Suyoi
Yeah, it's a Cool Skeleton
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Post by Suyoi on Nov 13, 2012 20:40:24 GMT -8
Dr. Victor fumbled with the latch noisily, pushing his way into the room. His haggard and drawn breath was coarse and subsiding slowing into a more controlled rhythm. He glanced about the apartment, not seeing anyone, and let out an exhausted grunt. He set the wine bottle on the counter and peeled his scrub top off. The cork bounced twice on the tiled floor before rolling and stopping on the carpet. "Mimi... Daddy's got you a toy cork to play with... where'd you go off to? Zoe better not have stolen you away from me," he called pushing open the bedroom door. Micah had been lying on the couch, the puppy curled on his chest when the doctor fumbled into the room with the wine. His face was as red as beetroot, what had he been up to? Mimi shuffled a bit at the sound of the cork falling to the ground but she had found a comfy spot so ignored it. "Hey she is here, what have you been up to doctor? Your looking mighty red and that's not an Australian slang. The physicals get a little frisky?" The doctor quickly picked his scrub-bottoms off the floor, tying them about his waist. He glanced around and found the voice calling from the couch. His face miraculously became even redder. "Oh... I... Micah..." Dr. Victor hung his head in defeat. He scuffed his feet against the floor, retrieving the abandoned bottle; Moving into the living room, he squeezed himself next to Micah's torso. He passed the bottle to the other man, slumping a bit. "I didn't have any problems with the interviews per-say. But I doubt anyone would believe I saw twice as many people as Dr. Melange... Well, I doubt there is anything that could go worse, is there?" He frowned a bit, but was still painted a delicate shade of crimson, shirtless, and sporting a few scuff marks around his neck. Micah moved over to give the man room, dislodging the puppy in the process. He had a look at the wine and took a swig. He made a face, he was going have to learn to love the cheap stuff in the wake of the apocalypse. The doctor was skirting around something juicy and Micah wasn't going to let him off. "Come on spill the beans, either you tried to give one the French bulldogs a rectal examine or you have just had a close encounter of some kind." Micah poked the doctor in the stomach playfully. The doctor couldn't help but giggle at the playful touch. He shook his head, all but laying over on Micah. "You know, it isn't that at all. I just asked someone to go on the run with me to the UWMC once a week, Micah, honest." He ran a hand through his own hair, then began to meticulously do the same to Micah. "I... I just have been so frustrated with everything, you know?" He felt the blood rushing through his fingers, the auburn hair falling like autumn leaves. "I hate it." Dr. Victor stared at that hair, adjusting himself on side of the couch. Micah grinned slyly. He put his own fingers though his hair, readjusting the hair back into it's messy state. He looked at the doctor scrutinizing the scuff marks and odd smell that wafted around the doctor. Kind of like cheap French aftershave... "Uh huh, it must of been some request though! Who'd you ask?" Sighing, Dr. Victor slid off the couch, snatching back the bottle of wine and laying his head in the void space his body was a few seconds ago. He cast a glance over at Micah, half smirking and half looking like a scared child. "It was Thierry. He was a soccer player." The doctor scowled, looking over at the useless flat-screen television. He guzzled down the cheap wine, washing tastes away he didn't want to taste any longer. His free hand found Mimi, rolling her around onto her back to playfully rub her belly. He let the dog nibble on his finger. "It was a mess, Micah...." He was silent for a moment. "Am I that pushy with you?" Micah was disappointed when the wine left his hand. He'd been right about the French aftershave. He was surprised, Thierry had seemed pretty weirded out at the party. Micah wondered what the UWMC was anyway but didn't ask. "I don't know…I guess you can be a bit. But then I don't know how pushy Thierry was." He smirked. "How'd it go?" "Micah, I felt like... I don't know. I mean, I know what it was like for him..." Dr. Victor felt the blush returning, swigging more alcohol than necessary and passing the bottle back. He pivoted, resting his head on his arms that straddled the couch cushion, staring