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Personification Life IC IX - [Semi Open]

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Tiltjuice
Post Czar
 
Posts: 33959
Founded: Jan 20, 2012
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Tiltjuice » Sun Mar 16, 2014 12:00 am

CRACK.

"沒有留低人?"

Tilt didn't glance at the torn up skin on his knuckles, or the blood seeping out of the scrapes. He'd punched a brick wall before; the smooth marble of the Building lobby (as it was to him) was silken by comparison. The tension drained away as he recovered from overstepping his stride and colliding with the rear wall; momentum had carried him first through the doors.

"阿Trice 同其他 Observatory 隊員重未返嚟." He didn't care that Min was quite possibly the only other person who stood a chance of understanding him. Some things were best kept private, even if they also needed to be said. With visible effort, he reined himself in again and nodded stiffly at NA.

"They're gone, haven't come back yet," he repeated, this time in English. "Probably trapped by the nothingness." Let's hope so, anyway. "There's still a chance of getting them back. Time to get back to basics. What's left? What do we still have? Pineapple's gone. Brit still has his knife. Fvaar's feather, too. Anything else?"

He turned a slow circle, gaze moving from phone booth (and Teen Club entrance) to Thinking Bench to the mailboxes to the front door again. The white blankness outside -

Wait... Both hands brushed roughly through his hair as he turned back to the mailboxes and their key slots.

"NA," he called, snapping his fingers. "Give me your keys if you still have them. Do you remember what Trice said to you when we were all analyzing dreams back in the communal kitchen? 'Knowledge, mystery and initiation'." His eyebrows drew together. "Would it be too simplistic to say that feather is a sign for us to start from the beginning? Writing with a quill, like the authors of old?"

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Morlodania
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Posts: 8554
Founded: Oct 29, 2013
New York Times Democracy

Postby Morlodania » Sun Mar 16, 2014 12:06 am

James thought of something while meditating... The clockface... From his dream. He stood, and looked around. "HEY! I just remembered... My dream... Had a clockface... Some sort of demon hid in it... Trice told me... I could go through it any time... It just took realizing my talent..." He sighed softly. "Is there any sort of clock... Anywhere in here? It might be another clue..." James was... Less than hopeful, to say the least, but every little bit helped, he supposed.
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Mincaldenteans
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Posts: 9450
Founded: Feb 17, 2013
Ex-Nation

Postby Mincaldenteans » Sun Mar 16, 2014 1:53 am

Out of breath and panting heavily, Min leaned his head against a wall, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it somewhere. It had been a long time since he ran that distance at such a pace. His throat felt constricted and his lungs burned, angry at the exertion it was forced upon. His head felt dizzy and Min made a self deprecating smile at how out of shape he was despite being slim of build, "time to get your ass to gym," he mumbled to himself with a smirk that felt very scratchy in his throat. He heard others talk, Jacob in particular, who questioned their survival which Min silently agreed but considered them lucky for now to be alive.

A few moments later, and some difficult empty swallows as he struggled to settle his breathing, he heard Tilt's words about the feather and writing. It followed with James' recounting of his dream. It triggered Min's broken memory of his own night's dream and the message he read when he woke up. The swan was symbolic to some extent, Min was convinced, and the message - and his opinion of it - danced around his head over and over. With everything disappearing because they weren't outside writing it didn't mean they couldn't control what would happen here and now. If Tilt's suggestion meant anything, they could literally write everything back into existence. But that wold take time, something Min wasn't sure they had even if the building kept them alive for now.

Let go. Came to mind again.

So did: Hold On.

Something Min was realizing by the second that was likely to be the better option instead of resigning to their fate. Humanity didn't get to give up, they didn't get the option of letting things go. Their lives were barely a blink of an eye compared to the mighty characters they imagined. They had to fight, to struggle, to hope against the inevitable simply because they had to; it was their nature. To do anything else would be selfish beyond measure.

