Trustfell Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
trustharder) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trusthell2016-02-28 12:00 am
trustharder) wrote in trusthell2016-02-28 12:00 am
Welcome.
You last remember feeling safe.
You don't know what caused that response, now that you think about it; you can't remember what you were doing before the warm, comfortable feeling came over you, a sensation somewhere between relief and the light contentment that comes with the knowledge that you're safe enough to sleep and god, are you ready to. It feels like you may have been sleeping for a while before this, even; your limbs are heavy in the memory, and you recall how difficult it was to open your eyes.
Turning your head is likewise difficult, it feels kind of like it's full of sand. Weighted-down by sleep. It's so much easier to remain still, and so you do, and before you haze out again you can vaguely hear a voice.
It's no one you recognize, and it sounds strange and vaguely distorted as you start to drift off again.
"Everything'll be fine."
There isn't an answer that you can hear; the voice speaks once more.
"...you ready?"
You don't remember what you wanted to say to that. Always, maybe. Or Ready for what? Or perhaps What's happened to me?
But none of it matters, because consciousness slips away from you too quickly for you to respond.
---
You wake up some time later; the comfortable, safe feeling from earlier certainly isn't dampened any by the bed you wake up in. Whether you like it soft as a cloud or firm enough to support the most finicky of spines, the bed you're in is nice, and it's pretty much exactly what you've been looking for in a mattress.
Shame the rest of the room is probably going to be a bit jarring when you wake up properly.
The room you're in is completely unfamiliar, all concrete and steel and almost nothing that makes it yours - but there's a trunk near the bed and there's what looks like a smartphone sitting on the trunk, and you might want to grab that before you leave the room. Trying to text or call out won't do anything for the time being, unfortunately, but it's something. A lifeline, maybe.
If you're looking to see if anyone is here with you, maybe you can find someone as you wander through the main corridor; after all, there are a few places to explore here, even if the bulk of the place is pretty much a straight shot down the center. If you're looking to gather, the dining hall is probably the best place for it, as it's large enough to accommodate all of you.
Wherever you choose to go, however, there are a set of rules posted in every room; the far wall of the dining hall, across from the entrances, also has a bulletin board with twenty-seven pictures, along with some...interesting information, posted on it. The board is large enough for all of you to look at it, but you might not want to try to get at anything posted there; just like the rules, there's glass in front of it, and it's looking to be extremely shatterproof.
Sorry about that.
There's one more thing you'll notice on your wanderings through the corridor – there are no windows, and there are no doors that can possibly lead outside.
Looks like you're trapped. Might as well get to know those that are here with you.
You don't know what caused that response, now that you think about it; you can't remember what you were doing before the warm, comfortable feeling came over you, a sensation somewhere between relief and the light contentment that comes with the knowledge that you're safe enough to sleep and god, are you ready to. It feels like you may have been sleeping for a while before this, even; your limbs are heavy in the memory, and you recall how difficult it was to open your eyes.
Turning your head is likewise difficult, it feels kind of like it's full of sand. Weighted-down by sleep. It's so much easier to remain still, and so you do, and before you haze out again you can vaguely hear a voice.
It's no one you recognize, and it sounds strange and vaguely distorted as you start to drift off again.
"Everything'll be fine."
There isn't an answer that you can hear; the voice speaks once more.
"...you ready?"
You don't remember what you wanted to say to that. Always, maybe. Or Ready for what? Or perhaps What's happened to me?
But none of it matters, because consciousness slips away from you too quickly for you to respond.
---
You wake up some time later; the comfortable, safe feeling from earlier certainly isn't dampened any by the bed you wake up in. Whether you like it soft as a cloud or firm enough to support the most finicky of spines, the bed you're in is nice, and it's pretty much exactly what you've been looking for in a mattress.
Shame the rest of the room is probably going to be a bit jarring when you wake up properly.
The room you're in is completely unfamiliar, all concrete and steel and almost nothing that makes it yours - but there's a trunk near the bed and there's what looks like a smartphone sitting on the trunk, and you might want to grab that before you leave the room. Trying to text or call out won't do anything for the time being, unfortunately, but it's something. A lifeline, maybe.