at Micah's middle. "I mean, I don't. Well, I... I'm not a virgin. Just... not... oh, Linda, Jesus Christ." He grunted, shaking his head and rubbing his eyebrows between his fingers. "What I mean is... it's weird, Micah. He kissed me... and I felt his moustache... and..." He had glazed eyes, though they might have been filled with worry or awe, they were filled with some emotion. "His lips are thin, his chest is chiseled and his hands are strong. It's so... weird." He moved, touching Micah's arm, his soft supple skin. "I don't think I like him like that, but... if he does what I need him to do..." Coughing, Dr. Victor tried to pull his face together. He turned back around, keeping his face hidden. "I don't like feeling like that but sometimes there's no other way. I want to make sure I am surrounded by good people, and I don't know if he meets the criteria you do. I..." he said, his voice growing softer, "I know he never will meet that, Micah." Micah took the bottle with a relish and downed a good mouthful before looking back at the doctor as he continued his soliloquy. The man did like the sound of his own voice. Micah blushed slightly himself but it could have been from the cheap red wine that was running out fast. Luckily the doctor had turned from him at that point. He wasn't quite sure how to go, what he could say that wouldn't seem awkward. The last line had been cheesy as fuck. Micah racked his brain, the empty space in the conversation growing more awkward. Finally Micah sighed. "It's your first time with a guy bound to be awkward I guess. Look, you do what you like okay, uh don't let me fucking stop you. We have only known each other for three fucking days, I like you doctor but I'm not going to be heartbroken if you go chasing other guys. Whatever you do is up to you." Dr. Victor let his hand flip over to the couch. "Shut up, Micah." He reached for where he thought Micah's hand was; Dr. Victor finally turned his head, placing his hand on top of Micah's. "I am not having a crisis of emotional conscience." He rolled back over, heavy sigh falling from his lips. "Micah, I am... going to shut up now." Dr. Victor let his fingers amble among the bumps, scars, and ridges along Micah's rough knuckles, fingernails and along the soft, tender top of his hand. It was a detailed experience, gently pushing and prodding the hand, tenderly paying attention to various details. He moved closer, his warm breath blowing over Micah's hand and arm. "Yeah that's advice I rarely take if you haven't noticed. Micah let the doctor play with his hand, he let his eyes wander to the ceiling. "So did you find out any interesting bit of info on people, that your not meant to tell anyone? What do you think of our fellow bloody residents of 403? Because let's be honest, one of them is probably going get the rest of us fucking killed one day. I reckon it will be the kid." His fingers continued a slow ascent, seemingly intoxicated more by the ivory flesh than the wine. "There are some things that are very confidential, of course... but there are some interesting tidbits." He let his fingers begin to walk over the top of Micah's hand and down onto the wrist. "Daniel is very... sad. His aunt died and got back up before he got home. Stevie apparently chopped her up into bits with some sort of sword..." He felt the soft skin beneath his fingertips and sighed. "Someone had a strange idea of what sexuality was, Basil begged me to tell him about the 'tender flesh' of the boys. Jackson is so attached to Ana he'd follow her into death..." He sighed a little. "Zoe might be the strongest person in this building, Micah. There's something about her that makes me think she might save us all rather than get us killed." He felt his face fall towards Micah's hand, his lips resting where his hands dared to tread. "All death will be laid at Seth's feet in one way or another." He felt his cheek rest on his hand, nuzzling it as his own fingers moved across the landscape to the tender underside of the elbow. "Sucks to be the leader, that's why I'm a sous and not head chef. If we all get poisoned it's on Chantelle. Seth is a capable leader though, it could have been worse. Watch out for Basil, he has a more than interesting idea of sexuality. I don't think they will ever get the stains out of his cabin. The kid, our glorious saviour though? I am sure she is brave as fuck but she's a liability. People will think of her safety, when they should be thinking of