[Reboot] Tales from Driftmoore

Jeroth

Mach Ambassador
Moderator

Nestled away from civilization, Driftmoore is a small, but thriving city in Massachusetts. A retreat for the rich that want to avoid the public eye or for the middle-class that want to avoid the hustle and bustle of the city. Within Driftmoore, the school system is small - two public schools and a private university that has some accolades. The population of the town consists mostly of restless teens, shy college students, and the jovial elderly. Massive chain stores have yet to reach this area due to their low population as they are lucky to even have a shopping center with a super market.



Day 0; March 18th, 2018. 7:05 AM

It was a quiet Sunday morning as usual. The soft dark of the town dissipating as beams of bright sunlight pour in past the tips of the mountains from the east. The large lake that Driftmoore encompassed began to sparkle and shine. Snoozed alarms begin to go off again as the shopkeepers begrudgingly awaken to start their day.


- - - -

Victor:

An endless nightmare appears to have haunted you. A crimson hued diner with a tome made of human flesh and scarlet text that seemed to bleed, describing the life story of Jonathan Jaymes.

((Please start off by posting once about your day from start to finish. It's assumed that the students know one another, so feel free to include one another. If you want to collaborate a story between two characters, feel free to do it in the OOC thread. Future Days will involve more posts, but for Day 0, just one post.))
 

Elliot

Confirmed Robot
Member
7:05 AM
It's Sunday, his day off, but Matthew wakes around his usual time anyway to start his morning routine. He hits the gym shortly after getting up, absorbed in his own world with his earphones blasting Prince and Bruno Mars in equal measure. Unself-conscious, he lets himself move freely to the music, nodding his head as he does his lifts and practically dancing his way through his cardio routine. When he finishes, the headphones go off and he returns to the world of reality, catches someone looking at him and flashes a bright smile as he heads back to his apartment for a bite to eat and a shower, and to change into his ordinary clothes.

9:15 AM
It's around this time that Matthew's day actually begins. He stops into The Bean's Knees for a cup of coffee; the barista knows his order already, and she looks vaguely familiar, but they don't speak beyond the transaction. He leaves a tip, and heads outside, bringing his coffee with him as he takes a walk. The lake glitters in the morning light, beautiful from afar, but as Matthew looks over it, he feels a sort of ominous gloom and melancholy come over him in wondering what it hides in its depths. He turns his back on the lake, banishing those thoughts from his head, and heads in the direction of the church.

Service begins at 9:30; by that time he's finished his coffee and found his seat beside his father. This is all they share together, these days -- a few quiet moments of contemplation, Matthew clutching his locket in his hand, amongst a formalized ritual. He attends more for that tradition than out of any particular religious feelings; somehow the act of remembering his mother became tied up in these services, even though his mother herself followed Shinto practices. When the service is over, he leaves without staying to chat with either his father or the parishioners.

11:20 AM
Back at home again, Matthew attends to his weekly household chores: laundry, vacuuming the floors, scrubbing the bathroom, preparing lunch and then cleaning the kitchen, and so on. When his apartment is spotless, he feels content, but nothing more. Falling onto the sofa gracelessly, he allows himself time to relax, to read, and to watch some television. Time passes by when he stops keeping track of it.

4:00 PM
Matthew receives a call from his closest friend, Jason Gonzales. He perks up right away, inviting him over for an early dinner after a quick conversation, and hangs up quickly to get started on making it. Jason arrives about a half hour later, and they eat together on the sofa as Jason tells Matthew about his week, about the latest developments with his girlfriend, and Matthew listens, easily brought to laughter by Jason's way of telling a story. After dinner, Jason suggests they go skating, and Matthew happily agrees. He rarely has time for his hobby anymore, and it's the first time that week that he feels like he's really broken out of his routine. Skate Estate, the good old rink they've been going to for years, is slightly run-down and plays mostly Justin Bieber music, but he feels at home there.

7:30 PM
After saying his goodbyes and embracing his friend, Matthew heads home. He walks by the lake again, now a vast presence shrouded in the evening's darkness, and turns away to keep his eyes on the path ahead of him. When he arrives at his apartment, he's physically exhausted if not yet tired, and he curls up with his laptop, catching up with a few other friends online and letting himself unwind before falling asleep.
 
Last edited:

BlookyHannah

Well-Known Member
Member
Day 0; March 18th, 2018.

7:42 AM
Lucy awakens to the sixth, or perhaps seventh, snooze. Her comforter is a motivation sapping monster and only the threat of losing her job brings her the strength she needs to free herself from it's cozy grasp. She replaces her pajama pants with jeans, puts her hair up, and fills a travel mug with hot water. She taps Merla's jar for luck and hurries out of her studio apartment to open the coffee shop. Anymore, it's just her down there. The owner comes on Mondays but doesn't say much. Someone else works on Friday and Saturday. They've never met - nothing has forced her to change shifts since graduation and there's no reason to hit work on her days off.

7:58 AM
After unlocking the glass doors and flipping the painted sign to "open," Lucy steps outside and breathes in the cool morning air of Driftmoore. No one will be in for a while, anyway. She dicks around on her phone and makes ironic posts she doesn't really believe in, doing the "rounds" of her usual site visits. She looks for jobs - there is nothing that will accept a new graduate across her 4 boards. She appreciates the glittering lake a little more and sits at the counter, comping an egg sandwich from the fridge display.