"If you're right," Min said to Tilt with another long swallow afterward, his chest still felt on fire, "Then writing it out would recreate this universe? Or at least prolong our survival? And the clock? If these are symbols, are they in direct reference to our characters then? Would that mean," he paused for a second to get his breath, "Would that mean we indeed do have the ability to make this world exist simply because we are the representations of that which we have created?

"Swan... my image was a swan when I dreamed it and appeared when I woke. At first I thought it meant grace, because well, its the most common meaning in line with a swan. But I've been thinking since before we left for the market that it could be something deeper, something connecting to my character and I realized that it may be something to do with Dan, or at least his origins. Swans have a tie to Celtic beliefs, myths, gods, so forth. Well, a shit ton has connections to it," he rambled on, "but I haven't been able to research all of it. Part of Dan's background is that all Faes are tied to a Celtic god, passed on by lineage and that's how they get their power. I did research on which kind of deity he would be tied to when I made the character app, and I went off on a tangent on Wikipedia looking at other things based on Celtic myths because.. well, I just did, I'm a wiki-whore, anyway," he quickly said, "what I do know is that swans also represent unity, and that it travels in pairs particularly in a place known as the Otherworld. The Otherworld in Celtic myth is the land of the Sidhe.

"I'm starting to wonder if I am the representation of Dan, simply because he and I are one in the same because I created him. I made him, I know what he thinks, sees, hears and touches. Could it be that all of us then have that same connection? In which case, the creator cannot be destroyed in the land they made simply because we're stuck here. We made the rules, we made the people, we then cannot allow ourselves to disappear.

"Or tell me to shut up," Min said finally with a shake of his head and closed his eyes, his mind was still racing a mile a minute and not doing anything to quiet down, "it's a stretch, but I think it could mean that."
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ApertureScienceInc
Chargé d'Affaires
 
Posts: 482
Founded: Sep 07, 2013
Ex-Nation

Postby ApertureScienceInc » Sun Mar 16, 2014 5:49 am

Zarkanians wrote:
Cerillium wrote:
Please don't let me hit anyone. Please don't. The NPCs were real to her. Bones had made it so. They were living beings with a right to not be molested. It angered her when new characters run by immature players senselessly slaughtered them. It would haunt her if she actually hit one.

The car began to protest the speed and turns but held up. They crested the Market District and gained Main Street. Trice blew through the plastic poles that served as a barrier for cars. Tough shit. Give me a ticket when you catch me.

The Fish Market was a block away but people had rushed out and ran helter skelter. She laid on the horn and guided the car onto the curb and back to the street to avoid a group running in the road.

The car's end rose and for a brief moment the occupants had a view of the cobblestone street before being launched in the air. The wall ate its way through them like a scanner's beam. "FUCK! YOU CAN'T HAVE MY CAR!" Trice screamed and, having no need to hold onto the steering wheel, threw herself across the seat to hug PXM. The wall's leading edge passed over them and the car tumbled into nothingness. It felt as if they'd tumbled into space itself. Gravity ceased. It was nothing but whiteness and the interior of the car where they held on to whatever they could. Trice drew a breath to scream and found that she couldn't. It wasn't painful. It simply was that she didn't need breath in her lungs. She screamed anyway and the sound reverberated around the small space.

The car slowed and then drifted. There wasn't any sense of up or down so it was impossible to tell if they were oriented right. Snow's loose strands of hair formed a halo around his head. Trice's necklace lifted from her chest to hover aimlessly. Klaus and Minerva's cigarette butts floated out of the ashtray.

"Holy fucking mother of God," Autrice let go of PXM. "Are we dead? Is this death?"

Snow felt the weightlessness, and knew. He refused to open his eyes. They were still okay--the car was too real. The car existed, so it had its own little bubble of okayness around it. And they were real. Really real. They existed in the real world. Maybe they'd just float here until they died of starvation. Maybe the langoliers would show up and gobble them up like they gobbled up the things that had already happened.