themselves or someone else. " Micah grinned down at the doctor. "Enjoying my hand are we? What the hell is going to happen to us all Chazza?" The doctor smirked a little bit, sliding his fingers back from the elbow, over the arm, and across the wrist. "I don't know, Micah... Doctors have very odd hands, but I must say, yours..." his voice grew silent, middle finger tracing about once more along the wrist. "I am enjoying your presence more than your hand." He closed his eyes, contented in the space and time he was in. "We will survive, Micah, because that is what we do." "Apart from a few dozen scars, what's wrong with my hand" He grinned, clearly joking. His expression turned slightly more serious. "We are the pox on the face of earth, it's going to take a lot more than some ghosts and zombies to wipe us out. That mummy kid seemed so confident, we might not want to survive this. Even little Alex is losing hope right now." Micah let out a long breath that was followed by a escaping yawn. "I'm sorry doc, this big day of doing jack all has done me in. I'm sure after your ah interesting day and spicy evening with Thierry, you need to spread out on those fancy sheets and sleep." The doctor rose slowly, his hand grasping Micah's. He offered a little tension. "You're right. We all need a little confidence now and again, don't we." He paused, frowning then tossed caution into the wind. He reached down, scooping Micah into his arms, and hoisting him against his chest. "I won't offend your honor, fair Micah, but I will take no more of this empty bed." He smiled something fierce, eyes narrowing. Mimi darted about his feet, yipping a little scared. Micah made a face but offered little more resistance than a slight kick to the impending of his manly honour. He wasn't that fond of the couch after all, those sheets were pretty good. He begrudgedly was impressed by the doctor's strength but he didn't think he'd do it. Once onto the bed he rolled over to the right side and stretched out. A small bump of 'Emergency Rations' jumping on after him followed. "Goodnight Chazza, have a good sleep." Dr. Victor felt his eyes grow sharp; Micah had conquered his side of the bed, and his arms were a little sore for his efforts. With a grumble, he slid into the bed, taking two of the three pillows as penance before rubbing his rib. It did smart a little bit, but... it was worth it to not have to sleep alone. “You too, Micah. You,” the doctor’s yawn broke the sentence. “too.”
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Suyoi
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Post by Suyoi on Nov 14, 2012 18:13:54 GMT -8
Dr Victor stretched out his body just before dawn. It was a restful sleep; he worried his habits of solitary sleeping would have been more detrimentally assaulted. He knew it felt good to be with someone. Of course a little morning cuddle couldn't hurt. Mimi stirred as the doctor moved; did she actually growl? Sighing he rolled back towards Micah, settling to watch him sleep like a sprawled out starfish. The sun began to creep through the room but Dr. Victor was pleased to sleep in on such a morning. He wondered how many more mornings he would have like this in this new world.
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Post by Thy Dungyeon Maestyr on Nov 24, 2012 22:36:50 GMT -8
"Mimimimimimimi..."
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Nov 25, 2012 16:11:52 GMT -8
(( Jumping on the dream/ flashback bandwagon, this is to the tune 'Tie me kangaroo down sport". )) Micah collapsed on the bed with E.R following shortly behind, the wine making his head fuzzy and he drifted quickly into sleep... The smell of fat and batter filled his nostrils making him feel ill. He should have been used to the smell, it never left him but it was worse here. The only smell worse was just a seemingly impossible tug away, Micah stared at the pink fillets in the packet before him. Uncle Frank always told the customers that the fish was freshly caught, which it was, a week or so ago. His fingers shook, the bag surrounding the fillets wasn't budging. He could almost feel his uncle's anger rising from the front of the shop.
The sounds of the customers seemed to rise with it, deafening. He gave up and dug his finger into the soft plastic ripping, and the stench of fish left all other smells for dead. He would face the consequences for not saving the bag or he could try hiding the evidence. Uncle Frank always found out either way.