9:15 AM
Three customers, two she doesn't have to ask. The third only wanted black coffee. Easy to remember for the future.

10:20 AM
A bird, perhaps with some lacking in mental faculties, hops around outside the door and eventually sneaks inside. Lucy, regrettably, chases it out after taking pictures.

12:30 PM
Lucy's official break comes. Break is whenever customers don't need her. That tends to be more often than not, but 30 minutes for legal purposes. The shop is too small and the traffic is too low to warrant more than one employee. There's a handgun and a landline for dialing 911 on the fly. Lucy has no idea how to use a gun and only some idea how to use a landline. She does a little yoga behind the counter and nods off with her earbuds in. A customer has to wake her to order coffee, but they aren't a jerk about it. Thank God. Lucy makes a quip about how being a barista is arduous work and nodding off comes with the territory. The sarcasm is a hard miss, but the customer continues to not be a jerk.

4:00 PM
On the dot, Lucy locks up the shop and wipes down all the counters and tables. She notices some unsettling red smears on the towel and momentarily questions who brought blood with them. Someone's cut or blister, maybe. She surveys the shop. It's all old, antique looking brick walls with dust and cobwebs. The sleek, modern ikea furniture and lamps break the illusion. The only other feature reminiscent of the past is a small but ornate chandelier. Lucy is confident it will fall on someone at an inopportune moment - ideally long after she has moved somewhere else. She leaves the building and again locks the porch style doors behind her. Twilight settles in over Driftmoore and makes the lake an off purple, off pink color. She pops in her earbuds and walks to the mini mart between here and home.

4:15 PM
Lucy acquires the necessary supplies to make brownies.

4:50 PM
Lucy assembles brownies. She puts them down in the lobby after partitioning her fair share for the week. She jogs around the neighborhood once or twice, absconded by a mosquito or twenty before giving up and going back inside. Brownies are already disappearing. She ponders leaving her name and room number with them so she might earn favors from other tenants now and then, but reconsiders. She is a millennial. She knows that by identifying herself as a girl living in a an apartment complex someone will surely take a brownie, enjoy it, sneak into her room and murder her or worse. She returns to her studio, dons pajama pants and spreads out across the couch with a book on how to identify knife type by wound depth and appearance. A Netflix original she has seen already plays in the background. Dinner is leftover chicken and rice from the "weekend."

11:00PM
While in bed with the last of her social media rounds, Lucy gets a text from someone she used to know in high school. Driftmoore feels safer than ever.
 

coolpool2

Savage AF
The Original Gangster
As the morning light filters in through the window Yu lets out a quiet yawn. She stretches and gently pats her face a few times to wake herself up before checking the time. 6:47, time to get up and face the day! Forcing herself to get up, she throws her body upwards and spins out of bed landing on her feet. The morning is a rush as she gets herself ready for the day. Mentally making a list of everything she needs to do as she tidies up her appearance, and makes a quick breakfast for herself and her sleeping parents. She only takes a moment to stop when she smiles at herself in the mirror. A smile goes a long way, let’s make this a beautiful day.

After locking herself for a short time to squeeze in some studying, she takes off her headphones and heads off for work. After a brisk walk She arrives at the storefront of a small Chinese noodle restaurant on a side street. As she opens the door she takes in the setting of the shop, the nice wood walls and patterned stone flooring. It’s a comfy little place, but could use a little more business. Yu skips towards the back to hang up her coat. She sees her boss and the waiter on shift playing a game of cards, and gives them a smile and a wave. “Yo boss, John.” She moves over to the kitchen after they acknowledge her and starts preparing for business hours. As she cleans her tools she smirks as a loud groan of frustration comes from the back. The boss always had a way with cards, pays not to bet against her. Soon enough the place opens for business and customers start coming in. Slowly at first, then a bit quicker. The place never fills up completely, but it does get a little busy at the lunch rush. As she does her best to cook she sneaks in a few glaces at the customers from the behind the bar. Slowly the customers thin out again as business hours come to a close. After she closes up shop she briefly spends some time in the back with her coworkers, sharing stories and playing cards.

The walk back is quiet and uneventful, just how Yu likes it. She walks, half lost in thought until before she knows it, she is back home. She gives a greeting to her parents and a routine chit chat before heading to her room to flop onto her bed. Letting out a sigh she sinks into the mattress, enjoying the peace and quiet. She slides on her headphones and boots up her laptop, deciding to spend the rest of the night chatting online while playing some games. Yu has a quick chat to with her old best friend, asking about the weather and recent events. After she’s had enough internet chatter she prepares a lunch for class tomorrow while humming a song, then heads of to bed around 10. Smiling to herself and ready to see what tomorrow brings. It wasn’t a very eventful day, but a peaceful day is better than a bad one.
 

Tirin

God-Emperor of Tealkind
Moderator
Victor nearly bolted as his alarm went off, the silky sound of soft jazz and beauty of the pale morning light filling his expansive bedroom contrasting his rushing thoughts. Jonathan Jaymes? Who the hell is that? He ran a hand through messy, matted hair as he tried to rationalize the strange dream. Must be a name I saw around, maybe in the newspapers or something... God, I came here for a bit of peace and quiet and the nightmares have only gotten worse. As the last few notes of Blue Moon Drive played, Victor reached for his phone to check the time. 7:23... had he been hitting snooze? Perhaps it was better here than New York; he'd either have been hellishly hung over, but awake, or getting shouted at by his father by now. The Primus patriarch did not approve of what he saw as laziness.