He was mumbling the word "no" over and over and he hadn't even noticed. He closed his mouth hard, biting his tongue. He could taste blood. Salty. He sucked on it greedily, grabbing the leather seat and holding on for his life. He would never open his eyes again. It was all around them; he could feel it. Maybe they wouldn't starve. Maybe they'd use up all the air around the car first. Maybe they'd asphyxiate; maybe they'd die like fish. Flop. Flop flop. Ha ha ha.

"We're not dead," he whispered--a prayer, not a promise.

PXM had shut his eyes before they hit the end, afraid of his end, hoping for it only to be quick. He only felt Trice embrace him. He opened his eyes at Snow's whisper... they were still there! How? His hypothesis supposed that everything in this world was like film for brainwaves, but they weren't! They were the lens, not the film! It could not erase them. But what of the car? The air? That was somebody else's problem, like in Life, The Universe, and Everything by Douglas Adams. Thinking too much about them might be a problem.

"Well, this sucks...pretty sure death isn't this color..." he spoke frightened, poorly trying to lighten the mood.
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The Carlisle
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 10024
Founded: Aug 25, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby The Carlisle » Sun Mar 16, 2014 6:25 am

Remmy panted heavily and hit the floor as she ran inside the building. She could run, but not for long. And she was running faster than she normally had too. Plus, she didn't work out much, a bad habit of hers.

Taking deep breathes, she slowly pushed herself off the floor. Her sergeant would be yelling at her to get up if he saw her now. She looked around at the others.

"So... yeah," she said hoarsely, "Ragnarok. Fucking called it."
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Fvaarniimar
Minister
 
Posts: 3125
Founded: Nov 20, 2013
Mother Knows Best State

Postby Fvaarniimar » Sun Mar 16, 2014 8:18 am

The girl, reassured by James' presence, started to calm down; her sobs quieted, and she followed his example of attempting to meditate.
Morlodania wrote:James thought of something while meditating... The clockface... From his dream. He stood, and looked around. "HEY! I just remembered... My dream... Had a clockface... Some sort of demon hid in it... Trice told me... I could go through it any time... It just took realizing my talent..." He sighed softly. "Is there any sort of clock... Anywhere in here? It might be another clue..." James was... Less than hopeful, to say the least, but every little bit helped, he supposed.

"Um." Fvaar's voice was rougher than usual. "I'm not sure if this will count or help, but I have a watch from the 'real' world. Might be too literal, though- it could mean an ability to travel through-"
Tiltjuice wrote:CRACK.

"沒有留低人?"

Tilt didn't glance at the torn up skin on his knuckles, or the blood seeping out of the scrapes. He'd punched a brick wall before; the smooth marble of the Building lobby (as it was to him) was silken by comparison. The tension drained away as he recovered from overstepping his stride and colliding with the rear wall; momentum had carried him first through the doors.

"阿Trice 同其他 Observatory 隊員重未返嚟." He didn't care that Min was quite possibly the only other person who stood a chance of understanding him. Some things were best kept private, even if they also needed to be said. With visible effort, he reined himself in again and nodded stiffly at NA.

"They're gone, haven't come back yet," he repeated, this time in English. "Probably trapped by the nothingness." Let's hope so, anyway. "There's still a chance of getting them back. Time to get back to basics. What's left? What do we still have? Pineapple's gone. Brit still has his knife. Fvaar's feather, too. Anything else?"

He turned a slow circle, gaze moving from phone booth (and Teen Club entrance) to Thinking Bench to the mailboxes to the front door again. The white blankness outside -

Wait... Both hands brushed roughly through his hair as he turned back to the mailboxes and their key slots.

"NA," he called, snapping his fingers. "Give me your keys if you still have them. Do you remember what Trice said to you when we were all analyzing dreams back in the communal kitchen? 'Knowledge, mystery and initiation'." His eyebrows drew together. "Would it be too simplistic to say that feather is a sign for us to start from the beginning? Writing with a quill, like the authors of old?"

"Or, for that matter, even to reset time." The girl took a deep breath and spoke up.