Micah could feel the fear welt in his stomach, the fear of the unavoidable. His hand went reflexively to his shoulder where last's nights bruise still stung, he would have to come up with another excuse to avoid swimming lessons at school again. His teacher would pretend as always to be understanding, he knew what was really happening but chose to ignore it.
Kate and the others had stopped telling him to go the police a year ago but who would believe a drugged out teenager anyway? He'd been caught already with that crap he brought from Georgie, they'd think he'd just done it to himself.
“Micah...honey? Is the fish ready yet? Your uncle needs six flake for the customers...”
Micah looked at his mum's weary face, her hair netted back in blue. Her faded red hair curling out from the sides and on to her pale cheeks. Her eyes were dull, flat and defeated. Her make-up on thick not to attract, but to distract the eye from the colours beneath.
“No worries mum.” He smiled at her trying to lift her spirit.
“Thanks, have you seen you brother? I swear Dave was meant to be here an hour ago. You have a train to catch tomorrow love, don't forget. Are you sure you don't want to finish your VCE? You could be a lawyer or doctor, you're clever. Why be a chef, you already do it at here...”
Micah handed her the fillets before moving through the front of the shop, he tried to avoid the eye of his uncle. Customers pushed and jostled at him, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get past. One elbowed him roughly in the gut. He looked up angrily into the face of a young guy, a few years older than him, was he Indian? The guy was wearing a yellow bandanna, that was pretty cool.
“What's the problem, homeboy?”
“N-nothing mate..” A bloody American. What were was an American doing in his uncles shitty fish and chip shop? He pushed forward through the crowd, still he couldn't seem to get to the front of the dingy shop. What the fuck? He felt like screaming, his uncle was going to really kill him this time.
“Cowardice is a perfectly reasonable response Micah, many more have died trying to be a hero than running.” A stern voice rose besides him.
What the fuck was going on? ...He was dreaming, Micah tried to pinch himself awake but the crowd continued to push. Finally he made it through and came face to face with his brother. The kid was rake thin and hollow cheeked. His face splattered with freckles and his sandy hair a mess. The same as when Micah left the first time, just a scared little kid.
“I'm sorry Dave, I can't undo the past. You understand don't you? Why I fucking did it?.”
Dave's upper lip began to bleed and blood dripped from the glass embedded in his forehead. A bruise blossomed on his eye like a drop of ink on water. His face turned a pale almost blue. Dave's favourite shirt ripped and bloodied like invisible claws were tearing at it. A hungry look grew in the boys eyes and he snarled, the flesh ripping with the movement exposing gum and teeth.
“I'm sorry Dave... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..” Micah repeated him self over and over until the words became meaningless and the dream faded into nothing but sleep.
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Suyoi
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Post by Suyoi on Dec 16, 2012 23:32:39 GMT -8
At first, there was a simple nothingness, a blackness swirled with violets and flashes of blue which appear when eyelids fall over weary eyes. It was from one of those blue flashes that the delicate hand plunged into sight; it was a whiter shade of yellow, skin tight against remains of muscle tissue and bone. Her palm was extended upwards. The nails were red with a fresh coat of crimson lacquer, drops gently dripping, the wetness patting into a pool giving the nothingness a third dimension. Violets pushed out blackness until there was nothing but a heavy silk curtain with her arm extended. Her finger curled, compulsively drawing the vision to warp at Charles’ face. Sparks showered and elongated as he plunged through the curtain unable to feel the curtain billowing against him through his journey. He followed the sound of her bloody fingers but could only see the wild hair billowing before his vision through the scant glimpses of curtain. He felt himself strain to keep up and knew tonight would be a night without sleep. Her raucous cackling told him it would be a long night.…............................. Dr. Victor twitched in his sleep, hands clenching the sheets in a partially paralyzed struggle. Mimi raised her head from her position on the bed and opened puffy eye. With a huff, she lowered her neck back onto her keeper’s leg, her whiskers briskly brushing Micah’s exposed skin. …............................. The blood seemed to come down in sheets, washing its viscous spray against Charles’ skin and also blasting through him. Mary’s voice growled. The curtains gave way to what appeared to be a single photograph frame, silver and aged. The glass was cracked in a spider web pattern, just to the left of center; each piece twitched and shivered causing the negative violet light around to erupt into kaleidoscope within the frame. Mary drifted over, to Victor, her hand peeling back a layer of his skin with a simple flourish of her hands, the thing a magician would do to mystify the audience.
