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Post by fôrest/ on Sept 5, 2016 19:42:41 GMT -6
It's a game. a sort of rp.
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Post by fôrest/ on Sept 5, 2016 19:47:53 GMT -6
fôrest/ woke up on a balcony. the balcony. the one from all those years ago where he began his fascination.
Looking around there were dead crows all around him. he checked himself over, no scrapes cuts or blood.
on him at least but the cement below him was covered. covered in the blood and guts of what seemed to be a thousand crows, all dead. It was night time, cold and breezy. The weapon he was supposed to have was gone. but he wasn't infected as far as he could tell.
He was alive.
"It's time to see if there is anybody else here." he thought to himself.
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Post by Sniper Fox on Sept 6, 2016 18:40:57 GMT -6
(I see what you're getting at.)
Sniper woke up to the smell of a horrific stench. His eyes were hard to open at first. They were crusted shut with guck. His neck was throbbing. He was on a floor, a dirty and wet one. By the time he managed to open his eyes he realized where he was automatically. At least, he thought he did. It couldn't be though. Not here. This place didn't exist. Not in the real world.
He mustered up enough strength to get his butt off the ground, with the help of the tub railing. The small restroom was dimly lit and musty. Dirty. The tub, filled with what appeared to be water, but much darker with a blackish-reddish tint. He did not dare to reach his hands in. He had a pretty good idea what would happen if he pulled that plug.
His memory was hazy. The last thing he remembered... would have been logging off his Asus and going to bed after a long stretch of gaming and binging on caffeinated beverages. As well as making some posts on the... What the fuck was going on?
Suddenly he had the urge to vomit. Already knowing where the toilet was and hoping to hell nothing was around that tiny corner but not much caring he stumbled as quickly as he could and it all came out. Luckily most of it made its way in the foul pot. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket. Feeling slightly better and more able to walk, he made his way to the mirror above the sink. Trying not to think or look at the tub. His eyes, bloodshot. His face pale. He couldn't be here. It had to be a terrible lucid dream of some sort.
He tried to clean himself up but no running water was coming out of the faucet. In fact, the only thing in the faucet were dozens of what appeared to be half full prescription bottles. With closer examination he realized they were all in his name, though the prescribing physician's name was scratched out on each and every one. Fear and anxiety were starting to pulsate through his entire body. His knees shaked, head ached and chest pounded. He grabbed the first bottle in his reach, opened it up and saw that this particular one had only one single bar of Xanax in it. Name brand, no generic shit. He immediately shoved it in his mouth and chewed the thing up whole, did a three-sixty and plopped his ass right back on the floor across from the tub.
what the fuck? He thought, as his eyes not once averted away from that dark cesspool radiating nothing good across from him. He shut his eyes, as he felt his blood-pressure decrease and breathing get better.
I'm going insane.
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Post by Tanner on Sept 7, 2016 9:12:05 GMT -6
Tanner half-awoke, floating peacefully.
Ahh...
He was about to fade back into blissful sleep when the water level lapped over and down into his snorkel. He jolted fully awake, head and arms bolting up out of the bath tub. He tried to stand up, but slipped back down into the water, displacing much of the water from the tub onto the floor. He managed to grab the sides of the tub and pull himself up once more. He coughed up some water and collapsed onto the wet bathroom floor, breathing heavily.
"Oh god, what did I do last night?" He said.
He flipped his head back around and saw Sniper sitting in the puddle he had made.
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