"That would make sense. What would we use for ink?" Fvaar was calming down even more. She didn't like to be useless or powerless; conversely, being able to DO something helped her hang on, even as the world...dissolved. "How would we remember what to write?" Especially if my earlier hunch about objects needing to be used by the people they were given to- I'm really slow with writing and Idonnknowalotaboutthisworld... The girl whimpered again, blinking quickly to hold back tears. There was something else she needed to say: "If O. C. Demens or whoever pulled us here is omniscient enough to know we existed...they're probably omniscient enough to understand the consequences of their actions. S-Swith- Triche- said that- maybe there was something we- had to fix. If it was worth- the- maybe only temporary but still- destruction of everything but us and the building- we probably still need to fix it. Somehow.

Mincaldenteans wrote:Out of breath and panting heavily, Min leaned his head against a wall, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it somewhere. It had been a long time since he ran that distance at such a pace. His throat felt constricted and his lungs burned, angry at the exertion it was forced upon. His head felt dizzy and Min made a self deprecating smile at how out of shape he was despite being slim of build, "time to get your ass to gym," he mumbled to himself with a smirk that felt very scratchy in his throat. He heard others talk, Jacob in particular, who questioned their survival which Min silently agreed but considered them lucky for now to be alive.

A few moments later, and some difficult empty swallows as he struggled to settle his breathing, he heard Tilt's words about the feather and writing. It followed with James' recounting of his dream. It triggered Min's broken memory of his own night's dream and the message he read when he woke up. The swan was symbolic to some extent, Min was convinced, and the message - and his opinion of it - danced around his head over and over. With everything disappearing because they weren't outside writing it didn't mean they couldn't control what would happen here and now. If Tilt's suggestion meant anything, they could literally write everything back into existence. But that wold take time, something Min wasn't sure they had even if the building kept them alive for now.

Let go. Came to mind again.

So did: Hold On.

Something Min was realizing by the second that was likely to be the better option instead of resigning to their fate. Humanity didn't get to give up, they didn't get the option of letting things go. Their lives were barely a blink of an eye compared to the mighty characters they imagined. They had to fight, to struggle, to hope against the inevitable simply because they had to; it was their nature. To do anything else would be selfish beyond measure.

"If you're right," Min said to Tilt with another long swallow afterward, his chest still felt on fire, "Then writing it out would recreate this universe? Or at least prolong our survival? And the clock? If these are symbols, are they in direct reference to our characters then? Would that mean," he paused for a second to get his breath, "Would that mean we indeed do have the ability to make this world exist simply because we are the representations of that which we have created?

"Swan... my image was a swan when I dreamed it and appeared when I woke. At first I thought it meant grace, because well, its the most common meaning in line with a swan. But I've been thinking since before we left for the market that it could be something deeper, something connecting to my character and I realized that it may be something to do with Dan, or at least his origins. Swans have a tie to Celtic beliefs, myths, gods, so forth. Well, a shit ton has connections to it," he rambled on, "but I haven't been able to research all of it. Part of Dan's background is that all Faes are tied to a Celtic god, passed on by lineage and that's how they get their power. I did research on which kind of deity he would be tied to when I made the character app, and I went off on a tangent on Wikipedia looking at other things based on Celtic myths because.. well, I just did, I'm a wiki-whore, anyway," he quickly said, "what I do know is that swans also represent unity, and that it travels in pairs particularly in a place known as the Otherworld. The Otherworld in Celtic myth is the land of the Sidhe.

"I'm starting to wonder if I am the representation of Dan, simply because he and I are one in the same because I created him. I made him, I know what he thinks, sees, hears and touches. Could it be that all of us then have that same connection? In which case, the creator cannot be destroyed in the land they made simply because we're stuck here. We made the rules, we made the people, we then cannot allow ourselves to disappear.

"Or tell me to shut up," Min said finally with a shake of his head and closed his eyes, his mind was still racing a mile a minute and not doing anything to quiet down, "it's a stretch, but I think it could mean that."