He didn't pull himself from the velvety sheets until 7:30, spending those few minutes idly browsing his phone and looking through his itinerary. He had a dinner meeting scheduled tomorrow with a Michael Sanford and a Jonathan Jaymes - or he thought so, anyway, before rereading the name. Jonathan Jaynes; it was just his mind playing tricks on him. That had to be where he'd seen it, but it didn't explain how often he'd been having nightmares since coming to Driftmoore. He found himself considering booking an appointment with a doctor... but then, his father wouldn't respond well to that when he heard. He didn't respond well to much that Victor did, these days.

The young man's first abuse of his free time was to take a lengthy, hot shower, hoping the relaxation would cleanse his mind as well as it did his body. Certainly, it helped, and he emerged perfectly-groomed some forty-five minutes later to hide his scar, don his suit, slip on his ring, and pick out a tie to wear. He nearly went for red - and, remembering his dream, quickly put that decision down. Gold it was. It was quarter to nine by the time he left the large, Primus-family-funded apartment, a newspaper tucked beneath his arm and a briefcase hanging from his other hand. He was near the center of Driftmoore when he realized he had forgotten what was, in his eyes, a crucial piece of equipment for any businessman: his coffee. With a sigh, he gave in to the temptation and took a glance up and down the street for a place with a decent chance of at least approaching his own artisanal Colombian arabica. "The Bean's Knees"; he couldn't help but smile despite himself. That would do.

He walked into the shop and took a casual glance around: small, maybe a little quaint, but with a charming look, and the store wasn't so bad, either. He greeted the redhead at the counter with a warm smile and a fiver. "Black as midnight on a moonless night, please. You can keep the change." Victor took a seat as soon as he got his coffee, stretching out on the furniture and taking a sip while he started to thumb through the finance pages. He let out a little sigh of contentment upon his first taste; a damn fine cup of coffee. Maybe he'd stop by more often. Victor stayed for nearly two hours, making adjustments to his portfolio on his phone and taking note of a few companies to look into. If there was one advantage to being the heir of a wealthy family (even if a disgraced one), he had to say it was the ease of getting involved with things. By the time he was thirty, Victor was quite confident he'd be extremely well-off - mor extremely, that is.

The growling of his stomach is what finally pushed him out of his chair, and he quickly headed to an old - or, rather, new - favorite, the Cove. It was a cozy cafe that made, by his estimation, some of the best steak and eggs in the entire state, and he downed as much with gusto and a glass of orange juice. It was nearly 1pm when he left, and it dawned on Victor that he had barely spoken to anyone that day. He was still set on that strange dream, even when he had other things to think of. Feeling uncharacteristically exhausted despite his "freedom", he returned home to take off his jacket and relax on the couch, hoping that a little bit of time spent to himself would help cure him of the funk.

Those plans got sunk when he was about halfway through his first episode of The Expanse and received a call from his father. When Victor finally got around to admitting that he was planning to spend the remainder of his Sunday at home and not working, he was severely dressed down by the older man for his laziness and alleged poor spending and time management habits. Thoroughly demoralized, he proceeded to sink into the couch and spend the next ten hours watching Netflix, even choosing to order out for another meal, before going to bed at eleven o'clock. Between his anxiety towards what may torment him tonight about and the emotional turmoil, it wasn't until midnight that Victor finally fell into a tense slumber.
 

Jeroth

Mach Ambassador
Moderator
March 19th, Midnight:

A thick mist rolls in from the lake, washing over the town of Driftmoore. Few lights remain on as they are snuffed out and the town of Driftmore returns to rest.

??? - 2:59 AM





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The Cove - The Witching Hour
You all awaken to the cold tables of the Cove and your fingers entwined with a thick, red moss. . You have been there for some reason or another, but this time something feels off. The bright blues of the walls were replaced by a dull, moldy green. The usually spotless white floors were dirty and stained with splotches of a darkened red. The stagnant air seemed suffocating and heavy as a thin mist filled the Cove.

The only sense of warmth is felt by Victor. His hand rests on a pallid, pulsating tome, bound in something soft. An alarming thought alerts Victor to what it really was - human skin. A clockwork latch kept the tome closed. Through the mist, you recognize other locals of Driftmoore - a wealthy businessman, a bored barista, an earnest waitress and a small business owner. An eerie silence hangs in the air as you come to your senses.
 

Elliot

Confirmed Robot
Member
When he wakes up, Matthew's in a restaurant that he's been to a few times before when he hasn't had time to cook, with the impression that he's been sitting here for uncountable years. Perhaps, even, he's died here, and nature has reclaimed not only the building but his body as well. The restaurant itself is filled with the dank smell of something like mildew and earth; there's a visible fog in the air even though they're inside; and, as he glances down to look at the table where he's sitting, he feels the soft moss against his fingers. He stands up, pulling his hands out of the moss and pulling it off where it's clung to his fingers. Yes, still flesh and blood fingers, even if they are freezing cold. He rubs a little warmth into them and looks around to see that he isn't alone: the barista who'd taken his coffee order that morning, the man who'd already been in the coffee shop at the time he did so, and a girl he recognizes as a student from the few times she'd needed something printed.