If you're looking to see if anyone is here with you, maybe you can find someone as you wander through the main corridor; after all, there are a few places to explore here, even if the bulk of the place is pretty much a straight shot down the center. If you're looking to gather, the dining hall is probably the best place for it, as it's large enough to accommodate all of you.
Wherever you choose to go, however, there are a set of rules posted in every room; the far wall of the dining hall, across from the entrances, also has a bulletin board with twenty-seven pictures, along with some...interesting information, posted on it. The board is large enough for all of you to look at it, but you might not want to try to get at anything posted there; just like the rules, there's glass in front of it, and it's looking to be extremely shatterproof.
Sorry about that.
There's one more thing you'll notice on your wanderings through the corridor – there are no windows, and there are no doors that can possibly lead outside.
Looks like you're trapped. Might as well get to know those that are here with you.
B
That seems a bit too far fetched even for him, but still.]
Ah--if you insist, I suppose. [Somehow he feels weirdly underdressed, but that could be the neon green jumpsuit talking.] But maybe after I put these books down.
[Yeah he went to the library for another round of books since he had finished with the ones he brought over earlier.]
no subject
[Very much a robot, very much talking to you! That said, he doesn't seem terribly off-put by the...request? Is that a request, it's hard to say. Either way, he just sort of tosses his head like it's going to flick his hair a bit(it doesn't, because yay for metal plating) and offers a bit of a wave.]
I can wait, sweetheart, it isn't like we're going anywhere.
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Not think about it. (For now).]
Uh--thanks. [Just give him a moment, he'll put the books down nearby before coming back over. Once he's back he tries his best to manage a welcoming smile, as small as it is.] So, you wanted to ask questions?
[Bruce might have some to ask back in return later.]
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Although speaking of that. You don't remember doing anything that would have led to waking up here, do you?
[MIGHT...AS WELL JUST ASK THAT...]
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Not particularly. I was... on a car before I arrived here.
[Stark's car, to be precise. Which kind of makes seeing this particular robot all the more weirder since Iron Man is still fresh enough in his mind.]
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[That should probably be unsettling or something, but he says it easily enough. It's kind of like discussing the weather. Only really enthusiastically? Discussing the weather with somebody who really fucking likes clouds.
...Whatever, that's not the point.]
Have you looked the profiles over at all?
no subject
But yeah, he's sort of figured that much out too. It's very disconcerting, but there's nothing he can really conclude from that either so its something he'll have to combe back to later.
For now...]
Yes, I have. [You were kind of hard to miss even on the profiles, to be honest.] Mettaton, correct?
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[...Dude.]
Tell me, though, I'm dying to know; did you recognize anyone on those profiles, or are you here by yourself?
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You mean before this? No. [It's just himself...] I assume you're in the same boat?
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Is it the same for everyone here? [He's assuming Mettaton asked the rest, too.]
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Looks like we're all on our own.
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So we're all brought here alone for no rhyme and reason into this place without warning... [He's musing, more to himself than to Mettaton, trying to put the pieces together.
Yeah, still nothing.]
I wish there was something more we could work with. [Bruce really wants to know why any of this is even happening.]
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It sucks, and I'm not sure how I'm not dead, but here I am anyway.
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Do you need help with those? I'm no expert, but I could give it a shot.
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[...yeah, we're involving magic now.]
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Well, if you ever just need me help screw in a few bolts, I'm always available.
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Maybe I'll return the favor someday.
[...]
...By way of a better outfit, maybe. That's positively garish, darling.
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I didn't exactly choose to wear this, if that helps.
[Just a hint of subtle dryness here. Bruce may have bad fashion sense but even he knows that he should avoid bight neon green jumpsuits.]
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This place really does lack subtlety.
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[And Bruce doesn't exactly have... anything else to wear...]
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[Trust him, Mettaton. He knows.]
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[Just a side effect of being the Hulk.]