Yeah. I think- "You've got a point." Or, at least, I hope you do. I don't know what a feather has to do with Nick, or for that matter Camille- except maybe Nox or night- probably not Esben...

She snorted at Remmy's Ragnorak comment. It wasn't that funny, especially in light of the situation, but hey, she'd take her humor, which she'd used as a coping mechanism for years, where she could get it.

Stephanie... Come to think of it, it could be Stephanie. Her hair was dyed black and the cut Fvaar had given her was made to look feathery, and Fvaar's current interpretation, reinforced by a TOK paper, had her living within her mind. Even that was a pretty big stretch, though- big enough so that the girl didn't consider speaking up.
Last edited by Fvaarniimar on Sun Mar 16, 2014 8:25 am, edited 2 times in total.
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I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
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The BranRiech
Post Czar
 
Posts: 31391
Founded: Mar 24, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby The BranRiech » Sun Mar 16, 2014 9:28 am

"All . . . Those people."

Bran was wheezing in a corner. He was out of shape as well, being a pretty formidable 200 lbs of mostly stuff that wasn't muscle had done that to him, and every breath he took burned with a want for rest. They'd made it, but barely. The observatory group wasn't there waiting for them, and Bran assumed it was gone. He looked down, shaking his hands as he brought them together. He started cracking his fingers, sighing with relief at every little pop he heard.

"Gone."

He looked down, and then out one of the windows he imagined the lobby as having. "What if they're really dead though, huh? What do we do? It's only a matter of time before we go too."

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Monfrox
Post Czar
 
Posts: 33446
Founded: Mar 25, 2011
Father Knows Best State

Postby Monfrox » Sun Mar 16, 2014 9:50 am

Brit, after running for his literal existence with the dead sprint that he was so famous for back at the squadron (he still holds the record of the fastest shuttle run time despite most of the other Cadets being track runners), was pretty much wiped to say the least. He had made it through the door after letting Fvaar go, but found it hard to stop. A quick glance brought a chair right in front of him to notice. He really didn't want to trip onto a chair, so he purposely wiped out onto the floor and rolled onto his back just short of hit. He gasped for air as he found his stamina almost entirely drained. He lay there on the floor, breathing heavily as his mouth dried out. "Must....never.....run.....again...." He said in between wheezes. He felt a pain in the side of his stomach that he recognized from every PT mile run he ever did. He felt like he was going to bring his breakfast to show and tell for the others and lay it out all over the lobby floor, and he also really didn't feel like moving at all. He just focused on catching his breath for now.
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Tiltjuice
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Posts: 33959
Founded: Jan 20, 2012
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Tiltjuice » Sun Mar 16, 2014 10:14 am

Tilt shrugged. Like Serina had pointed out quite a while ago during one P2TM nominating thread or another, he was good-humored and friendly, up until someone crossed his boundaries. Given the dire situation, those walls were up higher than normal. "If that's what you think, Bran, feel free to go take a walk outside. Death is inevitable; fatalism wants to speed that up. The rest of us, if there's really no time to waste, we can't sit around talking until the Building collapses into dust as well, too, or we starve or we're forced to make a run for the Industrial District.

Min has the right idea. I think everything we've heard in our dreams, seen up until now, or still have with us plays into what we're supposed to do in some way. That means we can un-Ragnarok Ragnarok, Remmy. James, Fvaar - your clockface and watch. What were you saying, Fvaar? Travel through...?"

He leaned back, hands in his pockets. "And why is the Industrial District still there?" The Asian pointed out the windows inset in the doors, where it could clearly be seen.

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Fvaarniimar
Minister
 
Posts: 3125
Founded: Nov 20, 2013
Mother Knows Best State

Postby Fvaarniimar » Sun Mar 16, 2014 10:27 am

Tiltjuice wrote:Tilt shrugged. Like Serina had pointed out quite a while ago during one P2TM nominating thread or another, he was good-humored and friendly, up until someone crossed his boundaries. Given the dire situation, those walls were up higher than normal. "If that's what you think, Bran, feel free to go take a walk outside. Death is inevitable; fatalism wants to speed that up. The rest of us, if there's really no time to waste, we can't sit around talking until the Building collapses into dust as well, too, or we starve or we're forced to make a run for the Industrial District.

