deercountry | (open) — have you seen a little girl?

Entry tags:

(open) — have you seen a little girl?

^{Who: Rose Da Silva / horrormom + you!
What: Catchall — includes general & event prompts.
When: Throughout the month of November.
Where: Various places around Trench, The Tower, etc.

Content Warnings: distressed mothers / themes of missing children / religious themes & imagery / fanatical cultists (from Rose's canon as well as Trench) / event-related warnings in later prompts (sleeper farm, imprisonment, bodies, etc.) / blood}

MOM ON A MISSION

( Rose Da Silva is somewhere strange and frightening — alien in ways, like some place frozen in a time that's not hers — and her little girl isn't beside her anymore.

Rose has lived this before. And like last time, there's only one single purpose driving her: to find her daughter. The difference is that this time, there are seemingly no clues to follow, no little puzzle pieces left behind. Something within Silent Hill had called to her, guided her through its monsters and nightmares, showed her where to go. Here (wherever here even is; she's heard the name Trench but Rose thinks it must be some extension of that otherworldly place, of Silent Hill) she's all on her own. And so she keeps looking.

Through November, it's what she does: wandering the streets and shops of this place, seeking out information, searching. Like last time, she won't stop. )

^{ooc ➤ Throughout the month, Rose can be stumbled upon just about anywhere throughout Trench. Feel free to wildcard your character encountering her roaming around your district, near your home or business, etc. I've listed some specific scenarios below, but I'm 100% flexible. The titles of each section below link back to the game info about them, for easy reference!}

i. WILLFUL MACHINE
( Rose soon enough finds her way to a hub of activity, stunned by how lively it is in comparison to Silent Hill. No townspeople scrounging through the dust of abandoned buildings for scraps of food, no deadly-quiet spaces in which time seems to hang heavy and tense, before those sirens wail to unleash a nightmare.

It almost seems... like a normal place, here in Willful Machine. The smell of fresh things cooking, the bustle of civilians buying and selling from various stalls and shops. And yet, with that comes a new type of dread in Rose: this place is huge and there are many more people here. It would be much easier for a tiny little girl to stay lost.

Well, she certainly isn't shy about asking questions. You might see her — a well-kept woman in a long tan overcoat and knee-high boots, approaching various stall owners, asking to speak to whomever's in charge. No one really seems able to give her a straight answer on that, but she's not giving up; of course she isn't. Rose keeps looking around, keeps asking. Maybe she winds up at your business, or approaches you on the street as you're browsing. Her questions generally cycle between:

'Excuse me, can you tell me who's in charge around here?'
'Sorry to bother you, but have you seen a little girl? Long, black hair? She's only nine.'
'Hey, do you know where I can get a charger for this? Like an electronics place, or a pharmacy or something?', in which case she'll be holding up the cell phone that's hanging from her neck by a strap. ...This was a Prime Mom Cell Phone in 2006, okay. )

ii. DARCMOUTH
( This place feels more familiar. With its dreary haze, the fog that seems to be a permanent fixture. Like a dream — just on the cusp of becoming a nightmare. Rose makes her way through Trench's fishing district wide-eyed and alert, a perpetual chill down her spine as though in anticipation of some monstrous thing to come crawling out of the fog her way. No monsters come and no siren sounds, but she can't relax, hands shoved into the pockets of her coat, shoulders hunched upwards against the November chill, even more nippy out here by the sea. It bites her cheeks and nose, leaving them flushed red.

She wanders the docks, listening to the deep creak and groan of boats slowly moving up and down in the water, trying to ignore the heavy stench of fish and brine. On occasion she has to tuck her nose into the crook of her elbow, swallowing down a gag. If, for some reason, you are also at the gloomy district, you might see the woman who looks severely out of place yet purposeful — searching nooks and crannies, stepping lightly over a mound of fish entrails to peer into the frosted-over windows of a rundown old warehouse, its entrance locked. She's dragging her nails against a window, and then crouching to find a dusty brick, which she starts hitting the window with — though its glass is extremely thick and doesn't immediately bust. Rose doesn't stop, however, because she is absolutely determined to break in and doesn't seem to have any real concern for who might hear her doing so.

Or maybe you hear her doing something else — shouting, running — after someone, the glint of something large and shiny held in their hand (a locket with the Virgin Mary on the front). Maybe you can help stop the thief from taking off with what is clearly very precious to the woman. Rose is pretty fast, but the person who stole her locket knows the ins and outs of this place, taking turns through alleys, around trade stalls, and she has no way of stopping them. No weapon, no powers; all she can do is run.

