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Lara Lara grimaces, staring at her spaghetti, jabbing it with her fork. "If they are doing testing and want it to be legitimate, even on a surface level, they would need to at least be sure of a random sample. However, this group seems very... unrepresentative. Atypical. They might still be ironing out methodology."
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Jul 26, 2013 19:02
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| # ? Apr 26, 2024 09:06 |
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 *THOCK* There hadn’t even been any screams. The only reason Andrea was out of her bed was because she needed to use the bathroom. They shared one with their neighbors next door, and the only way to get to it was to go out into the hallway of their apartment building. The two bedroom flat their family occupied was cramped at best, so Andrea merely had to step out of her room and walk a few feet to reach the kitchen / living room area where the exit was; but this time she didn’t make it. *CRUNCH* Caught in the dim glow of a small lamp across the room was her father. He must’ve come home just recently, because she could smell the saturation of alcohol from where she stood in the threshold. He was hunched over something next to the couch; sweat glistened on his forehead, but his face was a blank, passive mask void of any emotion. She didn’t like that look – she’d seen it before. That day when he came after Christine and her with a hammer instead of a belt. Andrea had managed to push a dresser against the door to their room to keep him away, but he’d already caught her on the thigh with the claw. 16 stitches. *THOCK* *SMACK* This time he didn’t have a hammer, it was a crowbar. Every few seconds he would robotically raise the tool up over his head and bring it down against something she couldn’t see from where she stood. The impact made a sickening sound each time. She didn’t want to breathe, for fear of alerting him to her presence. Her eyes scanned down to the floor in front of her. The kitchen counter was blocking full view of the scene, but she could see a spattering of some dark fluid on the linoleum next to a stray slipper; which she recognized as her mother’s. The crowbar went up again, and this time she noticed a dark mist of similar appearance spray upwards with it, painting her father’s stoic expression. *THOCK* Heartbeats feel like someone is pounding their fist against her chest as she inches ever so slowly towards the cell phone on the counter, never taking her eyes off the man who had brought her into this world. She tried to time her movement with his swings, tried not to think about what came into view as she drew closer; about the oatmeal-like substance on the wall next to him and the tiny white flakes that dribbled down along with the viscous, reddish matter. Her hand grasped the phone… *THOCK* Her mother’s legs were splayed out on either side of his crouching figure. Dark stuff everywhere. He turned his head… Run. Run. Run. Dresser. Urine. Dial. Don’t wake Chris; never tell, never tell, never tell… oh god… someone… help… ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ I take a deep hit and lean against the rail that runs along the patio, my fingers brushing over the old, familiar scar on my thigh through the holes in my skinny jeans. In front of us a lush, green lawn ran at a slight slope down to the line of woods. Perpendicular to its expanse was what looked like the gym building she had pointed out before. Maybe it was an Ultimate Frisbee field? I still couldn’t make out any signs of the other “subjects”. The doctor is waxing on about how she’d been criticized for her evil tobacco habits, but my mind is too busy loving with me to comprehend what she was saying. A boiling acidic flare rises up like a loving hot spring from my stomach and I almost double over, grimacing. You really messed yourself up, you stupid oval office. Long stretch of this bullshit ahead; but then, you deserve it after all. Chris would be horrified with what I’ve become, but I still wish I could see her, though; if for nothing else than to vindicate my self-destruction with her look of disgust. I chuckle out loud despite myself, face twisting into a sneer. poo poo. Don’t even think about crying! Instead of letting some of that sadness escape, I come up with a hasty response. “There’s only two kinds of deaths: those with regrets and those without. Do what you want. Be what you want. gently caress all the rest.” For some reason my thoughts drifted back to that Moon dude. I did vaguely remember Angel bringing him up, so he must write some social critique-type stuff, ‘cause that’s what she was into. Of course I never read him. Last time I touched a book was in the court room to “solemnly swear” to some fake god – a freaky ritual that was. Still, if Angel likes the guy he might be worth getting to know. “Dr. June, right?” I turn up the charm in my smile a bit. “Thanks for the smoke. Tell me, anyone ever completed this testing we’re gonna do? Or are you guys still keeping everyone here?” I glance over my shoulder through the windows of the cafeteria. Heart is busy chatting with the others, looks okay. The cigarette tastes great – like slow, smoky catharsis. The fact that its bad for you is part of what makes it feel so good. I think the good Doc might even agree with me on that one.