A strange dream, then. As vivid as everything feels, there's still this pervasive sense of unreality. He knows where he was the day before, and he knows that he went to sleep in his own bed at night. And these faces are as good as any to place in his dream.

"Hello," he says, breaking this silence. His gaze flickers between each of them and rests on Victor, whom he approaches first on account of the fact that he at least seems to be holding something, in a different position from the rest of them. "If any of you have a sense of what's going on here, I'd love to hear it." He's looking down at the book which Victor has, frowning in thought and idly fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve.
 

coolpool2

Savage AF
The Original Gangster
Her eyes slowly open, adjusting to the strange environment before she jumps with a start. She flails and lets out a squeak of surprise, trying to shake the moss off her fingers. Her eyes dart around as her flailing slowly stops, quickly taking in everything as her mind goes on full alert. As her breathing calms down she comes to a stop, a little embarrassed. It’s the cove… but it feels like a scene out of a post apocalyptic book, I don’t remember coming here, especially not with my seniors and some business man type. She gently pinches herself to make sure she isn’t dreaming while her eyes dart around as she shakes a bit. This place is so unsanitary, it would never pass a health inspection. It’s a chef’s nightmare. When Matthew breaks the silence her eyes dart to him. “S-Sorry, I don’t remember how I got here. But I think I’m going to leave. As soon as possible.” She tries to give him a nervous smile as she watches everything around her, keeping a close eye on the shadows.
 

BlookyHannah

Well-Known Member
Member
Lucy went to The Cove once when her parents came to visit - and the memory, boring and sour as it is, resurfaces briefly before retreating to make space for the current state of affairs. She inspects the moss on her fingers and scrapes some of it off, then looks upon her peers. Two of them are her customers from the day before. Black coffee and god, she doesn't remember, but she would if they were standing on opposite sides of the counter. The other is a flighty girl she's definitely seen before in some other restaurant around town. Flighty pinches herself. She is not dreaming. Lucy bites her lip - she is not dreaming either, or so it would seem.

She surveys the environment - it's like something straight out of a Stephen King novel, mist and mold abound. It is absolutely freezing and she shrinks her neck and chin down into her hoodie. Her eyes land on the tome beneath Black Coffee's hands.

"That," she says, pointing to it, "is human skin." Unmistakable. "Maybe he should tell us what's going on."
 

Tirin

God-Emperor of Tealkind
Moderator
For the umpteenth time in as many days, Victor started when he awoke, nearly scrambling out of the booth he was situated in and pulling his hand back from the strange moss, frantically scratching it off on the edge of the table. This is a dream - it has to be, it's too reminiscent of the one from last night. But since when could a dream feel so real? He looked around the warped diner, and was pleasantly surprised to find that instead of being hunted by monsters, he had actual people for company. A small business owner, a girl he'd seen once or twice at a local Chinese place, and the barista he'd met that very day. Weird, but there was something to be said for consistency - maybe it was just nerves transplanting his day-to-day into nightmares. He stood as he was approached by the only other man of the three, reflexively taking the book in hand while idly rubbing his ring with his thumb.

"A sense of what's going... oh, of course! I have a pretty good idea. This is a dream. A nightmare of mine, to be precise. I mean, think about it - I was here just this afternoon and now there's dirt and scum and blood... everywhere?" His voice rose, becoming steadily more incredulous as he went on. "And I'm holding a warm book made of human skin with a pulse?" He added, thrusting it forward to show that it, indeed, seemed to be throbbing to a heartbeat. "Putting aside how illegal and, frankly, fucked up that would be for me to own, how would it even be possible?"

Victor sighed and resignedly sat again. "I'm going to read this damn thing, and I'll bet any money that the text will look like it's written in blood or cut into the book or something, and tell me about... who was it? Jonathan Jaymes? Jaynes? Whatever. If any of you want to leave, be my guest; I'm not going to walk out into the mist just so I can wake up halfway into a heart attack." He said firmly, then scooted into the booth to make room for any of his new dream-associates who would join him and started to carefully unlatch the strange tome, cognizant of the fact that a screaming, demonic book would pretty well be par for the course with the way his nights had been going.
 

Elliot

Confirmed Robot
Member
"That's right," Matthew says, meeting the eyes of the girl who spoke to him first and returning her smile. It occurs to him that, however long they've been sitting here in this dream, it likely isn't the diner that's the only place affected. He needs to know what the town looks like outside, but before he can head to the door, he's taken aback by the realization of the material the book his made from. Visibly recoiling, Matthew drops his gaze to the man in the suit and drops his sleeve as well to face him directly.

When the man speaks, though, he seems completely genuine. Almost exasperated, as if he's done this a hundred times before. If this is a recurring nightmare of his, and now they're somehow sharing this dream, it should be possible to verify that, or to work it out in person. "Wait. I've never had this dream before," he says, "but I believe what you're saying." He doesn't sit down, but he does reach out to touch the man on the shoulder, intending to reassure him as well as keep his attention for a moment. "I've seen you earlier today. My name is Matthew Power. If this really is a dream we're sharing, and not something I'm making up on my own, come find me tomorrow morning. I work at The Ink Spot. Just knowing each other's names should be proof that this is real in some sense. Whatever is going on here, we'll figure it out together, I promise."

