Realistic or Modern fever dreams - roleplay

[Chimeric]

#

00
00

SEEKERS

"Standby"

location

DOLLHOUSE: BANQUET ROOM

DATE

DAY0

NPCS

SEEKERS & DOLLY

tags

everyone

Time is relative and nearly immeasurable. It's through TV and comments caught from the Seekers that provide any idea of it at all. As an experiment, whether agreeable or not, privileges only extended so far. No matter how defeated you felt or well behaved, you were handled with your inhibitor by the Seekers. Always wearing their black armored suits, they may have given you a name or a title, but it wasn't certain to be their only or honest identity.

Seekers of at least two in number entered your room. Other than a blunt, “Prepare for transport,” you didn’t really know what today’s agenda would be. By whatever means, needles, or something more suited to you, you were put to sleep. You may have had your theories as you went under, more tests, right? What kind would they be? Today was something stranger because when you woke, you were in a chair with 21 other experiments. Indicative based on the fact that every one of you were in a white suit of some kind with a name. No directions, no Seekers, nothing except a small, tented piece of cardboard on the long table. “Welcome Home. Try not to kill each other.”

There are a few whirrs, maybe some clicking, depending on the various inhibitors all 22 of you have, indications that by some degree, your inhibitors have been loosened, though with experience came the wisdom that they would be readily tightened should you misbehave. If it weren’t for the cheeky note, you might have thought this was to be a battle royal. Not much else seems to be provided to understand your situation. If one were to look around, the room itself was rather bland, walls and floor and ceiling of metal. Though in contrast to the halls you were used to seeing, these were a more dark, cool, and gray hue opposed to the lighter. The light fixture above could compare to a chandelier, though it's size was small it kept the room lit. You couldn't see them, but you were certain there were cameras watching you, they were always watching.

© weldherwings.

 

[Headphones]

L's theme - short

▶

Fever

Dreams

01

Within the mysterious room with 22 other people.

Fifth seat on the left.

Speaking to

n/a

A breath in. A sensation akin to one's body rising lightly from the depths of the ocean. A breath out. Now resurfaced, awareness of the inhabited body returns. With not a hint of longing for slumber's caress, those black curtains were lifted to reveal two brilliant amber eyes, in the centre of each one black pool that quickly shrank into the shape of a needle. Greeting them was a sight most unremarkable, yet telling. Before him was what seemed to be a table covered with white tablecloth the edge of which he could see, but not much more, as his neck was still bended downward from the time of his rest. In front of said table he had been placed in a chair and, whilst as per usual his feet were free from restrain, he had been dressed in a white scrub uniform. Quite unfortunate, he had to admit. The one to decide on the colour must have forgotten the consequences of dressing a black cat in such a manner. Yet it was precisely this misstep that betrayed the fact that this had not been the CaTS division's doing. This revelation raised the man's alertness, yet did not make him question the unfamiliarity of the environment.

Boryan Cappello, under the project name The Help, had been kept on a schedule for the past 5 years. Whilst not scrupulous down to the very second, he knew what to expect when the agenda was handed to him at the beginning of each month. This provided a proper recreation of the work ethic of the subject's purpose with the added bonus of being aware of the date and time that had passed. On this month's sheet, however, the classes abruptly stopped in the middle of the calendar. Without requiring any more explanation, he understood that a major event was to take place. It had been the same during the month his second milestone experimentation session had taken place, the one that had resulted in him gaining the power of telekinesis. Thus, when the unknown Seekers in black came into his room, he had been expecting them and willingly presented his left hand-paw for the inhibitor to first be strapped, after which an intravenous catheter was inserted into his cephalic vein in order for the anesthetic to be administered. They likely used propofol, he assumed, as the injected substance had been white and sent him to dreamland in a matter of seconds. He was also thankful that they did not use anything foul, since his mind was clear and body calm.

Lifting his head, the antropomorphic black cat surveyed his surrounds further. At the table were seated a total of 21 other guests, all of whom still in the realm of Somnus. Some were slouching, others tilted to the side. Was that drool coming out of that one's mouth? A colourful cast of men and women with most appearing younger than himself. The person in the seat to his right in particular had the features of a teenager. With a tender expression, pale face and in height about to his chest, Boryan was struck by a sense of worry over her wellbeing. It was not to last in its entirety, however, for when he concentrated on the girl, a peculiar scent reminiscent of dogs emanated from her. Considering how he had been given dogs to raise, it was possible she had been in contact with them before her arrival, yet the possibility of her being a dog-like subject was equally high. As for why he assumed that this unfortunate child was also a test subject, the reason lied in the similar style that they had all been dressed in. Upon closer inspection, each robe also possessed an inscription of the person's name somewhere on its surface. Quinn was the name of the girl by his side and when he shifted his gaze to read those of others, it fixated on a tented piece of cardboard on the table which read as follows: "Welcome Home. Try not to kill each other."

'. . . Low budget, huh.' Boryan thought as he looked up at the wall, presuming that somewhere within there were cameras. He would have raised an eyebow, if he had one.

A cardboard note, a seemingly empty bland room. Either their budget truly was low or they had spent it on more interesting things that had yet to be seen. The cat-man shushed these presumptions down for the time being. Before analyzing the data, he had to make sure he had all of it. And that required the awakening of the rest of his new companions.

Thus, he sat in place and waited. In the meantime, he took a moment to soundlessly work his hands behind his back in order to release his tail from under the shirt. Whoever had been in charge of dressing him may have left their logic at the door in the morning, indeed. After checking the pockets of his white pants and discovering that they were absent of contents, he clasped his hand-paws together and listened for the first sounds of awakening from those around him.

'Heh, like little chicks hatching from their eggs.' Boryan slightly smirked whilst the thought passed through his mind, not knowing that his appearance may be interpreted in other ways.

Code by Nano

 

[Abyss]

Quinn

The Talon

Sedation was a familiar if undesirable part of Quinn’s world, though it had been a long time since they last used it on her. There’s the initial panicked confusion, as she comes to awareness but has no control over her body—then a wave of calm as she recognises the feeling and starts to silently count back from twenty. Gradually, the sleep in her limbs loosens its grip and she’s able to start moving again. She finishes her count, then opens her eyes.

There is a man in front of her, but something is not right. The sedation lingers and her vision is still swimming. She closes her eyes and counts back from five again. When she opens them, nothing has changed. Oh? Sedation has a tendency to warp her vision, but her nose is usually reliable. She tests the air. Her eyes aren't lying to her. The man doesn’t smell human. He smelled a bit familiar. Not quite the same as the Talons, but similar enough for the resemblance to stick out. Quinn has never seen a real cat before, except for in pictures and diagrams in her wildlife books, but the resemblance is there. This one looked a bit like Panthera pardus or the black panther.

She tried to think of what to do. She looked around the room quickly for guidance, but everyone else was asleep, including the very small woman next to her and the only sign available wasn’t very helpful. Quinn had worked on the field plenty of times, but she’d never had to actually speak with anyone outside of her Squall before. A bit awkwardly, she tried to remember how Collins introduced her to soldiers she’d be fighting alongside. “This i—I’m Kestrel. Squall One Leader.”

She wiggled her fingers, then went through the motions of tapping the tips of her fingers and thumbs together. Fine motor skills functioning normally. “Should I—"

She went to reach out, then withdrew her hand before it made it halfway between them.

"—Should I shake your hand?”

Quinn had also seen humans clasp hands often during greetings, but she wasn’t sure if that was against regulation. Talons never left the facility except in their true form so they were naturally excluded from that part, but there had always been strict rules about physical contact between Talons and staff regardless. Even so, these were experiments weren’t they? Dressed in nearly identical white uniforms to her own and with features that clearly marked them as something other than human, that made them more like her than it did anyone else.

Please.

Dining Hall

Anxious

White Uniform

Headphones

coded by natasha.

 

[Eliruz]

Rorie|Seat 7​

It wasn't long before a woman with a short, deep brunette bob with bangs awoke with a start. Her eyes snapped open, and her chair nearly tipped backwards. A few quickened breaths left her lips. 'Where am I? Who are they?' Rorie asked herself in a panic. One would think she'd be used to this by now, but surprise, she definitely wasn't. The woman took a deep breath and scanned the room around her. She accounted the twenty-one other people in the room, noting their inhibitors. Putting two-and-two together, Rorie realized these were other patients. Her eyes then fell to the cardboard sign. A crinkle of her nose, a look of distain.

"Damned Seekers..." The brunette mumbled under her breath. Lifting her arms up above the table, she began fixing her black gloves. Each stopped at her mid-bicep and had an electronic ring around the very top. This was the inhibitor they created in Project Syphon, to stop her from removing her gloves. If she tried, the inhibitors would tighten painfully, forcing the gloves to stay on.

Her gaze then flickered towards Deon, Marina, everyone around her.

"So...does anyone know what this is? I wasn't told anything, and this is confusing as hell."

Gael|Seat 2
​

A few seats down from Rorie, a silver-haired man shifts in his chair with a groggy grunt. He lifted a hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes in an attempt to ward off the haziness. Gael inhaled deeply. He turned his gaze towards the table, the people surrounding it, and the notecard left by the Seekers. The man looked utterly confused. Tilting his head slightly, he began studying each person.

'Is that a cat? No, that can't be. It looks like it's almost humanoid?' He thought to himself. 'Am I going crazy? What did they give me?'

Gael huffed and lifted a hand up to his temple, a slight ache blooming. A headache. Wonderful.

Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a notepad and began furiously scribbling down a question. He then turned it around towards Verity and those around him.

The notepad reads:

"Where are we? And who are you?"

 

[Silvercurrent]

“It’s time to wake up, c̶a̸c̷h̴g̷i̸.” That authoritative voice rang through the fog, tinctured with the mocking tone of someone parental. Someone who was supposed to be a guardian, but instead, pressed their barrel into your gut.

“Come on, son. You’ll have no joy here- I’m getting bored.”

A pallor face lifted, bobbing slightly as the cloudy black haze shifted around him. It felt like he’d been put on a boat, unable to count how many days out at sea he had been trapped on. The gentle rocking didn’t feel good, it felt like some cruel nurse had been playing Tokyo drift with his wheelchair, causing this poor man- Reese- to pray his stomach would stop flirting with an emergency evacuation.

Though as of right now, he could feel a very different chair just forming beneath his forearms and legs, supporting his back. His mind was obviously stuck in another dream or nightmare, morphing his station of seating into a throne made of centipede legs.

Before him wasn’t anything human, it was a depraved and crooked face of some manner. A warped shape carved out from the abyssal ink that engulfed him, baring white teeth. A goat’s skull, it resembles but couldn’t quite commit to the whole symmetric outline. The horns were mature, spiraling out and up to deliver a clear message from his subconscious- it wasn’t here to be his guide. “You always were such an indecisive little [̶R̸e̸d̴a̶c̵t̶e̸d̷]̶,” the skull sneered in a weathered, elderly male voice.

“You’ve slept long enough.” It didn’t let up when all Reese wanted to do was just sleep. It shrouded him in a foul smelling cloud of nostalgic smoke, the kind that clings to upholstery. When Reese looked down to try and ground himself in some way amongst the confusion, a phone abruptly appeared right where his eyes landed. Between his shoes was a blinding light that instantly caused a headache, like a bullet through his skull. The screen blinked once, chiming in a warped tone to deliver a message. His icy pools stared down at the nauseating screen, getting as far as “I̸ ̷w̷a̸n̸t̸ ̵a̴ ̶” before eyelids drilled shut once more.



But just before he felt his breath being stolen by the overbearing presence of the phone, a small hand stabilized him in his seat. A pure childish energy- no taller than his chest, kicked the phone off to the side and rested her hands over top of his knuckles. Then, another female voice echoed nearby.





“D…m… eekers.”




A bit broken, her tone sounded righteously petulant.



“So… Does anyone know what this is?”

It was so distant it almost didn’t reach him at all. He was so grateful to be medicated to sleep, but after the dizzying nightmare he was ready to wake up now. Reese jerked forward in a subtle way; emerging from slumber so deep not even god could find him, the man let his head roll back. His raven hair fell over one eye for a moment, disheveled. He could hear the light rustle of other bodies around him, a few breaths being taken, maybe a cough. Then the flipping of paper. Ych, who did he need to sell his soul to for a cup of breakfast tea? No, a coffee and a dart.

He inhaled deeply and knitted his brow as his aching neck snapped back to a normal angle, letting his eyelids crack to give his surroundings an appraising sweep. There were actual humans at this table- from what he could glean. It caused a single eyebrow to tense, raising in what was likely a surprise. It’d been two years maybe since he actually saw someone’s bare face up close like this, not the passing glances of researchers behind an absurd amount of glass.

He licked his dry lips, not moving his body much but his eyes were brushing over every object, every figure he could. As he watched a young man across from him offer a woman to his side a note pad, Reese took a moment to lean forward and see just how far the table stretched. He quickly realized the blurry vision wasn’t due to the sedative. He fluttered his lashes before casting his eyes down to the object in front of him. On the table, his glasses sat neatly folded and waiting for him in what felt like a silent message. Go on, have a look.

Unfolding them, he didn’t have words for anyone just yet. Though upon fitting the glasses back on, he could see clearly no one was actually looking at him yet, he was every bit as background as a wallpaper would be- which this place lacked. Kind of austere, he thought. He’d learned that word in the old bailey.

He finally spotted what a few others were seeing. Not the giant cat, he hadn’t quite had the pleasure yet- but the taunting card with a playful message. A darker look crossed his face for a moment, the glacial stare set on the cardboard.

Oh, so this was all a sick game to them after all? Of course it was. He melted back into his chair, trying to be thankful he at least wasn’t all alone. He noticed the fair young woman beside him- in fact there were a few at the table who seemed quite young. It made him a little ill to think that college age kids were being held captive in a place like this for experimentation. People like me, I could understand… but why them?


Just as Reese was scrubbing a wide palm down his jaw in silent frustration, a young woman down the table was also coming to at the sound of Rorie’s voice. Deon, who had been slumped over on the table itself, peeled her damp cheek from the surface and licked some of her own strands of hair by accident as she tried to bring some moisture back to her lips. Her throat was a desert as well… A few smacks and one eyelid blinking just a bit faster than the other, and she seemed to be grounding herself quite well.


She wiggled her toes and fingers, feeling as if she’d been interrupted during a really kind, really fuzzy dream. Leaning back in her seat, she examined her dainty hands and flourished them as if they were still giving phantom brushes through a set of fluffy feathers. She wanted to go back into that innocent dream but, more importantly, there were people… Everywhere. Actual breathing people, looks of confusion etched into their faces. Those that were awake, that is.

“Hi- yeah,” She offered Rorie, sleepy eyes trying their best to make contact. “I’m like, soooo happy to talk to someone finally,” She began, fidgeting with her wrist cuffs and generally moving as if she had no regard for spatial awareness or personal space. Then, she also spotted the cat-man… For a moment, her plum colored eyes went wide as moons. Her jaw hung slack, then looking back to Rorie and Kouta, then Marina and Marley, she slunk back into her seat in amazement. “I wish I could have seen this coming.” she said softly to herself. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what we’re here for.” She tried to pipe up but found herself a bit fatigued by the emotions she felt at seeing so many new faces after 6 years.

 

[SavannahSmiles]

”What if I fall?”
”Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?”

cassiel

At the far end of the table sat a figure slumped over the wooden surface, left cheek resting gently against the cool wood. A pair of soft white wings hung limp, draped over his shoulders like a feathery cape. As voices filled the air with the awakening of the others, his eyelashes fluttered as they slowly peeled open to reveal dazed vermillion eyes.

He gazed off into space for several moments as his brain began to shake off the cobwebs of unconsciousness, spine eventually straightening as he sat upright. There was a soft rustling sound as he tucked his wings neatly against his back, the ends threading through the opening at the base of the chair. Slender fingers pushed his unruly brunette locks back from his face as his eyes trailed around the room.

At first he had perked upright at the sight of other figures seated around him at the long table, but he soon slumped back down with a slightly dejected expression when he realized that none of these faces were ones that he recognized. When the Seekers had sedated him, he had thought that for a moment he was going to be reunited with his Flock, but that appears to not be the case. Leaving the others to chats amongst themselves for a moment, Cassiel examined his surroundings in detail. The room was one he didn’t recognize and he wondered why he was here, with other experiments he had never met before. What were the Seekers planning?

Reaching forward, he plucked the card from the space in front of him, bringing it closer to read the text written across the cardboard. Home? What did they mean by that? Was this were he was going to be staying for the time being? Frowning at all the unknown information, he set the card back down and glanced down at himself, hoping to glen more information to give him some idea about what was happening. He was dressed in a white suit that mirrored those around him, definitely not the outfit he had been dressed in when he was rendered unconscious.

