I'm Getting My Ass Out Of The Big Glass House (Arrival) Leaving the goddess' sitting room had taken some doing; Dennis did not want to set foot on the island with the knowledge that death was impermanent. No death didn't mean shit to him, not when it still made its mark on the environment. The sheer, terrible enormity of possibly stepping out into a concentrated pocket of suffering was a big fuckin' deal breaker.
At least, until she made him an offer that he would be an idiot to put his nose up at: No more seizures. No more crippling pain without actual physical contact. She couldn't undo this wild-ass "gift" of his, not without rewiring him completely, but she could do this much for him. And so, trailing behind the mass exodus from another pocket of reality by a few days, Dennis Rafkin steps off the ferry with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, wrinkling his nose at the eerie feeling that the island is already giving him.
You said he only killed nine people; there's over 40 victims here! (The Lake) Trying to get out of town, away from the bustle and the possibility of rubbing shoulders with other people, Dennis walks into the woods. He doesn't know about the weird mailman or the weird soldier or the weird wolf people or the weird forest folk. He doesn't know much about being out in the wilderness either, actually. But he knows the smell of water, and hell, why not? Hanging out near the edge of a lake seems like a nice time-
"You gotta be shittin' me," he mutters, staring in horror out at the shapes drifting gently below the surface of the water. None of them face-up, he's grateful to see, because this gives him the worst possible vibes. He backs away a few steps, puts his hands over his ears, shuts his eyes, and wills it to stop being the thing that it is.
It's not helping.
If you come across Dennis out here, you'll hear him muttering under his breath, pacing in a small circle and staring straight at his feet. If you startle him he will yell. Sorry in advance.
Can I Rely On You Not To Get Me Killed?(Wildcard) Wanna meet Dennis? Wanna bump into him and dump approximately five of the worst seconds of your entire life into his brain? Have at! He won't think any less of you for whatever it is. He might even offer some kind of non-contact comfort. He's otherwise quippy and sarcastic and bad at making friends! Maybe you can change that.
[[Given the nature of his ability, especially that the trauma-dump is involuntary for everyone involved, there is an opt-out on his page. If you want to forego threading with him just in case, just lmk. Conversely, if you want him to see something specific for your character, you can put that there too.]]
Dennis Rafkin | Thir13en Ghosts | Existing player
Leaving the goddess' sitting room had taken some doing; Dennis did not want to set foot on the island with the knowledge that death was impermanent. No death didn't mean shit to him, not when it still made its mark on the environment. The sheer, terrible enormity of possibly stepping out into a concentrated pocket of suffering was a big fuckin' deal breaker.
At least, until she made him an offer that he would be an idiot to put his nose up at: No more seizures. No more crippling pain without actual physical contact. She couldn't undo this wild-ass "gift" of his, not without rewiring him completely, but she could do this much for him. And so, trailing behind the mass exodus from another pocket of reality by a few days, Dennis Rafkin steps off the ferry with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, wrinkling his nose at the eerie feeling that the island is already giving him.
You said he only killed nine people; there's over 40 victims here! (The Lake)
Trying to get out of town, away from the bustle and the possibility of rubbing shoulders with other people, Dennis walks into the woods. He doesn't know about the weird mailman or the weird soldier or the weird wolf people or the weird forest folk. He doesn't know much about being out in the wilderness either, actually. But he knows the smell of water, and hell, why not? Hanging out near the edge of a lake seems like a nice time-
"You gotta be shittin' me," he mutters, staring in horror out at the shapes drifting gently below the surface of the water. None of them face-up, he's grateful to see, because this gives him the worst possible vibes. He backs away a few steps, puts his hands over his ears, shuts his eyes, and wills it to stop being the thing that it is.
It's not helping.
If you come across Dennis out here, you'll hear him muttering under his breath, pacing in a small circle and staring straight at his feet. If you startle him he will yell. Sorry in advance.
Can I Rely On You Not To Get Me Killed?(Wildcard)
Wanna meet Dennis? Wanna bump into him and dump approximately five of the worst seconds of your entire life into his brain? Have at! He won't think any less of you for whatever it is. He might even offer some kind of non-contact comfort. He's otherwise quippy and sarcastic and bad at making friends! Maybe you can change that.
[[Given the nature of his ability, especially that the trauma-dump is involuntary for everyone involved, there is an opt-out on his page. If you want to forego threading with him just in case, just lmk. Conversely, if you want him to see something specific for your character, you can put that there too.]]