talbot-talks

[talbot-talks]

DBD Roleplay Server Seeking Muses! (Doomed Course Update)

Welcome to 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙤𝙜 𝘾𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙣, a Dead by Daylight roleplay server!

We have been running this community for the past 6 YEARS and are always eagerly accepting new muns with a passion to write and socialize with other friends of the fog!

Our roleplay group is looking for new members to portray players from the DBD universe in an extensive, forum-based, literate RP involving all canon characters. Interested participants must:

Be 16 or older

Have Discord

Have basic knowledge of the lore

Be able to post at least once every 20 days

Be able to meet a post minimum of ~250 words (longform RP)

Our current TAKEN muses are marked as such (updated 12/22):

If you’re interested in portraying any of the available characters, send us a message on our tumblr or shoot a friend request on Discord to @BUGME4T / @yourresidentialdumbass ! We look forward to roleplaying with you!

[talbot-talks]

[Holidays hitting hard, I'll be back when its over.

[talbot-talks]

Venus

NASA

seasoflife

[talbot-talks]

Talbot is heading back to his lab after another trial, the dusty red dirt and scrub brush crunching underneath his feet as he cuts through Glenvale. A crow screams overhead as he approaches what appears to be....a body?

Even from a distance, he can recognize that fiery hair and confirms as much when he rolls her over. Amara groans, half delirious from blood loss courtesy of a wicked stab wound in her side, just under her rib cage.

"I...Please, help...." she manages, before passing out in his arms, a strange, blood stained box of sorts clutched in her hand.

@wasteland-wonderstruck

Normally, the wisest decision would be to leave her to the ravens. The Fog would take her, and she would most certainly appear again, unharmed, to participate in another trial. Whoever attacked her would be punished for killing her, as well.

But then again... It isn't often that a survivor begs a killer for help, and to leave her now would mean a slow death... And many unanswered questions. Who stabbed her? What is the box? What's in the box? He's intrigued.

Only intrigued. Not concerned. Not at all.

He blames the way his hands almost shake as he gathers her up in his arms on his usual tremors, the box getting shoved haphazardly in his bag, and runs.

No one runs as fast as he. And yet he still feels as if its not fast enough by the time he's gotten her to his lab to begin first aid.

[talbot-talks]

Susan Pitarresi, Sodium Vapors, 2016

[talbot-talks]

just beyond the hedgerow

[talbot-talks]

[talbot-talks]

His hand immediately clenched closed, and the vision of him... Twisted. From a stained glass gleam to something horrific, his already warped countenance blurring into further hideousness as his hand lunged out-

And then... Thin, inhumanly strong fingers are wrapping around her neck, lifting her effortlessly as air is cut off in a heartbeat. His palm is so warm, so callused, and the tips of sharp, talon like nails prick against her skin as the world twists around in her vision...

"Brat. Fine."

Darkness, at her feet. At her sides. The Fog yawns open around her and at her back as Talbot holds her at arms length, whispers cradling her very psyche. Hungry. Starving, even. The grassy ground isn't under her anymore.

Those amber eyes will haunt her. They will. They already do.

"Die then."

And then he lets go.

And she falls.

And falls...

And falls.

The Campfire greets her.

The lab was rife with glassware, unknown concoctions, stained paper, piles of rubbish Kestra could not make sense of, and much more than she could not see in the dim lighting of several kerosene lamps and half-melted candles. All of it merged and blended due to the lack of ventilation in the room and the smell all around was one nasty chimera of chemicals (primarily chlorine), rotting wood, and, of course—paraffin, that no army of wax candles could dream to fight off.

Kestra experienced it fully when she untangled her face scarf to furiously—and with disgust—wipe the saliva off her face. Some of it got caught in her hair as well, and now with no hood obstructing it (she had to put it off to get to the scarf) Talbot got a full view of the brown lion’s mane that it was.

With no decent barrier blocking the stench, it gripped her lungs so violently, that she coughed. Worse still—the smell of that sickeningly sweet, nectary drool mixed with the wool of her scarf, and when it got to her nostrils standing in the lab—so close to Talbot became unbearable.

Fucking hell… How do you live here? Why are you like this?

She was quick to cover her mouth and then—only after making sure that yes, she was definitely not going to vomit or faint, she replied:

‘No. Not your place. I have no doubts you will not be going anywhere anytime soon.’ Kestra’s tone was strained. ‘That new realm—it’s rotating and has been gone for a good while n-now.’

Another wave of nausea struck her and that was it, she decided.

‘I have no questions. I only came to return the notes. And I am sorry.’

And with that—against her better judgment (she could only guess what his reaction would be) she left the lab in a hurry and stood outside, near the entrance for a minute or two to compose herself and relish in the night's cool, Talbot-less-breeze.

The air of the black forest wasn't exactly what she would call fresh, as everything in the realms always had some element of staleness to it, but right now? It was as if she had never breathed in fresher air, the oxygen flooding her lungs untainted by chemicals and almost seeming savory by comparison to that unbearable sweetness.