Reaching behind him, he gave a silent sigh of relief when his fingers brushed against a row of snaps running down the length of the back of the shirt. At least he would be able to undress himself without resorting to having to ask complete strangers to help him; wouldn’t that be a first impression. The inspection of his clothing gave no indication of what to expect and as such, he finally turned to address the experiments seated near him.

“Excuse me,” he began, soft voice filling the space around him, “does anyone know what is going on?”

• .
• .
• .

• wearing a white suit
• location

  
  

  the dollhouse
• tags

  Addressing those around him

coded by reveriee.

 

[Abyss]

Merrit Anderson

The Dragon

Merrit’s senses are slow to return and his head feels like it’s stuck in a cloud. The sound of voices shakes him from his slumber; causing a brief burst of panic to spark in his chest, which spurs him to try moving before he probably should. With great effort, he manages to slowly prop himself up from the surface of the table and throw an arm over the back of his chair, which anchors him into a more upright position. He tries his best to peer around the room, but the drugs haven’t completely worn off yet. Merrit’s surroundings remain a blur of grey and white, smeared with bits of color that sound like they could be people. The distortion is all in his head of course, but his stomach churns as if he's on a rollercoaster.

Merrit is more familiar with the sensation of waking up from anesthesia than he’d like, so he focuses on not losing his last meal and waits it out. It was one of those things that he’d become grudgingly accustomed to, even if the thought of being ‘accustomed’ to anything in this facility scared the shit out of him. Familiarity is a dangerous thing. It takes a few minutes, but Merrit sighs in relief when his vision finally clears, revealing that he’s seated at something resembling a dining or boardroom table and not set up to be poked and prodded at by researchers in one of the testing rooms. That’s not the most surprising thing though…..

Merrit counts twenty-one subjects seated at the table; all of them in various states of waking up or still trapped under the effects of artificial sleep. Merrit sits at the very end of the table, so the space to his right is empty, but in front of him is an older man with black hair and a resentful expression on his face who hasn’t spoken yet; seemingly distracted by his own thoughts or perhaps still waiting for the residual effects of the sedative to disappear. To his immediate left is another man with white hair and a confused expression that lingers as he takes in the rest of the room. When the man's gaze falls on him, Merrit waves slightly in what he hopes looks like a friendly gesture—knowing that his appearance can be rather off-putting—and tries to say 'hello', but the words are not quite forthcoming yet. His throat feels rough and dry.

He should probably feel bad, but it’s a relief to see that the other people in the room aren't Seekers. However, he’s not sure if it’s better that whatever happens next he’s not alone, or if he should be afraid that the scientists have escalated their testing to include group assessments. Gathering them together in a Big Brother type stage seems innocent enough, but give it time and they might start exploring other genres. Hopefully there aren't any horror fans in the science department. I’ll take mad scientists over Jigsaw or President Snow, any day.

Merrit’s thoughts start to wander towards speculating on that subject, when the white-haired man—Gael according to the name tag on his uniform—writes something down in a notebook and holds it out to those nearby at the table and he's brought back to attention:

Who are you? Where are we?

“My name”—he cringes at the sound of his own voice, which comes out raspier than usual“—’s Merrit.” He points to his name tag for emphasis and then frowns. Fafnir is embroidered on the fabric in red thread. “Ignore this, please.” Disdain colors his tone and Merrit runs his hand over his face in reflex to the embarrassed flush that he can feel creeping into cheeks. It doesn’t surprise him that they’d chosen to send him out with his project title instead of his name, but the choice disgusts him nonetheless. “For what it’s worth, it’s nice to meet you." Then after a brief pause in which he looks curiously around the room. "I can’t remember the last time I met anyone either, ” he says. Echoing the sentiment that the dark haired woman seated further down the table had spoken a few moments earlier.

As for where they are? Merrit is just as lost as everyone else seems to be, though he looks around for any sign of Project Tiamat, the Fafnir division, or the handful of other related projects he was vaguely aware existed. Everything in project Tiamat had been color-coded. Merrit had on occasion seen members from the other teams working alongside those from the Fafnir division: blue, green, yellow, or purple accents marking them apart in a crowd of red and black. He notices that his uniform has also been changed—the bold red stripe that normally marked his torso was absent. By the looks of it, everyone is wearing a similar uniform; with only the necessary modifications having been made for those with extra limbs. All traces of any particular team's handiwork were removed, even from their subjects. Almost as if the room had been made deliberately neutral. Things were reminding him more and more of a gameshow.

Merrit thinks on the second half of Gaels question for a bit before answering. “I don't know where we are. This doesn’t look like an arena or combat testing center, so I don't think it's that kind of trick—I don't think they'd waste their resources on a battle royal anyways.” He smiles a bit ruefully, but he's determined to keep things lighthearted so his words take on a bit of exasperating playfulness as he continues. “And besides, there's no food out. So I don't think this is a last meal scenario."

Dining Hall

Nervous

White Uniform

Eliruz Silvercurrent

coded by natasha.

 

[Chimeric]

Botan

King of Flowers

The sliding of the door, he heard it, but ignored it to stubbornly hold a few more seconds rest. Head and feathery hair still planted in his pillow, wings folded in on him, and the covers cocooned him snug. The steps that tap forward prelude firm hands unwrapping the covers and pinning him down. As Botan groans his protest at being disturbed, a needle shoots into his upper arm. This practice was common, something he'd grown used to and simply allowed it's course to run. He'd been rebellious in the past, but having never amounted to anything, he became compliant in most things. He was usually too tired to when the Seekers entered his room anyways.

When he woke next, he was sorry to say he expected a combatant. A track. Tied to a table for more tools to prod him and tinkering to be done. But pushed up in a chair to a long table with twenty one other people, experiments, that was unexpected. His face was unfriendly, he wasn't one to wake up with a smile or that soft, Hallmark warmth. Eyes squinting as they half attempted to open, and brows furrowed at the listing in his head and confusion of it all. Botan usually tried not to think to much nowadays on 'what it could all mean?' as the care for it had long since drained from him. They were all here to fight for their survival right, there really didn't seem more to it than that. Those fibrous wings began trying to stir, false feathers of leaves and plants likely brushing against those next to him if not outright scraping across his neighbors. He'd missed much of the talk that may have been had while he was still knocked out, but the latest material was haphazardly grasped. His voice was low and inlaid with drowsiness, but could still be heard by the lot at the table. "It's nice to meet you? We don't know each other, we're not here to make friends, Crockpot." It may have been the drugs lingering in his system and tampering with his senses, but this guy just smelled like something his mother used to make. Yeah, it's the drugs. They had an effect on his olfactory glands. And with his bird like vision, he really struggled to start seeing things normally.

There was no malice intended in his words, but he wasn't about to be tricked into becoming buddies with what may later be opponents. Clearly not see the cardboard tent yet, nor as enthusiastic about the others opinion that they might be alright with one another. His brain regaining more function, he started to sober up and assess he should refrain from saying anything that would stir an incident too quickly. Aquamarine could start to be seen in his eyes as they opened up more, and registered more of his surroundings beyond twenty one blobs and splotches. "Gods," he laments his dissent, a bit more hateful though none of it's meant to stain those seated with him, but those who put them here, and his eyes fall to simple, almost laughable directions "... ... ... huh."

Botan still held to his disbelief that this wouldn't become some Hunger Games shit. They hadn't been briefed with anything, not that such had never happened before, but if this was supposed to be some kind of group project, he'd like to think they would have explained some things. Or maybe he was just thinking to much on this again, and he needed to move on. Looking around again he saw perhaps the most astonishing character, a giant cat. His eyes widened at seeing him, it? He just kind of stared for a moment before crawling on to the table nonchalantly and reaching out to pet him. "Am I still high?" Though the fur should it find his fingers would tell him that the soul before him was real. Why of all things a large humanoid cat was so alarming against everything else in his time there, he didn't know. Or maybe he just really wanted to pet the kitty.

banquet hall

tired, high

white outfit

Abyss Headphones

coded by natasha.

 

[Eliruz]

Rorie
Interactions: Chimeric Silvercurrent
Location: Banquet Hall​

Rorie looked to the darkhaired woman speaking to her. Her gaze flickered from the name tag to the face of Deon. Noting the delicate frame, dainty hands, and slim features, she memorized Deon's face to her name. "I admit, it's refreshing to see new faces after years of only interacting with those damned Seekers." The woman admitted. Lifting a gloved hand to her aching head, she sighed. On one hand, it was relieving to know she wasn't the only patient/experiment, but it was also unnerving knowing that at least twenty more people were in danger due to her abilities.

Just as she was about to sink back into her chair, she felt pain blossom from the back of her head. "What in the...-! Ow!" She hissed. Something had hit her square in the back of the head. "Hey, listen here! You need to be more careful!" With an agitated grunt, Rorie lifted her chin to find a silver-haired man with...wings made of plants?!

Gaping at him, the brunette just sat there speechless. Was she still drugged? She lifted a hand and pinched herself on the arm. Nope. Definitely not dreaming. Trying to find the words, she floundered for the right sentence but just couldn't muster it up. Something that flustered her further was a sudden pull she felt in her chest. A pull towards Botan. Was it because of the amount of energy he was putting out? She could sense it. It was a lot. Enough to satisfy her hunger.

Wait...hunger.

A bottomless feeling crept along her entire being, a painful burning in the pit of her stomach. Her throat felt parched and extremely dry, as if she needed water. It was horrible. She needed to feed, and quickly.

Defensively, she pressed back into her chair, her eyes growing slightly fearful and feral.

Gael
Interactions: Chimeric
​

The short male lifted his gaze to Merrit. He blinked for a moment, taking in the man's appearance. He didn't seem off-put or frightened, simply curious. As Merrit spoke, Gael nodded in response. A warm smile appeared on the pale man's lips. He pulled his notepad back up and began writing out lengthy notes.

After a few moments, he lifted the notepad to Merrit.

"I'm Gael, nice to meet you. I'm so happy to finally have some company. Being in a room by myself all the time got rather dull." Gael paused for a moment before writing down another note. "Battle arena? I didn't know they had some of us fighting. I certainly couldn't. I'd be too afraid of hurting someone."

With that, he lifted a delicate hand and tugged down his turtleneck. Gnarly scars lined the man's throat and wrapped around it is a blinking collar. There are sharp prods embedded into his skin. It doesn't seem to hurt him, but it does seem quite uncomfortable and unpleasant.

 

[Chimeric]

YUREI

THE WARDEN WRAITH

To sleep, Yurei had to take pills, but today he didn't need them. He doesn't remember the application of whatever medium to knock him out, just that he had finished clearing a name on his list. In his sleep he watched himself send the Seeker to a purgatory by shadow and flame before his vision blinked to black. Had he really been sleeping even then, or was he just in a stasis? A constant humming around him, and no matter how he turned in his mind, something felt like it was behind him goading him to find it. Yurei wasn't so amused, but nothing else to do or see in this darkness, he tried, until even this little game faded, and he truly fell to sleep.

Yurei wasn't quite awake, he heard in the distance very faint, soft voices. Their sound was unimportant, still grasping the comfort of sleep despite it's forced number on him. Not knowing the texture belonging to his neighbor, it felt a firm and soft pillow, he moved slightly as if the pillow had tried to move from him. And then a notion ramming him awake, as a student who needed to attend testing running late. But for Yurei it was because he felt a dance of danger over his future grave. While inside a sense of emergency had festered, outwardly he appeared like a waking bear. His face turned to the mass that he'd rested his head on, he wasn't sure if he was still sleeping, but the figure looked to be a giant cat. This brought out a stout chuckle as he rose and laid back in his chair. Letting the effects wear themselves off to gain a better picture of whatever was going on.

The voices were becoming clearer, the blob before them, some kind of plant-bird man, a small girl next to him, two devilish looking people across the table, and someone telling the birdy to watch themselves. There seemed to be other winged people here as well. Such a crowd, was he supposed to do something with them? Wait, he glanced back at the critter next to him. "I don't think myself that heavy, but I'll hope you pardon the extra weight," a simple smile extended in tandem with his rustic candor. It was then he noticed, there was something missing from his head. His eyes and then his head moved around to see if it was nearby, maybe fallen on the floor. And then he seemed to be in a moment of shock and as it settles in he starts to laugh, a bit brittle, a bout unhinged. But it was fine.

location info

mood info

outfit info

interactions / tags and stuff

coded by natasha.

 

[Headphones]

transient calm - SPY x FAMILY

▶

Fever

Dreams

01

Within the mysterious room with 22 other people.

Fifth seat on the left.

Speaking to

everyone

With one hand-paw over the other on the table, Boryan sat in place and observed the soft ups and downs of the rib cages of the other subjects before one by one they began regaining their consciousness.

The first to come to her full senses was the girl to his right, whom he had noted was named Quinn. Her awakening was calm and gradual, yet quick once in motion, with one interval of about 5 seconds where she closed her eyes after waking, likely to dust the last remnants of sleep sand from her mind. What followed was, to his surprise, her sniffing in his direction. Was she indeed a dog themed subject? It would make sense for them to be seated next to each other, if not for categorization, then for the sake of a laugh. Without having uttered a single sound yet, Quinn must have come to some realization after assessing his scent, for her pupils slightly shrank and she proceeded to shift her gaze from one direction to the other, not out of desire to scan the room, but in search of something. Her nervousness made the thin smoke column of tension in Boryan’s chest dissipate. He turned his body slightly as she focused back on him, unlocking his hand-paws so that his right one may drop down to his lap. His head was facing her directly with a light downward tilt and his ears were perked up in a display of interest to what she was about to say.

“This is- I am Kestrel. Squall One Leader.” Quinn stammered a bit, then went through the motions of tapping her fingers and thumbs together before continuing “Should I-” and attempted to extend her hand, yet withdrew it before crossing even half the short distance between them. “Should I shake your hand?”

As he watched this display with unblinking amber eyes, one thought passed through the former gangster’s mind:
‘What a cute little pup.’
Endearing as it was, he knew that her behavior may very well have been due to his appearance. Even if she were a dog or similar type of experiment, it went without saying that seeing an anthropomorphic black cat evoked a plethora of feelings, the most common of which among regular folk was unease. In spite of this, Quinn made an effort to converse normally, thus Boryan chose to return the gesture.

“A please to meet you, leader of Squall One. I am Boryan Cappello of The Help Project.” he nodded his head and placed his right hand-paw on his chest. “Although I am a cat, I don’t bite or scratch, but I do suggest not touching my tail.” then, he extended his right hand-paw to Quinn and offered “Of course, we can shake hands, so long as you’re comfortable with tha-” but was cut off.

His black whiskers twitched as he felt something large and heavy push against his left shoulder. Turing quickly towards the unexpected burden, his sight fell upon the figure of a man with a cotton candy pink mullet that seemed to have taken a liking to the softness of his fur that hid underneath the white scrub. Several seconds passed in silence, yet the person did not stir. Rather, his light-toned expression was serene, denoting the mind’s decision to remain asleep. Since this position was rather uncomfortable for the bipedal cat, he slowly maneuvered his left arm around the man so that his head may come to rest on his chest above his heart and used his right hand-paw to further stabilize him.
Once their new companion was snugly hugged in place, Boryan shifted his attention to Quinn. They were back where they left off, with his body still partly facing her, only now he had a chick under his wing.

“This one will take awhile more.” Boryan said to Quinn in a quiet tone as he blinked slowly.

"So...does anyone know what this is? I wasn't told anything, and this is confusing as hell."

The one to speak was a petite young lady, who sat across the table in the second chair to Boryan’s right. Rorie was her name, as written on her clothing. Her lovely porcelain face, framed by short brown hair, was smudged with a contemptuous scowl as she surveyed her surroundings. Due to her wearing a sleeveless top, the cat-man spotted the electronic bands at the upper end of her almost shoulder-length black gloves and noted that she likely possessed an ability that required her hands. It was a primitive hypothesis, however. His own inhibitor was a bracelet on his left hand-paw, yet his power could manifest in ways that didn’t require his upper limbs at all. For the inhibitors to be a part of a set of such elaborate gloves, however, it certainly hinted that the adorned person had to be restrained in a firmer manner than a simple zap.

Boryan didn’t hurry to answer her. While maintaining his line of sight in her direction, his ears listened in on the various grumblings and chatter of the awakening test subjects.

“Hi- yeah. I’m like, soooo happy to talk to someone finally,”​

“Excuse me, does anyone know what is going on?”

"I admit, it's refreshing to see new faces after years of only interacting with those damned Seekers."​

“My name’s Merrit. Ignore this, please. For what it’s worth, it’s nice to meet you. I can’t remember the last time I met anyone either.”