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Jul 26, 2013 19:39
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"LeJeune. The testing is still ongoing, actually. We only truly opened this facility a few months ago. I'd ask if you have any regrets, the way you're talking--but I'm not the resident shrink, and you're entitled to your privacy."
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Jul 27, 2013 05:10
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Bernard Smith Bernard shook his head in response to Lara. "Unethical sure, not legitimate maybe, I don't know. But they already had a few groups already. Unless you know a lot more than I do I don't think any of us can say whether the sampling is good or not." The large man seemed inclined just to go with the flow on the issue, there wasn't much to be gained by resisting so why bother? What would happen would happen regardless of whether he wanted it to or not.
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Jul 27, 2013 06:01
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Lara She continues to jab her spaghetti, growing more and more angry. "If they expect to publish then they'd have to have demonstrated methodology involving... random... rrrrghh." She drops the fork, making a motion like she's going to shove the plate away, then stops herself, pressing her hands to her eyes and focusing on calming down.
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Jul 27, 2013 06:11
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Moon frowns. "I don't think publication is the goal--Are you all right?" He rises, concerned. Iris does the same. Axel, on his third helping of salad, freezes. Going to push it ahead fairly soon, folks, if you have anything you really want to cover at the dinner conversation now's the time to get it posted. I'll be posting a major thing once I'm done work tomorrow.
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Jul 27, 2013 06:31
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Lara Lara lets out a long breath, still pressing her eyes. "Mmm. It's okay. Just need a minute." After a few moments, she relaxes, then looks up at Moon. "Hmm? Oh. Okay." She crosses her arms and hunches down, ignoring her food.
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Jul 27, 2013 07:28
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Isaac "Izzie" Wilson Izzie has kept quiet since his guesses, hoping to get a better read on the others once they got started talking. He starts to get up when Lara has her episode, but sits back down when she seems okay. "Well," he says into the silence that follows. "I think I'm going to hit the gym after dinner. Never be able to get to sleep if I don't work some of this energy off. Anyone want to come with?"
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Jul 27, 2013 20:25
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After dinner, you're shown to your suites and given some free time. Round about 10PM, you're called to your rooms by a group of research assistance--Genevieve Wiseman, Maggie Hanover, and Victor Rausch, who show you how to don the special headgear that will be used to monitor your sleep. It's lightweight and mostly cloth and flexible wires. "It's a lot easier than manually attaching electrodes," Genevieve comments. Once the headgear is on, it's actually fairly easy to forget it's there, thankfully--it isn't much worse than wearing a hat or headband, and shouldn't interfere with your sleep. The research assistants also walk you through connecting the monitor headgear to the bedside terminals so the data can be recorded, as well as how to log into the computer systems in your rooms. You learn that you have access to a certain amount of the internal network, including email addresses which consist of your first initial followed by your last name, @wave4.oneiros.sci. "When you wake up it's important to fill out the dream report form you'll find on the desktop of your logins," Victor explains in lightly accented English. "Document as much as you can recall about every dream you have, and remember to click 'submit' when you are finished." Then you're left to yourselves, to drift off to sleep. ~~~ Lara The room is mirrored on all sides, infinity rebounding into itself. There is light, though from no obvious source. Lara is alone, in the center of the chamber, kept company only by her own reflections. Just at the edge of hearing, a susurrus of voices whisper, their words lost amidst each other. "Is it always like this?" a voice asks--an unfamiliar voice. A stranger. Foreign. "It must be pretty lonely in here for you. None of the others is so...isolated." A man, his features strangely blurred, is standing beside her. To say he has suddenly appeared would be wrong--it is more as if he has suddenly been there all along. "Awful lot of newcomers, aren't there?" he asks. It seems to be a rhetorical question. "But...what will you do? Will you stay hidden here in your own mind, all alone except for all of the