open rp post

[curiously]

DROP IN PROMPTS, PICTURES, OLD THREADS, A POST OR EVEN TFLN BRING IT.
( cw: body horror, gore, violence & etc. in some threads + please label threads for such. )

<small>( ➵ from <a href="">here</a> )</small>

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[curiously]

[ traveling through the fog becomes more familiar to zarina with each and every day she's trapped in the world of the entity. she learns that working with a team is best when it comes to scavenging for supplies to bring back whether they be for trials, food, anything useful in the first place. she also learns that ones mind is most important when traveling through the fog alone — all she has to do is think of where she wishes to go, who she wishes to meet, and there ends a higher chance of heading to the realm over getting lost in the cold.

sometimes, however, it can't be helped to look over her own shoulder with or without a team — feng and ace come along this time — after dealing with far too many knives digging into her flesh. already zarina purses her own lips as she shakes her head. no, no, it's not going to happen this time. instead, her mind shifts and imagines the chill winds of the macmillan forest against her skin while they loot the place for anything to bring back to the campfire.

little does she know that events have been set in motion that will lead to an unfortunate meeting.

guided by the bright glow of the moon and a well-charged flashlight, zarina begins quieter steps by the time she spots the foundry already. good. there's always something there to find, and with ace maybe even —

all thoughts immediately shift over to what was that scream? ]

I'll check it out. [ she tells the other two already, turning the flashlight off in order to avoid suspicion. feng tells her no, ace tells her to wait, and zarina already shakes her head and waves her hand in dismissal. ] I'll be fine, but if I don't come back in... five, ten minutes, then you need to leave without me.

[ if there are any objections from ace or feng, zarina doesn't hear it as her mind already begins to form questions despite not knowing what's going on yet. who else is here with them, the trapper? it certainly doesn't like him from a distance. muffled, rougher, deeper, yet clear — that's what the man sounds like during trials whenever her ears listen in during chases

don't get caught. don't be seen. sneak out as quickly as possible after finding all the necessary information, like... gold glimmering on the ground?

brows raise as zarina bends down on one knee for a closer inspection. that is, until immediate whiplash of her head that's accompanied with a disgusted exhale — what the hell was that smell? though beautiful under light, the smell alone has the journalist already standing back up on her feet and breathing in the fresh air of the forest.

whatever it is, she knows it's already a lead. most especially after looking forward and noticing that they lead into the building. okay, easy enough. a hand waves in front of her face as though to help keep the strange new scent away. useless, of course, within larger walls as well as heading to its source. whoever screamed must be in trouble, right?

good thing she's here, then. no medkit in hand this time, but if it's a survivor then maybe she can bring the person to lisa —

a hand immediately covers her mouth in attempt to muffle a far too loud of a gasp, eyes widening at the sight as she watches liquid, near glittering gold drip down from nearly everywhere until they pool down at their immediate vicinity. cold steel of the pipe against her back as, despite zarina's shock, she tries to take in the details. the dark cloak. flayed skin with bare arms. gloves. the knife on the ground.

it's — ]

Jed!?

cw: suicidal ideation

[obsessions]

[ he doesn't hear anything. The fire is everywhere. His screams become desperate whistling gasps for air. His limbs seize and contort, spine arching as if attempting to rip itself out of his burning body, but there is no escape, not with a fresh flood of pain coursing through him with every frantic heartbeat, and if he still had his knife, he would've happily slashed his own throat just to get it all to stop.

It fell somewhere close to him. Blindly, he tries feeling about for the handle, but he only manages to move his hand a few sluggish inches. Then he tries to stand, digging his fingertips into the floor so hard both the tattered leather and the skin underneath tear, smearing bloody, golden streaks across the concrete. But another agonized spasm shoves him back down. This time, he collapses fully. Serum splatters around him as he convulses. The syringe stabbed into his back catches the faint moonlight with each shake of his shoulders, the glowing liquid within sloshing about wildly even as its plunger continues to descend on its own, milliliter by milliliter.

Then, another click. The plunger stops with one-third of the serum still remaining in the glass barrel. He, too, has stopped trying to move. Only his sides rise and fall with wheezing breaths, each one causing more of the golden substance to pool beneath him. The pain starts to recede, the inferno slowly burning itself down into a constant but dull smolder.

The haze clears a little. A few feet in front of him is the knife, its jagged and bloodstained blade glimmering in the faint moonlight. And a familiar pair of boots. His head jerks up. He knows her. She's standing there, watching, just like that man who injected him, while he's weaker and more helpless than he's ever been. If she decided to pick up his knife and cut his throat with it, he probably wouldn't be able to stop her.

And for a moment, he actually considers letting her.

Until the rage rises again, overwhelming the pain, making his entire body jolt with a violent tremor. His fingers form claws as he shoves himself to his feet, hunched over, staggering slightly from the effort. A muffled whisper, clotted and hoarse, seeps through his molten mask as he lurches towards her and the knife. ]

... Za... ri... na...