wroughtandtempered | heart game

☽ Unless otherwise noted, all memories and emotions are vivid, but not to the point they can't be distinguished from the participants' own (though it may take a moment or two to fully shake off the experience depending on their previous experiences or self-knowledge). There is a buffer, and it feels deliberate.

☽ All items are missing except clothing.

☽ All participants start out in a beast form, with an assigned element. They are only able to use their new shape's abilities and their element's powers; however, they know instinctively what these are and how to use them. Specialized skills (martial arts, mundane athleticism, etc.) can be used if they have the required anatomy for it.

The first thing you notice is that the previous chill has only continued to build. You are bitterly, achingly cold.

The second is that your body isn’t the one you’re most familiar with. It feels natural, though; there’s no dysphoria or awkward adjustment. It’s still you, even though the shape is a little (or a lot) different. ...Under the light of the full moon overhead, though, you can feel impulses bubbling up. Some of these instincts might be familiar, things you’ve dealt with before; others might be new and foreign. All of them nag at you, however, impossible to set aside or fully ignore.

Snow drifts down in thick clumps, blanketing the ground around you. Between its reflective white and the moon’s bright light, it’s easy to make out your surroundings: a forest in the distance, and a small house a little ways ahead. Lights are visible through the windows, and it looks welcoming in a way the forest definitely does not.

This room is a mostly-barren mess. Fire has ripped through it, leaving very little aside from the pervasive smell of smoke, blackened walls, and a badly charred desk against the opposite wall, under a window. There’s a blue broom and dustpan in one corner, but they’re only lightly used; most of the floor is still covered in burnt bits. In particular, a small collection of smoldering ashes sits near the desk.

On each wall is a painting: one of a house, one of three figures on a beach, one of the Clinic in Ellipsa, and one of a family— no, a collection of animals...?

It’s a clinic! Or... it was a clinic. The whole room reeks of smoke and burnt herbs, the walls are licked with sooty black marks, and what remains of the furniture in the room is blackened and charred.

...mostly. The apothecary’s cabinet against one wall has had the damaged drawers pulled out and arranged in a tidy pile; there’s tools for pulling them apart and sanding them laid out next to it. Some have even already been restored and replaced in the cabinet.

The charred bookcase against another wall looks like it should be falling apart, but it’s holding up well under the weight of a few new books on the shelves. There’s also a broom and dustpan tucked into one corner, clearly having been used to sweep most of the ash from out of the rest of the room.

In the middle of the room is a badly burnt examination table. Next to it is a steel table, assorted tools laid out in neat rows on it. A guttering but otherwise controlled fire burns on the cleared portion, with a pot of sluggishly simmering water sitting over it.

...You can feel eyes on you. Something is watching, though there doesn’t seem to be any threat to it... yet.

As you enter, the pervasive smell of smoke lightens enough that you can make out other scents— namely chocolate chip cookies and tea. Yep, this is definitely a kitchen.

Like the rest of the house, this room has been touched by fire— but in this case the damage is minimal, with only a few scorch marks on the walls. Despite that, the room is still largely empty, save for a kotatsu to dine at and a few half-opened moving boxes sitting on the counters. A few mugs of tea and a plate full of Eve’s chocolate-chip cookies sit on top of the oven, where the coals of a fire glow dimly inside.

However—

A crow-looking bird the size of a large dog sits at the kotatsu. It tilts its head as they enter, and then makes a low gurgling noise like laughter before starting to stiffly preen one wing.

Edited 2024-07-28 02:55 (UTC)

You enter what appears to be a small bedroom. Moonlight shines down brightly through the window on the opposite wall; you can feel its pull on your instincts again, though it’s not quite as strong as it was outside.

In one corner is a large futon, covered by an absolutely absurd number of pillows. Neatly folded blankets in a variety of colors and materials sit on the “foot” of it, with a large wooden linens chest sitting nearby.

In the middle of the room taking up almost all the space is an enormous firepit. The edges have been carefully corralled so that the fire within doesn’t spread... or so it wouldn’t if there were a fire. Currently, there are only ashes. Still, it seems to have done its job; there’s no indication of fire damage anywhere else in this room.

There’s an empty desk against one wall. A bookshelf sits next to it, covered in an assortment of small trinkets— most of them covered in soot, making it difficult to make out what they are. A lacquered box sits alone on the bottom shelf.

...No matter what you do, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that you’re being watched. Closely.

You descend into the dark. Thick smoke immediately fills your nose and lungs, though at least it doesn’t carry with it the irritation real smoke would; it just makes it hard to see, so watch your step. As you go, the temperature drops; by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs it has to be at least freezing.

More than that— the further you go, the more unsettled you feel. There’s a twisted sense of presence here, making your strengthened instincts all but scream about the horrors you can feel lurking ahead. The smoke is still too thick to see through, but that doesn’t mean anything other than whatever it is has cover.

But—

As the steps come to an end, leaving you on stone floor, nothing happens.

Yuuka-obaa is unfortunately gone— but there’s a fresh batch of cookies cooling on a rack, smelling of chocolate and only a little bit of smoke. A bowl full of assorted fruits (mostly oranges, but there are persimmons, plums and a little punnet of strawberries as well) sits on the kotatsu—

—the futon of which shifts a bit. There’s a few shifting, scuffling sounds, and then out pops…

Eve?

…well, sort of. It’s definitely Eve, but she’s a fat little sausage of a thing— only a few feet long, more leg than body (and almost more paw than leg). She bears no scars, and none of the festering wounds that the Eve in the basement had, either— this is Eve as she was in her youth. Your instincts still react at the sight of her; but the sense of her presence is lighter, and easier to ignore.

Upon sighting you, she makes a whistly, squeaky exclamation of excitement and wiggle-waddles her way over, all but tripping over own legs in the process. Her stubby tail is going a mile a minute.

“—You made it!”

Edited 2024-07-29 04:50 (UTC)

RULES

OUTSIDE

THE WORKSHOP

THE CLINIC

THE KITCHEN