[EVENT] Memory Tapes

[vrdr_mods]

On the morning of November 21st, denizens in the Velvet Room will awake to a message on their phones or by their bedsides in an envelope. Perhaps even on their computer screens.

Greetings! If you've received this message, then you've been selected as a participant in a new activity to strengthen bonds within this community.

In order to facilitate connections with your fellow residents, we advise you to watch this video. Watch it and return the tape to its rightful owner. If you lacked the means to watch VHS tapes before, we have provided you with the necessary equipment.

Failure to do so may put your own memories at risk. Do not be selfish, lest you find yourself struggling to recall crucial moments of your life. You have no way of knowing which memories have been shared, so ask yourself if it is worth the risk to selfishly hoard another's secrets.

They will soon find a VHS tape, with a case that gives off a soft, blue glow to symbolize its importance. If they lack a TV or VCR, they will find one in their living space.

What they do is up to them, but they should heed the warning, if they value their own memories.


[For links to characters' memories, please see this post in the OOC comm. Have fun!]

Comments

[linkclickakira]

Akira meets Kou’s glare with an easy stare—one that doesn’t quite mask the worry etched into the corners of his eyes. There’s a flicker of sadness in his expression, something quiet and unspoken. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to force a conversation Kou clearly doesn’t want to have. Akira knows better than to pry. He’s had his own moments of spiraling misery, the ones where the last thing he wanted was someone hovering over him with sympathy.

But that doesn’t mean he’s leaving.

Corvus was all alone in Maruki’s labyrinth, trapped with his pain, without anyone to pull him out. Akira had seen it—had felt the crushing weight of it when their memories had brushed against each other’s. The emptiness.
The hopelessness.
The endless looping despair.

And Akira’s not about to let him sit with that again.

So when Kou asks for a glass of water, Akira nods wordlessly. He waits a beat, making sure Kou’s not about to tip over, then backs up and makes his way to the hotel room’s small kitchenette. He grabs a clean glass from the cabinet, rinses it thoroughly under the faucet, and fills it three-quarters of the way with cool water.

By the time he returns, Kou is on his feet, a little unsteady but upright. When he mutters, “I’ll clean it up,” and starts to move toward the trash can, Akira’s eyes narrow slightly, and he steps in before Kou can do anything else.

“Whoa, whoa—you are not doing any of that,” Akira says, voice laced with exasperated tone. He sets the glass down on the room’s work table and places a firm but gentle hand on Kou’s arm, grounding him once more.

“And if you force yourself to move too fast, you’re just gonna give yourself a migraine. Trust me. I speak from experience.” He flashes a crooked grin—something light to take the edge off the moment—and then pulls his hand away again.

Without giving Kou a chance to protest, Akira side-steps quickly, positioning himself between Kou and the trash can like some sort of human shield. As if blocking the sight of it could erase the whole ordeal.

Then he grabs the glass, turns back to Kou, and holds it up for him to take. His eyes soften just a little. “Here. Take it slow.”