"It's nice to meet you? We don't know each other, we're not here to make friends, Crockpot."​

‘Awkward speech. Unaware that there will be an experiment. Can’t remember the last time they met someone. So, a good number of them haven’t had normal communication with people. Their divisions also don’t have it in their notes to give them a heads-up. I myself don’t know anything, but at least I was expecting something new. So, the ones behind this might not have the same work ethic as the CaTS either.’ Boryan contemplated. Then, a string of words caught his attention.

“I wish I could have seen this coming. I’m sorry, I have no idea what we’re here for.”

It came from the thin mouth of a dainty young woman, who appeared rather listless despite the smile she had managed to muster up. A moment earlier, she had given the human-sized cat a wide startled stare, open jaw and everything, yet that wasn’t surprising in the least. What was interesting was the first sentence which she had uttered softly to herself, likely in an attempt to conceal it. However, a normal cat’s hearing is exceptional. Not only can it hear up to 64 000 Hz, its ear pinnae can rotate up to 180 degrees and both catch and amplify the caught sounds with precision in direction, distance and nuance. Because of this, Boryan heard her clearly and opened another mental dossier, this time on the one named Soothsayer, as written on her clothing.

‘The likelihood of a normal person using that arrangement of words is low, but we aren’t normal to begin with. If she wishes to have been able to see this situation coming, it means she could have, to her knowledge, potentially done so. From this, it could be said that she noticed something or was given hints that something had or was about to change. What does she know? Was she given a schedule, too? No, in that case, I saw something coming, but not a group project. Then, did she receive some other information? Or did her Seekers allude? Why did she wish to have known about this gathering in advance in the first place?’

“I don't know where we are. This doesn’t look like an arena or combat testing center, so I don't think it's that kind of trick.” the voice belonging to the one who introduced himself as Merrit sounded lightheartedly from the other end of the table “I don't think they'd waste their resources on a battle royal anyways. And besides, there's no food out. So I don't think this is a last meal scenario."

Boryan smirked and turned left to face the horned fellow who spoke those words. That statement had pulled him back from slipping into rumination which, while necessary for evaluating each individual’s risk factor, wasn’t a top priority at present.

“I agree.” Boryan spoke up, albeit not too loudly, so as not to disturb the one curled up on him. “Given what’s written on the cardboard slip, I’d say they expect the opposite. Lets just introduce ourselves first and then we can look for more cl-” he began, yet was cut off once more.

The sharp brisk screeching of a chair’s feet as it was pushed back.

"What in the-! Ow!" Rorie let out a hiss. "Hey, listen here! You need to be more careful!"

Sudden movement from the corner of his right eye.

The white-haired man that had been seated one seat to the right, next to Rorie, had climbed onto the table on all fours. He was crawling in Boryan’s direction. Quite the disarray to behold, for on his back was what looked to be two bushes in the shape of wings that spread out haphazardly, leaves falling now and again on the table. On instinct, Boryan rotated his body halfway to the left to shield the person he was holding with his left arm, while stretching his right diagonally to grab the edge of the table. Black pointy cat ears flicked to the side, he looked the one approaching in the eyes, yet found no malice there. Instead, what Boryan saw was curiosity, like the one he saw in children the first time they saw him. He was even on his hands and knees, akin to a toddler. And there was usually one thing that followed after a stare like that, sooner or later.

‘This guy. Is he going to?’

The plant-man lifted his hand and, while remaining on edge, Boryan stayed still. What followed was what he expected, but not from a grown man.
He was petted.
The stranger’s fingers buried into his black fur and slid between his ears, which while pleasant as a sensation was nonetheless disquieting. After all, this was a mutant with unknown powers and it was touching the top of his skull, a mere few centimeters away from his brain. It wasn’t the same as when children or someone from the CaTS division did it.

"Am I still high?" the white-haired person said while keeping his hand in place.

‘. . . Well, that explains it.’

Now having grasped the situation in its entirety, the fur that had stood up on his lower spine could rest back down. As if on cue, the man he was holding with his left arm had groggily woken up, looked up at him and the scene before him and chuckled.

‘These people. . . It’s a good thing I’m used to nonsense from the CaTS division.’ Boryan thought as he loosened his grip so that the pink-haired man could move to properly rest his back onto his own chair as he wished.

"I don't think myself that heavy, but I'll hope you pardon the extra weight." the man with the pink mullet excused himself for the prior inconvenience.

“You weren’t heavy, no worries.” the anthropomorphic cat replied with a nod while looking at him. He then turned his gaze back to the bedazzled youth before him. Placing his right hand-paw on the other person’s shoulder, he allowed his deep voice to rumble in his ears. “Good morning to you, too. I’m sorry, but no, you’re not high. I am a cat.” he then stood up from his chair and advised. “Now sit back down or your knees will start hurting.”

Standing at his full height of 180 cm, Boryan could finally have a bigger picture of his surroundings. He was seated in the middle of the long table in this group where men predominated in number over women. They were all mostly awake at this point in time and were either around his age or younger. The greater view he obtained of the room revealed nothing other than emptiness, yet that was also telling. His and the horned fellow’s assumption was gaining more evidence. Instead of focusing on scanning the place, however, Boryan preferred to establish a connection with his new companions first.

“Now that everyone is more or less awake, lets start wi-” but he was cut off again for the third time today.

The pink-haired man had started cackling. A laughter that had at first been moderate and progressed into unrestrained discord bounced off the walls of the spacious room. Boryan stared at him with one ear pointed forward and the other turned to the side with some confusion, a bit of worry and a shot of ‘I’ve seen worse’. Once the amused person quieted down, the black cat turned back to his audience.

“Right. As I was saying. I am Boryan Cappello of the Help Project. Once a human, now a cat. A pleasure to meet you all.” he spoke calmly, as though the previous events hadn’t happened. This time, it was his deep voice that filled the room with a measured pace. “We have currently been gathered together for a new project. As for it’s purpose, I’m currently unaware of it. The only obvious hint we have thus far is that piece of cardboard that reads “Welcome Home. Try not to kill each other.” From that alone, we can assume that the task at hand is to form a team. We are also all wearing white clothing, suggesting we belong to the same group. Furthermore, this room has been stripped bare of decoration, so the attention falls on the people inside. As Merrit said, it doesn’t look like an arena and the second sentence warns us not to kill each other. To complete the task and proceed forward, it seems we have to get to know each other. I’m not one to push you to work on it, though. If you don’t want to, that’s your business. Though, the sooner we start cooperating, the sooner we might be given more clues.” With his final sentence, he sat back down in his chair. “If anyone else wants to take the stage or contradict me, go for it. I’m all ears.” he said and twitched his whiskers. “and whiskers.”

Code by Nano

 

[Silvercurrent]

~Interactions & mentions~

Eliruz

SavannahSmiles

Headphones

Abyss​

​

Deon listened to Rorie and their new conversation, just before the floods broke loose. She felt a smile forming despite their turbulent beginnings at the table. Though as the mystical Cat-man seemed to take the reins and collectively give everyone some form of a social anchor, she noticed the princely young man with feathery wings begin to rise from slumber. He asked what was going on, looking a little dewy in the eyes along with some others who were having trouble waking up.

“Hey, take it easy.” She offered out to Cassiel, then glanced down to her left to see another dashing young man… Blonde, this one was. He looked like a sleeping beauty, though he too seemed to be floating to the surface of consciousness. “And well, I’m not sure what’s going on, but it looks like the Seekers only take in attractive people,” Deon observed smugly, peeling her eyes away from the life-sized cat sir. He was assuring others and shaking hands, paws and what other limbs people possessed. It took a moment to come to the realization that Deon was not so much drawn to the image of a fluffy human sized feline, but the girl he was introducing himself to. In a tender silence where other’s voices became muffled white noise, she felt like she’d seen her somewhere before… Somewhere.



“Sorry, uhm, sorry.” Deon smiled weakly back to Cassiel, then after turning her attention back to Boryan and Quinn, much like everyone else, she was distracted by Rorie and Botan’s chaotic brush- though she had also found herself in the line of fire- plant wings- and Botan’s eagerness to test Boryan’s black coat. Deon gasped with something of a laugh as the leaves grazed the side of her head, though it was far less than what Rorie had to deal with, it still left her tresses in an uneven mess.

But after the display, that's when sir Cat arose, shining like a beacon in the foggy twilight, like their den mother preparing the scouts for events to come.





Reese had been rubbing his eyes, trying to get that last bit of persistent ‘morning blur’ from his vision. Usually he’d use hot water on a cloth to wash it away but right now the minimum luxury were chairs, and a table. Speaking of Table, he could feel it almost tremble and rattle in front of him, but thankfully it seemed secured into the ground.


He felt the young woman leaning on his arm begin to stir, feeling a little guilty that she had to wake up to whatever all of THIS was… Especially if she awoke to the sight of what Reese now had the horror of viewing. In his eyes, it was a big cat someone had pumped full of human juice- as it was now talking… The logistics of such a creature were making his already weathered sponge of a brain swell, but outwardly he still looked only slightly perturbed.

He blinked several times, then spotted Merrit across from him, who seemed to be taking a look at Gael’s scars along his neck. Reese scooted his chair back a bit, as if trying to distance himself from everyone at the table. A horned man… A giant cat, an angel, a pink haired, cackling nymph, a pineapple man? He wasn’t sure what in all of the universe he was seeing.

He had known for some time this facility wasn’t harboring anything normal at all, but after only seeing masked figures for so long, he was now seeing the colorful cast of what looked like mythical beings. All compared to how average he himself looked, and knowing what he was capable of…

What on earth were they capable of? His tiny world was being bombarded with titan concepts, all of which made the room spin a little, but as he backed up in his chair, he felt Freyja slowly slipping from his shoulder. Her hair fell over her face as her little head rolled back, bringing him back to reality for a split second. Out of reflex, he wrapped his arm around her as if the scary, well mannered and eloquent Cat sir would jump out and eat her…

Then, he began searching the room for exits- still refusing to make any conversation with what could be opponents. Not because he feared what they might do to him, but more so what he’d have to resort to against them. they seemed like reasonable enough people... And on a better day he might have been more polite.

Even though everyone seemed to think this wasn’t a sick social experiment involving violence, there was one single state of being that manifested inside his mind, a resounding "NOPE”.



His silent need to peel away from the scene was cut short, though as Boryan projected his voice for everyone to hear, Reese was drawn back to the conversation. He squinted in Boryan’s direction, listening to his theory about why they were all possibly here, and how they should all think about cooperating.

His heart kept a steady thump, if someone pressed two fingers to his neck they’d feel his pulse always on the verge of racing. A never ending, functional anxiety. But when he looked at Boryan, a startling calm washed over him. “Huh.” Was all he had to utter. Well, cats do lower blood pressure- I think I read that in an article. He felt a welcomed yet abnormal sense of ease, thinking maybe having a calm, level headed individual among them was placing some order back in his world.

He couldn’t ignore it; hearing Boryan’s voice, he felt like maybe just for a moment, everything would be alright. Then, an intrusive thought came along, What the bloody hell did they do to me? No one should ever feel this way, especially not for a literal bipedal cat… It must be some effect the experiment had, one of his abilities. Perhaps he was using that ability on everyone at the table now to get them to sit still.

"To complete the task and proceed forward, it seems we have to get to know each other. I’m not one to push you to work on it, though. If you don’t want to, that’s your business. Though, the sooner we start cooperating, the sooner we might be given more clues."


While Reese placed Freyja gently down across the table so she could rest easier, he looked over to Merrit and Gael. Yes, they seemed far less creature-esque compared to their grand Feline leader. “Ehem,” He cleared his throat, britishly-

“So, what did they do to you two?” He asked.






Freyja, while now laid across the table, would still have Reese’s hand on her back- something he did for his daughter back home. She might experience something in her sleep, or not depending on how her inhibitor worked, or more importantly, if IT was powerful enough to bother her. A whisper here, a tug on the senses there and the nagging sensation of a dark presence trying to pull her deeper into their schemes.






Meanwhile, down back on the opposite end of the table, there was a tall, slender being still deep in slumber. They had hardly moved and it almost seemed as if they were a corpse at the table, hands neatly in their lap and cuffed for now and their slicked back hair almost appeared translucent in some way, less like hair and more like particles formed to create the illusion of crimson locks. Their skin wasn’t a natural shade, too sickly and pale like a marble statue.

And that’s how they appeared, all with the exception of what almost seemed like rosy tinted lips. The way they were placed, styled and made up, Cetus truly did seem like a doll made to join a tea party. The only thing missing was a nice suit or dress, both which would have suited the sleeping fairy. It didn’t seem that Cetus would wake from this coma any time soon, little more than a table decoration for now with shallow breaths and a serenely painted expression.

 

[Abyss]

Verity

Meer

]

VIRUS​

Their eyes are closed as their body sleeps, sedated and limp. Without them, the world is dark and uninteresting. They are not cold, but they are fixed in a loosely seated position and the parts of their body that touch the surface of the object they lay across are cooler than the rest. For a while, they find this variation of temperature to be interesting. When they are not searching for the Exit, they are in The Tank. It is a rare occurrence that they have the opportunity to experience the sense of touch.

It continues to be dark and for a while they are content to let the body rest, turning their attention to repairs. Although their eyes have still not opened, they become aware that visual feedback is occurring regardless —

They see themselves seated with their feet propped up on a desk, while their fingers are tangled in hot pink yarn.....they'd wanted red to make the board look more professional, but the arts and crafts store wouldn't be restocking it until Tuesday and there wasn't enough time....

Then they're in the driver's seat of a rusted Honda Civic, surrounded by the green blur of a forest through the windows and the empty road ahead. It's a peaceful day. There's no warning. The dark SUV that emerges from a hidden back road is suddenly all they can see and even that disappears when the civics' hood flips under the impact and they close their eyes as glass shatters around them....

Keeping their eyes open is suddenly the most important thing in the world. Darkness lurks at the edges of their vision as they try to crawl from the wreckage of the car; something holds onto their limbs; threatening to drag them down until it swallows them whole. Looking back, pink yarn pools from the car and wraps around their feet. Trying to pull it off tangles thread around their fingers….

— Meanwhile in an uncharacteristic lapse of attention, the sudden surge in unknown voices and thudding vibrations of movement nearby takes them by surprise, too distracted by the fake sequences to react in time to the coinciding screech of an object in reality. Their safety threatened, they use their limited influence to trigger a flush of adrenaline.

They awake gasping for air and clutching the pain in their chest. This was expected. They have done this many times. Enough to know that the pain will mitigate and that damage will be gone momentarily. They will survive.

Fingers sink into their arms. First a small pressure, then it grows sharp until it threatens to break past their weak dermal armor. There is an invader in their body. Something that does not belong. They cannot seem to find it, but they search relentlessly for the enemy that lurks under their skin. If only they would dig deep enough, surely they might reach them.

They have tried many times to locate that which is hidden. They have tried many things to improve their external defenses. They can neither locate the objective of their search, nor have they been able to alter the shape of their body since acquiring the restraint around their neck. The slow death creeps through their body. The metal collar is not a living creature. It has no heat, takes no breath, and does not shudder with the pulse of a heart pumping precious life-blood. It cannot be killed. It is all that they can do to mitigate the damage and keep reproducing in order to combat the constant attack.

VERITY​

Her chest is too tight. Her heart is going to explode. She can feel it pounding against her ribcage, against the hand pressed into her chest; trying to keep it from escaping even as she fights to let more air into her lungs. This isn't the first time she's woken up in a panic, but every time is unexpected. She will survive.

She feels her lips peel from her teeth, like a wolf that finds itself cornered. Her nails dig into her skin. She can't shake the feeling that something is wrong with her. They tell her that she's stabilized, that she's progressing as well as can be expected. I'd like to call bullshit, she thinks. It's not like she can trust them anyways. Eventually, she'll find out exactly what the experiments did to her. She's good at finding secrets; willing to dig as deep as needed to claw them free.

Her ears are ringing, but she doesn't know why. Her heart is still pounding, the sound of blood a steady drum joining in with the ringing to create a kind of twisted duet. Fueled by adrenaline, she pushes herself away from the table and onto her feet—like propelling herself away will somehow let her escape her own head. She knows that she must be careful and that technically it would be smarter to stay put and unnoticed while she listens in on the ongoing conversations, but her body vibrates with the excess adrenaline and this is the safest outlet. Much to her surprise, the first thing she notices when her senses are calm enough to properly register her surroundings is that there are other people in the room with her. Lots of them. And they’re not wearing Seeker uniforms, or hazmat suits, and there’s not a trace of anyone connected to team Leviathan. In fact, they seem to be other experiments. What the hell is going on?