rest of you? Or will you...step outside, and become yourself?" He gestures, and Lara sees a door--again, it wasn't there a moment ago, but now, it's always been there. "I'll let you sleep on it, as they say...you're not ready for it tonight, but you'll have a way out now, if you like. It's up to you." And the man is gone...and Lara wakes up. ~~~ Bernard Bernard raises his hands and calls on the demonic power of his warlock to deal the killing blow on the dungeon boss. As the death animation finishes up, and the sparkling indicating the loot drop appears, the game freezes. "A game? Fascinating. One of the others is in a game, too. But that is, I imagine, meaningless to you." From behind one of the rock pillars used to avoid the boss's explosion spells steps a man with features oddly indeterminate. "I wonder, are you simply a piece on the board, or will you choose to be a player?" He kneels by the defeated foe, reaching out and shutting its eyes. Is that even--Bernard didn't even know the art team had designed a closed-eyed version! "It's up to you, of course. If you're strong enough, that is. You'll know...and when you do, the door is right there." He gestures, and Bernard's attention is drawn to a door--modern, out of place, and certainly not present in this dungeon before now...and yet, there is the sensation of utter correctness, that it has always been there. Then the mobs that patrol the approach to the boss arrive, and begin to attack...and Bernard awakens. ~~~ Izzie The court is empty, save for Izzie. The other players don't matter. The ball is round. The net is ten feet up. Focus. The crowd is roaring, their noise a silence in Izzie's ears. Dribble. Fake out the defense, get around them. There are only three things in the world, and it is perfect. Izzie leaps. The ball drops into the net. The buzzer sounds. The quarter is over--the game is won. The world returns...and a man stands in the center of the court, applauding. The world is still, save for the man, with features that won't resolve themselves, and Izzie. "An excellent showing. This game is much more physical than the one the other plays. I wonder...I imagine you could do well in his game...would he do well in yours? That's not the real question, though. The real question is, are you ready to play for higher stakes?" He nods, and Izzie sees a door immediately behind the net--a door that has alwaysnever been there before now. "You'll have to decide...but at least you'll have the choice. I never did." Time returns, the man is gone...but the door remains. Izzie's teammates clap him on the back, celebrating victory...and Izzie awakens. ~~~ Fatimah The steps are second nature now, but it's still important to make sure everything is right before triggering the shutter. Digital photography has made it too easy to be sloppy, to take a spray and pray approach, which is why her mentor insisted on teaching her using film. "It's a lost art," he would lament, as he spooled the film into the spindles within a light-proof bag, preparing them for development. "So many techniques to learn in-camera, in the darkroom...lost now, remembered only in the names of Photoshop filters." Make sure the f-stop is right for the depth of field you want. Check the composition--sure, it's easy to crop it down, but a good photographer never does. "Used to be that we'd do our prints with the negative visible round the borders, to show we had done the composition in camera. That's how you could tell if someone was really serious, or just puttering around with an SLR." More advice from her mentor, reminiscing about the good old days. Test strips, enlargers, racks of chemicals, empty film canisters waiting to be reloaded. His garage was a workshop, a darkroom, a science lab, and a painter's studio, all in one. He'd given Fatimah a set of keys so she could come in and develop photos whenever she liked--with the rule that she ring the buzzer first, in case he was in the middle of making a print. "I don't mind the Sabbatier effect, but I prefer that it be intentional." The shutter clicks, and the still life is burned onto the silver halide. Fatimah straightens, smiling, knowing the composition is perfect. But had that other door always been there? "An artist," says a man, "but of pictures, not words. Very interesting, this group." He is not familiar, and yet he has always been here. "Creative, inquisitive...what story will your pictures tell? The truth? Or something greater? Do you have the burning need to discover that so often comes with the talents you're developing? Hm. Apologies, that was unintentional." He nods towards the door, and Fatimah realizes that his facial features are indistinct, blurred, impossible to resolve into a recognizable face. "When you have a chance...if you want to seek for the truth, instead of just taking the truth that's placed in front of you...this door will show you the way." And then Fatimah wakes. ~~~ Nil Between the lights, the cramped space full of bodies, and the frenzied activity on stage that makes