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Prompt 1: Amnesia

[ You woke up, all your memories having vacated you. Well, that sucks. But hey, no time like the present to go out and figure out things. Maybe someone in your smartphone contacts knows you or what's going on. You open up your smartphone's lock screen and-- hey, that looks relevant. Profile pages! It has your unit name, member names, but no pictures. . .

Well, the rest varies. This one says Likes: Industrial Strength cleaning products, Breakbeat hardcore, Volleyball shorts and Dislikes: Roombas, Electro-industrial, Maid Outfits. The next has a thrilling tale that concludes with the idol mud-wrestling God, though it doesn't mention if they won or not. The third says that the member became an idol because they want to use the television and media attention to get the notice of their long lost sister, and reunite their family. The fourth just has someone's three sizes. The fifth has a detailed astrological profile.

Since no one remembers their names and there's no pictures to match it to, this is actually less helpful than you hoped. And furthermore, the doors aren't opening until you and the rest of the amnesiacs on this unit tell it who is who. Looks like you and the rest of these people have to discuss which of you is more likely to have mud-wrestled god, and who joined because they really want to find their long-lost sister. Or you can just use the tape-measure that was left sitting on the main table of the center room, that might be a quick way to settle at least one of these things. ]

Prompt 2: Memory Regain

[ You saved up your points, performing in Games or Lives or Vids, something or other until you had enough points to put the order in.

You didn't really know how to expect a memory to look like, but as it turns out there's just an alert on your app. Once you click it, a playback starts-- on the screen, and in your mind. You remember something now.

However, in buying the cheap version, that just broadcasted to several other people's phones in the area as well as all screens in the area. Cool. That was definitely what you were trying to do. ]

Prompt 3: Game Time

[ Welcome to the Game Tower. Today's game is a sort of mad fake phantom thief free-for-all. You arrived, were given top hats and cloaks, and the inside floor of the tower had been remodeled to resemble an art museum, with a giant roulette wheel right by the elevator you exited. Below that was a little slot, where today's hologram host explained the wheel would spit out a slip with a goal just for you.

So you have a little slip of paper with a goal on it, and no way of knowing what anyone else's goals are, though you did see the big roulette wheel being spun at the beginning letting you know the some of the possibilities:

♚Steal a heart
♚Steal a life
♚Steal an object
♚Steal a kiss
♚Steal someone's clothes
♚Steal someone's shoes
♚Steal a secret
♚Steal the giant statue from the center of the museum
♚Steal the portrait that depicts your true love

...well, waiting around isn't going to get you any points. Get to it, temporary phantom thief! ]

Prompts 4: Fanmail

[ Today, trying to take the elevators up from the lobby to access the apartments you and the other units live in just isn't working. Upon the doors being pried open, you found out why quickly: the elevator shaft was jammed up with fan mail, so it couldn't properly descend. Letters cascades out from between the open doors: letters from people who watch you play games, do lives, make vids, and probably all sorts of other things on those omnipresent cameras.

Are you really going to read these? Though right at your feet, a few have spilled from their envelopes. Now you can't help but read those. Here's one in purple glitter pen that says, jesus just come into my home and strangle me with your hair and one that is written with newspaper cut out letters (alarmingly reminiscent of a calling card written by a serial killer) that reads incongruently hello my soft best child ur good and valid and I love you forever plz be ok don't listen 2 the haterz u have done nothing wrong. Oh, and here's one asking if you can wear tighter pants for your next live, they want a better shot of your ass for their shrine. This one just says MARRIED?

Well, it's just as well you have no idea who those were for. Most this fanmail isn't for you. Except for the few that you just read, they're all labeled in envelopes for different people from all the units. Time to read other people's fanmail. Or try and find them and deliver the fanmail. Or just start a big fire in the middle of the lobby, you could do that too. ]

Prompts 5: Wildcard

Feel free to make your own prompt. Here is a link to specific unit information, if you would like to use it as inspiration.

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Comments

[at_heart]

[ —okay, wow, hi. He tips his head back a little but doesn't otherwise move away from her. ]

Uh... nice to meet you, too?

