forum A Messy Meeting of Morons // Random Character Chat // Closed (Read Rules for Join Conditions)

Started Feb 08 by @Null-Gravity language

tune

Two things came to Janine's mind when she first came to, standing in the middle of an unfamiliar space.

One: this was not the ditch under the bridge she'd been camped under for the past few days.
Two: this was also very clearly not New York.

As a matter of fact, it was a room. With a bed.

And a table, with a chair.

No mirrors. No other defining features. Nothing. Just. . . a room.

Janine chides herself gently. Of course it's a fucking room. What else would it be, an airplane? Fucks sake J, get it together. . .

The room was also dark. Extremely so. Though Jane had no trouble seeing anyways. Her eyes had always adjusted easy. Looking down, she found that she was wearing the same clothes she always was: a oversized black hoodie, scavenged from a donation bin, ratty grey sweatpants, salvaged from a trashcan, a beat up tank top from a pity purchase by a cousin of hers who'd somehow found her, and a pair of beat up old school Vans, another donation bin find.

She glances up, pondering how the room was tall enough that she wasn't hitting her head before shrugging and turning around, finding a door that could easily fit her through it. She walks towards it, hesitantly wrapping her freakishly long fingers around the doorknob and turning it. She steps through and then turns back around. The door was now an average size. She still felt tall. But the roof was still not hitting her head.

That's freaky. . . she comments internally before sighing. You're used to freaky, J. You are freaky, and you live in Manhattan.

That's when she hears - somehow only just now deciding to listen - loud, trashy music from a nearby room, the door almost seeming to shake with the volume.

She takes a deep breath and then calls out in her husky, ethereal voice, "Hello? Anybody there?"

But it's not like whoever was listening to music would be able to hear her. . . at least very well.

---

Arezias blinks rapidly.

What the everloving fuck? What happened?

This is, of course, in relation to waking up in a red lit room, decorated pretty heavily with thrasher band logos, heavy metal band logos, obscure anime references and other Hot Topic/Spencer's type posters and paraphernalia. Loud screamo music was blaring from the speaker sitting on the nightstand.

When they go and open the nearby closet, there's thousands upon thousands of various black and grey t-shirts, some slightly charred, others just torn up; pants with various metal trinkets and baubles on them, with anywhere from half a pound to what looks like a full 2-5 pounds worth of metal studs, spikes and chains. Rows upon rows of various platform boots - complete with metal spikes and steel capped toes - lined the far wall of the closet. A bin was filled with various black and grey beanies in one corner, in another were various underwears and next to it, socks. And to finish it out, there were rows and rows of leather and jean jackets, each unique in their own ways, with different patches and trinkets on them.

Arezias blinks and then shrugs, laughing in confusion but mostly in delight, before hearing a faint voice from somewhere else.

They then walk back out of the closet and go towards the door they assumed leads out into the rest of. . . wherever they were - and probably towards whatever just made noise in said wherever - and straight up just kick it open, the doorframe splintering with the force.

The music is now several times louder in the hall.

Arezias stares at the absolute behemoth in the hall.

Before Janine has time to form a coherent thought, the most rich string of British curses in the thickest Yorkshire accent you've ever heard in your life, ending with '. . . and for fucks sake why are so so goddamn tall like who gave you the right? I know we're in the arse end of nowhere but still, holy fuck!"

It was also nearly impossible to understand over the volume of the music, the rate at which Arezias was talking and the sheer volume of the voice itself, which was clearly only barely winning the fight to be heard.

Anybody in the general vicinity would be able to hear the music and Arezias pretty clearly.

As for Janine, it was clear she was just frozen like a Windows 99 computer trying to run DOOM Eternal.

Magolor drifts through Another Dimension, his task done, too tired to try to move himself..And-then-snrck
He finds himself sitting in a very drab room. Hm…No longer in a purgatory, but he isn't anywhere familiar either. The walls are drab, the colors are all washed out. Its no Starcutter, but at least its not infested by Doomers left and right. Hm. "Um…Anyone there?" He calls out, in the hopes that perhaps someone is also in here. He opens the door, and begins walking down the hall of the place, still unsure about this place, or what it might be for. He conjures a small orb of flame to light his path, and continues down, very quickly spotting a few people in the hall. So he wasn't alone after all.