Min has the right idea. I think everything we've heard in our dreams, seen up until now, or still have with us plays into what we're supposed to do in some way. That means we can un-Ragnarok Ragnarok, Remmy. James, Fvaar - your clockface and watch. What were you saying, Fvaar? Travel through...?"

He leaned back, hands in his pockets. "And why is the Industrial District still there?" The Asian pointed out the windows inset in the doors, where it could clearly be seen.


WTF?
"Maybe...Aegis..." Fvaar, who had been murmuring, raised her voice. Thanks for noticing me.. "James said that T-Trice in his dream said something about going- through a clock. It could mean time travel, it could mean a reset like the feather might." She plucked said object from the hair under her glasses and balanced it on a palm. "Anyway, I wear my watch to bed- usually- and I have it. If this is really literal, that could help." Setting the feather on a knee, the girl removed the watch to hold it in her other hand; she then returned the feather to the same palm.
"Do you think maybe we should write down our dreams...compare?"
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Also controls:Borksmiclen
1.I'm a cis female.
2.(PL only)If I type"Nick touches your character and does <this>",he is communicating. If your character has nerve endings in the spot being touched,they'll get the message.Otherwise/if neither bare skin nor explanation given,TG me;something else may come into play.

I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
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New Aksarben
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 12311
Founded: Oct 08, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby New Aksarben » Sun Mar 16, 2014 11:07 am

Tiltjuice wrote:CRACK.

"沒有留低人?"

Tilt didn't glance at the torn up skin on his knuckles, or the blood seeping out of the scrapes. He'd punched a brick wall before; the smooth marble of the Building lobby (as it was to him) was silken by comparison. The tension drained away as he recovered from overstepping his stride and colliding with the rear wall; momentum had carried him first through the doors.

"阿Trice 同其他 Observatory 隊員重未返嚟." He didn't care that Min was quite possibly the only other person who stood a chance of understanding him. Some things were best kept private, even if they also needed to be said. With visible effort, he reined himself in again and nodded stiffly at NA.

"They're gone, haven't come back yet," he repeated, this time in English. "Probably trapped by the nothingness." Let's hope so, anyway. "There's still a chance of getting them back. Time to get back to basics. What's left? What do we still have? Pineapple's gone. Brit still has his knife. Fvaar's feather, too. Anything else?"

He turned a slow circle, gaze moving from phone booth (and Teen Club entrance) to Thinking Bench to the mailboxes to the front door again. The white blankness outside -

Wait... Both hands brushed roughly through his hair as he turned back to the mailboxes and their key slots.

"NA," he called, snapping his fingers. "Give me your keys if you still have them. Do you remember what Trice said to you when we were all analyzing dreams back in the communal kitchen? 'Knowledge, mystery and initiation'." His eyebrows drew together. "Would it be too simplistic to say that feather is a sign for us to start from the beginning? Writing with a quill, like the authors of old?"


JAcob nodded, and pulled out the keys, holding them out for Tilt to take. "I don't think so. Some of my ideas were somewhat bad and simplistic but they worked I suppose. Except for the pineapple one. I, for some reason, get the feeling that me placing the pineapple on the ground accelerated that process of things being wiped out. And by extension possibly obliterating Trice and the other group. We only did notice it coming towards us after the pineapple was put down after all...." Jacob wasn't sure if that wall of nothing had been there before the pineapple had moved into the ground seeing as no one had seen it before then. Which led him to thinking it had all been his fault somehow.

"Ugh.... Anyway.... The keys are probably a symbol of what we're learning and their use might be more apparent later on, once we've figured out more of this mystery. But at the same time, if we can't go anywhere outside, how are we supposed to figure out the rest of the clues? Unless the rest are just here in the building. I do have a pencil still if we need to write down anything important. And a pad of paper. So if anyone wishes to try writing the world back into being be my guest." Jacob pulled both out of his pockets and placed them down on the thinking bench , the pencil on top of the paper pad.