[ She's... friendly? Is that the word? It doesn't feel like the word. He doesn't remember anything about who he is, either, but it sure is... clear that everyone who wakes up here reacts differently. He supposes he can't really expect everyone to be on the 'chill because anything else would be unproductive' page. ]

/ignore the short hair

[sangreine]

[She pulls back slightly, so she can draw a loose fist to her mouth and giggle warmly. Don't be nervous, silly thing! No sense discouraging her, it's unlikely to work.]

[She looks as if she might lean closer again, but a shock of floor-length hair falls over her shoulder and she glares at it, flicking it away in a flash of movement. Ugh, irritating.]

[Once the offending hair is again at her back, she points at his long hair (this time without getting too intrusive, you're welcome). Is yours annoying, too?]

/ignores so hard!!

[at_heart]

[ .......well, she's — definitely kind of adorable, that's for damned sure, but in a really disquieting way. And — and okay, that's... yeah, he gets what she's asking. ]

Uh, well, I kind of feel like I'm used to this length. [ Little half-smile. ] Say, are you — thirsty? I could make tea.

[ Might not know his name, but you know what, he's decided he's less invested in getting the front door open here than he is in. Making sure this kid(???) is comfortable.

...Besides, something tells him the girl who isn't talking might not be a ton of help with figuring out whose profile belongs to whom, so they'll just do proces-of-elimination with everyone else. ]

[sangreine]

[Disquiet is the least of it, considering this is as quiet as she gets and a few minor annoyances like overlong hair and annoying bedclothes drive her to disproportionate agitation. Being thought a kid is a particular sore point.]

[Fortunately, the mention of food (close enough) drives all petty nonsense from her mind.] Tea? [she repeats, testing her limited mastery of language. The word is pleasing for more than one reason, but the other slips from awareness, only half-formed.]

Tea. [She nods, as if this is a Most Serious Matter. And then grins again. Lead on, she certainly has no concept of how to make tea happen!]

[at_heart]

[ sob he doesn't know you're not really 16 ] [ —oh, hey, she does talk. A beat of studying her expression, then he leads her into the kitchen. ]

Tea, right. [ Opens a cupboard — this is LiliS, so there's a million different jars of labeled tea leaves, lots of variants. ] ...Green tea?

[sangreine]

[Ah the kitchen, best place to take an impulsive amoral lady who specializes in deadly blades! Yes she talks, but language will come more easily later, once she gets some bearings. What comes first is an odd mix of whimsy and habit, which might become apparent when she starts digging through the drawers and cabinets, muttering to herself in incomplete Japanese, not seeming aware that she's speaking. Clearly after something.]

[While elbow-deep in dishes, she upsets a few ceramic plates, one of which starts to fall. She catches it without so much as a glance and sets it on the counter, never pausing her cabinet-probing.]

[She comes out with a shallow bowl and a whisk, and holds them out triumphantly. These are how you make tea, yes? Not quite, Saya, that's traditional matcha, but anyone from Japan would be impressed! See, she knows things!]

[at_heart]

[ Well, the thing about Yuri is......... ] [ —Huh, another one with really good reflexes. Might be starting to think that's part of what got them selected for this ride. ]

Uh, yeah, that'll — that'll work.

[ They do actually have some matcha, but it wouldn't have been his first pull. Tugs a jar down and offers...? It to her...? ]

You wanna make it?

[ Bad choices to worse choices: letting her handle the (electric) kettle? ]

[sangreine]

[She might get perplexed at her oddly tea-attuned actions were she even a few days less new, but as things sit, Saya is delighted to be useful. She doesn't have the first clue why she knows how to make traditional matcha, or that she was speaking something like Japanese, but it doesn't matter. Food!]

[She flips the whisk into the air and catches it easily inside the bowl, accepting the matcha jar with her newly freed hand. She can do it, you just watch and marvel!]

[It's not perfect, and she ends up with a dusting of green powder on her cheek and a few bubbles spilled onto the counter, but the kettle is managed without incident. Enthusiasm, adorableness, and oddly specific knowledge is no substitute for refinement or giving a damn who has to clean up around here. She pours the passable result into whatever teacups are available.]