Eventually, Rose also finds her way to the shoreline, the place she remembers coming up from. Something here... feels different, somehow; it's some awareness she can't quite explain. As though within her spirit something is stroked so gently that it's barely a touch at all, and something inside of her shudders gently in response. She won't turn away from it, no. Rose slowly makes her way down that soft black sand, eyes narrowed and teary against the sharp sea breeze. By now, she's... tired, and she aches in a way she's beginning to grow used to aching.

She doesn't know how long she walks, but at some point she comes across something lying there where ocean meets shore, waves lapping up against where it's wedged into the sand. The woman slows almost to a halt, feeling as though the breath has been knocked out of her. Then she's approaching the item she already knows she recognises, crouching to gently lift it up out of the sand.

Rose gasps, falling down onto the sand, legs tangled beneath her as something racks through her very frame; it's a reaction that physically hurts. She presses the item to her chest (it's soaked through, cold and limp against her), and wails loudly out to the ocean — a name, Sharon.

If you get close enough to see, you'll realise that what she's holding is a brown teddy bear. )

iii. CRENSHAW
( When she hears about an orphanage in this city, Rose immediately finds her way to it through word of mouth, some desperate hope still remaining in her. It's all she has, that desperation, that hope: the two mingled together into an almost tangible presence up under her sternum.

Her daughter isn't there. She looks for her amongst every single lost child currently inhabiting the orphanage — calling for Sharon and then Alessa — but her little girl isn't there.

She might show up there, though. God, she might. Maybe if someone finds her and brings her somewhere safe... And though Rose can't possibly keep watch every day, she does end up visiting the orphanage very often, perched on the cold stone steps outside of it, the bag that washed ashore with her tucked close to her feet. On her lap, she holds a couple of drawings, and she keeps looking over them — one a cheerful, child's depiction of sunflowers, the other a... much more horrific sight. The woman's frowning deeply as she examines them, brushing the pad of her thumb gently over the crayon art, seeming to be searching for something within. Some hidden clue that maybe she missed.

Beside her, a white dove sits, docile and calm, occasionally fluttering her wings and giving soft sounds as she keeps a look out. )

THE SLEEPER FARM ➤CW: EVENT WARNINGS APPLY; SPECIFICS WILL BE IN SUBJECT HEADERS

( She sees what they do — how they take people, and though Rose doesn't know where that may be or why, she knows she has to follow.

She's trembling to her core as she quickly trails the horrible thing that was maybe once a person into the black hole it creates, but she's faced horrible things before, and she will never back down from facing them again. Not if there's a possibility that her daughter is threatened.

She never sees the attack coming, but it must have caught her in the act. She wouldn't have tried to evade it anyway, wouldn't have tried to escape. She has to end up wherever this thing is taking people; there is no other option for her. And so Rose is knocked out in an instant, a willing captive. )

i. THE STALLS

( When Rose comes to again, it takes her a few long moments to try and pull herself from her thick, stunned haze. She keeps her eyes closed, though her other senses begin to pick up on the things around her, and she knows that she's been taken to a nightmare.

The sounds of machinery whir and thud and grind somewhere not far away; the potent (familiar) smells of oil and must and what she recognises as blood greet her as though she'd never left. Rose slowly peels her eyes open and stares at the room she's currently in — not so much a room at all, but a sort of stall, like what an animal would be contained in. Her heart skips a beat so hard that she gives a shaky, pained sound.

The Darkness, she immediately thinks. What those in Silent Hill had run from, hidden from in their Church, tried to keep at bay with their beliefs. Their faith..... their ugly, twisted, monstrous faith. Their fear, their cruelty. She'd helped destroy them and their Church, watched Alessa rip them apart as they screamed.

But it isn't over, she thinks. Those deformed creatures that take people here... they could be connected to The Brethren, maybe working for them. Some of those cultist people could have survived the massacre back in Silent Hill. They could have taken her Sharon again.

It's then that Rose realises she's not alone in the stall. There's someone else — and she calls out to you, her wrists bound together behind her back, shackled. Fuck, if that's not familiar, too. )

Hey! Hey, you awake?

ii. STORAGE

( Or maybe you encounter her after you've escaped from your holding pen and are making your way through the industrial, bleeding labyrinth. By then, Rose has gotten out of her own shackles and grabbed a large wrench she found lying around, holding it to her chest. There's some blood smeared across her jumpsuit and staining the soft blonde of her hair, smudged against a cheek; it's not her own blood, but she's been exploring and brushed across a hanging body or two (or three or four, it's endless, the mutilated bodies in this horrible place are endless.)

If you've had the misfortune of being hung up and are clearly alive, Rose will rush over to you; she'll help you, won't leave you behind. Or maybe you're safely on the ground and happen across the woman exploring one of the countless rooms. Quiet and barefoot, tracking blood-stained footprints across the cold ground, Rose doesn't seem to be searching for a way out. No, she's not trying to escape. Not just yet. First, she has to see if Sharon is here and she's not fucking leaving until she searches every single room.