“Charles, for your sins, I have given you a gift. You shall truly be the last one I destroy on this pitiful plane of existence. But, you still shouted at me with your meaningless words and vile arrogance; for that, Charles, you will pay more than the child I dropped form the ceiling, more than the obese Christian woman, more than anyone…”
When she entered his vision, Charles could see Mary wasn’t spewing anymore black vile. She was simply the woman with her pale face and spotted white dress, though the fabric rippled and swirled like the violet curtains before. Mary smiled, and he felt his face plunged into her sick, damp breasts, suffocating. She chided him, ripping out chunks of hair with fingers.
“Charles, for your sins, I have given you a gift. You shall truly be the last one I destroy on this pitiful plane of existence. Struggle though you might, you are only human. Do you remember what you did those years ago? No, Charles, not to Linda. Not to that poor boy who you killed either. Think back to your repressed childhood memories, Chuck. Remember the time you were truly useless?”…............................. Dr. Victor struggled against the repressive sheets tying him to his coffin. He grunted, growling and snarling, though he only twitched a little. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, causing the luxurious covers to become more adhered. Head trembling, he turned his face into his pillow, rolling onto his stomach with short and slightly labored breaths. Mimi let out a low growl, disturbed again. She walked up and did the three spins before lying down on the pillow Micah was using, her back now nestled atop his hair. …............................. Mary drove her nails deep within Charles’ scalp, separating the thin skin from the bone with a sickening sound. He saw her slide into the space between his skin and skull, hands, then arms, crawling through his most sacred of homes, his body. He watched her slide around his back, causing his scarred skin to catch fire anew, glowing bright pink and then red like a hot poker. She swam through it, tearing at each muscle, biting each nerve with rat-like teeth. He felt his skin stretch tight like an involuntary contraction. He screamed but her hand came up around his neck. Her fingers wrapped around his jaw, being inside his mouth. Her nails took his tongue and shoved it through his throat.
“Linda didn’t know about your loving family, did she, Charles? Women can be such fickle things, especially when they have their own opinions. It would have been easier if you just told her, you know. Didn’t you remember what it was like to be criticized every waking step of your existence, Chuck? Maybe if I get rid of all this flesh, you can feel again. You got over your fear of heights, didn’t you? Just shut the fuck up and take it like a man, Chuck. How the hell do you expect to be a hero like me if you cry when you fall down, you big sissy?”…............................. Dr. Victor twitched, trying to dislodge his arm from underneath his body. His back was on fire, the nerves screaming out and twitching like a swarm of ants under the tightly wrapped sheet. His feet scraped the footboard, giving him just enough leverage to arch his arm free. It felt dead, heavy and useless. It felt useless. …............................. Mary giggled as she tore herself free through his back, fingers waggling in the air. With the sound of wet popping and squished organs, she grew tall, like a cedar tree. The body of the man continued to change, shrink, and snap as limbs creaked and muscles shrank. He shifted into the form of a seven year old boy. Chuck bled from a small cut on his head. He knew he had climbed up that tree at least ten whole times by himself. Why did Uncle Roger want him to get higher? There weren’t any good climbing branches up there. He saw the stone driveway looked like mountains, the porch rotting in the distance against the white house. Did his head hit the large flat rock or not? He felt his chest heave and give way to the dam of emotions locked up. Mary’s voice was dark and husky as she lapped up the blood of the fallen corpse from the grass.