up a good show, Nil is soaked in sweat. The venue isn't particularly large, the pay isn't particularly great, and the acoustics aren't particularly good, but gently caress, who gives a poo poo about that, it's rock and loving roll. There's plenty of drugs out there and plenty of shitheads who would sell them to Nil in alphabetical loving order--but there's not one of them, not a single loving one, that compares to the rush of the moment on stage, when the band is playing as a single entity, the crowd is completely into it, and the rest of the universe fades out. Too bad the moment never loving lasts, right? Except this time. This time, the moment is lasting forever, like some kind of weird-rear end nerdy temporal dilation poo poo. And some fucker with no face--okay, he's got a face, but it's not a face, it's some kind of blurred out face, like a witness on some loving news report where they want you not to know who the person is--he's just standing there, on the stage, and he's dancing like some kind of idiot. Time's frozen, rear end in a top hat, there's not even a beat and you're still managing to loving lose the rhythm. "What IS time, to a dreamer?" the rear end in a top hat says, as if reading Nil's thoughts. gently caress, maybe he is. If this is a dream, any old poo poo can happen and it makes sense while it's the dream. "Awful lot of loathing in here. Self-destruction's nice and all, but it's never been my thing. You're a lot more alive than most. What's the saying? Burn bright and burn out young? I never remember it. You get the picture, anyway." rear end in a top hat shrugs. "When you're here next, you can stay here, wrapped up in yourself and your self loathing and all that. If you want. But you don't have to. You know where the door is." Door? poo poo, there's no door--but there is, and Nil sees it, there behind Beater, frozen in time with a stupid loving look on his face--hard to look smart when you're in the middle of a drum solo, but he's got his drat tongue stuck out in concentration. Dumbass. The door's always been there, and it's never been there before, and this is definitely, definitely a dream, because that makes way too much loving sense. And Andrea wakes. ~~~ Maureen Saturday mornings are the best. Saturday mornings are when Maureen gets to sleep in, while Stan and their little one wake up early, quietly creep to the kitchen, and make breakfast in bed for Maureen together. Maureen loves the little one...so much. And Stan, such a thoughtful husband, and such a caring father...Saturday mornings are the best, but every day is the best, with such a loving family. Why can't Maureen remember the name of her little one? A crease forms in her brow as the thought occurs to her. Outside, on the windowsill, a crow perches, cawing. Shouldn't she be able to remember her own child's name? It doesn't normally take this long for Stan and the little one to finish making breakfast. The crow has been joined by another, and from the sounds of it, more are gathering outside as well. Maureen sits up in bed, looking around. She must have a photo of her son...daughter? Which is it? Why can't she remember? The crows are a cacophony now, and there's something outside the window that's getting them so riled up. The old tree's out there, and they're perched on the limbs--but there's something there, on the tree, or beneath it, or both that's got them all to show up. Maureen knows this isn't right, this isn't how it went, and she knows that there is something terribly wrong, and she knows that if she looks, she's going to regret it, and yet she rises from the bed and slowly, inexorably, she is drawn to the window. And then, the man twists the blinds shut. Suddenly the sound of the crows is gone. The man's face is impossible to discern, but Maureen can tell that his expression is profoundly sad. "The others all have safe places. You...I'm sorry. I don't like to do something so drastic in someone else's home, but you shouldn't have to relive this. You shouldn't have to keep blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault. If you find yourself back here...there's another way." Maureen turns to the wall by her bed, and where there's never been a door, a door has always been. "It's only for people who can deal with what might lie beyond," the man says. "Now...wake up." Maureen wakes up.
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Jul 28, 2013 07:00
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Bernard Smith Bernard woke up with a vague sense of annoyance that he hadn't gotten to collect the loot. Or at least see what it was, I mean that was the whole point of running those things after all? Also he was annoyed that he couldn't even play in this isolated environment. When he got around to writing the dream diary though he was kind of lost as to what to write, so it was a little brief perhaps compared to others. Bernard's Dream Diary posted:Okay, I'm not sure what will happen immediately after we wake up, so this is just the dream diary entry.