She can’t exactly relax under the circumstances. Instead, she examines everything within her vicinity, looking over the people first and then her environment second. Verity is not surprised by the many inhuman features that her fellow experiments possess, but she is intrigued by what they could represent regarding the nature of the experiments conducted and their results. She wonders also if they’ve been considered successful subjects or whether or not this event is something restricted to those who have failed. The thought that this might be their final stop before destruction sends a fearful shiver down her spine but it quickly turns into a smoldering anger. Whatever this place is, she’ll not let them be rid of her just yet. She looks around the room, noting the plain materials and lack of decorations other than the chandelier above their heads. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they decorate their home and there’s something about the utilitarian nature of the place that sets her on edge. She doesn’t like the near-emptiness of the room or how it feels like if everyone stopped talking the silence would swallow them whole. She can’t shake the feeling that something hungry is out there watching them.

Still, having never been a particularly chatty person, Verity mostly listens. She’s glad that the general first impression seems to be leaning in favor of a nonviolent approach to the situation. She doesn’t share Gael or Merrit’s supposed instinct to avoid fighting with others, but she would still rather have allies than enemies. Besides, the lone wolf tactics hadn’t been enough to escape so far and by God had she tried her hardest to make it work. “My name is Verity Meer,” she says as she re-takes her seat between Gael and the sleeping stranger with pale blue hair. “I’m willing to work together.”

Her offer is genuine, even if she doesn’t quite trust anyone in the group yet. The lack of sharp teeth and scaly armor leave her feeling more vulnerable than she’d prefer, but Verity is grateful that she hadn’t shifted in her sleep. Whether it was the side effect of the experiments or her body’s subconscious way of protecting itself, she wasn’t sure, but she had been struggling to hold onto her true form for a while now. Unfortunately the fact that she’s still human means that her restraints have been set to maximum and anti-shifting serum is being administered regardless of how the situation has changed. However it lends credence to the theory that they’re not here to fight. Or at least not right now.

Dining Room | Agitated | interactions: Gael and Dream Mentioned. All/Anyone/General.

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[Abyss]

Merrit Anderson

The Dragon

“Crockpot?” Do I look like a lobster to you?

Merrit was a little surprised by the statement. He eyed Botan suspiciously; feeling a combination of unease and irritation at the unexpected response. However it seemed that the plant-man’s attention quickly moved on. Within moments he was on the table and his next statement more or less confirmed Merrit’s suspicions. “He’s still out of it,” Merrit warned Boryan as they both watched the plant-man crawl across the table; seemingly transfixed on the cat-man. He wasn’t exactly endeared to Prickles, but years of managing particularly drunk or high friends and family members in the past had fostered a certain habitual obligation to try and prevent things from possibly escalating in social situations. He was ready to grab his ankle and drag him backwards if Prickles turned from meandering to aggressive.

Although as luck would have it, Boryan possessed the patience of a saint. Being faced with an overenthusiastic stranger still coming down from his high didn’t seem to phase him nearly as much as Merrit expected. Letting out a sigh of relief, Merrit relaxed and turned part of his attention back to Gael. The other man seemed rather unfazed by the event. He wrote something new on his notepad and lifted it back up for Merrit to read:

"I'm Gael, nice to meet you. I'm so happy to finally have some company. Being in a room by myself all the time got rather dull."

"Battle arena? I didn't know they had some of us fighting. I certainly couldn't. I'd be too afraid of hurting someone."

"I don't think they give you much choice," Merrit admitted reluctantly. "It wouldn't surprise me if one existed, but thankfully I haven't seen or heard of an arena here. You'd think monster fighting would be all the rage if there was." He paused for a moment, then in a more serious tone he said, "I'd still like to avoid fighting too if we can. Let’s not give up hope just yet.”

Gael revealed his restraining mechanism and the thick band of scar-tissue that had developed beneath it. Merrit shook his head and winced in sympathy. One hand reflexively came up to touch his own collar, which was made of the same dull white material as the cuffs on his wrists and ankles. Merrit hated his restraints, but thankfully they lacked the sharp instruments digging into Gael's neck and didn't cause any more damage than some minor scuffing so long as he had scales beneath to serve as a buffer. In an utterly alien moment, Merrit suddenly felt uncharacteristically grateful that Project Tiamat placed such a high value on their subjects. While many of the experiments had been painful and often invasive, they had always made the effort to avoid causing permanent damage. Clearly not everyone had the same priorities.

A dozen questions danced in his mind and Merrit hesitated, clearly trying to think things over. It had felt like a long time since his capture and during that time he'd often wondered about whether or not other experiments were going on and who those people might be. Were they chosen randomly? Were they somehow all connected. Did anyone know the end game of the Seekers— Was there even an end goal, or were the subjects simply being moved down an assembly line? There was no doubt in Merrit's mind that he had been created for violence, but he feared what kind of enemy the Seekers had in their sights. "Do you...."

“Right. As I was saying. I am Boryan Cappello of the Help Project. Once a human, now a cat. A pleasure to meet you all.” His tone was surprisingly authoritative; Merrit found himself stopping his own train of thought to listen to his speech. “We have currently been gathered together...."

​

Boryan Capello seemed an interesting sort. Merrit didn't know him well enough to say that his act was genuine, but he certainly seemed like the kind of person who was used to taking control of a situation. A small voice in his head warned him to be cautious. You never know who can be trusted or that he wasn't implanted specifically to lead the group on behalf of the Seekers. There was also another more irrational part of him that wanted to test that theory. Jump up on the table, point and then shout "IT'S A TRAP!" Thankfully, he'd not lost his wits. Yet.

After Boryan had finished his speech, Merrit mulled over his options for a minute. Whatever happened, he genuinely hoped he could take the cardboard message at face value and believe that there was no danger in committing himself fully to that mindset. He thought about sharing everything he knew about himself and the facility, but the truth was that he didn't really know these people yet and as Botan had made clear, not everyone was all that friendly. Internally he sighed and almost wished that he could go forward with blind trust. Almost.

Instead, when the man seated across the table asked him and Gael what the experiments had done to them, Merrit proceeded cautiously. He'd share his knowledge of the Seekers and just enough about his abilities that if trust didn't prove to be the right path, he'd still have some tricks up his sleeve.

"I'm from project Fafnir. They're one of the Tiamat sub-divisions. I think there are five divisions or so in total. Each one is color-coded according to an element. Fafnir is the fire-based project, so that's why I'm red." Merrit looked away a bit sheepishly. It was like once the words started, he couldn't stop. "Guess that's a little obvious."

"Anyways, I've never met the others. They kept us separated and every division has their own area. I've seen personnel from the other projects though. They have colored armbands on their uniforms. Cyrax and Aethrak are blue and white. And I've seen purple and green armbands, but I don't know the names of those projects.” Merrit made a gesture that encapsulated himself from head to toe. "But they, uh. All really dig the fantasy theme. So that's why I look this way."

“Yeah…..So, uh. What about you guys?" He tried not to be rude, but Merrit looked the two of them over for clues about the nature of their project:

Gael could be the man's name or it could be a project title. Probably something to do with wind, weather, or sound if the latter was the case. Whatever it was, it sounded forceful, like something meant to push you around. Whatever the experiments had done to other man, it didn't seem to have had too much of an effect on his appearance compared with a few of the others. Although that didn't guarantee he wasn't a shapeshifter of some sort like Merrit or the rest of Tiamat's subjects. Gael's restraints also seemed to be a fair bit more intense than his own, so it was probably safe to say that he had some sort of offensive ability that the Seekers weren't keen to tangle with. Whatever the case, Merrit didn't want to underestimate him based solely on his friendly demeanor.

Damocles sounded like something from Greek or Roman mythology. It had been a while since he'd brushed up on any related reading though and Merrit didn't feel particularly comfortable making any bets on what abilities the Seekers might have given Damocles. After all, Greek mythology was full of deities, creatures, and heroes. He could have anything from heroic strength, to elemental powers, to even shapeshifting abilities. Though if those gadgets in his ears were this man's restraints, then the latter was probably unlikely. Or maybe I'm completely off base and this man is an oracle of sorts. Ancient Greek mythology sure did love prophecies...

Dining Hall

Nervous

White Uniform

Eliruz Silvercurrent Chimeric

coded by natasha.

 

[Chimeric]

MERCURY

QUICKSILVER SOLDIER

Sleep left him abrupt and sudden, jolting up where everyone else was awake and already asking the questions that needed asking. Much of the wake up was thanks to Botan's outstretch of his wings. "Uh-? Wha-?" With each utter of confused noise he was turning in a different direction, pointing and head scratching. There were so many wild things with this setting, but knowing that anyone who wasn't a Seeker was an experiment, made the appearances of everyone less shocking. There was nothing that insinuated he was to lead, it is on his own goofy whims he speaks to the crowd he is just meeting as a charismatic principal over an intercom, "Ok children, settle down now, class is in session! If we aren't fighting, like the cat said, we're being tested! Hope it's not a math test. Also you-," He takes Botan with one hand on a leafy wing and the other on his opposing shoulder and scrapes him off the table, having also deduced he is the one who smacked him awake, "-you're in the way."

The thud of Botan being slid of the table was of no concern to him, standing he dusted his hands like he'd just cleaned something up. A small grunt could be heard as Prickles met the floor. Mercury had been awake for just long enough to hear Boryan Acapella (Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's his name), Verity Meer, Deon, Reese (Could his last name be Witherspoon?), and Merrit (Crockpot) speaking. He is less involved about stooping to serious and paranoid demeanors, the majority of what he senses from the hodge-podge of this group, but he also is as aware that this is no park walk. Cake walk, whatever. "I am yours truly, Mercury, as the name might suggest- I turn into liquid metal and... some other shit. But what's more is...." Mercury paused for a moment, while collaboration of some sort seemed to be their goal, he wasn't sure if he should be selling himself like a weapon or a soldier the way he's used to doing. And also he lacked the means to provide a fun demonstration. Well that was interesting. He clears his throat, "I slip through doors and crevices, then 'surprise!'," he takes a moment to say the word alongside jazz hands, "I'm suddenly behind you, and it's lights out." Downplaying himself seemed best at this time, though his persona often did that for him well enough on it's own. He wasn't sure what to make of everything yet, and everyone else seemed to be this way besides wordy guesses. Cat-man sounded like a wise old man. Some of the folk gathered here just by a glance were easily shy beans. And some were probably nuts, or high, like Piglet and Prickles. And some.... could be moles.

A door on one end of the long table opens, it was hard to notice it from how well it blended in with the rest of the wall. Mercury moves to the door, then whips around back to the gala of misfits in a split second of 'You see this right?' And then with no other warning he strides outside to what appears to be a living room or some kind of main room. Were they being stored and now shown to a company they'll be working for? "Alright, not bad," he starts as he investigates the amenities. As he moves through one of the doorways, it opens to a long hall, several doors with everyone's name on it. A hotel perhaps? He found his own rather quickly and as he nears a thin light moves across him back and forth in duet with noises, and then the door opens. At this other lights and noises can be heard all across the 'suite,' from rooms, hall, living area, kitchen, etc.

"Welcome, I am your host, Dolly, at the Seekers discretion, I will help you settle in and get to know things around here. As you may have learned from the Banquet Room, you are not here to fight one another, so please refrain from doing so outside of training exercises. This program is new and is thought best to have our more experienced helpers run alongside our overseers. Boryan you have been given access and management of the kitchen and supplies in relation. Mercury and Sondor, you have tentatively been charged with organizing and managing training and equipment for the Activities room, you're suggestions will be checked for how necessary the requests are. Marina, you are given the reins of the pool room and activities held in. Any misuse will lead to revocation."

On one hand Mercury was stoked, purely for the fact he was going to run activities which shot of many ideas, on the other, this was still unnerving. His hand was to his side as he looked to the ceiling like this was where Dolly could see him, "Any other information, like what our mission is." A noise like ticking was all that went on for awhile, then confetti and streamers ejected from vents as well as a banner that read "Happy House Warming." Joining in with this joke of festivity was a young male who was excitably running in the rain of party favors. The tiny vents had closed now, so Mercury and maybe others were confused at why the colorful pieces and ribbons of paper continuously fluttered down.

location info

mood info

outfit info

interactions / tags and stuff

coded by natasha.

 

[SavannahSmiles]

mood

groggy and very confused

location

banquet room

outfit

white suit

mentions

Boryan & Reese

tags

Silvercurrent Headphones

Whispers echoed around her, their hushed cries bouncing around her head and no amount of covering her ears quieted them. Shadows danced across the wall, their spidery fingers reaching for her as she spun this way and that, looking for an exit that wasn't there. The whispers around her began to rise in pitch, their undiscernible words screeching through the void until she could do nothing but curl up in the fetal position, mouth open in a silent scream-

Freyja gave a small jerk as she jolted awake, her eyes flying open and gazing unseeingly through the curtain of hair that obstructed her vision. One slender hand reached up and pushed aside the snowy locks, her magenta eyes blinking as they began to adjust the brightness of the room, her surroundings slowly coming into focus. As her brain began to gradually fight off the fog of her drug-induced sleep she slowly came to realize she wasn't alone. Her eyes glanced to the man seated next to her who sported a shock of bright pink hair before her gaze trailed one seat over and froze, unsure of what it was she was seeing.

The hand she had used to brush away her hair planted against the table, helping to leverage her body upwards slightly as she squinted, trying to make sense of the sight in front of her. She had seen a lot of strange things in the past couple of years, but a large cat-man was definitely new. Was this some type of new apparition she hadn't seen before?

"Weird ghost." She mumbled to herself, a thought she had definitely meant to think instead of speak but her brain was at present moving slower than her mouth. As she sat up fully, she became aware of a warmth resting against her back and she turned her head towards the source, spying another man seated on her left. He, at the very least, looked normal but then again, normal had lost all sense and meaning to her long ago. She blinked at the man, reaching up with a hand to rub at her eyes as her lips parted, about to ask him if he knew what was going on but the feeling of a cold breeze blowing across the back of her neck halted her.

"About time you woke up."

A teasing voice spoke up from behind her, heard only by her ears. Judging by the cold chill she could feel from behind her chair, she guessed that Ciel was floating around somewhere behind her, the apparition most likely reclining back as he floated in the air. "Where are we?" She murmured to him, though since she was still gazing at the man seated next to her, one might assume she was speaking to him. "I'm not sure. When you were put to sleep, The Seekers brought you in here. Given the conversations so far, no one seems to know what's going on." Freyja tilted her head as she considered Ciel's words, not realizing that she was still staring at the poor man seated next to her, having spaced out during her conversation with her ghostly companion.

Freyja

code: @s e v e n​

​

 

[Abyss]

Sondor

Half-Light Angel

Sleep doesn’t mean much to Sonny. He’s heard it said that sleeping gives the mind a break. That he should do it more often. I’m going to prescribe you a sleeping aid, Sondor. It’s important that your mind gets adequate rest. It is not unusual for patients to struggle with sleep—it is not unusual, but it can sometimes worsen pre-existing conditions. What those conditions might be, he’s never been told. He’s tried to poke and prod the research team for answers, but all that gets him is a casual dismissal or a promise that they’re looking into it. He takes the medicine, but only because he knows that it's not a request. He plays along.

The problem is, that when Sonny loses consciousness he doesn’t just slip away into the darkness. He doesn't have an off mode. No switch that shuts his brain down. Instead, when he closes his eyes on the waking world, Sonny finds himself transported between one blink and the next to another realm—the realm of dreams. Dream City, he sometimes calls it. A wide, sprawling landscape of skyscrapers and blinking lights that give the sky a dull orange glow during the night. He’s not sure where the city is or if it’s got an official name—hard to recognize a place if you’re lacking material for recognition after all. Still, there’s comfort to be found in the city: diners, street vendors, stores full of knick-knacks and games. Things look authentic enough that he sometimes wonders if this world might be real after all. Then of course, he opens a door to find nothing behind it or takes a bite out of his meal to find it notably absent of taste…..

̶̨̙̲͙̅̒̉͘ ̵̡̰̙̩̻̦͔̲̤̉̂̒̕ ̷̜͖̙̞̰̳͎̹̯͓̤̞̗̄͂̍̓̌̋ ̴͍̺̣͍̪͛́́̈́͛͌̏̓̅̿͠ ̴̡̨̛͈͙͍̖̟̭͛̎̀̀͜͝ͅ ̷̨̛̭͖͓̜̱̰͕̹̙̺͇́̍̈́ ̸͈̖́̇͊̍̂͌̐͒̽ ̴̭̼̺̥͕̱̼͚͔̹̝̜̓̊͑͆̾͜ ̴̧̳̰̰̦̫̳̲͋͜͜​

Sonny awakens feeling grumpy and miserable. He’s hungry and his head hurts; there’s a dull ache resonating from behind his eyes, which he focuses on lest he otherwise be dragged back into the dream world. Everything is so heavy. The room is filled with confusion. It clouds his senses till he feels like he could choke from the sensation of cotton on his tongue. Belatedly, he extends his awareness in search of support.

