mayfield_rpg | Introduction - [Accidental Voice]/[Action for 845 Goldberg Street]

[Was this heaven?

It had to be heaven. All around her was warmth and softness and silence. The panicked voices of her friends and family had all faded away. If Welkin were still here, he wouldn't be quiet. He'd be telling her stories, talking about all the problems in the Edelweiss that needed fixing, going on and on about this fascinating new species of moth...

But it was quiet.

Or at least it was until a shrieking ring pierced the peace. Isara sat bolt upright with a gasp, and what she saw around her made her shriek. This wasn't the clinic. This wasn't her room. These weren't her clothes and nowhere in the base or any Gallian camp would look this...this pink!

Isara's new family will probably be alerted to her presence by a great deal of crashing, banging around, and shouting coming from the girl's room, until Isara finally comes tearing out of her room, looking about her in every direction, tense as a whipcord to attack despite the fact that she's dressed in a blue flannel nightgown with a panda bear on it She calls out in a voice that echoes in the little house.] What's going on? Where am I? Who are you and why have you captured me?!

[As she takes the corner into the living room, however, Isara collides with the table where a telephone happens to be sitting, knocking it off the receiver so that it bounces off the floor. At that point, all and sundry will be able to listen in on what, by now, is probably a very familiar scene of someone panicking, saying that what's going on can't be true, trying to wake themselves up, and the like. But the end table slows her down, at least. As Isara stumbles, wincing in pain, she's forced to slow down and take in her new surroundings.

Every detail is more horrifying than the last. That looks like her in some of those photos on the mantlepiece. Snatching one off for a closer look is enough to prove to Isara that it is her, or some kind of twisted twin. But that tall, lanky woman with the short red hair, or that boy who's always scowling or making faces...she doesn't know them! What the hell is she doing with them? She...she looks like she loves them! Like they're her family!

Glass shatters as Isara hurls a photo of her playing volleyball at the wall.] What the hell is going on here? Show yourselves! My name is Corporal Isara Gunther of the Gallian militia, serial number 66409, and I demand answers!

((ooc: And here she is! I bring you all Isara Gunther of Valkyria Chronicles. To the residents of 845, I do apologize for the mess. Isara here is just from the point of her death on Marberry Shore, and so is a bit confused and disoriented to start with, and family is a sadly hot button issue with her. Apologies as always for the TL;DR

And I am conscious! Tag at me!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

...From that tone, I can assume that you are new here? What sort of answers do you desire?

[...thanks to Cain, Isara at least looks to look towards the phone when a voice from nowhere addresses her.]

Where am I?

You are currently in a town name Mayfield. It is a semi-malicious genius loci, or living location. While it pretends to be within the boundary of the United States of America, no one knows where it is truly located. What is known is that it can kidnap people from different times and universes and imprison them here. Once here, we are assigned into nuclear family units composed of a mother, a father, and several children. Your household could be composed of other sentients, or they could be "drones," mindless constructs of the town. This town also likes to pretend that it is from the decade of 1950 and expects us to behave according to the gender roles shown in stereotypes of the period. Failure to do so will get you droned by the town.

Do you have any further questions?

[...several seconds of silence follow this recitation.]

"D-Droned"? You mean, we...become like drones? Do I have it right? And... [She glances around at the pictures, of herself, of the woman and the boy.] ...these people aren't my family.

As long as you fulfill the minimum requirement for your role, you will be alright. If you are an adult, go to work everyday. If you are a child, go to school.

[The girl must be referring to her housemates.]

This town randomly assigns its residents into households. None of the drones that live with me are my "family" either. All the sentient beings here understand that. The town itself, however, stil considers you to be a family with these people.

[There's really only one thing to say to that, and Isara says it.]

That's sick, and that's wrong, and I'm not going to allow it.

I am not particularly comfortable with the arrangement either.

[Watching a bunch of mindless automatons address her as wife and mother and then expecting her to act accordingly feels unnatural to her.]

But until we can find a way to escape this place, you will have to at least stay in your assigned house.

What am I supposed to do if they're horrible? I mean, what if they don't want a Darcsen for a daughter? I won't stay here if they won't accept me!

What is a Darscen?

[An alien species, perhaps?]

Anyway, what you are is not important. Even though this town assigns us into family units, the people stuck in these units usually operate as comrades and allies instead of family units. You do not have to acknowledge the "mother" and "father" assigned to you as your parents; nor do they have to acknowledge you as a daughter. You are free to have any type of relationship that you want with them.

I'm a...y-you really don't know? [Isara sounds genuinely, honestly surprised, and then she can't hold back a sigh of something like relief.] W-Wow...I really am far from home.

...as long as I don't have to call them my family, that's okay. I know all about making friends in bad situations. I mean... [She casts a downcast look around the house.] ...I didn't make the greatest first impression.

We are all far removed from home, in time if not location.

[She smiles a little bit when the girl mentions not making the best first impression.]

Did you try to punch somebody?

N-No. [Isara shakes her head before remembering that her new companion can't see her.] I haven't even really seen anyone else. I just...shouted a lot. And threw some things. Mostly those pictures of me. They give me the creeps!

I see. Do not worry then. Damaged furniture regenerates the next day, and as time goes on, it gets easier to ignore the creepy photographs. They should mean nothing as long as you can remember your true home and family.

...I can remember. I'll always remember. [Of this, Isara sounds as though she has no doubt.]

Um...what's your name, miss? My name is Isara. Isara Gunther.

[She frowns, but does not say anything. Memories are ridiculously easy to lose in Mayfield. Sometimes, they are willingly traded in for a regain. Other times, the town itself can taken them away.]

Bazett Fraga McRemitz.

It's...it's nice to meet you, Ms. McRemitz.

[Then, obviously casting around for a less grim topic of conversation:]

...phones don't really work like this, back home.

How did they work then?

[The only other types of phones that she is aware of are cell phones. She had crushed the only one that she had tried to use.]

I would have had to call you. I would have had to know your phone number and everything. I couldn't just...knock it on the floor and have all these people talking to me.

Yes, in that respect, the phones here are different from the phones elsewhere. The default setting for the phone if you dial "operator" is a call put out to the entire town. There are ways to filter calls to or away from certain people, though.

[She had only learned this recently, when Saber had taught her.]

Would you like me to show you?

Wait, there is? Really! Y-Yes, please! I mean, if you can teach me like this!

[The alternative is too problematic to think about, and opens far too many cans of worms for Isara's liking.]

...I would have to come to your house, though.

Introduction - [Accidental Voice]/[Action for 845 Goldberg Street]

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