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.
a
is one interesting sight. It's not a human, but it's definitely not a troll nor beast either, and Sigrun's weaponless as is. She's wary but striding after Mettaton confidently enough, talking loudly too with her hands on her hips. One arm might be stinging from shitty stitches she somehow obtained in exchange for her neck cast, but that's not important. She can think about it later.]
It doesn't seem like they had much of a choice in design. It's more for function than anything. [No windows or doors, no escape routes as far as Sigrun can tell.] Like a quarantine area or prison.
[Neither of which spells good things. But in the case of the first, it doesn't matter to her since she's immune to the Illness. And whatever this pink thing is isn't fleshy, so it probably can't contract it.]
no subject
Sweetheart, there's always a choice - there's function and then there's laziness, and this is absolutely uninspired!
[...And then he actually glances back to see who he's talking to, and oh. Oh! That's. Okay. That sure is a human there isn't it.
Weirdly enough it actually seems to calm him down? He's still riled, but decidedly less willing to just ARGHBLARGH all over her, his voice slipping easily into something that's just as loud but a bit loftier and a fair amount less harsh.]
I mean, you can have functionality without sacrificing aesthetics, come on.
no subject
Half-assing your job just makes it hard on other people and then your chances of dying go up.]
It kind of feels half done, yeah. There's all these metal supports everywhere.
[... Maybe if you kicked one in the whole place would come down. That'd be a good way to see where she is.]
But it's not too unusual to see it in a place outside the fences. We're probably pretty lucky to find ourselves here and not in the Silent Lands, especially unarmed.
no subject
[That's...new. Definitely new.]
Between that and all this talk of quarantine, you'll make me wonder what the outside world is even coming to anymore.
no subject
Well, the outside world's dead for one, unless you count the beasts, trolls, and giants as alive. There's some wildlife here and here, but they'll all succumb to the Illness at some point.
[Matter of fact. Poor metal person. Must be some new prototype the Swedes or Icelandics are working on, 'cause Norwegians haven't got the time for that.]
no subject
Well...well, I see. Is there a reason I shouldn't consider those other people alive?
[Beasts and trolls and giants are totally people and presumably living ones, what the crap.]
no subject
They've got no conscious thought [in most cases] and beasts are just infected animals. And if you try talking to one they're more likely to rip the skin off your face than reply.
[...]
Well, I guess that doesn't really apply to you, but for me that's just death. They're things that need to be killed so everyone else stays safe.
[Don't worry robro she'll teach you all your mission objectives. Maybe this is part of her muscle for her team assignment.]
no subject
You know, sweetheart, I'd ask what sort of horrible dystopia you crawled out of, but I don't want to know and it doesn't really matter.
[...Thanks, Mettaton.]
I'm going to assume you were on your noble quest to kill things before you woke up here?
no subject
[That is not how that went at all but who else was better for the job than Sigrun Eide anyway?]
I fell in an easy sleep, ready for a debriefing and preparation the following day, and woke up here instead. I don't think they'd picked out my people yet, but I'll decide my pick of the litter here if I need to.
[Though. There's some key things messed up here, and she's rubbing her neck thinking about it.]
The funny thing is, I'd hurt my neck pretty bad on the last hunt and that's obviously gone. I got these though.
[And she'll pull up her sleeve to reveal the shittiest stitches ever.]
no subject
Well, that's absolutely disgusting, thank you for sharing! You might want to have that healed by someone who knows what they're doing? Sewing it up like that isn't going to do you any good.
no subject
[Seriously, who did this. Where's the medic she needs to chew out. At least they're holding. Watch, she can stretch them a little too.]
Mostly because even Mages can't perform miracles like that. Least, none of the ones I've worked with.
no subject
[And he's...not sure how he feels about that BUT ANYWAY MOVING ON- ]
Who knows, though - maybe there's someone else here who can. I'd offer myself, but my own magic is best suited for other things.
no subject
Such as?
no subject
I mostly work with machines and electricity, but explosives are definitely something I can make... I'm also built to take a lot of damage, and my physical abilities aren't bad either.
I'm an entertainment robot first and foremost, but that doesn't mean I wasn't outfitted with brutal combat capabilities.
no subject
Hmmmm. Not the highest on Sigrun's list, but that's alright. She doesn't have many people on there right now anyway.]
You sound versatile. Think you could punch your way out of here?
no subject
That sounds like a spectacular way to get myself killed, actually.
[do none of you watch horror movies around here]
no subject
Well, it doesn't sound like you're in danger of dying any other way, so what's the harm in trying?
no subject
no subject
It does. She wants him to punch a wall.]
no subject
...And if that breaks my hand? We can't just sew that up.
[We're going to have a problem if that happens, is the implication here.]
no subject
[so.]
And I'm sure there's someone who can mangle your hand back together if it breaks.
no subject
Why don't we try to find actual doors before we do that?
no subject
[Sigrun.]