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Jul 28, 2013 07:54
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gently caress its too early for this poo poo posted:I squint through blurry eyes at the 'report' before clicking on the 'SUBMIT'. The dream content itself wasn't too out of the ordinary, aside from feeling incredibly lucid; what really surprised me was that I had a pretty clear picture of what happened. I never remember my dreams; I guess due to only sleeping off blackouts most of the time. That guy, though... Eh. Whatevs. Probably just side effects of starting up on whatever they're giving us. I crack my knuckles and ponder the day ahead of me. I was already bored, loving detox doldrums kicking in. Due to Fail teaching me how to manage our website and poo poo I have semi-competence with computers, so it doesn't take me long to find a way to cause mischief. pre:To: slejeune@wave4.oneiros.sci From: abailey@wave4.oneiros.sci Sup sunshine. Where's my eggs & bakey? No B N'B? What kind of resort you running here? See ya on the smoke deck. <3 The room was nice: cozy (if a bit too tidy for my tastes); nice view; fridge; big gently caress-off TV. Sure beats crashing on some semen-crusted couch. The only thing that was missing was my girly, but she wasn't that hard to find. They'd stuck her in the room adjacent to mine; I guess they didn't trust us enough to fork over a two-bedroom. Well, sleep time was over, and they couldn't stop me now! I crack open my door and peek into the bland, white, sterile hallways. Nothing and no one around, so I slip outside and open the door to her room, stealthily sliding through and shutting it softly behind me before turning towards her bed. She's all blissed-out peaceful-like, and I watch over her for a few moments with a slight smile before gently climbing in beside. She's not exactly used to luxury like this either; and for a moment I feel glad that I was able to take her away from our usual filth on this hosed-up little honeymoon. With a careful caress, I brush her hair from her face and touch her lips with mine. "Morning, sweetness. How'd you sleep?" hctibyllis fucked around with this message at 20:41 on Jul 28, 2013 |
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Jul 28, 2013 20:38
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Note that this was a dry run, you haven't actually been given the drug yet. Nil almost immediately receives a bounceback email for the slejeune@wave4.oneiros.sci address being invalid. LeJeune's not in wave4, she's one of the researchers, so that makes some sense--but it's anyone's guess how these chucklefucks have addressed their network. Heart opens her eyes blearily, then breaks into a smile. "Hey you," she says. "I dreamt of you." MollyMetroid fucked around with this message at 21:05 on Jul 28, 2013 |
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Jul 28, 2013 21:02
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Isaac "Izzie" Wilson Izzie sits up and fumbles for the map on the bedside table. Once he manages to snap it on he stay where he is for a moment, rubbing his forehead. He picks up a water bottle and drains it. Yesterday he kept trying to think of it like a mini-camp or a road trip, but... Today it's sinking in that he's not going to see his team-mates, or his family, until this is over. If it ever is. He throws the empty water bottle across the room, and puts his head in his hands. After a few minutes, Izzie sighs and gets up. He picks up the water bottle and throws it in the bin for recyclables, and sits down at the desk provided to put in his journal. quote:Dream Diary: Entry 1 Izzie stares at it for a moment. It seemed stupid written out like that. He shrugs, hits submit. After that, he gets up and changes into some jogging clothes, grabs his phone and headphones for some music, sticks that Clif bar from yesterday in a pocket, and heads out for a morning run before breakfast. Might hit the gym beforehand too.
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Jul 29, 2013 02:26
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Lara Lara spends a while laying in bed, confused, and not really wanting to get up. She knows where she is (in a bed), what there is to worry about (nothing), about as confident as she can ever be about anything these days. After a while, she gets up, finding a notepad and pen. After a long stare, she scribbles out, shakily, quote:1 She pauses, trying to come up with the last word, but it doesn't come, and she grimaces and slides back onto the bed. Maybe they'll just leave her alone today.
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Jul 29, 2013 03:53
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Bernard Smith Bernard was not really very perky in the morning and once he had gotten up, made sure no one was around and gotten dressed he marvelled at the fact he didn't have to get up and go to work. But he couldn't play any online games which really irked him. Well, he had bought a few games that were standalone for his handhelds in played one of those for an hour before he got hungry. Deciding to eat as it was free, not made by him and better than take out he made his way to the dining area to check out breakfast options.
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Jul 29, 2013 04:21
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(excuse the late reply, had something go on that sucked up my time) Ishikawa Fatimah Fatimah awakes slowly, grumbling slightly at her surroundings. She climbs from bed, black hair draping over her shoulders, and makes her way to the terminal set up for her. quote:夢日記：エントリー1 "Wait, poo poo." Fatimah jabs the backspace key. She hasn't written a diary since before English-fluency, and the early morning isn't helping. quote:Dream Diary: Entry 1 Satisfied, Fatimah goes about her daily routine. Hygiene, clothes, picking out the right hijab for the day— the usual stuff. Near the end she stops herself before the door and thinks aloud. "Which way is East... drat, they probably won't tell me that." She sighs and exits her room, trotting down the hall where Bernard is headed. "If there's one guy who'd know where breakfast was," She thinks with a smirk.