It was odd... not only did the air seem better, but somehow, it felt like her senses had been dialed up a notch, everything seeming sharper, clearer. It was like being in that lab had heightened every nerve in her body...

No, not the lab. Him. Simply being near him without open air, in his frustration... she had gotten some of that amber stuff on her, and it caused this.

Skin contact, the barest hint, and she could hear the oiled hinges of a door from fifteen feet away when she could not before.

He was there, she could sense it, standing in that open door, but strangely enough, he did not demand her return, nor begin a frenzied hunt as he would in trial. No... A glance backwards revealed he was simply standing there, leaning on his cane as a play of emotions roiled in those eyes.

Frustration. That was expected.

But the embarrassment, and a slight sullenness... That was not. It seems he too had not taken into account the effects he may have.

"...it will wear off in a moment."

[talbot-talks]

The way his eyes immediately narrow, his lifted hands clenching into fists tight enough that she could hear the knuckles crack as the skin pales... That is answer enough. But he has the courtesy to respond in sign language anyway as he deliberately unfolds his hands again.

"I want out. More than any of them. I've spent years researching it, to no avail. I do not begrudge you this topic."

Continued from here!

@talbot-talks

She nods tiredly, chuckling at the thought. "It would serve him right. The Entity is a stickler for her rules. Haven't figured out if it's just because she's a persnickety bitch or because there's any actual consequences to breaking them for her, but regardless. I was glad to see him get what's coming to him."

She takes a moment to collect her thoughts before leaning in, clearly serious about what she's going to say.

"First thing, if you'd like me to use sign rather than speaking as well, I'll do so. Second thing, I don't know how you feel about the Entity, but I want to leave. Most folks do, even on the killer side of things. But before we discuss further, I want to know how you feel about this place."

[talbot-talks]

At that, he hesitates, his breathing still rattling in his chest like a snake stuck in his lungs, slowly drowning. It sounds painful, agonizing, and she almost feels sympathetic for him even as he drools thickly on the floor.

The poor man couldn't help it. Imagine if her jaw couldn't shut...

He slowly lifts his hands, then, the extra finger so out of place and yet tucking itself unobtrusively against his palm before he signs to her, stiff and clumsy... But at least legibly.

"I hope he hurts for weeks."

'Fuck Danny,' seemed to be the agreeing statement.

Talbot, are you free today at all? I was hoping to speak with you about something scientific in nature. Though, it's pure speculation on my part, in advance.

- Amara

Amara. Of course, you'll find me a curious ear regarding the sciences, even if it is speculation. Speculation leads to discovery.

@wasteland-wonderstruck

[talbot-talks]

Ermitage Saint-Antoine de Galamus, France - 2017

[talbot-talks]

The lab was rife with glassware, unknown concoctions, stained paper, piles of rubbish Kestra could not make sense of, and much more than she could not see in the dim lighting of several kerosene lamps and half-melted candles. All of it merged and blended due to the lack of ventilation in the room and the smell all around was one nasty chimera of chemicals (primarily chlorine), rotting wood, and, of course—paraffin, that no army of wax candles could dream to fight off.

Kestra experienced it fully when she untangled her face scarf to furiously—and with disgust—wipe the saliva off her face. Some of it got caught in her hair as well, and now with no hood obstructing it (she had to put it off to get to the scarf) Talbot got a full view of the brown lion’s mane that it was.

With no decent barrier blocking the stench, it gripped her lungs so violently, that she coughed. Worse still—the smell of that sickeningly sweet, nectary drool mixed with the wool of her scarf, and when it got to her nostrils standing in the lab—so close to Talbot became unbearable.

Fucking hell… How do you live here? Why are you like this?

She was quick to cover her mouth and then—only after making sure that yes, she was definitely not going to vomit or faint, she replied:

‘No. Not your place. I have no doubts you will not be going anywhere anytime soon.’ Kestra’s tone was strained. ‘That new realm—it’s rotating and has been gone for a good while n-now.’

Another wave of nausea struck her and that was it, she decided.

‘I have no questions. I only came to return the notes. And I am sorry.’

And with that—against her better judgment (she could only guess what his reaction would be) she left the lab in a hurry and stood outside, near the entrance for a minute or two to compose herself and relish in the night's cool, Talbot-less-breeze.

The air of the black forest wasn't exactly what she would call fresh, as everything in the realms always had some element of staleness to it, but right now? It was as if she had never breathed in fresher air, the oxygen flooding her lungs untainted by chemicals and almost seeming savory by comparison to that unbearable sweetness.

It was odd... not only did the air seem better, but somehow, it felt like her senses had been dialed up a notch, everything seeming sharper, clearer. It was like being in that lab had heightened every nerve in her body...

No, not the lab. Him. Simply being near him without open air, in his frustration... she had gotten some of that amber stuff on her, and it caused this.

Skin contact, the barest hint, and she could hear the oiled hinges of a door from fifteen feet away when she could not before.

He was there, she could sense it, standing in that open door, but strangely enough, he did not demand her return, nor begin a frenzied hunt as he would in trial. No... A glance backwards revealed he was simply standing there, leaning on his cane as a play of emotions roiled in those eyes.