He can feel the essence of Dark vaguely, where the being curls miserably somewhere in the back of his mind, seemingly as oppressed by the intruding emotion and loath to act as Sonny is. Sulking is the impression he gets. Light is…somewhere. It’s always been the least tangible of the two. He can feel them vaguely, but their attention is directed elsewhere and when he reaches out to prod them mentally, he is met with the strange sensation of the other’s mind slipping out of his grasp. Light is frustrated, maybe? Dissatisfied. That might be a better word. He leaves them be.

Sonny looks around the room. His mind is clearing. The fog is still there, but he turns his focus instead on the brief flickers of fear that flash out from the individuals across the table. Not enough to stir Dark’s interest, but it helps to clear his mind from the fog. It's sort of like picking your path over unstable ground. He latches onto these foreign emotions until his thoughts feel less like he’s struggling to escape quicksand and more like he’s walking through a shallow stream that flows in the opposite direction of where he’s heading. The difference between struggling for air and tiring out a bit faster than usual.

There seems to be a range of different subjects; some appearing fully human while others stick out like they’ve been ripped out of another world entirely. A few subjects in particular catch his interest. The subject of immediate concern is seated to his right: a woman of comparable age to himself, human-like, and seemingly very pleased with this surprise turn of events. Deon, he remembers from his foggy awareness of the earlier introductions. There’s nothing off about her personality. She doesn’t seem to be hiding anything, so much as her aura is unbearably heavy. In fact, he suspects that she might be the main cause of his continued struggle to stay awake. It’s for this reason that as soon as he’s recovered enough energy to do so, he subtly attempts to distance himself from her; trying to escape that pervasive feeling of fatigue that permeates the air around her by sliding closer to his left. She wasn’t hostile, but she was a threat to his ability to make sound decisions.

The second subject that concerns him is also seated next to him. Mostly human except for the pair of stark white wings that fold neatly against his sides. Some sort of subject from the Angel Project or one of its related divisions, probably. There’s no chance of him being a Half-Light duplicate, but the fact that this man could share some overlap with himself is concerning. The core function of the Angels was to be protectors. To his knowledge the common function shared between each model was the Guardian Protocol: The ability to detect hostile intentions so that they could protect their charge before the enemy could act. Various versions existed, but the idea was generally the same. Sonny didn’t know how well the technology worked on other Angels, but that was something he’d have to figure out. Whatever the case, his own fear of being trapped between a living lie detector and an energy vampire could at least be attributed to the general situation. We have to keep an eye on that one…. Are either of you paying attention? Light? Dark?

Seen lots of Angels. We should watch these ones.

Dark’s presence nags at him; guides Sonny’s eyes between each experiment it finds interesting. Look, this one’s a cat. And that one is a plant. Which is, technically right of course, but probably an oversimplificati—And look. This one is a Devil. We should fight them.

Sonny squints suspiciously at Merrit—the man does look rather like the antithesis of Project Angel—who’s been so far either coping through humor or who’s personality is friendly enough to warrant suspicion under the circumstances. His aura is vibrant and flickering. He senses nothing dangerous yet. What makes you want to fight this one?

Belmont hates the Devils. If we win he’ll give us something good.

Sonny’s brain is bombarded then by a tangled mess of images, feelings, and the memory of something sweet that they’d eaten several days ago. Dark is getting distracted, trying to prove their point. Stop it! We’re not getting into a fight because you want candy.

We want candy, Dark corrects. Which is, again technically true. The food provided by the Seekers was edible, but nothing like some of what Sonny had discovered in Dream City. A few nights ago he’d come across a vendor selling Cotton Candy and now that he knew it existed, he wanted to try it in the real world. When Belmont was in a good mood, he was more likely to approve reques—Stop entertaining this foolishness, Light interjects. The Soothsayer’s presence is having a disorienting effect on you. You must resist the temptation.

Shit. Sonny shakes his head like he might be able to knock some sense into his companions. He can feel the headache gaining strength already. He can still feel Deon’s sleepy aura tempting him to close his eyes, but he also gets the sense that Light isn't really worried about that so much as it’s upset about the possibility that Sonny might side with Dark on this. The two of them are like that—often making a fuss just to prevent each other from getting something they want and now is not the time to be playing keep-away. Right. No picking fights till we figure out what’s going on. We need information.

The pair of them say nothing, which is perfect for the time being. In the meantime, Sonny listens.

̶̨̙̲͙̅̒̉͘ ̵̡̰̙̩̻̦͔̲̤̉̂̒̕ ̷̜͖̙̞̰̳͎̹̯͓̤̞̗̄͂̍̓̌̋ ̴͍̺̣͍̪͛́́̈́͛͌̏̓̅̿͠ ̴̡̨̛͈͙͍̖̟̭͛̎̀̀͜͝ͅ ̷̨̛̭͖͓̜̱̰͕̹̙̺͇́̍̈́ ̸͈̖́̇͊̍̂͌̐͒̽ ̴̭̼̺̥͕̱̼͚͔̹̝̜̓̊͑͆̾͜ ̴̧̳̰̰̦̫̳̲͋͜͜
​

"To complete the task and proceed forward, it seems we have to get to know each other. I’m not one to push you to work on it, though. If you don’t want to, that’s your business. Though, the sooner we start cooperating, the sooner we might be given more clues…."

Boryan’s aura is frustratingly stable. When Sonny looks at him he’s given the impression of someone who’s not violent per say, but more like a rock. Or maybe a boulder. Something you’d bash yourself against if you tried to move it with force.

A real leader-type by the looks of it.

Sonny weighs his options. If people do decide to share and he refuses, he'll mark himself an outsider and that'll make him an easy target to pick off by a group. But if he does share and the Seekers decide to pit them against each other he'll be vulnerable again. Either that, or someone might use the information against him later. Belmont hadn’t shared any info regarding this ‘experiment,’ and so far the man had been fairly open regarding anything that directly impacted the progress of the Half-Light Angel Project.

With any other Overseer, Sonny might think that he’d pissed him off and been sent away for punishment, but as much as he had tried pressing all of Belmont’s buttons he hadn’t found one that would stick. If anything, the Overseer tended to worry if Sonny went too long without doing something to shake things up—something about showing that ‘familiar spark’ seemed to keep Belmont hopeful that progress was going in the right direction.

So if Belmont was keeping him in the dark, there were two main options. The first was that the order to be silent came from above and that his hands were tied: no spilling of company secrets allowed. This in addition to being the most likely, meant that Belmont had probably elected to have Sonny participate for beneficial reasons and that someone else was playing close attention (Belmont would never play fair otherwise. That’s part of why they get along). Perhaps Sonny had been making better progress then he’d thought.

However, while punishment was off the table, there was still a second theory for why Sonny had been left in the dark. Perhaps Belmont had also been caught unawares and had no time to warn Sonny beforehand. There was a distinct chance that Belmont hadn’t made the decision willingly, but rather someone with more say-so had submitted the Half-Light Angel into the ring and Belmont had been overruled. The difference being that in that situation, anything could happen. It would be sink or swim.

̶̨̙̲͙̅̒̉͘ ̵̡̰̙̩̻̦͔̲̤̉̂̒̕ ̷̜͖̙̞̰̳͎̹̯͓̤̞̗̄͂̍̓̌̋ ̴͍̺̣͍̪͛́́̈́͛͌̏̓̅̿͠ ̴̡̨̛͈͙͍̖̟̭͛̎̀̀͜͝ͅ ̷̨̛̭͖͓̜̱̰͕̹̙̺͇́̍̈́ ̸͈̖́̇͊̍̂͌̐͒̽ ̴̭̼̺̥͕̱̼͚͔̹̝̜̓̊͑͆̾͜ ̴̧̳̰̰̦̫̳̲͋͜͜​

"Welcome, I am your host, Dolly, at the Seekers discretion, I will help you settle in and get to know things around here. As you may have learned from the Banquet Room, you are not here to fight one another, so please refrain from doing so outside of training exercises. This program is new and is thought best to have our more experienced helpers run alongside our overseers. Boryan you have been given access and management of the kitchen and supplies in relation. Mercury and Sondor, you have tentatively been charged with organizing and managing training and equipment for the Activities room, your suggestions will be checked for how necessary the requests are. Marina, you are given the reins of the pool room and activities held in. Any misuse will lead to revocation."

Those are a lot of words.

By the sounds of things, the Seekers weren’t popular. Normally this wouldn’t matter all that much to him, but that was before Dolly had announced his role in managing activities. Sure, they weren’t supposed to fight one another, but rules only mattered so long as a person either feared or respected the one in charge of enforcing them. By the sounds of it, the Seekers were going to have their hands full with this lot. And Sonny had just been made Seeker’s Pet. The perks had better be damn worth it.

For better or worse, he’s not the only one who’s been given a leash. Mercury is the newest subject to jump into the Watchlist category. He’s a soldier no doubt. His aura doesn’t suggest ill-intent, but it contradicts his actions. There’s a surprising clarity to it. Like water on a windless day. Only the atmosphere of the room suggests that things should be turbulent. There should be waves of some sort and the lack of them suggests he’s more in control than his outward energy implies. Mercury is like Sonny: He’s wearing a mask.

Sonny’s fingers itch. He wants to pull it off.

Something. DO IT NOW. Something. YES. Whatever it is. DOITDOITDOIT.

Notyenotyetnotyet.

Sonny’s brain is clear enough to remember that whatever he does, he needs to be smart about it. Hiding one hand beneath the table, Sonny makes a fist. Pain blossoms as his nails dig into the flesh of his palm. It’s a decent distraction. Dark’s focus goes from Mercury to Sonny in an instant. We wait, he says. Dark concedes, but misery echoes across their link. Boring. Boring. Boring. You’re being boring.

And you would have us all killed.

Enough. Sonny is running out of patience, both with his not-so-amicable companions and the situation as a whole.

Mercury (thankfully) asks the relevant questions, which means Sonny doesn’t have to look too enthusiastic about his new job. It’ll be better if he gets along with Mercury and Boryan, seeing as they’ve been assigned the most authority and the rest of the subjects outnumber them, so they’ll likely need to stick together if factions start to form. Still, he wants to figure out the rest of the group before committing himself to any particular side. There are so many things you want to do. Pick something. ANYTHING.

Sonny stays in his seat, but only because he doesn’t feel like sharing the table. “Well folks, s’pose that’s my cue to introduce myself. Name’s Sonny. Guess I’m in charge of teaching you stuff and smuggling contraband. That last bit is a joke of course.” He says the last bit in a stage whisper, one hand held up to his mouth like he knows where the Seekers are hiding and he’s actually worried about getting into trouble.

“But since sharing is caring and we’re all friends here, I’ll let you in on my secret superpower: summoning. So if you see something weird, try not to worry about it.”

Delight suddenly shimmers across the link between himself and Dark as a colorful racket of party confectionaries bursts from the vents. These colorful streamers and sparkling confetti were new, distracting, and spurred emotions in many of the surrounding experiments that resulted in a pleasant reprieve from the doom and gloom. Somewhat impulsively, Sonny doesn’t shut the gates on a sudden manifestation of blimp-like shadow beasties that spawned from the shadows dotting the table. Roughly the size of a ping-pong ball with one eye that takes up a third of their body, these tiny beasties chased the streamers and confetti through the air, circling energetically around the new arrival. “Except,” Sonny says, frowning slightly. “I’m not responsible for this one.”

Dining Hall

Wary

White Uniform

N?A

coded by natasha.

 

[Abyss]

Quinn

The Talon

With Boryan’s reply, Quinn felt a major weight lift from her shoulders. The introduction had gone smoothly—even if they didn’t get to shake hands—and the success at overcoming her first hurdle to this unexpected situation boosted her confidence; giving her a sudden surge of energy and sparking her enthusiasm to meet the rest of the subjects. Much of her initial nervousness had been quelled in an instant and now she peered curiously around her in the hopes of who she would be able to meet next.

Now that most of the subjects are awake, she could read their name tags: Boryan, Mercury, Gael, Project Syphon: Rorie Sutton, Fafnir, Damocles. Quinn pauses, confused. She looks down at her own name tag, feeling the sudden urge to double check what it says. “Oh.” Maybe she hadn’t been supposed to introduce herself by her fieldname. That was…odd. They didn’t use personal names outside of the lab. “I suppose they want you to call me Quinn.” The nervous feeling returned. It looked like some of the other subjects were given their project names while others had been given—or were choosing to use—their personal name. There didn’t seem to be a right or wrong answer then, so maybe the choice was up to her? That’s new.

Feeling uncertain, Quinn takes her cue from Boryan and remains in her seat, keeping her posture straight and folding her hands beneath the table to keep from fidgeting. She doesn't want her actions to reflect badly on Project Talon, but it’s hard to avoid making mistakes when you’ve been given no instructions. Still, it’s impossible not to do something. Quinn is musing on what to do next, when she feels a prickle of awareness that lets her know she’s being watched. She turns to look in that direction and finds herself gazing at a woman seated further down. She has an almost dream-like quality about her, but her gaze leaves Quinn feeling exposed—like she’s been singled out of the crowd by a spotlight and the rest of the world drops out of her awareness. As if nothing can exist beyond the boundaries of Soothsayer’s stare. Have they met before? She feels like that’s the only answer. Then the Soothsayer’s eyes move on and she feels herself fade back into reality, the strange feeling disappearing as if it had been imagined. Quinn tilts her head quizzically, as if doing so will stop the memory from slipping out her ears.

She is still distracted by that train of thought, when Project Siphon: Rorie Sutler lets out an indignant yelp as one of Botan's wings clips her head during his awakening. Quinn has to work to hide the smile that pulls earnestly at the corners of her mouth. The sight reminds her of a fledgling Talon’s clumsy first attempts at controlling their wings during flying practice. Of course, Botan isn’t a Talon. She’s not quite sure what he is or if he can fly? She’s never seen a creature like him before or anything close to wings that appear to be made from living plants. However the thought of having wings, but being incapable of flight feels ultimately worse than not having wings at all. It strikes too closely to her own fear of being grounded. She is amused until Botan has suddenly climbed on the table and crawls across in a rather determined fashion.

Quinn can tell that something is off somehow with his scent, and it sets her on edge. Boryan’s posture stiffens as Botan reaches a hand out towards the cat-man and Quinn can feel a soundless rumble in her chest that threatens to become a growl at the sudden intrusion. It’s an old instinct that flares up, but now is not the time to fight. You know better, she tells herself. Quinn manages to keep seated as Boryan doesn’t retaliate, but rather sits calmly as Botan pets him, before insisting that the other experiment go back to his seat. Quinn follows his suit and remains neutral, although she eyes the two of them uncertainly. It’s not unusual for people to pet the Talons, but it’s rare for strangers to simply walk up without introduction. Well, maybe not all that rare. But those few exceptions were usually shadowed by a few friends who pushed and jostled them eagerly in the direction of the roosting Talons, knowing that no harm would come to their companions and making a sport out of haggling the newest rookie. Quinn couldn’t tell if Botan was actually reckless or just trying to be brave. Another thought hits her. Were people often afraid of Boryan?

​

“I agree. I think the best course of action would be to work together.” Quinn is positively enthusiastic about the idea that this a cross-project experiment and the Seekers have arranged for them to be allies. Never in all her years has this type of mission been on her radar. While not everyone had seemed happy about waking up in a new place, hopefully they would warm up to the idea of working as a team. Quinn disliked sedation, but fieldwork and training was something she looked forward to. Maybe the others would find the trade off reasonable once they’d settled into routine—What would the routine be like here, anyways?—Besides, learning was fun too. Far better than having to wait around on base or being called in for testing.

Boryan, Mercury, and Sondor had been designated as their official instructors. Quinn already trusted Boryan. He was a lot like her previous trainers, although he was more affectionate than they had been. She couldn’t see Warden falling asleep on Officer Mackenzie after all, not even when he was so polite.

Mercury was entertaining for an instructor. Quinn liked his energetic attitude and the flare he used when describing his abilities. He reminded her of Hopper, a soldier from one of the units she’d been deployed to work with as part of Operation Eureka nearly two years ago. There had been a lot of down time and he’d made a habit of claiming anything sturdy enough to stand on as stage. That tendency had gotten him knocked off his feet a few times, but he was always laughing even as he pushed himself back off the ground.