He hesitates another moment and then removes his hand, straightening up. "I'm not leaving. And I don't expect it'll be any better outside than in, but I'm going to take a look while you read over that, and then regroup here. Okay?" This is strange, but Matthew is puzzled more than frightened. He's never come to harm in a dream, after all. He meets the eyes of the girl who'd suggested leaving earlier, and gestures as if to say, 'Are you coming?' as he heads to open the door, intending only on taking a look outside and -- if she insists on leaving -- work out where and how.
 

coolpool2

Savage AF
The Original Gangster
Yu takes in all of the information, processing it in her head as her eyes flicker back and forth. "As creepy as it is to make a book out of human skin, that doesn't really mean much other than that someone had some inane hobbies." After commenting on the book she nods to Matthew and gets up, slowly approaching the door as if it might swing open at any moment.
 

BlookyHannah

Well-Known Member
Member
The book is in fact pulsing. Human skin falls in Lucy's knowledge range, but living books fall out. She frees herself from the moss, picking it off her extremities until her hands are clean and she can lean over to get a good look while Black Coffee explains. A nightmare? He doesn't seem stressed, treating the whole situation as if he had some hypoglycemia and got a little tired or tripped over a chair. Nonchalant, really. Because sure, this is totally normal, just an unfortunate thing people deal with sometimes.

Lucy's eyes follow the two who head to the exit. She nods them off, expectant they'll report back. It's not a bad plan - especially if this is some non-dream reality. Apocalypse? The book still keeps her attention. Her eyes land back on Black Coffee. Black Coffee, Matthew Power and Noodles. She is confident it's noodles, now, all the freshmen used to go. It seems they're all from around town. They know where to find her, and she thinks she could find Noodles if need be.

"Well, in that case, I'm going to be your spot-checker, buddy-system buddy with the bleeding book thing, Mr. Coffee."

She points to the tome and eyes him expectantly.

"And for the record, fucked up or not, that could very well be your book. It could compete for the least strange thing going on right now," she adds, motioning around at the hellscape. "Read on."
 

Jeroth

Mach Ambassador
Moderator
Dining Area - The Witching Hour

Your breath hangs in the cold air as you all crowd around the flesh-bound tome. An unnatural clicking noise fills the stagnant air as the locks are freed. The tome flies open in your hands as Viktor witnesses a familiar scene. Light cuts adorn the thin pages as blood oozes out. The page escapes under Victor's thumb each time as the book turns itself per entry.

April 28th, 1993.

Jonathan Jaynes was born in New York, New York to Lily and Scott Jaynes. His father was an executive of a paper company while his mother was a secretary.

October 7th, 2014

Jonathan Jaynes is sent to Driftmoore by his father to oversee the management of the paper mills.

January 3rd, 2018

Jonathan Jaynes meets with Victor Primus. After mentioning this to Scott Jaynes, he is encouraged to pursue a friendship for business purposes.


February 28th, 2018

Jonathan Jaynes discovers odd markings on a pale tree that oozes blood red sap. Witnessing this was his mistake.

The book seems to shudder as the page stretches and the vague outline of a face pushes out, inching near Victor. On its lips, the entry reads: "March, 20th 2018. Help... me... Victor..."

The book shakes before the face is pulled back and the last page is revealed.


March 21st, 2018

Jonathan Jaynes is found dead in one of his paper mills. In an accident, he tripped into a wood chipper. He leaves behind nothing except for his journal.


A stillness fills the air for a fleeting moment before a cacophony of pots and pans echo in the air from the kitchen.

The Kitchen - The Witching Hour

Page awakens as the crimson moss curls around her, keeping her to the wall. Pulling herself from the wall, she stumbles forward, knocking over pots and pans. She catches herself as she feels... strange. Her right knee feels strong like it felt before the accident. Her cane is nowhere to be seen, although her digital Leica camera is resting on the kitchen counter next to a bloodied knife.
 

Requiem

Well-Known Member
Member
7:00 AM
Page wakes up to her own internal clock. Her phone sits calmly on her nightstand, a notification shining out to her that says, "Alarm will sound in less than one minute." She dismisses the alarm before it can sound and gets up from her bed. Breathing deeply, she stares around her loft, a sense of something strange looming over her, almost hanging on her. She chalks this up to having just woken up.

She got dressed in a comfortable hoodie, a pair of yoga pants she'd left on the back of a chair in the kitchen, then left her apartment. She held her cane loosely in her hand, mostly for comfort than any other reason. Her knee wasn't troubling her so far.

Heading out quickly into the chill air of a Driftmoore morning, Page made her way to the only gym in the area worth paying monthly for. It was a daily ritual, less about the exercise or actual 'physical therapy' she had been prescribed and more about getting in tune with herself. She'd worked out every morning once her parents told her she was old enough, but after the accident, she kept the ritual up only out of habit, at first.

She stretched, jogged a little, pushed herself to sprint a bit, and even went and lifted some weights, mostly because she didn't want to go home after cardio alone. It was then that she saw a rather handsome man dancing through the gym. There weren't many people there to watch this unfold, an older couple pushing each other to work hard who paid her no mind, as well as two trainers with their clients. The fitness scene hadn't really hit Driftmoore like it did in bigger cities. Page laughed for a moment as the many danced through his routine and then took his headphones off. He flashed her a smile. Page would be lying if she didn't admit he was kinda cute.

With that thought, Page returned home.

