled... )
( feel free to put levi anywhere! i'm @![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
ragekind and magicant#0246 if you want to plan things?! )
venatik⤍ WHAT: Intro log shenanigans
⤍ WHEN: 12.08 ⤍ onwards
⤍ WHERE: The beach, the village, a park
⤍ WARNINGS: None, really
i. arrival | closed to miasma covenmates.
( Damn this place. He's been here thirty seconds and already he feels dirty and soiled.
The sand isn't helping, either.
He grips the butterfly knife lodged firmly in the sand beside him, rolling over enough to shove it in his pocket. Something tells him it might come in handy later.
He manages to sit with the feelings of uncleanliness and discomfort from being displaced. It takes a minute or two until he's up and trudging away from shore, towards the city. Levi pauses when he notices someone near the entrance of the beach, right beside him. )
You're like me ...
ii. a festival.
( The bus ride over was a bit arduous through all that forest and fog. Levi found himself wanting to sleep again, to dream, to find himself anywhere but here. He can't sleep, can't tear himself away from the place.
The townsfolk seem wary of him with that darkened eye and the sigils around it, but Levi doesn't feel compelled to hide it. Good. Let them stay away.
The festival itself is nice in its way; he arrives sometime in the late afternoon and promptly buys some taiyaki. It's ... really good. He considers buying some more, making that his third trip to the stand. Sitting at a small table while he stares down the stall, he worries at his lip. )
If I go up for a third time, would the vendor think I'm weird.
iii. a lapse.
( Again, sleep doesn't take him well very often.
Is that because of the nightmares, the coffee he downs like water, the memories, or is it something more organic? Whichever it is, he can't seem to stay awake as of late, and he knows, when he rises, that that's the fault of this damn city. The dreams are strange, unsettling; his days feel weird, numbered.
He finds himself in the park in the center of the city. Right where the well should be, there's ... nothing. Nothing but grass.
A frown twists down on his face; he sits on a nearby bench, absentmindedly tucking and untucking his knife in a series of quick hand movements. Over and over again. Staring the spot down like he did the taiyaki stand, except now he feels far more restless, agitated, unsettled... )
iv. wildcard.
( feel free to put levi anywhere! i'm @