Sonny’s introduction had been less dramatic than Mercury’s, but it was still less formal than most of her previous teachers. She was more interested in the creatures he’d summoned. Tiny floating things that looked more like some kind of amoeba or bacteria than an actual animal. They managed to fly—or maybe float?— even without wings and they were chasing after the streamers without much care that their chosen prey wasn’t actually edible. Or maybe it was for them? Sonny didn’t seem concerned about them, anyways.

Quinn had of course felt a bit disappointed that she hadn’t been included in the roster as a training instructor. She had been made aware of her retirement from field work, but did this also mean that she would no longer be training the fresh batches either? That part of her responsibilities had always been enjoyable. There was something special about helping a Talon learn their aerial maneuvers or learn to navigate using the constellations. Perhaps her skills weren’t up to par in comparison to theirs, or perhaps the type of training she was used to might be different? Well, if that was the case then she would do her best to adapt and improve her skills.

However, more important than worrying about what her role would be in the upcoming mission, was figuring out what their next collective move would be. The doors had opened, beckoning them to move on to the next area. However, several of the subjects were still asleep in their seats. Quinn twisted in her seat to face the nearest of them; a small woman with bright red hair occupying the seat to Quinn’s right. She looked human, but she also smelled like saltwater and fish. Could this be Marina then? It would make sense for someone who smelled like the ocean to be in charge of the pool.

Carefully minding her strength, Quinn shook the-woman-who-was-probably-Marina's shoulder carefully, well aware that she might have to leap back in the event that she startled the other experiment in the process of waking her up. Quinn trusted that their teams had given them the right dosage of the sedative of course, but… She looked first at Boryan and then nodded towards Marina and then at the four other experiments who still laid across the table. “Should we be worried yet?”

Dining Hall

Protective

White Uniform

Headphones

coded by natasha.

 

[Silvercurrent]

~Interactions~
Headphones
Abyss
Chimeric

~Mentions~
​

“Bloody hell.” Was all Reese could muster, though it was mouthed rather than spoken as he sent one last scan across Merrit, then briefly to the startled, but recovered Verity before offering poor Freyja a pat on the back that silently spoke of ‘good luck’ before he, too was feeling the room become too familiar. He’d just awoken, and yet he was ready to investigate the door that Mercury had gone off to explore.

When the Red head looked back at them all with a ‘you seeing this wack shack?’, Reese only pushed up his glasses, unamused.

Deon wobbled up from her seat, balance seeming to evade her better than she avoided bumping into those near her- thankfully not Rorie. “Whoa, WHAT?” She grinned lazily, tip toeing clumsily after Mercury.

She awkwardly emerged from the dining hall just as the voice of Dolly could be heard explaining their cryptic circumstances. She did an unstable spin, then put both hands on her hips, looking back behind her at Quinn with a reassuring smile.

Sondor got a little glint from her plum colored eye, as if she had picked up on his discomfort but she simply said to herself ‘yeah, the hot ones still steer off me.’, but just as the thought came, it was replaced by her almost falling over herself to check out their new crib. “Guys, it’s literally like a game show! Maybe we have to do group therapy? Every one of us looks like we need it, frankly.” Deon said, then seemed to disappear around the corner of the hallway. On her way through, she gestured to the little dark buddies to follow her if they wanted, like a messed up little parade.



“Ah, ours truly Mercury,” Reese offered out, zipping up his jacket as if to keep from catching ‘weirdo germs’. “Perhaps we should let her and the excited boy there go first- in case a flamethrower or something else mad awaits around the corner, hm?” He looked back at the others at the table, as if seeking their opinion on the matter, rather than wait for them to agree, he acted like they already had. “More mad than the little…” He trailed off, lashes lowered in a judging gaze at the strange ping-pong beasties…

However, he couldn’t keep doing this- ignoring him.

The grand Catte leader of the Left side of the table and the fuzzy, feline elephant of the room. Reese turned on his heel, and finally after what felt like forever, his crystalline eyes met Boryan’s needle-like pupils.

“Just a joke, of course.” He said to Boryan directly, who he could already tell would have disapproved of Reese’s suggestion of letting Deon be a sacrifice to any possible traps.

“I heard that!” Deon called from down the hallway, her messy, long hair smacking her own face. “Nothing lethal, yet!” she declared.

“What is she, a bloodhound?” Reese mumbled, straightening his jacket of any wrinkles.

“No, you’re not actually that quiet- you’re like, British quiet, which means I can hear you pretty well.” Deon replied, ushering him forth with both hands like one would a child. “Come on, let’s get those sleepy heads awake.” Deon smiled, her pure joy of having company overriding any self preservation or for now- consideration.

“I’m not touching them,” Reese looked back to Deon, raising a finger at her. “And neither should you.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Deon replied suddenly, knuckles firmly on her hips.

“Excuse me?” Reese chuckled incredulously, much like a father when his child refuses to back down from a challenge.

“I didn’t hear your name up there on the list of people in charge… Dahmo-clez.” She squinted at his name tag, then narrowed her eyes up at him before smiling over to Boryan. “And unless you grow a cute tail and actually sound like an authority here, I’d like you not to point your finger at me.”



Reese just… Stood there, like a chicken rotating slowly, agonizingly over a fire pit. But, he kept his cool and let out a cotton soft sigh. “Now, Miss Soothsayer,” He looked back to the door, slowly trying to inch his way to it.




“Deon,” She smiled now, tilting her head and extending a hand to him.

“Ah,” Reese coughed, hesitating to take it. “You look like a… You seem like a very stubborn woman for your age.”

“You look like your kids call you by your first name.” Deon replied, shaking his hand before turning to go check on the sleeping bodies still slumped over. One of which being the same Coral haired woman that Quinn was attempting to wake.

Reese drilled his eyes shut.

‘Surely, no one heard or saw that. They’re all busy. Surely no one did.’




He drew in a deep breath, then feeling the same pair of eyes on him from the Cat-mutant, he turned to look over his shoulder. Again, he straightened up and offered a polite smile. “Poor choice of words on my end.” He admitted, then began making his sweet escape out into the living room.

He was shocked by the contrast to the dining hall- it was spacious, perfect for the number of people they had. It looked like a set, and yet it was somewhere he could see himself being comfortable, at least mildly. It wasn’t a single room- he now had… Options. It was oddly frightening being able to explore, keeping his stiff back pressed to the side of the doorway.

 

[Headphones]

transient calm - SPY x FAMILY

▶

Fever

Dreams

01

Within the mysterious room with 20 other people.

Fifth seat on the left.

Speaking to

everyone

“I agree. I think the best course of action would be to work together.”​

Quinn’s immediate response to Boryan’s suggestion made him nod his head as a form of acknowledgment and positive reinforcement. Her enthusiasm was a pleasant sight in the sea of wariness and uncertainty, as many of the others had the waves of hesitancy, aversion or dismissal wash over their visage during the end of his speech. These reactions, albeit unproductive in the immediate instance, were entirely normal and didn’t discourage the black feline. He predicted that the vast majority would eventually agree to forming a collaboration, at their own pace, especially after they see the benefits and productivity from a cohesive team already in the making. The young leader of Squall One had thus far earned her honor in his mental markbook, for not only was she congenial, but also capable of maintaining her composure during an unexpected intrusion by an entity with unknown intentions and abilities. How dependable she was and where her talents lied would be determined in time, yet she was a possible connection that Boryan intended to nurture. At the very least, there would be one less person to interfere during the mission.

While the white-haired individual by the title of King of Flowers, as was embroidered on his clothing, remained dazedly atop the table, a flash of red flurried abruptly on his outlines. Boryan recalled that the one seated directly in front of him was a man with a short ponytail of the same paint, who had been in deep slumber the last time he saw him. Mercury, as his label had revealed, had likely awakened from the commotion at the middle of the table and was no doubt disoriented to a considerable degree. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence to see a human-sized black cat and a plant-bird-man amalgamation. Not for a normal person, of course. Just as Boryan was about to once more guide the King back to his throne and brief in the new arrival, he was interrupted for what was probably the fourth time in the span of less than half an hour.

A sudden feeling passed over him. Akin to a cold finger that strolled down from the top of his head to the base of his neck. A fingernail that passed between his hairs and raked his skin. An unpleasant sensation, yet not as severe as the physical stroke he had previously received. No, this one was more abstract. More ephemeral. A draft? Two amber cat eyes looked to the ceiling and scanned the upper portions of the walls. There were indeed small vents to be found there, yet, as illogical as it seemed, it didn’t feel precisely the same as a normal air current.

‘Could it be an ability?’ Boryan thought and turned to his left in an attempt to locate this unwelcome chill, leaning against the table with his arms crossed. He had missed the conversation that had sparked at that end of the table and he would continue to register Merrit’s account of his identity with deaf ears for several sentences more.

Sure enough, the culprit was on the pink-mullet fellow’s other side, staring right at him. Two miffed raspberry eyes rimmed by long white locks were examining his figure. Judging. Assuming. It was almost as though their owner, a girl that looked no older than 20, was about to get up, state her name and announce that he had killer her father. Dramatic, yet not entirely impossible. Relentless as her gaze was, she quickly scoffed “--- ghost” in a tone much more audible than she assumed and turned her attention to the other man beside her.

‘What is with this sassy….lost child?’ Boryan wondered. ‘I’ve been called many things, but a ghost? True, I’m quite the unbelievable sight. Maybe she is used to having hallucinations after anesthe-’ he mused as his eyes trailed up after the arm that had been placed on the albino girl’s back by the other man. When that person’s face came into view, the steady flow of thoughts halted instantaneously.


Thick black hair like the canvas of the night sky. All sounds became dimmer still. Skin so white and smooth, with just one crack or two, like the elegant frame of a birch. And eyes so blue and bright, the enchanting glow of a full moon. The sight brought back a memory from his childhood, a time when everyone was a bit more carefree and the world – just a bit more magical. That night he walked up that moonlit path to a meadow of dancing fireflies. Those little lights flickered in and out, always out of reach when he ran after them. And when he finally tired out and lied on his back, there was a canopy of stars above, mesmerizing, filling his eyes with wonder and fantasy. That whimsical feeling that touched all of his senses, that both spread to every corner of his world and awakened his awareness of him being here and now, witnessing this beautiful moment. It sparkled within him once more when he saw this man. Damocles.


‘… Khhahaha.’ Boryan suddenly laughed in his mind. Thankfully, his anatomical changes removed most visible subtle human expressions from his face. If anyone saw him, they would simply gather that he was listening attentively to Merrit’s commentary or observing the other participants unblinkingly. ‘My, that was interesting. It’s been a while since I felt that. When was the last time? There was something similar when I met Fin, but was it this intense? I knew that I should have experienced some form and degree of social depravation, but for it to suddenly become so apparent by getting the butterflies, or, fireflies for someone at first sight, I must have been lonely.’


Amused by the curious situation he had caught himself in, Boryan steadily maneuvered his fluttering soul back down to the ground. At the same time, Mercury’s bombastic voice took stage for his turn in their introduction session.

"Ok children, settle down now, class is in session! If we aren't fighting, like the cat said, we're being tested! Hope it's not a math test. Also you-," he began and pushed himself up from his chair, only to grab The King of Flowers and drag him back to the latter’s empty seat. "-you're in the way." With one quick motion, Mercury was now standing at full height with the spotlight above him.

"I am yours truly, Mercury, as the name might suggest. I turn into liquid metal and... some other shit. But what's more is…" he paused, perhaps thinking of how to maintain the facetious tone, “I slip through doors and crevices, then 'Surprise!'” he exclaimed and shook his upright open palms “I'm suddenly behind you, and it's lights out.”​

Quite the spirited character he was, indeed. His display managed to attract the rest of the cast, as well as provoke moderate to strong emotions within some of them, however, the cat remained uninspired. He was unreserved, confident, but lacked the fanfare of the charismatic emcee he was trying to play, one that was all too familiar to those that came across the CaTS Division. At most, he was a Chekhov’s gun at this point. If he revealed his powers and their purpose so openly, it meant he wasn’t afraid of using them, yet at the same time, whether consciously or not, he had no intention of purposefully harming the others or at least plot against them. That all being said, liquid metal was never something to be taken lightly, especially if it moved with a mind of its own and could, hypothetically, go anywhere. A versatile ally or a tenacious enemy.

It may have been because a great percentage of them had fully come to their senses or because they had fulfilled their initial task of introducing themselves to one another or, as was of human nature, because the Seekers became frustrated with their leisurely pace that the next prompt appeared. Within the wall facing Damocles and Merrit’s end of the table a hidden door was revealed. On command, it had slid sideways, thus opening a path for further exploration. To Boryan, this signaled the end of their meet-and-greet and the beginning of an active phase, where they would have to adjust to working as a team.

Unsurprisingly, the first to boldly approach the new element in their environment was Mercury.

“You see this, right?” the living immortality-poison asked for reassurance from the group, to which Boryan lightly nodded his head and watched as the former passed through the door and proceeded forward to what seemed to be a more richly furnished room in the distance.

‘I see. The vanguard type. He’ll engage with anything new without needing a prompt at the cost of planning and his own safety. Energetic, yet not entirely unpredictable and always useful in a team. I’ll have to take the rear and watch his back, if we’re given a more dangerous problem in the future.’ the antropomorphic feline noted as he too rose from his seat, but did not move further from the table.

In his stead, The Soothsayer took it upon herself to brave the unknown, tiptoeing clumsily after Mercury. Yet just as she entered the hall on the other side of the door, the steady, almost stale, air was disrupted by an announcement from the hidden surveillance speakers.

"Welcome, I am your host, Dolly. At the Seekers discretion, I will help you settle in and get to know things around here. As you may have learned from the Banquet Room, you are not here to fight one another, so please refrain from doing so outside of training exercises. This program is new and is thought best to have our more experienced helpers run alongside our overseers. Boryan you have been given access and management of the kitchen and supplies in relation. Mercury and Sondor, you have tentatively been charged with organizing and managing training and equipment for the Activities room, your suggestions will be checked for how necessary the requests are. Marina, you are given the reins of the pool room and activities held in. Any misuse will lead to revocation."​

‘Our assumption has been confirmed. However, we will have to fight each other during “training exercises”. If they put it like that, it might mean that proving who’s better in battle might not be the main objective. Unless the point is to train until a final exam. Considering we have someone who’s openly admitted to being used for murder, there’s no doubt that there are other sharp knives as well. I have my ways, but I doubt it’ll be a win every time, if my opponent is a tailored soldier. Rather… Right. I’m one of the “more experienced helpers”. It’s even in the name and I was first on the list.’

Fortunately, this time his thought train could proceed in peace as all had remained quiet for a moment, some submerged in their own thoughts, whilst others were eagerly awaiting the continuation of the broadcast. To their disappointment, the Seekers gave no further explanation, be it regarding their “house” or their true mission. This silence didn’t bother Boryan as much, since they had been given plenty of information to work with already. While it could get a bit frustrating at times, this step-by-step approach was most likely one of the best methodologies, considering their cohort. Only, now there was a light ticking sound coming from the speakers, akin to a countdown.

“Well folks, s’pose that’s my cue to introduce myself. “ the person, who sat on the other side of the table at the end opposite the door, spoke up. ”Name’s Sonny. Guess I’m in charge of teaching you stuff and smuggling contraband. That last bit is a joke of course.” he uttered the last sentence in a stage whisper, one hand held up to his mouth like he knew where the Seekers were hiding and was actually worried about getting into trouble. “But since sharing is caring and we’re all friends here, I’ll let you in on my secret superpower: summoning. So if you see something weird, try not to worry about it.”

‘Try me, blondy. I dare you.’ Boryan thought, but instead said “I’ll be looking forward to it.” in a subtly joking tone.

Before anyone could voice out their concerns or follow Mercury and Deon into the “house”, the countdown ceased. What came after was a colourful shower of confetti and streamers, which twinkled as they glided from the vents to the floor, to the delight or discomfort of the onlookers. No sooner had the final flickering dust left the now shut vents than a horde of miniature shadowy spheres appear on the table and spread out to the floor. Roughly the size of a ping-pong ball, with one eye that took up a third of their body, these tiny beasties chased the party decorations through the air like kittens after a fly, consuming said insect within miliseconds upon capture.

Boryan had first looked up when the flushing sound came from the vents, observed the ensuing chaos for a moment, before directing an unflinching look at Sonny.

“Except,” Sonny frowned slightly. “I’m not responsible for this one.”
“You have some catching up to do, then.” the cat sighed with closed eyes, then opened them again to look at Sonny, nod and continue “I’m looking forward to working together. It doesn’t come as a surprise that I was picked for management of the kitchen and storage, since it was a part of my project’s focus. Lets examine what room each of us has to monitor and then report back to the group.”
“Guys, it’s literally like a game show!” Soothsayer’s voice came from the corridor. “Maybe we have to do group therapy? Every one of us looks like we need it, frankly.” she added before completely going out of sight.