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Jul 29, 2013 22:26
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I give her another kiss before rolling onto my back, looking up at the pristine, white ceiling. “Trippy place here, huh? Didn't feel a thing last night. Whole process seems pretty weird. I mean, why go to all this effort just to study something as pointless as dreams? Aren't dreams just, like, your brain barfing up whatever left-over crap you have floating around your subconscious or whatever?” Heart giggles. “Aww. C'mon! I think it's a great thing for you. And for the band! We could really use the money. This place is like, totes four-star resort too! Maybe it will help you... you know?” I smirk and roll over on top of her, pinning her arms to her sides. “Maybe, baby. But who's going to help you?” I playfully start to nibble and kiss her neck, which makes her squeal as usual. Soon we're all tangled up together in those neatly starched sheets. Looks like a couple 4th-Wavers are gonna be late for breakfast!
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Jul 31, 2013 04:06
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rakovsky maybe, your last post was on the 22nd. It is now the 31st. I'm going to give you 12 hours to get hold of me, here, in the recruit thread, on IRC, or through PM. As I said in the recruit, I will not hunt down or pester people to post in the thread. Breakfast Breakfast is simple, fruits, muffins, OJ, milk, and so on. It's laid out for you to sample as you will. A few others are up and attacking their breakfasts with gusto. Andrea A bleep comes from Andrea's computer. "You've got mail!" quote:From: j.morgan@research.oneiros.sci
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Jul 31, 2013 06:53
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Bernard Smith Breakfast was kind of disappointing. No toast? No eggs? No bacon even? With a truly suffering sigh of lamentation Bernard acquired some muffins and milk and went to sit down. Part of him didn't want to sit with other people, but as much as he wanted to indulge in anti-social activities Bernard still liked hanging around with people for a while. So he sat near the majority of the assembled group and began to eat. Between two mouthfuls of food he paused and spoke up. "Did any of you have any weird dreams then? Mine was pretty normal, although I guess we're not on the drugs yet." HiKaizer fucked around with this message at 05:43 on Aug 1, 2013 |
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Aug 1, 2013 05:15
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Lara Lara's computer beeps a "You've got mail" notification. A similar invitation to the one Andrea received is contained in the message. Breakfast Iris Kim, between sips of coffee, shakes her head. "They told us not to talk about our dreams to each other, remember? I guess mine was just usual dream-stuff. You know, weird stuff, doesn't make sense." She shrugs.
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Aug 1, 2013 05:20
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I notice the email after I slink back into the room for a shower. gently caress. I knew it. Sooner or later they were bound to hook me up with the resident shrink. Was it something I said to Dr. LaJupiter? I rub my temples for a moment before getting up and slipping out of my nighties. I guess I'd better see him about my meds, anyways. These SSRIs kinda screw with my appetite, though, and I don't really need to get any skinnier. After a nice steamy shower I step into a yellow summer dress - just to throw him off. Its basically cross-dressing for me, and Heart goes into a giggle fit when I stop by to see her before leaving for my appointment. “Hehe! How lovely, Nillie!” She pinches my cheek and I swat her hand away. “Don't get too used to it. Got a meeting with the local pill dispenser. Need to look pleasant and all that crap.” “You really think he'll fall for it?” Her eyebrows do that curly thing that's so cute! I give her one last kiss and head off. After a few wrong turns, I finally find the right building and glance over the directory. A few more turns down the hallways and I'm standing in front of a door adorned with a plaque bearing Dr. Morgan's name. *KNOCK KNOCK*
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Aug 1, 2013 05:28
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Bernard Smith Bernard sighed. "I wasn't asking about the details. Just if there was anything weird going on. But eh, it doesn't really matter." He responds and just goes back to eating his food. What was he supposed to talk about? None of the were likely to play computer games and he doubted any of them knew who Folgar the Bloodied was or cared.
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Aug 1, 2013 05:58
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Office of Dr. Jules Morgan, Ph.D. A pleasant male voice sounds out from within the office. "The door is unlocked. Please come in!" Within the office, a man in his fifties or sixties, with a cherubic, clean-shaven face, is puttering with a crossword puzzle. "Hmm. A ten letter word for--ah, Miss Bailey. Or, I understand you prefer to be called Nil? Please, come in. Coffee? Juice?" He gestures to a chair, rising as he offers the drink.