“Don’t cry, Chuck. You’re mom will kill me. Shut the fuck up, Chuck, it’s just a bump! I swear, I won’t have a fucking kid like you. Suck it up or you can go home instead of playing with your cousins. Jesus, you’re like your father, useless. Get up. Get UP! Get in the house and wash your face. God, Mary, Chuck fell. Mary, he just fell off the porch… it’s just a little goose egg.”
Mary faded away back into the violet curtain, tsking to herself. Gone was the boy, replaced with the sundered remains from which it emerged. The corpse of Dr. Charles Victor drew in his lost fluid, his burned flesh and his torn hair back into itself like a depleted sponge on a puddle. Still, the corpse seemed to shudder and tremble, leaking blood from his face.…............................. The wailing gasps of tears and crying couldn’t be stopped this time. Dr. Victor pushed his face into his pillow, convulsing in his landslide of emotion. He rose when he felt his body respond to his active mental commands. He took the damp pillow and slid out of the bedroom, into the couch. Why did he even dream anymore? It wasn’t a useful skill. It was just… useless.
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Post by Thy Dungyeon Maestyr on Dec 18, 2012 0:22:40 GMT -8
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Jan 4, 2013 19:46:00 GMT -8
Micah finally made it back to the apartment after what seemed an age, his head still throbbed like a fucker. Emergency Rations greeted him at the door like he'd been gone for a month, wagging her tail and dancing around in swift little circles. She strangely hadn't grown in the last few months and Micah was beginning to suspect that she wasn't in fact a puppy, just a rather small dog. The bedroom was in complete disarray, the sheets were missing... That was odd. Micah shrugged, the doctor had probably moved them to Thierry's place or something. He could put the Batman sheets he'd found on instead, next he'd switch the pillowcases too. Micah went to his makeshift wardrobe which consisted of a pile of clothes stuffed into an unused cupboard. Picking up some jeans, a top and a scarf almost at random, he had a quick wash with a cloth, a spray of deodorant and then put his new assemble on. He flumped onto the bed, the effort of putting on clothes requiring far too much energy. He was torn between his rumbling stomach and the lack of motivation to move at all. He'd eat in another half hour, if there wasn't any left he could always grabs some eggs...
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Jan 4, 2013 21:42:28 GMT -8
(Assuming Micah still neglects to lock the door ...) Micah had a visitor who neglected to knock! "Oh, THERE you are." Alex grinned. "Sooomebody got drunk last night! Who did? MICAH did. And now Mr. Micah feels just awful. Right? Hey, that rhymed. But remember what the Good Book says! Be sober and watch: because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour!" He pointed at the Jesus shirt Micah wore. "If you're interested, I can tell you more about the bible and stuff. I don't understand most of it, but I know it just about word for word. Important verses, anyway. SOME in Latin." Alex then launched himself onto the bed and landed heavily next to Homeboy. "Get up, get up! Some guys are going scouting today. Ashley. Patti. I dunno who else, but probably others maybe." He nudged Micah playfully. "You interested? I'll go if you do. Exercise is the BEST cure for a hangover, and we have to combat evil. I had a prophetic dream. Horses ... OH! Man. Dude. Mate. I'm in LOVE. Not kidding. Have you ever loved somebody?" Good morning, Sunshine!
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Jan 4, 2013 23:14:40 GMT -8
((OOC: Micah never locks his door, so you're always safe. I'll leave a note if it is.)) "Fffh... , the devil can have me... errgh. How can you be so fucking chipper? " The thump of Alex landing on the bed set afire all his aches and his stomach did a flip. Damn Alex and his chip fucking chipperness, Micah buried his head in what was left on the bed. Then a small dog landed on his head like a bitch, forcing him to greet the day as well. Clearly there was a fucking conspiracy afoot. "Urrgh I guess...Can we hit up a pharmacy or something? I need some fucking pain killers plus Alka seltza, and asking Derek would be the fucking nightmare icing on my headache cake. Really? I thought you'd never get over Carry, that chick you were pre-engaged to?Does Chelsea know you're into fucking horses? Eeh not really..."