“Ah, ours truly Mercury,” Damocles offered out, zipping up his jacket.

He too had lifted himself from his seat, yet was facing away from Boryan and towards the door. When Deon had likened their predicament to a game-show, the human-sized bipedal feline had turned his gaze from one end of the table to the other and once more found himself beckoned to that man’s figure. His heart wasn’t levitating as it had before, rather, there was a spark of curiosity. A cat’s curiosity.

“Perhaps we should let her and the excited boy there go first- in case a flamethrower or something else mad awaits around the corner, hm?” he looked back at the others at the table, as if in askance. Instead of waiting for an answer, he looked down to the side and continued with “More mad than the little…”

His long lashes were quivering slightly in accordance with the movement of his eyes, as they followed the strange little critters, criticism and displeasure openly on display. On the other side of the room, Boryan had found his comment a bit distasteful. Mercury and Soothsayer had voluntarily entered the “house” in the first place. Whether they had calculated the risk was another question entirely, but it couldn’t be denied that they had put their own well-being on the line when they could have stayed behind, perhaps even argued about who would be the “sacrifice”. While Boryan understood why Damocles could come to think as he spoke, that method was certainly not one that could sustain a group or an individual for long, thus he wasn’t in favour of it. It made him feel ever so slightly disappointed as well, which had no proper reasoning, since he didn’t know this person, let alone granted him any approval, just for him to lose it.

‘Still haven’t shaken of the stars and fireflies, huh?’ he thought, not blinking once.

To his surprise, Damocles spun on his heels and locked their gazes, looking both tense and ready to speak his mind.

‘Oh? Come out to play seriously, have we?’ Boryan maintained a calm disposition and didn’t avert his amber eyes for a moment. Those sharp blue eyes were truly a sight to behold.

“Just a joke, of course.” Damocles said to Boryan directly.

‘And a poor one. Wait, what am I thinking?’

“I heard that!” Soothsayer called from down the hallway, her messy, long hair smacking her own face. “Nothing lethal, yet!” she declared as she arrived unscathed in the banquet hall.​

“What is she, a bloodhound?” Reese mumbled, straightening his jacket of any wrinkles.

‘No, you’re just not as quiet as you think.’ Boryan continued to spare him of his own comebacks, barely narrowed his eyes and turned one ear to the side.

“No, you’re not actually that quiet- you’re like, British quiet, which means I can hear you pretty well.” Soothsayer had far less reservations and attempted to usher him forth with both hands like one would a child. “Come on, let’s get those sleepy heads awake.” she smiled.​

“I’m not touching them,” Reese looked back to Soothsayer, raising a finger at her. “And neither should you.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Soothsayer replied suddenly, knuckles firmly on her hips.​

Boryan looked sideways at Quinn, who remained standing beside him, then closed his eyes.
‘It’s going to be one big, looong kindergarten exercise.’

“Excuse me?” Reese chuckled incredulously.

“I didn’t hear your name up there on the list of people in charge… Dahmo-clez.” as she spelled his name aloud, Boryan opened his eyes to bask in the scene of their bickering, just in time to see Soothsayer smiling at him. “And unless you grow a cute tail and actually sound like an authority here, I’d like you not to point your finger at me.”​

To this Boryan only flicked his tail in acknowledgment of being addressed and turned his head slightly from the direction of the woman to that of the man. The two of them had to exhaust this conversation and the feelings they had attached to it, in order to smoothly move on. Unfortunately, it seemed like Damocles had become tongue-tied. The few shifts in position he attempted were jittery, a reflection of how flustered he felt within, yet his voice remained calm, soft, even evoking a pinch of sweetness:

“Now, Miss Soothsayer.”

“Deon,” she smiled, tilting her head and extending a hand to him.​

‘Yes, I don’t know your original name, yet.’​

“Ah,” Damocles coughed, hesitating to engage it. “You look like a… You seem like a very stubborn woman for your age.”

‘So are you. You haven’t given us your name.’​

“You look like your kids call you by your first name.” Deon replied, shaking his hand before turning to walk over to Boryan and Quinn’s side of the room.​

‘Which he hasn’t given.’ Boryan sighed and continued looking at Damocles, only sparing Deon a momentary look when she walked past him.​

The blue-eyed first-name remained silent for a bit and although he wasn’t facing him, Boryan could barely see the sides of his face, upon which his eyelids were forced shut.

‘If you hope that no one saw or heard, my condolences.’

Like deja-vu, Damocles glanced back at him for a moment, then straightened his posture.
“Poor choice of words on my end.” he said, this time offering a meek polite smile, before making a hasty escape through the door.

‘… Why does he apologize to me? Twice even?’


Unfortunately, Boryan would have to seek the answer to this question at a later time. Damocles had had such an ardent desire to leave the room, he almost jogged. Clearly, he had forgotten about the alleged flamethrower, something Boryan noted when the other man was no longer in sight. Thus far, this blue-eyed wonder was writing himself down as one of the more mildly difficult cases. Unwilling to immediately share personal information, even after asking for it of others. Averse to interacting with new or unknown elements in the environment, including discussions on how to perform said interaction. Yet also openly non-verbally expressive and capable of easily admitting his mistakes without anger. Like a shy moody gloomy child.

Turning away from the door, Boryan closed his mental folder on Damocles and focused at the situation at present. Quinn, flanked by Deon, was examining the state of the woman seated beside her. A petite little lady with long coral hair and the essence of fish emanating from her. Perhaps she was “Marina”, the final member of their management group? Quinn switched her focus to Boryan for a second and then nodded towards Marina, followed by the four other experiments who still laid across the table.

“Should we be worried yet?” Quinn asked.

“No. A 20% error is very unlikely, even when the transportation was carried out by different divisions.” Boryan assured her as he began walking towards the end of the table opposite the door. “I will stay here until all of them have woken up. My division’s full name is ‘Children and Teenager Safety Division’, after all.” he stopped at the table’s end and looked at Quinn. “By the way, if you want me to call you Kestrel, it’ll still be my pleasure.” he nodded and added “It’s best if the two of you focus on one person at a time. Once she has fully come to her senses, giver her a summary of the information we have thus far.” Then, he turned to Sonny. It may not have been an hour since he had first seen these three individuals – Quinn, Deon and Sonny –, yet they were the ones he currently trusted the most – the first two because of their dispositions and the last – because of his designated role. Some may call it foolish, but it was an unquestionable fact that in order to gain trust, one must give trust. Someone had to take the first step towards that equilibrium and if he had to, he would and either suffer the consequences or reap the benefits. “If you want, you can help us out here by watching over that one over there with the cyan hair. If not, don’t hesitate to do as you wish.” he offered before turning his attention to one of the seated sleeping people.

Even in that position, this man possessed an incredible height, which balanced well with his slender appearance. If one were to equate him to a work of art, they would not be mistaken. It was as though an artisan had taken the finest white jade and sculpted his form with the most delicate of movements. As was with all modern artists, however, the piece had a certain particularity – the hair, which reminded Boryan of slippery red seaweed freshly taken from the sea.

This person had not stirred once during the happenings within the banquet hall and continued his soft exchanges of air when Boryan waved a hand-paw in front of him. Taking under consideration what might happen if an evidently experimented on individual were to be shaken awake by a 180 cm tall black upright-standing cat-man, he didn’t try to touch him. Instead, Boryan crouched down to pick up a streamer that the shadow beasties had missed. After getting back up and taking one step away from the man in the chair so that he was facing the direction of the door, Boryan used his power to float the streamer over to the man’s nose and began to tickle it. This was the least invasive method he could think of on the spot and he hoped it would work. They had a new area to explore and everyone needed plenty of time to both explore and adjust to their new way of life.

Code by Nano

 

[Eliruz]

Gael
Interactions: Abyss Everyone​

Sitting in his chair still, Gael watched as those around him went back and forth. Merrit caught his attention. He turned his silvery gaze to the man. Taken aback by his appearance, he did a double take. It was fascinating to him. He did his best to listen without staring for too long. It was pretty obvious the silver-haired male was quite curious of Merrit.

"I don't think they give you much choice," Gael watched as Merrit spoke. "It wouldn't surprise me if one existed, but thankfully I haven't seen or heard of an arena here. You'd think monster fighting would be all the rage if there was." Quiet hands grab the pen sitting atop the pad of paper, "I'd still like to avoid fighting too if we can. Let’s not give up hope just yet.” There is scribbling on the paper. After a few moments, Gael held up the notepad again.

'I really hope there isn't. I hate fighting. Besides, I think this is a good thing. I don't know about you but I'm glad not to be tucked away in a cell.'

Studying Merrit, he noticed the similar collar. He tilted his head to the side. There weren't the same components that sunk into skin. He came to the conclusion that whatever Merrit's power was, wasn't connected to his voice like Gael's was.

As soon as the announcement was made, his head snapped forward. He seemed very confused. There was a pool? And kitchen? It wasn't normal that he had access to such things. In his room, he had a bed and desk with very few luxury items.

Then the confetti came. The man let out a loud gasp, but managed to not make a sound. He glanced around nervously, gripping his pen tightly in his hand. He was quite tense and unsure about the current situation.

 

[Silvercurrent]

~Interactions~
Headphones
Everyone awake​

Chaos, chaos, chaos…

Reese had been dying to get out of his stuffy room for 2 years now, but being here in the tumultuous presence of these… other experiments, he suddenly felt like he was back in boarding school, where someone needed to develop a love of spicy food just so the other kids wouldn’t steal their lunch. He wasn’t exactly contributing to the peace, but in his mind removing himself from the scene was a good start.

He strolled down the hallway, though his steps were cautious and calculated, not wandering around as Soothsayer- excuse him- DEON, had.

He explored the rooms, or rather, explored the doors leading into the rooms. None of them would open for him, at least not yet. Not until he chanced across the one with his name over it. A heated, pent up gust of breath exalted from his nose as the door did, in fact open for him. Wonderful- another room to play pet in, like a frog in a terrarium.

Just as he began to get comfortable standing there, giving the room an appraising sweep, he suddenly felt his muscles tense up at the sound of a crash back down the hallway… Great, what had that young woman knocked over? He wondered at first, but the second boom couldn’t have been Deon.


Back in the dining room, it seemed to begin to clear up a bit, save for the few folks still coming to, and realizing that socializing wouldn’t result in immediate harm. The sleeping prince remained in his frozen state, thick, long lashes only just beginning to tremble as the deep, godless sleep faded from the pitch of night to a pale lavender twilight. His name tag remained hidden as his delicate frame remained slumped over, but with the silly little dancing ribbon tickling his nose, a finger twitched. His perfect Rhinoplasty nose wrinkled, and then… and then…


“Shhhchooo!”


A strained sneeze erupted and sent a tiny speckle of liquid across the table. The party ribbon danced off, shooting into the direction of a little shadow Beastie- likely providing more play-time.

The Red headed beauty cracked his eyelids at long last, blurry and hazy from such a long slumber. His lashes parted with the speed of a sunrise, revealing crimson jewels that caught light like a flame on the surface of a lake. His first breath awake was a deep, cotton soft inhale. He was like the picture of serenity, sleeping beauty awakening after the perfect kiss of life.

Sitting up finally, he only let out a gentle groan, back and cheek sore from being hunched over and pressed into the table. His next sounds were like the lull of a fawn-dotted meadow. A sniff here, a fairy-like sigh there, rubbing his arm and feeling the material of his uniform. Then, he turned his head, a single strand of burning starlight slipping over one eye. He saw more bodies- more figures coming into view and filtering into something with clarity. A Demon or Dragon man, A ghostly girl, A regular looking woman… Pink hair… Another with rosy tresses. A Brunette, shaking the poor Pink haired girl with so much vigor it looked like an attack. Then a giant Black Cat. His lustrous red eyes took in the whole gamut of who he’d be spending his time with from here on out.

Perfect lips parted, but this time he sucked in as much air as he could.




“WHY AM I


AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?” His name tag became clear suddenly, “Cetus” and his form rose from the chair like the birth of a serpent from a shattering god-egg.

“WHAT IS THIS?! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” He jutted a shaking finger right at Boryan, the bags under his eyes beginning to show like a starved supermodel. “ARE YOU SH*TTING ME!? A CAT? WHAT ELSE DID THEY MAKE? THE WHOLE CAST OF HOMEWARD BOUND!?” The genuine and unbridled rage and rancor he possessed with such a weak form was only restrained by his inhibitors, which were already beginning to heat up. Boryan could likely smell the fibers of the straps along his neck and wrists begin to push their limits as they held in whatever it is he was wanting to release.


“WHY IS SHE STILL ASLEEP!?” He snapped his head at Marina, though Deon stood in front of her with furrowed brows and an incredulous glare as he turned on her. “I WANT THAT TO BE ME! WHY. AM. I. AWAAAKE?!

He tried to flip his chair, but it was… Bolted to the floor.

Cetus’ flashing eyes roiled with pure hatred- not for any of them, but it was as if he was looking beyond them right into the eyes of his worst enemies lined up before him. His perfect pale cheeks were turning pink and his voice boomed like thunder into the earth’s soil.

“Hey! You need to calm down, dude! Mr. Cappello was nice enough to get you up." Deon said, treating him as a child just as she did with Reese, only she was more insistent in her tone. So far, he was the first to show signs of aggression…

“SHUT UP!” Cetus replied with acid precision. His head was killing him- like someone had beaten him with a baseball bat. Just as he shot a verbal bullet at Deon, He felt the inhibitors tighten and begin to tease him with warning shocks.


“!@#!$#@$%@$%$#^%!!!!!!!!!!!!”



Just as it seemed he’d become physical with the first person to approach him, Reese stepped into his view and barred his path toward Boryan, catching his rampage and ending it with nothing but his own tall frame. Cetus stood much taller than him, but just as fast as Reese had slipped out of the room, he was right back in it.

His glacial, stern eyes bore into Cetus, unsure of what he’d do to him but knowing he couldn’t do anything to him. The Seekers wouldn’t allow that.

“YOU WANNA DIE?” Cetus asked Reese, who only pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “If only I could be so fortunate- but let’s not deal in haste. Are you hurt?” he asked Cetus, who sputtered and grabbed his sore head.

“W-.... WHAT?! F*CK OFF, Mary poppins!” he demanded, but where one might expect him to shove Reese, he only went to try and flip another chair…. Also bolted down…


Reese observed him with one brow raised, glad that he now had an example of an aggressor within their group and how they’d be handled. His inhibitors were working flawlessly, restraining any hint of what his ability might have been. The only evidence he was one of them was perhaps the subtle glow of his eyes, facing off against Reese’s icy blues.

“Stupid,” Cetus spat, tossing one of the party streamers after crumbling it up into a compact ball.

“Feel better?” Reese asked him, heart rate still buzzing but his voice remained frosty.

“NO.” Cetus snarled. “I HATE waking up from anesthesia…”



After a few tense moments for the dust to settle and the air to clear, Reese rubbed his jaw and took a small step towards Cetus, who was now hunched over and grasping his aching head and panting like a cornered pitbull.

"Listen," Reese ushered forth, placing one hand on the metal table and leaning over Cetus so that his words more easily directed themselves at the younger man. "If you do that again, we may lose privileges. None of us wish you any harm." He wasn't really sure why he decided to be the voice of reason this time... But his calm, soothing words sounded more like a shrouded threat the more he spoke. Reese didn't mean to make it sound that way, but he wasn't used to talking someone down, at least he didn't think he was. All he knew was that when the shouting began, his heart was struck with fear, like watching a friend cross the road without paying attention and almost being hit by a speeding vehicle. This Cetus guy had turned his rage on Boryan, and Reese felt compelled to assert himself. Though, it was pretty clear a giant cat was more dangerous than him.

 

[SavannahSmiles]

mood

Very confused

location

Dollhouse: Banquet Room

outfit

White Suit

mentions

Quinn/Deon Briefly & Cetus

tags

Silvercurrent

Marina

Long, pink hair pooled around her shoulders, a few strands draped forward to conceal her face from the side as she slumped in her chair. A serene expression was fixed on her face and one would think under different circumstances that she had simply fallen asleep in her chair. As Quinn grasped her shoulder and began to shake it, a small frown creased the serenity of her face, like a pebble breaking the calm surface of a pond. As her limp body was jostled lightly, a small noise escaped her as her consciousness struggled to emerge from the fog weighing it down. Her eyelashes fluttered, a flash of azure peeking between her lids before her eyes fell closed once more. Her limp hand twitched, as if to brush away the hand disturbing her slumber but she was not fully awake yet to have full control of her coordination.