8:15
Page showers, dresses, puts her messenger bag over her shoulder, her camera around her neck, and presses the tip of her cane against the ground. Today would be a good day, physically. She could feel it. Her knee would already be giving her issues if that weren't the case. Smiling in spite of herself, Page walks out of the apartment, shuts the door, then locks it behind her. A little under an hour after waking up, Page heads to work. She stops briefly and watches as a redheaded woman walks past her. That would be... a neighbor, right? Page couldn't place her right then and there, but she recognized her, she was sure of it.

9:30 AM
Page sits at her desk at the magazine, The Driftmoore Hermetic (an experimental title to be sure), and starts her computer. Quickly she checks her email, answers some messages from back home, sends that e-card to her mother for Aunt Becca's birthday, checks out leads for various articles, then calmly nods her head forward in a slump.

She forgot her coffee. At this point in the morning, what would it matter if she actually got it? The crap they keep at the magazine is just store bought, but even still, it would do... right? Page makes a move towards the pot and notices that it's empty. They forgot to make the pot. Sure, there was only the four of them working at the magazine, but why should it be Page's job to always fill the damn coffee?

"I'm going out on assignment, Mack." Page gathered her things and headed for the door. She heard no response from him, but figured he heard her all the same. It was a Sunday after all. Most of the writers at The Driftmoore Hermetic didn't really do the whole church thing anyways, so they were probably just trying to get some extra hours in like she was. It was a calmer day than normal, but it was still a day for coffee.

10:20 AM
She took the long way to the Bean's Knees. It was a cute little shop not too far out of the way, but far enough away to give her time out of the office. Sure, she spent some time taking pictures of the town as she had most days since moving to Driftmoore, but that was something she would have done even if she wasn't trying to get out of the office. Once she made it to the coffee shop, a silly sight greeted her.

Hopping around from leg to leg, a small bird seems to dance and play in front of the Bean's Knees. Page laughs and pulls out her Leica and snaps a few well timed photos, and a video to boot. As she shoots, she notices the redhead girl from earlier accidentally open the door. She spends a few minutes shooing the animal away and eventually manages to get it out of the store. Smiling again at the sight, Page lifts her camera once more and notices a man stretched out by himself with a cup, the newspaper, and his phone. He sure seemed relaxed. Good for him, Page thought. She knew who he was, she may not have been a news journalist, but she wouldn't be much of any kind of journalist if she didn't do her homework on high profile members of such a small town as Driftmoore. Victor Primus. He was a mystery, definitely. Page snaps a picture or two of him then thinks twice about going in for coffee just yet.

She pulls the cane from her messenger bag and heads back the way she came.

12:30 PM
After a few hours of chasing some potential leads (and hopefully giving Primus the chance to go about his business without thinking a journalist was tailing him), Page walked into the Bean's Knees, happy to see he was gone. She absentmindedly clicked through a few shots she had got in the last few hours, the bird, some of the paper mills, various shops, graveyards, and other interesting landmarks she must have shot a dozen times already from various angles. It was nothing new, but that was okay to Page. She wasn't trying to win any awards. She was happy where she was at and right now, that was at the Bean's Knees getting coffee.

Primus was gone by then and the redhead behind the counter had dozed off. Poor woman, she was probably bored to death working at such a sleepy shop. She tapped on the counter for a moment to no avail. She reaches across and taps her on the shoulder and quickly she wakes up.

"Sorry! I was just... wanting some coffee," Page says seeming rather sheepish from waking the woman up. At the same time, she starts scanning through her pictures again, wondering if she might have missed anything out of the ordinary.

"Sorry, being a barista is arduous work. Nodding off comes with the territory." Page hears the woman make the joke, she actually thinks it's pretty funny, but she was absorbed in her camera at the moment. It wasn't that she didn't like the joke, she just... that picture, of the mill... it was strange, she could have sworn she saw someone standing in a window, or...

"Ma'am?" The barista called to her.

"Yes, sorry, uh... green tea frap with two shots of watermelon please, whipped cream on top?" She handed over a five and then went back to her camera. It was probably just her imagination. The pictures of the mill were pretty damn normal, not a man in a window that she could see.

"Chalk it up to a lack of green tea," Page laughed aloud.

1:30 PM
Page drops her frap cup into a trash can and thanks the barista one last time. Tasked with going back to work with the pictures she took or procrastinating by getting a proper lunch... Page chose lunch. She had a noodle place she absolutely loved. The cook never got her order wrong and that had bought her absolute loyalty.

She orders quickly and then sits for a brief moment. For a second, she turns at just the right angle and sees the cook staring out of the kitchen at the customers. She didn't seem much younger than Page herself, only a few years maybe. She ate her food quickly, paid, then told the waiter to giver her compliments to the chef, leaving an extra tip on the table and nodding as she left.

2:00 PM
Page heads back to work, uploads copies of her images off her camera, then heads towards home.

5:00 PM
Page breathes deeply as she lays on her couch, unsure of what to do with the rest of the day. She hadn't needed her cane all that much and the pictures she had taken were all more or less fairly normal, despite that brief scare she had with the paper mill shots. It was a fun day, fairly normal, all things considered.

She went down to the main lobby and checked her mail. She'd forgotten to do it when she first came in. Luckily, there was nothing waiting for her, not even a package, but someone had baked brownies and left a tray of them at the front desk. Page hesitated for a moment. She was in her pajamas, not a soul in sight, but an oddly placed plate of brownies just happened to be waiting for her to take some? Morbidly, she thought to herself, well I've never been roofied before, and grabbed two brownies. She makes sure to lock her apartment up before eating either of them.