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Aug 1, 2013 06:09
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Guy Vann One of those already eating lifts his nose out of his cup of OJ and notices an increase in attendance. He waves his hand to the two talking about not talking about dreams and saunters toward them. He presents an upturned hand for a brotherly hug with Bernard and regards himself. "Guy. Third Wave. Hope yours is as mine, et cetera. Yeah, great stuff, these dreams. Hey, catch ya later, right?" Without so much as a hello from his conversation partner, Guy begins a similar introduction to Iris, opting for a traditional handshake. He keeps his OJ hovering just inside his peripherals, out of the way of the hand business. quote:
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Aug 1, 2013 06:58
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Lara Lara cringes at the beep, then squints. An appointment...? She buries her head in her hands, groaning. She didn't want to go through that whole process again, just give her her pills and leave her alone. Please. She sighs, then gets up. Maybe if she eats something and wanders around she can put it off long enough to force a reschedule. At breakfast, she picks at a muffin, gathering a small pile of bits of nuts to the side.
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Aug 1, 2013 22:08
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“A-M-B-I-S-E-X-U-A-L.” I smile as sweetly as I can manage (which might not be more than a rictus grin) before settling in the chair. “I'll take coffee, black. Thanks.” It's not my first time in the psycho hotseat, so I mentally harden myself against any passive aggressive onslaught of clinical mumbo-jumbo Mr. Rogers here might try to employ. None of them can understand, anyways. They just march through the diploma factory, sit in their comfy chairs and speculate over what others have written. Boost these chemicals here, dull these anxieties there. If they really could look into my mind they'd prescribe me the same poo poo I've been taking anyways – a horse ride into happyland. That or lobotomize. Not such a bad fate, really. Idiots are always happy. Just roll with the show, bitch. “So. What's on the agenda? Life story spiel? Gonna look at blots and describe my favorite positions?”
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Aug 2, 2013 02:31
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Jules Morgan's office "Actually I was hoping just to chat. Make sure you have everything you need. That kind of thing." He shrugs, pouring a cup of coffee for Nil. "There's a lot of bullshit in this profession, to be frank, and a lot of snake oil salesmen. I try not to be one. Yes, eventually we may go into your life story, but only if and when you feel comfortable with that and if it's actually relevant. Otherwise it's just going to distract me--and you--from making sure you're OK." He resumes his seat, and eyes the crossword. "Ambisexual...clever."
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Aug 2, 2013 02:48
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Bernard Smith Bernard blinks at Guy's introduction and seems unsure exactly what the man wants him to do with the hand. By the time he has gathered himself Guy has moved onto the next person and so Bernard just mentally shrugs and goes back to his food.
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Aug 2, 2013 02:51
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Isaac "Izzie" Wilson Izzie drops into breakfast late, having gotten his run in first. He smiles and waves as he comes in, making a beeline for the food. He loads up a plate of fruit and the healthiest looking muffin he can pick out, then grabs a tall glass of OJ and a cup of coffee. It takes a little effort to balance it all, but he manages to get to a seat without spilling it all over the floor. As he drops into a chair, he accepts the handshake from the newcomer. "Izzie Wilson, nice to meet you. Didn't see you on the bus. Anyone else come in with you?"
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Aug 2, 2013 02:58
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Breakfast Axel frowns. "Nice haircut. Hey, my dream was weird, there was a dude with a door and all kinds of weird talk." Moon rolls his eyes but holds his tongue.
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Aug 2, 2013 03:02
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Guy Vann Guy laughs off Izzie's question and takes a swig of OJ before responding. "Nananah, Third Wave. We've been here for like two weeks. There's Anchalee, Nadia, Jonas and Warren." As he says their names he points toward each person: two young women, a young man and a middle-aged man. "Yeah, they're a great bunch," Guy digresses. He then hears Axel compliment his 'do and goes to schmooze. When the door is brought up Guy gives him a quizzical look and offers a hand up to get Axel's voice down. "Nah man, that-uh... part is, uh... Nevermind. Hey!" Guy goes back to greeting 4th-wavers.
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Aug 2, 2013 04:45
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Mulling it over with Morgan "I dunno. You prescribe any 'herbal sedatives' here? Cuz, like, all these freakin' forms are stressing me out mannnnn." I play it deadpan for a tick, take a long sip of my coffee, then point to his tidy collection of plaques on the wall. "Brown, huh? Not much of a party school, is it? You guys sneak off into caves and read poetry?"