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Jan 5, 2013 0:58:11 GMT -8
"Yeah. Bet the doctors would appreciate more medicine. Plus, I don't trust Derek - he's a complete jackass - so the less we have to see that guy, the better." He snorted. "And Carly. The name's Carly. Stop killing my good mood." At least Alex felt confident that Carly was alive and kicking. Was she still at Yale, living in some New Haven version of 403? "Well, drink lots of water. I'll go let Patti know we're coming."
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Jan 5, 2013 11:47:30 GMT -8
"No worries. You don't deny your equine fancy though? I'll catch you in a bit Kesha..." Micah left the apartment in search of grease and caffeine. E.R following behind in hopes of scraps, manipulative puppy eyes at the ready.
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Jan 5, 2013 15:38:34 GMT -8
"..." Equine? Fancy? Ohhh. "Charming. I'm not in love with the horse." He graciously let Micah get on with the morning and pondered important stuff. Oh, Ke$ha. You're so much fun! This place's about to blow-oh-oh-oh! Let me see them Hanes, let me, let me see them Hanes! Those are some cryptic lyrics. I wonder what "Hanes" means. Hanes, Egypt? Like in Isaiah? Nah, probably the underwear. Yeah.
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Jan 30, 2013 5:13:00 GMT -8
((This dream is dedicated the late Eygptian cotton sheet, may it be remembered in it's glory days .)) " Fucking brilliant, I love this song."
His brother Dave grinned at him. The kid's hair was mussed with sweat and he wore one of Micah's old shirts. It only just fitted him, the fabric loose around his small frame. It had been a miracle that he'd got in.
Noah and Kate grinned at him too, it was going to be an awesome fucking night. Coloured lights flashed, bodies crashed and flowed with one another in waves to the music. Sweat and body heat flowed through the club along with the hazy perfume of booze, cigarettes and marijuana. Loose inhibitions had kicked in with the waning hours and bodies gyrated and moved together with abandon.
Voices and music were at constant competition with each other invading Micah's brain and causing his thoughts to become indistinct to everything else. The DJ must have turned on the dry ice machine, as the floor seem to disappear under a thick layer of smoke.
"Hey, do you reckon they will let me buy a beer?"
Bodies, genderless in the mismatched moving mass pushed and shoved like some kind of river of flesh. Micah found himself being swept away from the others, one second he was there with them, the next moment he was alone. Fuck, this wasn't good. Micah pushed against the tide towards a small pocket of space left in the club, looking helplessly around for a familiar face in the crowd.
Suddenly the music dropped out leaving behind a gush of voices mumbling and humming together like a waterfall, no one voice breaking out from the rest.
Then as if on an unheard cue they slowly took up a chant.
Micah strained his ears to make sense if the words.
Was it in a foreign tongue?
A fly crawled onto Micah's arm but he brushed it off and another took it's place.
The words seemed just out of hearing as if from another room.
The hum of a fly sped past his left ear.
Then another...
Then it all suddenly came together.
"It's not safe down here, man. It's not safe"
"It's not safe down here, man. It's not safe"
That's when Micah realised all the voices were all the same, dulcet and smooth like pebbles. Large bright eyes shone in the darkness, turning side to side like owls.
"It's not safe down here, man. It's not safe"
"Don't look down Micah, don't look down dear. It's not safe down here, you'll miss the train.."
“Mum?”
"It's not safe down here, man. It's not safe"
Micah moved towards the door but the floor seemed wetter slipperier than before and he found himself tripping over something warm and soft. A small face stared up at him like some kind of squashed tomato, bloody and twisted. Flies crawled over it, then moved off to other bloody delights. The floor was covered in the broken and torn bodies but people kept dancing, crushing, stomping. Their owl like eyes flashing in the dark.
