Party with the Telapathic Octopi
Apr. 14th, 2013 09:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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muse_eum Who: Klavier Gavin, Franziska von Karma, and Trevor "Wolf" Hager
What: A private storyline in which a bunch of previously dead people compete for their right to stay alive by averting a future disaster for a shady group of post-apocalyptic survivors.
Warnings: Death, lots of stupidity, and some OOC fixation on xenobiology.
Consciousness came to him slowly. The sound of waves came first, nearly indistinguishable from their roaring echoes. There was the scent of saltwater and stale air, and his whole body was cold and damp. He was considering retreating back into sleep when a fat drop of water, gritty with mud, dripped on his lips.
He bolted upright, wiping at his mouth and trying to pull a curse from his sleep-muddled brain, and promptly hit his head, rebounded off the hard surface, and hit it again on whatever he had been lying on. This got a couple more garbled curses but at least he was fully awake now.
He was in a stone compartment, just barely big enough to lie down in. Faint blue-green light seeped in around the lid. He didn't know why he was in a stone box by the sea. He didn't remember falling asleep here. Come to think of it, he didn't remember much of anything, did he? Well. That was new. Or was it? Maybe he had done this before and just forgotten. Maybe he had--
Never mind, that train of thought could get really circular really fast. Better to forget what he'd forgotten and get out of his box. He sat up with a bit more caution and shoved away the lid, which was something of a feat considering how heavy it was. Things he knew about himself: he was not a competitive bodybuilder. Right then.
The first thing that struck him was the light. Flickering blue points coated the walls and ceilings, illuminating the caverns, the water that flooded them, and the stone boxes that lined the walls. Cavern might be a strong word; it was hardly big enough to stand up in, and not much wider than it was tall. It was more like a tunnel-- yes, he could see branches twisting off further down past some of the boxes without lids. Kind of odd, that. What was someone keeping down here, anyway? Other than sleeping amnesiacs, that is, because he couldn't think of a single situation where a warehouse of bodies in boxes made sense.
...Oh. Wait. No, there was one. He squinted into the dim light, hoping to see livestock cages or shipments of goods, or something else sensible, but it was no use; that wasn't the sort of thing you kept in tombs. And they were definitely tombs, because he could see moth-eaten cloth and the glint of bones inside some of the ones without lids.
"...Oh." He took a deep breath. "Hmm."
His voice sounded awfully calm for someone who had just crawled out of a tomb. Things he knew about himself: he was level-headed in a crisis. He must be, right? Right. That would help. And in this situation, a level-headed person would investigate his surroundings so he could piece together some sort of narrative. Then that was what he would do.
First came a cursory check to make sure he, in fact, alive. After he was satisfied that he wasn't fatally wounded, was breathing, and didn't have any decaying limbs or dangling eyeballs, he stepped out of the tomb and into the water. It was knee-deep and freezing and he didn't want to think about what might be living in it, but these are the chances you take when you're a reasonable and level-headed man.
"Hello," he called, strolling from tomb to tomb, knocking on the lids and peering inside. "Hello, hello! Any other dead guys? Anyone at all?"
What: A private storyline in which a bunch of previously dead people compete for their right to stay alive by averting a future disaster for a shady group of post-apocalyptic survivors.
Warnings: Death, lots of stupidity, and some OOC fixation on xenobiology.
Consciousness came to him slowly. The sound of waves came first, nearly indistinguishable from their roaring echoes. There was the scent of saltwater and stale air, and his whole body was cold and damp. He was considering retreating back into sleep when a fat drop of water, gritty with mud, dripped on his lips.
He bolted upright, wiping at his mouth and trying to pull a curse from his sleep-muddled brain, and promptly hit his head, rebounded off the hard surface, and hit it again on whatever he had been lying on. This got a couple more garbled curses but at least he was fully awake now.
He was in a stone compartment, just barely big enough to lie down in. Faint blue-green light seeped in around the lid. He didn't know why he was in a stone box by the sea. He didn't remember falling asleep here. Come to think of it, he didn't remember much of anything, did he? Well. That was new. Or was it? Maybe he had done this before and just forgotten. Maybe he had--
Never mind, that train of thought could get really circular really fast. Better to forget what he'd forgotten and get out of his box. He sat up with a bit more caution and shoved away the lid, which was something of a feat considering how heavy it was. Things he knew about himself: he was not a competitive bodybuilder. Right then.
The first thing that struck him was the light. Flickering blue points coated the walls and ceilings, illuminating the caverns, the water that flooded them, and the stone boxes that lined the walls. Cavern might be a strong word; it was hardly big enough to stand up in, and not much wider than it was tall. It was more like a tunnel-- yes, he could see branches twisting off further down past some of the boxes without lids. Kind of odd, that. What was someone keeping down here, anyway? Other than sleeping amnesiacs, that is, because he couldn't think of a single situation where a warehouse of bodies in boxes made sense.