When Tilt mentioned the industrial district was still existing, Jacob got curious, and headed over to the doors to go see it for himself, leaving the keys on the thinking bench for Tilt to take. He looked for the industrial district and saw it, wondering if that was where the others were. Maybe as long as they believed something existed it would? Jacob hoped they could have a way to get back, and wished that a path from that part of the city that still existed to the building could still exist, so the people there could get back, hopefully. It was a long shot but possibly the easiest way for them to get back if the logic of wishing to keep the city intact worked at all.
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The BranRiech
Post Czar
 
Posts: 31391
Founded: Mar 24, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby The BranRiech » Sun Mar 16, 2014 11:58 am

"Oh shit! The airport!"

Bran facepalmed. He didn't get to go there for any of the clues it might have held. He'd never even seen the place. He only knew it by name as he'd helped name it with Swith. It came across in his head though as the ideal airport to him, with arching terminals that looked quite modern, yet still had a rustic feel to them, with laminated wooden floors inside (Spending time in both O'Hare and Madison Regional, Bran never liked the tile and carpet floors of the respectful airports), and he thought the warm colors of wood would be calming for people flying, and inviting for those just getting off their flights.

Parking garages, of course, would have been right across from the terminals, and done in the same modern style as the terminals themselves, which held spaces for a large different amount of planes and an equally large area for passengers. Duty-free shops were in place at strategic areas, and maybe a few restaurants and stuff. Potted plants, and vines reaching from the ceiling down the walls creeped around (But didn't obscure) the myriad of signs and displays telling where to go in an emergency, to the electronic monitors telling what flights were coming and going.

Security, of course, was as expected for most airports in wealthy countries, with Bielefeld's own version of the TSA, or whoever had jurisdiction of that sort of thing.

Across from the runways, on the other side, sat several hangers that were for non-standard maintenance on jetliners that needed them, fully equipped with repair-shops and the like.

Maybe Bran was overthinking it, but combining what he knew about airports, and what he thought would look nice was calming him down.

Hearing Tilt's suggestion of how they could fix things (Possibly?), Bran scrambled for a pen and paper, and ended up finding them on the desk. He took one of the brochure's and started scribbling his ideas, and little crude sketches of what he thought the place to look like.

"Oh!"

He almost forgot, a statue in the center of it all, with four stylized planes arcing their way into the sky, shiny silver was the base of it, and the trails leading up to the planes gradually changing colors of the Bielefeld flag. Two jets were the Blood-red, and the other two were the Yellow of the Eagle. Each had the nation's roundel stamped on the tail as well.

"Welcome to Larry Foulke International Airport" was inscribed on the base of the statue, for anyone driving past to see as they entered.
Last edited by The BranRiech on Sun Mar 16, 2014 12:06 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Cerillium
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Postby Cerillium » Sun Mar 16, 2014 12:18 pm

Ren had become withdrawn. He pressed his palm to the frigid glass and stared out into nothing. They'd lost people. They'd lost Snow, NVE and GT. They'd lost Swith.

At least you won't have to tolerate my parents this summer, funny girl.

It was a harsh thought. She'd bounced her way into his life and become his best friend. What would Morgan say? What would he do with all that knitting crap? He thought about the official document sitting at home on his desk; he was torn between the thought of crumpling it up or else framing it. If they ever got out of here, how would he begin to explain things? He'd need to notify work. He'd need to notify her family. He'd need to tell Jen that one of the Mentors died in a RP. Fuck, that was stupid. No body? No death certificate? No need to hold a ceremony or call his insurance agent. His best friend was dead.

The harsh rapport of his fist striking the glass echoed dully. He hadn't broken through despite his desire to. His forehead pressed against the glass and his eyes closed to block out the shit beyond. He would have given up completely had Turtleboss not nudged his leg. Ren looked down and shoved the thing away before staring out into the bleak again.