So she explores dark storage spaces filled with tools or piles of bodies in bags, the wrench held tightly in her hands. She's afraid, of course she's afraid, but something other than fear is what drives her. She's done this before, not so long ago at all; she'd gotten her daughter back no matter what it took. At the time, it felt like it took everything, every single thing, but oh— there's more left in her; she feels it now, a certain anger she's grown to rely on rising up from the well deep within her. And she'll use it to protect anyone who needs protecting, and to kill whatever stands in her way now. )

WILDCARD / ETC

^{ooc ➤ Hit me up on plurk (skeletals) / discord (large bat#2354) / pm / Rose's plot post
Respond in prose if that's your preference, and I'll gladly follow suit!}

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[She might come upon a violently shaking pile of body bags, the worst shuddering coming from a bag near the bottom of the stack. The shaking stops and a muffled voice mutters inside the bag that started the commotion.]

High marks for creativity...

[A corner of the bag bulges as if the contained Sleeper has shifted their head into it. A face presses against the treated canvas of the bag, then the mouth closes on the fabric as the resident subject chews on it...]

( Nothing in Rose wants to approach those bags, and yet she is anyway. Slowly, bare feet making no sound as she steps closer, body tense, wrench held firmly in her grasp. There's definitely someone in there — too big to be Sharon, thank god, but then she hears the voice, and the fact it's clearly a person and they're clearly alive is a sharp horror that makes her gasp out loud. She has to help them.

The woman crouches down closer, just in time to witness the face moving, pressed up inside the bag like something trying to escape flesh, a grotesque sight. And he's.... chewing, trying to chew his way out. Rose gives a startled yelp, then— )

Hold on! I'll get you out! ( She's dropping her wrench with a loud clatter to the ground before shoving bags aside with a strained groan; it takes her a few minutes, the body bags almost impossibly heavy in their dead weight.

Eventually she gets them tugged off of the squirming one and her hands fumble quickly, finding the zipper down at the bottom and ripping it open to free the person trapped inside. )

Fuck—!

[A blond man sticks his head out through the gap, reddish gold eyes literally blazing as he gasps, drawing in a long breath. The fire in his vaguely reptilian eyes fades, though the color remains.]

Another moment, and the weight plus the bag over my face would have smothered me. You have my gratitude.

[He pushes back against the bodies still atop him and slithers backwards like a snake shedding its skin.]

( Rose takes a step back as he starts peeling himself out of the body bag — immediately taking note of those eyes. How they burn for a moment, like nothing human. Like something from Hell itself. Her heart skips a beat so hard that it hurts.

She eases back towards the wrench she'd dropped before, not taking her eyes off of him as she stoops and draws the tool (weapon) back into her hands and slowly stands back up.

....What if she just rescued something that was supposed to be kept confined? )

Why are you in here? This... place.

[The rest of him looks human, albeit a tall, robust, muscular human, clad in a black sleeveless under shirt and loose black linen undershorts, who moves with almost unnatural agility as he fully emerges and stands, pushing his tousled hair back from his brow. He turns to her, looking her up and down before raising his hands disarmingly and keeping his posture relaxed.]

Don't look alarmed. There's worse things here than me, and they're likely what hauled us in here.

[He glances about them, clearly keeping watch for their captors or whatever has them hostage.]

But to answer your question: I'm here for the same reason you are, because someone took an interest in our respective physiology.

( There is definitely a danger to him, even for all that he does look human — all in black, the way he moves, even his body type. He looks like he could defend himself without a goddamn problem, and Rose, stood facing him with only a wrench and literally zero fighting experience, feels very small.

But she stays where she is, staring at the man with the strange eyes. 'Worse things than me'... So he was brought here, too. That puts him in the same category as her, and Rose stares for a long moment more before she relaxes her hold on the weapon a little, draws it downwards. )

Our physiology? Do you know what they're doing to people, here?

( There's an almost desperate curiosity in the way she asks. She doesn't actually know what's going on here, only that they're taking people and... butchering them? Draining them of blood? She's seen such horrible things in these rooms, but she doesn't know what the meaning behind it all is. )

Our peculiar hosts are either studying our substance and detecting our strengths and flaws, or more distressingly, they're butchering us in the traditional sense of the word.

Though there's likely other possibilities. They hardly seem like the types to limit their options.

[He might rove onto the aisle running among the storage spaces, walking carefully, given the heat and state of the floor, but glancing over his shoulder at her.]

If I dare ask you a favor after the way you rescued me from suffocation, but have you seen a pair of boots about?