...Oh. Wait. No, there was one. He squinted into the dim light, hoping to see livestock cages or shipments of goods, or something else sensible, but it was no use; that wasn't the sort of thing you kept in tombs. And they were definitely tombs, because he could see moth-eaten cloth and the glint of bones inside some of the ones without lids.
"...Oh." He took a deep breath. "Hmm."
His voice sounded awfully calm for someone who had just crawled out of a tomb. Things he knew about himself: he was level-headed in a crisis. He must be, right? Right. That would help. And in this situation, a level-headed person would investigate his surroundings so he could piece together some sort of narrative. Then that was what he would do.
First came a cursory check to make sure he, in fact, alive. After he was satisfied that he wasn't fatally wounded, was breathing, and didn't have any decaying limbs or dangling eyeballs, he stepped out of the tomb and into the water. It was knee-deep and freezing and he didn't want to think about what might be living in it, but these are the chances you take when you're a reasonable and level-headed man.
"Hello," he called, strolling from tomb to tomb, knocking on the lids and peering inside. "Hello, hello! Any other dead guys? Anyone at all?"
.....and I have no idea how this got so long.
Date: 2013-04-24 09:37 pm (UTC)The air felt moist, and the noise surrounding her sounded suspiciously like moving water. Like the ocean. Though of course that couldn't have been what it really was; she hadn't been anywhere near the ocean before--
…
--before what? This, she realized with some considerable unease, was all that she could remember. Anything that might have happened before she'd woken up here simply didn't exist. There was nothing.
…Well. First things first. She had to figure out where she was, and then perhaps the rest would follow. It was too dark to be able to see properly, so she'd have to make do without until she found a way to fix that. Found a light--yes, maybe there was a source of light somewhere around here. This all seemed perfectly straightforward, so it shouldn't have been very difficult to sort out what was going on.
Her plan unravelled as soon as she tried to sit up, only to discover that a barrier was preventing her from doing so. Crawling forward or to the sides proved equally impossible, which led her to conclude that she was lying in some type of a small compartment. Judging by the hard texture of its surface, it was likely made of stone. At this point, she was awake enough to be certain that her hazy acceptance of the situation had vanished entirely; all she knew was that she was trapped inside of a stone compartment, and she needed to get out of it right now.
The background noise had changed somewhat since she had woken up. Some sort of knocking, as well as what seemed to be a man's voice, continually interrupted the sound of water. This made at least one thing apparent: wherever this was, she wasn't alone. The voice was becoming progressively louder and clearer, which must have meant that the person was approaching. Her absolute cluelessness about the situation had gotten to be immensely distressing; someone else was here, walking around, coming towards her, while she was trapped in a box made of stone, and she absolutely had to get out--had to find out where she was, or at the very least find a way to see what was going on--before he reached her, because she couldn't just lie still and wait for him to reach her. What little light she could see was shining through from above, so that must have been where the box opened. She sat up as far as its confines would allow and gave the top surface a push. It moved with some difficulty, as it was rather solid; after some struggle, managed to shove it out of the way.
With that obstacle conquered, she could now focus on examining her surroundings. It appeared she'd been correct in guessing that she was somewhere by the water, but--unsurprisingly--she didn't recognize the place at all. It looked like a cave of some sort; upon further thought, however, she realized that it would be most accurately described as a crypt.
A... crypt?!
Of all places to have woken up in… How had she ended up here? Even if she couldn't remember, she was positive that it hadn't been her own idea; why would it have been?! There was no doubt that whoever was responsible would have hell to pay; she would have to find them so she could ensure that they did. That, however, would have to wait until later. In a dire situation like this, she had to sort her priorities in a reasonable manner. Before she could properly deal with whatever guilty party had gotten her into this mess, she needed to figure out what was going on.
…Unless the guilty party was in fact the crypt's other live occupant, of course, in which case she would have to deal with him promptly. She quickly shifted her attention towards the sound of his voice, and watched him with narrowed eyes. It was clear now that he was calling for someone--something about dead men--though his search didn't seem to have much specific focus. He might have been a bit confused, or perhaps even lost, but it seemed unlikely that he was the one responsible for her predicament. She couldn't be certain about until she found out what he was doing here; in any case, though, he probably wasn't an immediate threat. Frankly, he just looked like an idiot.
"…Dead men aren't going to answer you," she remarked; the tone of her voice was cold, because even if she didn't suspect he was to blame, she was unimpressed with him so far.
Her highest priority was to gather information, though, and it was a definite possibility that he knew something she didn't. And while his presence didn't worry her, the fact that she was oblivious to nothing short of everything was a weakness that she preferred not to make immediately apparent.