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Aug 3, 2013 00:19
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Jules Morgan's Office "Hardly, alas. I've no more ear for poetry than a rock. No, I'm afraid I'm not one for the kind of party you're referring to--but I'm quite adept at noticing deflections. We can discuss me if you'd rather. Or any subject you like. But we are required to spend a certain amount of time together, and I'm not interested in making it unpleasant. For either of us." Breakfast Moon speaks up now. "James Moon. We're missing a few...Ms. Bailey, Ms. K...uh, I can't really pronounce it right. And--ahh, there's Ms. Planchart. I...slept well." On the subject of his dreams that seems to be all he has to say. "Iris Kim," Iris introduces herself as well. "Anyone know what we're supposed to be doing today?" At that point, LeJeune and the orderlies rush by in the hallway, at a run, with one of the security staff in tow.
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Aug 4, 2013 03:51
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Bernard Smith There was a slight pause as Bernard looked at the orderly. "Whoah! Uh, sorry Doc, I didn't mean anything by it." He said with a degree of alarm and surprise in his voice. As they had run completely by them at that point he blinked. "That was...reassuring." HiKaizer fucked around with this message at 07:03 on Aug 4, 2013 |
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Aug 4, 2013 06:40
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Isaac "Izzie" Wilson Izzie raises his eyebrows at Guy's response. "Oh! My bad, third wave, right. Still kind of jetlagged, to be honest." Izzie turns his attention to his breakfast. "Going to hit the gym after breakfast, if anyone wants to come with." When the commotion goes by, Izzie looks up, craning his neck to see, then he stuffs the rest of his muffin into his mouth and washes it down with the OJ. He gets up. "Don't mean to rubberneck, but... I'm going to go see what's going on." He heads out after the Doctor and the orderlies, reflexively grabbing a water bottle on the way out.
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Aug 4, 2013 06:50
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Mums the word, Mr. Morgan I smirk and place the cup on his desk, raising my hands in the air in a mock-surrender. "Whatever you say. You seem nice enough; not looking at me through a microscope yet anyways. I'm just peachy. Gonna go for a frolic in the Frisbee field in my Sunday dress after this. Look for clovers." I lean in closer, "Just keep me off the Zoloft, 'kay? Don't wanna have to change my name to 'Bones' or anything. Other than that, we can play handball for a half hour every day, 'cause I'm not here to get fixed, Doc. I'm not like your other patients. I'm not sobbing into my salad about how mommy left daddy; nor am I gonna go all Newtown 'cause I hate society or whatever. I'll be a good little lab rat for the cause, just keep those checks flowing into my bank account, and don't gently caress with Heart." I got to my feet and stretched, nodding up at the clock. "Lovely chat. I'm off to the races. Why don't you go check out that Lara chick? If anyone needs your help here, it's little Ms. Cray-Cray." With that, I sweep out of the room and head towards the smoke deck. What a joke. I gotta keep doin' this?? Time maybe for a little self-administered food poisoning. Got me out of this poo poo in the rehab. What can he possibly do, anyways? Gonna turn my life around? Who the hell needs normalcy. The cigarette is lit before I even make it outside.
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Aug 4, 2013 13:45
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Lara Lara stares out the door, then watches as the others file out as well. She follows at a distance, peeking from behind corners and people, muffin abandoned.
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Aug 4, 2013 15:07
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The crowd of staff hurries through the dorms, apparently heading for Maureen's room. The security member, a swarthy man in his 40s with a nametag reading "John", is quick to warn anyone who follows to keep out of the way, though he doesn't seem interested in chasing anyone off who wants to see what's up. LeJeune knocks on Maureen's door, calling out, a few times, then fumbles with her ID card and uses it to open up Maureen's door. The color drains from her face as she sees what's within. "Oh no..."
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Aug 7, 2013 03:11
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Bernard Smith Bernard decided not to draw the attention of LeJeune in case she picked up on what he had done, so he finished his meal and decided to go back to his room and get his gym clothes. While everyone was distracted he'd sneak in a gym session, as there didn't seem to be anything else to do. When he did get to his room though, he noticed that there was a second terminal with more stuff on the network, including a few games. Wavering between the choice, Bernard decided to at least see what the gym was like. With less people around maybe he'd feel better about going. All of the fit and strong people there made him feel inadequate and often put him off going, that and the fact exercising was uncomfortable as well.
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Aug 8, 2013 00:51
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| # ? Apr 26, 2024 09:06 |
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Isaac "Izzie" Wilson Izzie stays behind the security guard, but takes shameless advantage of his height, craning his neck to see.
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Aug 8, 2013 04:56
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