Still, she had to hand it to whoever made them. Roofie or not, they were delicious.

9:00 PM
The day comes to a close. Page breathes a humorous sigh of relief that the brownies were definitely normal, slides off the couch, turns off the TV, then finds her way under the covers of her bed. She'd be getting up a little earlier than she had today, she could tell. That internal alarm clock of hers was too well timed. Perhaps... 6:15? She figured it wouldn't hurt to guess, mostly as a small game to play with herself.

Eventually, Page soon dozed off, peacefully, quietly.

- - -

Moss. Red moss. It clung to her, seemed to dig into the empty space between her arms and legs, around her neck, braiding itself through her hair. It felt like hands, fingers pressing her back against the wall, telling her to stay asleep, to wake up, to stay put, to move.

In an instant, she fell forward, ripping at the moss around her. She felt her hair tug against the moss and it throws her off balance... no, that's not what does it. It was her knee, she knew it had to be her knee. It felt stronger, more capable. She hadn't felt like that since before that game.

She twisted at the last second, unsure of how to feel about her knee's renewed strength. Losing her balance, a clatter of pots and pans rang out from what she now recognized was a kitchen. She'd been back here before when she first moved into town. Mack had wanted her to get a taste for the local life and the Cove was the place to go for a great dinner. The kitchen had been part of her tour. She'd only ever been back there the once, but still... she knew the place without a doubt.

Ignoring the clatter, Page got to her feet and saw her camera waiting for her. That wasn't all. Next to it sat a bloodied knife. The two being together did not bode well for her. She watched crime dramas, she wasn't about to touch that knife, not for a second. She did, however, grab her camera. Maybe it knew how she had ended up in the Cove and why the whole place was absolutely defunct and run down. What she needed was answers.

With her head buried in her camera, Page stepped out of the kitchen and into the main dining area. A fair few familiar faces saw her before she saw them.
 
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Tirin

God-Emperor of Tealkind
Moderator
"Victor Primus." He replied softly as his fingers slowly worked the latch, his hands trembling slightly while doing so. "You know, Matthew - thank you. It's been rough since I've gotten here. Lot of nightmares like this, if not really... quite like it. That's a good plan; great way to check if I've totally lost my mind or if Driftmoore really is Hell under the small-town vibe." He smiled, if only slightly, when the barista joined him at the table - a smile which disappeared when she noted the possibility that he could, in fact, own the malign thing. The businessman responded by opening it, with confidence which he only realized bordered on reckless after having done so.

The book's bloodstained pages seemed almost comforting to Victor for the vindication they provided, but that sense of calm evaporated as soon as the pages began to turn. The first of the entries is strange, but a matter of public record - the third, however, had him pale for it bearing his name. By the time it had flipped to the fifth, all color had drained from his face, and he very nearly jumped from his skin as the shape of some horrid visage pushed forward out of the flesh, settling instead for holding it down extremely tightly. His eyes tore over the text on the last page - and then he immediately closed and re-latched the book, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. He glanced to the barista and forced a feeble smile. "You were saying?"

His desperate attempt at humor never got the chance to succeed, as the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen finally forced him to his feet. After a brief moment of searching for an improvised weapon (and settling on holding a chair by its back), Victor locked his eyes on the door to the kitchen, lowering his shoulders a little to do the same with his center of gravity. "Get ready for anything - running, especially." He warned, as his heartrate increased and adrenaline began to course through his brain alongside questions - very suddenly relevant questions such as whether or not he or anyone could die in this particular dream. As the door opened, he raised the chair from the floor - then sighed in palpable relief when he saw the face of a rather attractive young girl, setting it down. Stressed as Victor was, he couldn't think to say a word, nor do anything other than take that moment of relative peace to try and calm himself.
 

coolpool2

Savage AF
The Original Gangster
Looking at the book Yu felt a shiver go down her spine. She wanted badly to believe that what was happening wasn’t real, but she had no way to disprove what was going on. Having no choice but to accept it for the time being, she put on a brave face. Hearing the sound of crashing pots and pans she let out a gasp as her body tensed up. Her mind raced, considering all her options. Then she let go of the breath she was holding as someone walked out. “Another one hmm? I take it you’re as confused as we are?”
 

Elliot

Confirmed Robot
Member
"Victor," Matthew repeats in the same soft tone, with a calm in his face. "I haven't lost my mind," he assures him, and he smiles a little then, "and I'm confident you haven't lost yours enough to bring me into it. You aren't alone here." His thoughts of taking a look outside are put firmly on hold when Victor opens the book and his attention is caught, eyes focused on the tome. Now this is deeply, deeply unsettling, and Matthew feels his heart begin to pound in his chest. He is frightened, now, but not for his own sake or safety. If dreams can't hurt you, they can perhaps provide vision or insight. Something terrible is going to happen to someone else unless they act.

He has too many questions, but they all hear a loud clattering noise. As Victor prepares to fight, Matthew grabs the book, feeling the unsettling softness and warmth against his fingers vividly. It feels too important to run the chance of losing. Someone walks out from the kitchen, where the noises were coming from. A mundane explanation, this time. Matthew may even recognize her. Addressing her feels of less immediate priority, then, and he allows the younger-looking girl to handle it, just keeping an ear out. His attention returns, instead, to Victor, who looks extremely on edge.