However, that changed very, very quickly.

As the yelling filled the room, Marina jolted awake with a small yelp, her flailing hands nearly striking the two women that were gathered around her. Her eyes flew open. the startled blue orbs darting around in a panic as her surroundings slowly came into focus. She barely had time to wonder where she was or who the people near her were before her attention was dragged to the origin of the yelling that had scared her awake. Red was the first thing her brain focused on, bright red hair that matched the rage seeping from his pores. Her heart fluttered in her chest and her rosy cheeks flushed even further in a blush though she couldn't pin-point what had her so flustered.

She felt...drawn to this angry man in ways she couldn't explain. But she didn't have time to dwell on these strange emotions, the man only seemed to be growing more and more heated and she didn't think this would bode well for any of them if any of the staff had to intervene. Pushing back her chair, she skirted around the two women crowded around her and approached the tall man on quiet, bare feet. She didn't even notice her attire had been changed (really, whose bright idea was it to put her in pants?), so focused was she on quelling this mans ire. Her long hair swaying behind her, she began to hum as she walked, the soothing melody weaving through the room, though if one were to listen closely they would be able to hear an echoing quality to her voice. During the experiments for her project, she had been used to calm quite a few unruly experiments, so this was second-nature to her.

Her humming grew louder as she approached Cetus and the tall man would be able to feel a calming aura surround him, though if he were to chose to, he would be able to shake off the soothing feelings if he concentrated. Stopping beside the red-haired man, Marina tipped her head back to peer upwards at him, a slight tilt to her head as she continued to hum. Normally she might try to place a hand on his arm, but she refrained this time, afraid her touch would be ill-received and only serve to agitate him further.

Click for the song she is humming!

nine lives

 

[Abyss]

Sondor

Half-Light Angel

The shadow creatures buzzed about the room at a slower pace now that the confetti was mostly gone; circling the room and everyone within it—although they remained somewhat distant and retreated quickly from any attempts to touch them. The scientists discouraged contact of course—sighting safety concerns—and this many people was a new phenomena for them all. They were curious by nature, but the bond that allowed Sonny a glimpse into their world worked both ways and his own wariness probably wasn’t helping their confidence. Deon had moved away and with her went the artificial cloud of sleepiness that had prevailed him earlier. Well that’s a relief. Keeping his own emotions in check was difficult enough. Adding someone else's’ to the pile was trouble he didn’t need. Sonny yawned one last time and then stretched, feeling more alert by the second. Dark was less restless now that the beasties had been released from… wherever. Leaving Sonny with a bit more room in his own head and putting a temporary stop to Light’s own discomforted bristling. It was…about as close to peace as they were likely to get.

“You have some catching up to do, then.”

That’s all anyone seems to talk about.

“No shit.” Sonny said, then startled slightly at his mistake, but covered his surprise by pretending he was shifting to a more comfortable position in his chair. The cat-man sighed with closed eyes, then opened them again to look at him and Sonny was reminded that Boryan couldn’t know how close he’d hit to the truth. Sonny looked away, eyes tracking the man who’d heralded the welcoming party as he continued his jaunt around the room. The beasties watched him too, spinning to keep their single eye focused on the stranger as he zipped past. “Should have packed my running shoes, I guess,” he joked. Remembering to keep his voice a tad friendlier this time around. We could catch him without the aid, Dark rumbled in response. It seemed rather pleased about the idea.

“I’m looking forward to working together. It doesn’t come as a surprise that I was picked for management of the kitchen and storage, since it was a part of my project’s focus. Let's examine what room each of us has to monitor and then report back to the group,” Boryan continued. He was turning out to be the talkative type. That meant Sonny was going to have to pay attention if he wanted to avoid arousing suspicion. Short answers. No promises. Easy peasy.

“Yeah, sure,” he said. Sonny wasn’t exactly thrilled with being made into a teaching instructor of all things, but he was excited to finally be out of his room. He was silent for a moment, taking the time to look around at all the people set out before them. Dark hadn’t been wrong earlier, when he’d pointed out the unfamiliar designs of the experiments in the room. He didn’t know where the Seekers had picked up any of this lot, or what exactly they were expecting him to do with them, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t looking forward to seeing where all this was going. “S’pose this should be interesting at least.”

Dark was the loudest about it, but truth be told, they were all feeling restless. The Half-Light Angel project was on Belmont’s priority list, but he still had other work to focus on in order to keep the green-light lit on his side hobbies. It had been weeks since any meaningful progress had been made. Any longer and he’d have to start wondering if he’d been put into the storage closet. And fuck that shit. Sonny didn’t trust any of the doctors as far as he could throw them. If Belmont pulled the plug, Sonny had no doubt that he’d be on the dissection table before the spiders could even start thinking about building cobwebs.

You think it will come to that?

Forget about it. Not going to let it happen, so don’t worry.

Sonny eyed Boryan again. He didn’t sense anything to be concerned about. He seemed genuinely enthused to be working together, which rankled Sonny for a reason he couldn’t explain. “So what’s up with you, anyways? The Seekers got a—”

“Guys, it’s literally like a game show! Maybe we have to do group therapy? Every one of us looks like we need it, frankly.” Deon said. Sonny blanked. What’s therapy?

Something edible?

It sounds dangerous.

The word sent off the alarm bells in his brain, but Sonny couldn’t remember what it meant. He thought about asking, but decided against it in case it was something that could be used against him. Always trust your gut.

Perhaps it’s a method they use to control her, Sonny ventured finally.

Sonny gazed at Deon, skeptically. She caught his eye long enough for him to catch onto their color. On her way through the doorway she crooked her finger at some of Sonny’s beasties in an invitation to follow her. They hesitated. Sonny raised his eyebrow, watching curiously. When he didn’t react, they started following her and Sonny peered after them until they’d disappeared out of his sight. He could still feel their presence and would check in if he sensed a disturbance.

However, it appeared one beastie was lagging behind the group. The one at the end of the line gave up trying to follow others and circled back to him, spinning slowly and somewhat zig-zagged as if it were having difficulty flying for some reason. Curiously, Sonny reached out and tickled it. His finger disappeared slightly into the blackness of its body. The beastie leaned into the touch momentarily, before it suddenly burped—expelling a surprising amount of shredded streamers. The creature’s eye opened wide in panic and then with a dramatic burst of speed it set off to recapture its meal. “Gross.” Sonny said without meaning it and then laughed. He genuinely enjoyed the shadow-beasties and their antics. Dark’s attention turned towards him momentarily. A brief flare of warmth lighting up their connection as his companion caught onto his thoughts.

Shhhchooo!”

Sonny felt a sudden burst of surprise across one of the links with his beasties. He turned in the direction of the culprit, a frown on his face as he zeroed in on its location, not quite sure if it was a good surprise or not and ready to summon the creature back to him if necessary.

He spotted it almost immediately—zipping after the last party ribbon with the sort of fervor the shadows reserved for tasty treats. He spotted Boryan leaning over a sleeping experiment, his empty hand still hovering over the other man’s face and he put the events together. Got to give him extra points for creativity. And maybe for doing more than just talking, but he wasn’t feeling in a particularly generous mood at the moment.

“WHY AM I—


AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?”

In no time Cetus went from dead to the world to suddenly looming over the table and screaming at the top of his lungs. The energy around him lashed angrily—almost whiplike in how the tendrils of his aura cut across the room. Sonny stayed put, He didn’t feel threatened. Despite the outburst of anger that flared from Cetus, it wasn’t aimed at Sonny. Nor was it truly aimed at anyone else in particular. If it had been a physical thing it would have left gouges in the floor and ceiling, but none of them came close to actually hitting anyone. Of course, the others probably didn’t see things that way—scratch that, he thought. Watching as Deon and Reese immediately went into damage control mode.

Dark buzzed with excitement; delighted by the sudden uptick of emotion in the room as Cetus put on his angered display. The beasties in the room had mostly turned their focus towards the cause of the commotion. Their eyes were wide and they bobbed up and down excitedly—even Sonny found himself leaning forwards unintentionally; attention captured like he was watching the match countdown on TV rather than waiting for a fight to break out in the dining room. Comeoncomeoncomeoncomeoncomeoncomeon.

“YOU WANNA DIE?” Cetus asked Reese. Reese who had jumped to Boryan’s defense. Well, jumping might be a little generous, but he had put himself deliberately between the two experiments. And wasn’t that interesting. It seemed like they had been strangers prior to this, but Sonny was getting the feeling Reese might already be a little attached. His eyes narrowed suspiciously and he tried to think of anything earlier that might have hinted at any sort of relationship between them. Nada. Sonny leaned further forwards, resting his head on steepled hands, eyes wide open with unabashed interest and flicking back and forth between speakers; excited to see where this was going.

“If only I could be so fortunate—but let’s not deal in haste. Are you hurt?” Reese asked Cetus, who sputtered and grabbed his sore head. Yes. Yes he very much is. Sonny could feel the pain emanating from the red-haired experiment, one of the many emotions that broiled in the tension of the room. Fear, anger, confusion, happiness. Positive or negative, Dark delighted in them anyways. And that transferred through their bond to Sonny. Sonny leaned further forwards, resting his head on steepled hands, eyes wide open with unabashed interest and flicking back and forth between speakers; excited to see where this was going.

“W-.... WHAT?! F*CK OFF, Mary poppins!” Cetus demanded, before moving on from Reese to try and flip another chair…. Sonny cackled. He couldn’t help it. Cetus was fighting with a chair. Well, if one could call that fighting. Things were looking pretty one-sided, and not in the red-head’s favor.

"Listen," Reese ushered forth, placing one hand on the metal table and leaning over Cetus. "If you do that again, we may lose privileges. None of us wish you any harm."

LiarLiarLiarDon’t go making promises you can’t keep, Reese. LiarLiarLiar

Over here.

It took a moment to drag his attention away from the brewing confrontation—ignoring the sudden burst of irritation from Dark, who bristled at the interruption—but Sonny followed Light’s direction towards the young, pink-haired woman who had been asleep a few seconds ago. Something’s different about this one. Be careful.

Sonny squinted curiously as she padded forwards on silent bare feat—if not for Light’s warning, he might have missed her approach entirely—observing as she stepped towards Cetus without fear or hesitation. The other experiment seemed to have awoken with a purpose in mind. She started humming, and that was when something unexpected happened.

Sonny had been around a few auras. Enough at least to feel like he had a fairly good grasp of them, but whatever this was, he didn’t know if it could be called an aura at all. The woman’s aura was already very bright, but as she started humming there was a flare of something that felt like pure power expanding from her faster than he’d ever seen. Briefly he felt panic—Light’s panic. Dark’s panic. His own panic—

Calm washed over him like a tidal wave; the first wave knocked him off his feet, then the aftershocks kept him from being able to regain his footing. Distantly he could feel Dark and Light saying something. HEY. Always saying something. Focus. Whatever he was feeling wasn’t a sedative exactly, but close to it. Sonny teetered on the edge of wakefulness. GETUPGETUPGETUPGETUP. He could see through the world now. This isn’t the time for this. The room in front of him overlaps with the image of a city, like an afterimage that wouldn’t fade away. WHYARN’TYOULISTENINGTOME. No, not an image though. Now’s not the time, you need to stay awake! An actual city. Dark buildings and blue skyline. GOINGTORIPYOUAPART. He recognizes it from his dreams. You’re not supposed to let this happen. It looks so far away though. GOBACKGOBACKGOBACK. Not like when he’s walking down the streets and can only catch glimpses of the night sky up above. He’s still far away from it, and able to see most of the skyline. And above that, the hint of branches that cut above the city like a crown. “S’ pretty.”

̶̨̙̲͙̅̒̉͘ ̵̡̰̙̩̻̦͔̲̤̉̂̒̕ ̷̜͖̙̞̰̳͎̹̯͓̤̞̗̄͂̍̓̌̋ ̴͍̺̣͍̪͛́́̈́͛͌̏̓̅̿͠ ̴̡̨̛͈͙͍̖̟̭͛̎̀̀͜͝ͅ ̷̨̛̭͖͓̜̱̰͕̹̙̺͇́̍̈́ ̸͈̖́̇͊̍̂͌̐͒̽ ̴̭̼̺̥͕̱̼͚͔̹̝̜̓̊͑͆̾͜ ̴̧̳̰̰̦̫̳̲͋͜͜​

Dining Hall

Trippin' Out

White Uniform

Headphones Chimeric Silvercurrent SavannahSmiles

coded by natasha.

 

[Chimeric]

MERCURY

QUICKSILVER SOLDIER

Mercury could feel Deon's presence as she stumbled after him. As she called back, there were indeed no flamethrowers - sure to be a relief for the group, but a bit of disappointment to him. Man. Maybe we'll get to use them later, oh yeah, I'm putting that on the list. He reached for a book, but realized he was no longer in his usual threads, and thus was missing his ridiculously tiny book. These were those ugly scrubs. And a wardrobe change. Given the living area looked to be just seating and a coffee table, he quickly rummaged through the kitchen cabinetry for anything close to paper and a writing utensil. Found it!

Something about Deon had felt airy, probably the wooziness from the drugs, but could have also been a trait of what made her special. When she turned back to wake the remaining sleeping beauties he had absently followed after her to review everyone again and then her presence really came out more in the face of Reese. "I think Boss Babe is gonna grow a tail and ears before you Germaphobe," Mercury chided in reference to how he'd noticed him zip up his coat earlier. As Deon finished with Reese, Mercury placed a shoulder on the man after his amusing loss whom had shut his eyes, "Don't worry, I'll call you Dad. But uh," he leaned in closer,"I'm still in my rebellious phase." He patted him on the back and carried on. Ugly little sketches of each character were crudely recorded with any names officially given and nicknames he enjoyed donning them. He wasn't someone who could help wake up those still out of it, throwing someone against a wall could wait a later date, so he left that to the much cozier of the crew.

There were a few, Sonny namely given Dolly's information, he wanted to talk to, but a shotgun of yelling and whining blasted behind him and he just about lost grip of his materials. Sheesh, what drugs did they give you?" Mercury drags out the sentence as Cetus continued into his rampage. He did not feel as compelled to do anything to thwart the very lively lad, because he was testing the Seekers limits. What were they going to let the hot head get away with? If they really were going to allow an attempted murder after that announcement, he'd probably step in. And it would tell him so much about their machinations. But the inhibitors must have been working, or Dad's big blue Orbeez scared the other red head into channeling his anger elsewhere. Probably inhibitors though. Mercury had been joking earlier, but now it look to be they really had a rebellious teenager. Oh joy, nothing a little exercise can't fix, or at least exhaust. If they had been doing this as an arena instead of 'group therapy' as Deon said, he'd have so much fun in pissing that kid off. Knowing himself, he'd be doing that at some point anyways.

In the corner of his eyes he saw the pink haired girl lift herself and wander over to the uppity one. Airhorn. Her voice, no it was just humming, but it was as powerful as a song. Capturing you, even he felt.... what, am I being pulled? He didn't really know what presence he was feeling now. Well this is dangerous. Fog compressing him on all sides, but free as air, a cloud. Relaxed, a soft, succulent encouragement to descend ever so slow and surely to rest blips, it sounded like the blips of a radar. Strangely a comforting sound. Nope. And on that mental foothold, he grasps his training partner's shoulder and lifts his near limp body to move with him out the door. Evident Sonny was also being affected by the young siren. No encores please, we're gonna check out that thing, uh, Training Room. Having fun Sleeping Beauties, I'll wake you tomorrow."

It was much easier to return to waking form as they moved further from the banquet room echoing her humming. He caught onto the sluggish soot balls clambering in a trail behind them, and then more vivaciously as a sparse cloud. Yet the blonde man was becoming heavier, What the hell. The red headed man, over six foot, he could probably carry this weasel. Part of him believed this guy was doing this on purpose now. He wasn't sure if he caught it right, but he at least convinced himself that he shared a mischievous glint with some of the soot gremlins. Mercury swept sonny up, and purposefully started running as jarringly as he could. He stumbled a few times, but this was fun, reminded him of being on the field and the shit he'd give his comrades after. As they entered the training room, it looked like yet another metal box, much bigger than the banquet room, but Mercury knew there had to be more to it. There were probably actual flamethrowers hidden in the walls somewhere. C'mon, please. He slid Sonny off, prompting him against the wall next to the door, and not missing a beat, provided a slap across the face,"Alright, my turn. Gotta shake off the songbirds Sleeping Beauty." Mercury prefer being awake before operating machinery, it wasn't the same as driving a vehicle. And he had seen no energy drinks earlier in the kitchen.

Training Room

Dazed, Playful

white outfit

interactions / tags

coded by natasha.