Frustration. That was expected.

But the embarrassment, and a slight sullenness... That was not. It seems he too had not taken into account the effects he may have.

"...it will wear off in a moment."

[talbot-talks]

Test Subject Records: Patient Zero.

Recovered from scavenged notes:

"It is true the serum was by my own hand, but by my own curiosity, drive, and sheer foolish ambition that I also became the first surviving test subject. Therefore, I am marked as the foundation of all formulas that have been made henceforth. Raw material has been gathered to supplement it, of course, but almost all base ingredients and formulas are measured off of the serum that has permeated my entire being. It thrives in my blood, my saliva, and the very plasma and marrow, and though I am forced to reinforce it with curated dosages lest I go mad in a new, inconvenient way... My system produces the foundation for those dosages in turn. A cyclical system, almost perfect in every macabre way..."

[talbot-talks]

She listened to him, wondering for a moment if the amount of drool flung in strings with every move of his head matched his irritation. He was correct in saying she was an intrusive, little shit, she will not dispute that.

And yet, she was still breathing.

‘Other Killers did roll a red carpet with my AB negative more than once. I am well aware of what a beast is and what a human could be but curiosity has its price.’ Some memories flashed through her mind and she cringed internally.

‘Did you know the realm is expanding and much more is to come? That some of these places look much more outlandish than what we have? Some sub-realms come and go and each has a different ecosystem.’ She spoke with a barely contained passion in her voice.

‘That is not to excuse what I did and had you been around I would have asked for permission, but I could sense that place would vanish soon and I was desperate for a flora reference point.’

That seems to strike a nerve, because as soon as the words 'vanish soon' pass her lips, he's in her face and snarling like he's been personally insulted, flecks of amber spit dotting her face.

Why did he smell so sweet?

"It will not," he growled, standing straight again and stepping back like his own reaction had startled himself, getting out of her space as quickly as he had entered it. "It has no reason to. It holds me, and I fuel Her hunger as well as any of the killers, and better. Do not speak of such things, it is foolish."

He rolls his shoulders with disgruntlement, the amber fluid that constantly seeped from his body standing stark against the fabric of an old, worn waistcoat and separate cowl. One of his nicer sets of clothes, different from his canvas coat and hood. An odd thing to notice, but it was hard to take her eyes off of the tall, gaunt figure.

"You're here now, anyway," he grumbles, his sour mood not improved by her statement, but it seemed he was making some sort of effort. "You have questions. Ask."

[talbot-talks]

'Deep South'. Sally Mann. 1989.

[talbot-talks]

Art by Leksø Tiger

[talbot-talks]

The moment the cane’s cold metal touched her skin, the Survivor gripped its handle, her fingers reflexively pushing it away. She gave it a thoughtful, curious almost glance before her eyes flicked back to its owner—it was the same look she gave him in their last trial. Stoic and emotionless, but very much so inquiring. A glimmer of surprise joined in when Talbot spoke—she was most likely unaware he could talk and his raspy, watery tone came as a surprise to her.

The Survivor took a deep breath.

‘Kestra.’ She said levelly, eyeing the monster. ‘I came back to return the papers. They were an excellent introduction to the vegetation around here.’

Unbeknownst to him, Kestra’s nonchalant demeanour was simply a facade and she had since mastered the art of panic suppression to get by in the realm. She was almost proud of her tone, so stoic in delivery and oh-so-unbothered by being boxed in by a drooling, frenzied behemoth twice her size. Come to think of it, why did he smell of flowers and sweet nectar instead of copper or rot or pus? And why was his body so feverish that she started to sweat? So perplexing.

‘Your writing is... very succinct.’ She continued, leaving that avalanche of questions for another day. ‘I have been planning to meet you for a while now and had I known that you have no proclivity for cruelty I would have done a proper introduction first: I have an interest in the realm and came across flowers I would not think could exist and that is why I ended up here.'

And Talbot thought he had seen it all.

Talbot was so taken aback at the sheer audacity of the woman that for a moment, all he could do was stare, a mix of incredulity and irritation simmering with the lingering fury of her trespassing.

No proclivity for cruelty, she'd said. He almost wants to be offended. Instead, he huffs wetly and steps back, spinning the cane effortlessly in one hand before leaning on it, from weapon to mobility tool. A show of mercy... For now.

Speaking again revealed further details to her: he hadn't quite spoken vocally. Sure, he'd made a noise with his mouth, a rattling wheeze, but when he did it again, his voice was clearer, and both distinctly between her ears and from him simultaneously. Like a brief connection had been established through proximity.

A very interesting effect...

"You are very bold, Kestra. Perhaps too bold. Had I not the self control I do now, you would be painted across the far wall and floor like a particularly grotesque smear." His tone was disgruntled, but crisp, his posture straightening with an audible creak as he seemed to glower down at her. "I do not take kindly to my things being pilfered, nor my lab being intruded upon. I may be a monster, but I am still, also, a man... And the danger of humanity is stronger still than the savagery of the beast."

A threat. He had allowed kindness in not ripping her in half. She would do well to remember it.