"It's not safe down here, man. It's not safe"
Micah screamed, the sound vibrating through the club like the screech of an bird calling back at him.
"It's not safe down here, man. It's not safe"
He ran for what seemed forever, finding himself outside of his home without a memory of getting there. Lights still flashed around him but these ones were red, white, red, white. A guernsey was being wheeled towards an ambulance, a small frail body lying across its surface tied in place. Curious and concerned neighbours milled around like seagulls waiting for scraps.
" Yeah, the mum left to go to the shops for a box of ciggies, the older brother was looking after him.........
............................................imagine leaving an 12 and 10 year old alone........
...................................................... ...Fucking bitch.................
..................................................That's their uncle.... working late...
............................................... ..He'll be fine, you were lucky...........
................................... ...Surgery.. Maybe, we might be able to....
................................. Will you sign this ma'am?........
............................Just be more careful next time mate.........
....................Don't go down there it isn't safe...
..............Mum's ...Going to kill us............
........It's not safe down here... ...........
....It's not safe..."
“What did you do?”
Doctor Victor scowled down at him, holding folds of charcoal grey cloth in front if Micah's face, covered in a messy gore. He couldn't tell if it was dirt or blood. Micah squinted it was hard to see where Charles began and the sheet ended. The man's fingers seemed to fade and stretch with the lines of fabric, almost like they were woven in.
" Why the sheets Micah? They were Egyptian cotton and now look at them, ruined. I ask for so little..."
The doctor continued speaking clearly on one of his soliloquies but he was drowned out by a growing thunderous roar. Small soft forms began falling down, brushing gently past his skin like snow. Just a couple at first, like the first rain drops of a storm.
Suddenly without warning a shower of feathers pelted down in their millions filling every space and blotting out any view of the good doctor or the sheets. The sharp ends scratching and tearing at Micah's skin with sheer pressure.
.................................................................. Sudden sunlight broke into Micah's subconscious and he slowly found himself alive and safe in bed, featherless, a small warm body nestled in his side. Micah sighed, covering his head with the now batman covered sheet, his brother would have loved them. He stretched out pushing out ER with a yelp in the process. Then Micah remembered what had actually happened to the sheets, the doctor was going to kill him when he finally turned up. He got out of bed, wiping sleep from his eye and proceeded with his morning ritual. He dressed in new clothes, the others hanging in the bathroom to dry. He moved out to the Comm centre with his faithful hound. ((Haha those are the Tommy Bahama shorts, sorry for the extremely large post))
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Post by Thy Dungyeon Maestyr on Feb 2, 2013 1:14:34 GMT -8
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DKender
Only One Skeleton has the Power to Control both Life and Death, Light and Dark, Words and Blank Space, Our Humble Lives Continue Only by the Grace and Magnanimity of This Skeleton
Nay, let us walk from fire unto firey skeleton ...
Posts: 9,204
Gender: Unknown Skeleton
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Post by DKender on Feb 17, 2013 20:35:40 GMT -8
Alex carried his stuff into the apartment. Then, he stared at the floor. This bed is too hard!Next, he stared at the beanbag. This bed is too soft!Finally, he peeked into the bedroom. This bed is JUST RIGHT. And it has Batman sheets. Uh huh.He dove onto the bed (so comfy!) and took out Luke's book. Alex felt guilty prying, but it was le graal! How dare he refuse destiny's siren call. It's nonsense, rookie. You'd have better luck understanding graffiti in a truck stop bathroom."Ugh." He put the book away and replaced it with Pride and Prejudice. Aw. Mr. Darcy was a sophisticated weirdo - just like Dr. Victor. He couldn't read any more! I guess it's just me and my thoughts now ...He fell asleep almost instantly and suffered through a disturbing reoccurring dream about chess and a member of the 403 community.
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