Sea? [She asks after a drink, this time in French if that matters as to what he hears.]

[at_heart]

[ ......yeah, she can definitely talk, but man. He's happy to watch and marvel, though, and he doesn't mind the mess, but he does reflexively clean up a little before taking one of the teacups. (This is the one area of his life where Lupine is kind of meticulous, because messiness in the kitchen makes for nasty smells and more hassle the next time you go to use it in a way few rooms do.) ]

Yeah, it... looks great, thanks?

[ She can understand him, at least, right? That's like progress. ]

[sangreine]

[She shakes her head hard, causing her too long hair to flop into her face again. Huffing air from the corner of her mouth both sends the lock fluttering and neatly expresses her frustration. This concept is, to her, complicated, even if the word itself isn't -- how to explain something she only knows in her own mind, especially when the word itself was a failure? (Even if she realized she's switching languages and has a few more she could try, the communication divide feels larger than that.)]

[Her eyes dart around the kitchen, narrowed in thought. Finally her face brightens and she walks over to the faucet and turns the water on. She points to it emphatically.]

Sea.

[Then she waits. Surely he'll get this and know what to do, he knew where the kitchen was, so, clearly a wizard of some kind!]

[at_heart]

[ Lips quirked. Sorry, but his guess is, ]

Water...?

[ —It can't be that simple. If she wanted water she'd just take one of the teacups and fill it. Frowning. ]

Bath?

[sangreine]

[...Failure. She looks utterly, disproportionately upset, leaving the water running while she paces a few steps, pouting. Spinning on her heel, she stalks back over the same stretch of floor again.]

Sea. [Russian, this time, frustration driving her to make further, likely useless, attempts.] Sea! [Japanese.] Sea! [Accented American English.]

[Before she can tell if he understood at last (she presumes not, so, moving on!), she pauses, walks back over to the running faucet and cups her hand under the water, which she then splashes at him with. Whether upset or playfulness, who can say? Certainly not her. Regardless, it seems to improve her mood, and better this than breaking dishes. she's been hibernating for 30 years, the mind takes a while to settle, but being self-centered is, unfortunately, not a trait she'll lose.]

[at_heart]

[ Yeah, one of those definitely clears the confusion from his face, just in time for it to be splashed with water. ]

Wha— Hey!

[ Holding up a hand to block the spray very quickly, actually; reflexes, man. But he's not upset: he's laughing. ]

Okay, okay, I get it. 'Sea'.

[ A tiny laugh. ]

I promise I'll take you outside to see if there's a sea once we've got the front door open, okay?

[sangreine]

[Hooray! She lights up in a way that would seem exaggerated were it not so clearly genuine. Without a thought, she switches to the language that she'd used just before realization dawned.] Promise! [She likes that word.]

[-- But first, she turns off the faucet and gets a towel, to wipe up the floor. It's not sudden concern for cleanliness, at least not her own. She's parroting his earlier cleaning efforts. This is how she learns things after her Long Sleep (not that she understands why she's doing it, just that it seems to be the thing to do, so).]

[at_heart]

[ ...Watches, but only for a few seconds before he joins in. ]

Yeah, it's a promise.

[ Baww, new girl. ]

Do you, uh, have a favorite color?

[ The display on the TV in the common room has these big flashing spaces where they need to input colors, once they know which name (or, in many cases, 'name'; some of them are little pictographs, or sentences) goes with which person. Once he's figured out which name is her, he can put in whatever color she likes. ]

[sangreine]

[She's better at answering questions when she's focused on something else, so this one is mercifully easy:] Red.

[She pauses in her toweling, blinking twice, but then resumes sopping the last drops off the floor. All clean!]

[And then rising to her feet and glancing at him, curious.] You... favorite? [Grammar comes later, okay.]

[at_heart]

[ Definitely not criticizing the grammar of the girl who is only barely talking. ]

Red, got it.

[ He pauses, looking thoughtful. ]

...Dunno that I have one, really, but I was gonna go with 'black'.

