There are two kinds of fears, rational and irrational. Being afraid of realtors is an irrational fear.
— Lemony Snicket, A Series of Unfortunate Events
HOW TO PLAY:
Comment with your character. In the body of your top-level, your character is forced to admit their biggest, darkest fear. Maybe they assumed no one was listening, or perhaps this is the work of a magical truth serum. Either way, it's out in the open now.
Other characters can offer comfort, judgement, or probing psychological questions to delve into the root of this.
An especially evil character might look for ways to exploit this newfound information... but you wouldn't do that, would you?
Anything involving images, especially scary images, should be linked and tagged.
...losing my autonomy again. Loss is difficult and so is death, but I think I could somehow manage. [ Depending on the person, but she isn't willing to say that or even let her thoughts linger on it for too long. Her tone carries on with hesitance as she looks toward nothing in particular in the distance, like a far-off focal point will make this all easier. ] Not being in control, though, and having to take orders from someone else, being forced to do things that I have no choice over... I'm embarrassed, but it makes me feel ill.
[ It makes her scared, but she struggles to admit to that as much as she does any of this. ]
[ Yeah this is... very relatable for him. It's not something he talks about and will first jump through a window than admit it, but it's hard hearing this. ]
Neither is great.
[ It's not good enough though and he knows it. He sucks in his lips before turning his head to look to the ground momentarily. When he looks back at her it's vague and no specific part of her in particular. Maybe a shoulder? Anything but the eyes. ]
I'm afraid of being drawn into the war again. Having to kill, and to bend my technologies to polluted causes, to carve out some small and relatively 'safe' existence. I'm afraid that a positive peace is an impossible dream.
[ A pair of shot glasses drops on a table nearby. The person who dropped them there opens a glass bottle and fills them both with liquor - it's straight bourbon tonight. He sits down, picks up one of the glasses, looks this acquaintance dead in the eye, and lifts his glass. ]
... That I can't trust my own mind. Trust that it's only me in there now. [ Well, aside from the Force, but that's a whole other ball of wax. ] I thought I was finally free once, but it was as much an illusion as it ever had been. It should be true now but if someone were powerful enough, skilled enough... I don't know if I would be able to tell.
[ She's not sure why she let all that tumble out. Loneliness? The desperate human urge to be understood? Simply having to vent her thoughts in the same way she could need to vent emotional energy before it spilled over without care? Either way she'd like to go hide somewhere alone with her insecurity now, thanks. ]
sam carpenter | scream (potential spoilers! | ota.
[Akechi doesn't mean to stop; why would he? Except he hears, and then he glances, and then by the time he's gone "huh" it's too late to start walking again.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
krampused) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2023-03-12 08:08 pm
Page 1 of 2