Artemis slowly woke up, having cried themselves to sleep the night before after another bad fight with their brother. Their wing remained draped over their head, before they realized something was wrong. Very wrong. They slowly moved their wing, feeling around the bed they were on. They couldn’t see whatever was in there, after all. The comforter was the same soft texture they were familiar with at home, but the atmosphere was still wrong. Their ungodly amount of blankets wasn’t there, but there was one extra. A weighted blanket, they noticed.

Panic gripped at their chest as they realized they weren’t back at home. They moved their head as if they were looking around, though there was still nothing for them to see. Great, just perfect, they were in an unfamiliar place with absolutely no sight, save for their hyper-sensitive light perception. How did they even have that? They didn’t know. The music blasting from somewhere in the area wasn’t helping.

Carefully, Artemis started to stand up from their bed, hands outstretched so they didn’t run into anything. They navigated the room at an agonizingly slow pace, since they didn’t have it memorized like their home. Finally, they found the door, and the doorknob soon after. They gripped to knob tightly and turned it, nearly stumbling out of the door.

Artemis let out a pained cry as the music grew louder, covering their ears. They didn’t even pay attention to the voices, coming from the same general direction. If they did, it would be worse, probably. Fuck, it was way too loud. And bright. And they felt a faint heartache, which was growing stronger by the second.

The winged creature stumbled against a wall, sliding down and wrapping their wings around their small, trembling frame. They pressed their face against their knees, attempting to block out the light while still covering their ears against the noise. It was all too much, and it was terrible, and it hurt. Artemis couldn’t feel their heart pounding in their chest, only making the ache worse. They stifled a small sob. They were completely distracted from whatever they’d been thinking about earlier.

(Totally didn't uh forget to post the reply- I had it mostly typed out, I just never hit send. Mbmb)

A bit of pain was always good in moderation – it kept the senses sharp, kept one alert. At least, that was Hartka's rationale.
Her party wasn't having it, though. She'd seen nothing but the same pale-gray medical curtains for the past… time. A triple candle's glow obscured the natural light. Though her internal clock insisted it was midday, she'd been sinking into the pallid sheets.
It wasn't even that bad of a wound – barely even broke skin. Sure, it stung to talk and breathe and pretty much anything else, really, but would that keep her down? Not until the Sun fell out of the sky.
Hartka lurched up in bed – ow – leaned forward – ow – and stood, biting her tongue. Ugh, her medical smock looked worse than she remembered. She kept a change of clothes in the drawers beneath her bed, right next to her toolbag. The kindly infirmary staff had kindly neglected to tell her that she'd been kindly disarmed. They'd also kindly helped themselves to a kindly sum of her money. Whatever. She'd strangle the silver out of them later.
There was a spare knife in her toolbag that had thankfully gone unnoticed. Hartka slid it into the sheath on her belt. The leather toolbag fell over a shoulder as she started for the curtain. She whisked it aside.
And she stared for a while.
Where the Moors..?
A little table stood before her, partnered by an equally tiny chair. The room was cramped, and mushy air weighed down on her. It might've been worse than the infirmary – her instincts reeled at the realization that there were no windows. In fact, the only exits were through two decidedly ugly faux-wood doors. They looked to be made of burnt gingerbread. One was slightly ajar, and Hartka could see that it led into another windowless room – a bathroom, probably, as she could see the faint gleam of porcelain. The other, less-burnt door was closed.
Hartka crept towards it. The knob was oily. She winced, twisting it open with her sleeve, and she stepped out into a hallway.
A hallway filled with a fever dream of other figures. What was going on?

As Arezias is ranting at Janine, the latter notices a few things.

Well, one particular fact. There were other people, two. No, three.

One was holding a light even though it wasn't all too dark in the hall, one had curled up against the wall and was currently breaking down and the last one was just staring, dumbfounded. It was clear nobody here knew why they were here.

So, she claps a hand over Arezias' mouth to silence them for a moment. It worked only out of the pure shock factor of the action.

"Okay. I'm going to go turn the music off. Then we can all talk," she declares.

She hurries off to do that, in the process releasing Arezias - still a bit confused but getting over it rather quickly.

Janine returns, the hall now blissfully quiet.

"First off, introductions. Who are you all? I'll go first. Janine Montague. Just call me J," she says.

Arezias grins from ear to ear, jumping up onto Janine, who jumps and then grabs the little creature, setting it down. Said creature snickers.

"Arezias. Call me Ares or Arezias or anything you like. A popular name is 'Dumbfuck' if you wanna use that," they say brightly.