( She certainly wasn't expecting an answer about sunshine and rainbows, but Rose still visibly balks at what he says. She's quiet for a few long moments before finally taking her gaze off of him to look around at their surroundings. )

I saw one of them... the one that brought me here. ( ...The one she willingly followed, more like. She had run right into the lions' den. )

They're not anything human. ( That much, she's sure of. Then she's looking back at him, brows lifting for a moment before she slowly moves over towards a corner of the room, and starts carefully picking through the pile of clothes she'd seen there before, when she was investigating. )

There's some clothes over here. Looks like stuff they were taking off people... Your boots might be under here. ( Maybe some of her own items are here, too. )

[He looks back to her, a furrow of concern running through his brow.]

As did I, at least until they knocked me out, and I'm generally difficult to render unconscious. It's happened before, though, in this world's predecessor, being incapacitated. This place, in whatever iteration it might be, loves to sport with us, the Sleepers, though so does any dream world.

[The driest of chuckles in his throat, then he adds.] Nor am I, not any longer, as you probably gathered. I suspect... they were Sleepers, at least until they found a way to harness Corruption without it consuming them entirely.

[He turns and approaches, kneeling beside her and rummaging in the pile.] At this point, any pair that fits will suffice. This place is an occupational safety and health nightmare.

[Finding a pair of combat shoes, he rises and holds the bottom of one to the sole of his foot, comparing the two before slipping them on.] Close enough. I owe you for all this.

( This world's predecessor? Could that mean Silent Hill? It's a thought Rose hangs onto for the moment, as she keeps looking through the pile of discarded clothing. None of it seems to belong to her, though she does manage to locate a womens' jacket that she slips on, and a pair of sneakers.

She pauses as he outright addresses not being fully human. Rose has heard plenty about the whole... "squid" process, and she does remember it herself, but it's something she's not thought much on, reserving her focus on the search for Sharon. She's not fully convinced it's all even true. She can feel that she's changed somehow inside, but... she's not quite sure what that means.

Him, however.... There's clearly more to him physically — the eyes. )

Did this place... change you? Into something not human?

( It's maybe dangerous to inquire more directly about, but she needs all the information she can get. As she's asking him, Rose stands, and finally gives a little smile. Despite everything, ever fear, she's not someone who can easily see others in distress and not want to do something. )

You don't owe me— seems like all of us could use all the help we can get around here.

( A pause, before she asks what she'd wondered a moment ago: ) The place you talked about... before this one. Was it called Silent Hill?

[A dry chuckle in his throat, almost affectionate or indulgent, then he speaks.]

My dear, I hadn't been human for quite some time before the powers in this place summoned me to this world and the one that birthed it. [More serious, he continues.] Something happened to transform me from a mere mortal human to something greater, though less than a god.

[He returns the smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes, which might simply result from the change in physiology.]

We are Sleepers, and given the things this world throws at us, we are each other's best support, aren't we? I've not been the best at appreciating the kindness of others, and so I'd return it however I can.

[He'll turn and advance along one metal walkway, glancing around as if seeking out a likely weapon, finding a sledgehammer and hefting it as if it weighed no more than a wooden kitchen mallet.]

[He glances back to her.] No, I've not heard that name before. But... have you heard of a town called Deerington?

( Rose is listening very intently to all of that. There was a time when such things.... powers and strange worlds and transformations.... would have been so far out of her concept of understanding. The days when she was just a PTA Mom from Ohio, and her biggest worry of the day was which restaurant she wanted to have brunch at.

Now... things have changed. She's changed — before this place, in the process of learning that the supernatural does, in fact, exist. And that her own daughter is wrapped up in it. In all honesty, she's not sure if the word "human" could even apply to Sharon any more.

What he's saying has some similarities to that, enough that it keeps hold of her attention as she watches him lift that monstrous weapon so easily. Though she's still a bit nervous of him, it's probably a good idea to have someone so capable on her side through this. )

I've heard a few other people here mention it. Deerington. ( She nods, shifting the wrench into both hands, keeping a firm hold on it. What's to come after this will inevitably be.... difficult, and she's trying to prepare herself. )

I'm sorry that happened to you. That... transformation. It can't have been easy.

( She can't help thinking of what happened to Alessa, the girl that her own daughter was "birthed" from. The.... transformation she'd been forced to undergo, how much horror and pain the poor girl had felt. Whatever happened to this man... he was human once, too. )

Then you're a bit ahead of the game compared to some of the others who've recently arrived. [He'll beckon her to follow as he approaches and mounts a metal staircase.] That world worked on dream logic, since it was, after all, the shared dream of a girl who was herself a dream made manifest. That's not to say this waking version of it doesn't have its share of monsters and dark wonders.

[He'll pause, giving her the chance to catch up.]

I appreciate the kind words. I didn't have much choice in the matter, but I've embraced that transformation and used it to the fullest.

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(open) — have you seen a little girl?

Sleeper Farm - Storage

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