"Victor," he says again, touching his arm once more in hopes of imparting some calm. "I understand how unsettled you must be, if you keep having dreams like this. But I don't think you've lost your mind at all. Johnathan Jaynes. You know him, right? What was written in there was true? That means there is still time for us to help him. When we wake up, it will be March 19th. We'll find each other, then we'll find him. I think it's reasonable to assume that if we save his life, you'll stop being haunted by these dreams, too, since they've all been about this man, haven't they?"
 

BlookyHannah

Well-Known Member
Member
Lucy has seen some things. None compare to the horror-movie book flipping-by-itself, generic white guy pleading for his life bullshit unveiled beneath Victor's fingers. There is something way too physical and gritty about it. Not dream like. Lucy is further unsettled, realizing just how heavy and surreal this has become. Dark, but familliar, too - and too coincidental to include only people from the same little flyspeck of a town. Her heart climbs up her throat but she urges it back down, swallowing hard.

"
I was saying -" but she's cut off. The kitchen vibrates with the clatter of pots and pans and she turns to look. A blonde emerges and joins the fray. She's a surprise, but who she is - it doesn't suprise Lucy at all. Green tea blend with watermelon and whip. But she had a cane. Lucy remembered thinking she was too young/beautiful/picture-of-fertility to have cane, or so would say the patriarchy. It's missing now. Lucy thinks they all must have stepped on the same sidewalk crack and the universe was taking it out on this Johnathan Jaynes person.

"Welcome to the party," Lucy says, waving weakly with one hand and rubbing her face with the other. She motions briefly to the table. Check out the creepy book. "Matthew is right. It's worth seeing if this pulsating thing has it's facts straight. If he was calling for help on the 20th and found dead on the 21st, we would only have a short investigation window. Tomorrow and the moments that lead up to his trauma on the 20th. The Bean's will be dead tomorrow after the morning work rush for those of you who want to dig deeper into this hole."

Worst case scenario, they would wake up and wouldn't remember one another or this insanity. It wouldn't be the first time someone had died in a wood chipper accident in Driftmoore. Probably. No, no, no - worst case scenario they ended up in wood chippers, too. She didn't have the mental effort just then to imagine all of Driftmoore covered in moss, mold and blood.

 

Requiem

Well-Known Member
Member
Page pushed past the door, mindlessly clicking through the camera. One thing at a time, she thought to herself. First it was waking up in the mass of red moss, then it was her knee suddenly feeling stronger than normal. Had she not seen her camera or the bloodied knife, she'd be freaking out that she did not have her cane with her. One thing at a time.

Page heard the scrape of a chair which drew her eyes away from the camera. Before her were four people she felt she knew. Wherever she was (Could it really be the Cove?), Page knew she hadn't come here of her own accord. She was brought here, she was placed with these people to see something specific, to be given some sort of message.

She stepped awkwardly towards the group, the awkward movement stemming mostly from the lack of pain in her knee, and looked them over, one by one. Victor Primus, she'd seen him earlier that day in the coffee shop, gave him a wide berth as well. Same for the barista from before, the redhead, though she remembered seeing her leave an apartment next to Page's as well. She even recognized her noodle chef from lunch the day before. The fourth one Page couldn't place at first. She knew his face, but wasn't sure from where. Then, it clicked. She had seen him at the gym yesterday morning. He had smiled at her. He certainly wasn't smiling right now, though.

Victor put the chair down as she approached. The barista gestured towards the book on the table, as if suggesting she take a look at it. It was at that moment that she noticed the cute guy pick up the book.

"Would you... mind?" Page let her camera rest on her chest as she reached for the book. Cute Guy handed it over. Just as it had before, the book flipped through itself, as though it had a mind of its own. The pages all seemed to be bleeding from cuts, maybe not fatal wounds, but numerous cuts all the same. That said, what would a fatal wound for a book even look like? It was safe to say that books generally weren't made from human flesh and they didn't usually have faces pushing out of the pages either. This was one realistic dream, but it definitely was a dream.

"Talking about what we do once we get out of here is all well and good," Page said. "The problem though is that we don't even know what here really is, not for sure at least. It's The Cove, that's clear enough, but this book, the words in its pages. Someone's setting us up for a story, I can tell you that much. Driftmoore is a sleepy town, but it's got its weird edges. I don't know about you guys, but this is definitely weirder than the Driftmoore I saw yesterday. I agree, we're definitely asleep right now.

"But what's more, look at these cuts in the book. This thing is alive, absolutely. Dream or no dream, nothing bleeds like this that isn't alive." She paused for a moment and set the book back down on the table. She briefly thought to herself and then nodded. "Cards on the table, here's what I've got: This place is something more than a dream, it has to be. I had an accident when I was younger, blew my knee out in sports. I can walk on it, even run on it if I have to, but not for long. I usually have a cane on me. When I woke up here, my cane was gone, my knee was perfectly fine, perhaps better than fine, and I found my camera waiting for me. Next to it was a bloody knife..." She gestured to the book. "There's more going on here than all of us having the same lucid dream. I'm grabbing the knife. Let's see if we can't match it to the cuts in the book?"

Page disappeared into the kitchen, quickly popping back out with the bloodied knife in her hands.

"What do you think?"
 
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