[sangreine]

Black? [she says, turning coy, a hand flashing out in an attempt to playfully flick at his long hair. (His reflexes are clearly pretty sharp, and she's not trying to be evasive, so diverting her wouldn't be entirely unanticipated, but, you know, it had to be done).]

[at_heart]

[ —Yeah, he could've caught her hand, probably, but while there's a minute jerk in his shoulder, he doesn't try it — letting her, instead. After a beat, he relaxes, and his lips curve up. ]

...Yeah. Like my hair. Yours, too.

[ But he's got the gray eyes, so he actually has a pretty good idea of which of the profiles is his. The height/weight and hair/eye color are one of the few parts of it that appear to be in any kind of language he can read. ]

[sangreine]

[ ...Hers? She glances down at the, yes, black hair which is tumbling over her body, stretching to the floor, as if noticing it for the first time (shoving and huffing it out of the way didn't evidently make much impression). Glancing around, she walks over to the nearest reflective surface, the glass of an oven door or microwave if those are a thing, crouching or stretching as needed, and stares. Tension knits her brow as she seems to be trying to put something together, and clearly is failing. They both are without memories but this, it's not about that. Like the first, uncertain note of a melody she can't quite catch, it makes no sense. ]

[ He might not be able to tell what's eating her until she lefts a hand to touch her reflection, and it's shaking. Even had she more than a few words of language at hand, it couldn't possibly be adequate. How can one have fear without a memory behind it? ]

[ (Her mood will spring back in a moment, like a bit of rubber set on its most recent shape, his company being a far more pleasant harbor for her drifting mood. There's a good reason her mind isn't whole when she wakes, and this is a piece of it.) ]

[at_heart]

[ There is indeed a microwave! LiliS's aesthetic is pretty rustic, so glass on both the microwave and the oven is likely. ] [ Coming... up behind her slowly, curiously. He tries to look into the glass with her. ]

[sangreine]

[ The moment before she notices his reflection alongside hers stretches out impossibly, her fear giving way to a tangle of half-thoughts which pull her in one distinct direction: ]

[ Fight. ]

[ Where the word came from she couldn't say, but its meaning is the only unambivalent thing in her head. Her red eyes narrow with pinpoint focus on the reflection, body taut like a piano wire half a turn from snapping -- ]

[ until she sees another face there, and most of her recoils, mentally clamping down enough to stop herself from the freefalling bloodbath that her instinct demands of her; but not fast enough, as it turns out, to keep from lashing out, which she does with a splayed hand striking the glass. That it's an act of revulsion rather than aggression keeps it from doing any physical damage which she'd later regret. ]

[ Yanking her herself around, she reels away from the reflection and, if he doesn't move or hold her back, will end with her face buried in his shoulder. ]

[at_heart]

[ oh shit ] [ Well, that's some serious emotional whiplash, but he goes very still when she breaks the glass, and he doesn't try to block it even when he thinks, briefly, that she might be about to attack him.

(Kind of a funny instinct, in the moment. He might have trouble explaining why he would have let her hit him.) (It's definitely not that he didn't think it would hurt.)
(In the moment, it had just seemed more important not to frighten her any further than it was not to get hurt.) ]

Whoa— Hey...

[ Startled, but quickly softening, and then... and then just disbelieving. —After a slightly too-long moment, he brings up a very awkward hand to pat her lightly on the back? ]

[sangreine]

[ On the upside, with her pressed against him like this it'll be hard to keep thinking of her as a little kid! She all-over shakes for a few seconds before stilling, almost unnaturally so, resignation rather than relaxation despite his stilted gesture. She wasn't exactly after comfort, per se, more something to hide against. Congratulations, you're as good as furniture -- ]

[ -- except when she peeks out at his face, eye once again wide and innocent but darkened. Changed, though it's subtle. ]

...Bad, [ she says, or asks, the lilt to her voice making it unclear whether it's question or explanation. ]

[at_heart]

[ Not a little kid, no. He will revise his opinion when he learns she's like, many hundreds of years older than him. ] [ Okay, well, slowly getting the hang of patting her on the back there. It eases into more of a gentle rub between her shoulder blades. ]

Your... reflection?