"It's back."

He spoke the words before even thinking them through. There, in the distance, was an airport. It simmered and there weren't any planes flying but it was there just as part of the Industrial District was.

"IT'S BACK! The airport's back!" He wheeled and stared at the group. "It just appeared."
Last edited by Cerillium on Sun Mar 16, 2014 12:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby The BranRiech » Sun Mar 16, 2014 12:39 pm

Wait, what?

Bran turned from the desk, just as he was folding the paper and stuffing it in his pocket. He looked towards Ren and his eyes went wide. Out the window, Bran saw it. It . . . Looked exactly how he pictured it, and wrote it down. The boy dashed forward, ending his charge across the room right next to Cer. "Holy shit!" He exclaimed, getting a better look at the place, floating off in the distance.

"Look at this."

He brought out the piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and nearly stuffed it in Ren's face.

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New Aksarben
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Postby New Aksarben » Sun Mar 16, 2014 12:46 pm

"Wait, what?" Jacob said, looking around outside for the airport, and spotting it in the distance. "Oh, wow! What! How did that happen?!" Jacob exclaimed, staring at the area in the distance, wondering just how in hell it had shown back up. It didn't make sense for it to just reappear on its on, did it? No one was writing anything, nothing at all.... " He scratched his chin and thought about this over and over in his head. How would something just reappear like that? Had someone done something? Was someone back in their world redefining things on the thread in their absence? It made no sense, really. Jacob didn't like things that didn't make sense to him, usually. HE likedthings being logical and straightforward.

"....Did anyone do anything that lead to the airport being recreated? Because as Cer just said, it did indeed come back to existence..." Then Bran came up to show Cer something, and Jacob tilted his head in confusion. "What did you do, Bran?"
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Cerillium
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Postby Cerillium » Sun Mar 16, 2014 12:52 pm

The BranRiech wrote:
Wait, what?

Bran turned from the desk, just as he was folding the paper and stuffing it in his pocket. He looked towards Ren and his eyes went wide. Out the window, Bran saw it. It . . . Looked exactly how he pictured it, and wrote it down. The boy dashed forward, ending his charge across the room right next to Cer. "Holy shit!" He exclaimed, getting a better look at the place, floating off in the distance.

"Look at this."

He brought out the piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and nearly stuffed it in Ren's face.

The description matched as far as he could see. He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a pencil. The window glass became a handy writing surface and Ren added the words, "A beautiful highway brings visitors to Larry Foulke International Airport. It stretches in a band around the city, skirting the rivers, from north to south."

He looked out the window and the highway appeared in the distance. A smile emerged on his face. "There are floating elephants above the city". And so there were. Ren quickly erased those last words and they disappeared.

"Bran, you've found the key. A fox running on the ground to lead us. The fennec showing us the doorway towards creation."
Last edited by Cerillium on Sun Mar 16, 2014 12:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Giovenith » Sun Mar 16, 2014 12:55 pm

"In my dream, I was speaking like Pippa-Michelle," Serina threw in, suddenly remembering a part that clicked with the others. "One of the things I said was, 'Make a run for the border.' The rest were mostly Wizard of Oz quotes, but since Pippa's like the Scarecrow, I can expect that. But borders? Airplanes fly over borders."
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Postby Fvaarniimar » Sun Mar 16, 2014 1:20 pm

Fvaar pulled the paper and pen from her bundle.
Now we're back to the beginning-
The girl put pen to paper, and began to hum audibly.
It's just a feeling/ and no-one knows yet. That was very true. Wow, this song was fitting.
Just because/ they can't/ feel it too- Fvaar glanced around and grinned. Whatever happened, they were in this together. Doesn't mean- that you have- to forget.... She returned to the beginning of the song as she continued to write, occasionally improvising, occasionally skipping a word she didn't know, and often switching between soprano and alto ranges. "It started out/as a feeling...". Meanwhile, she described Nick's apartment, which seemed like a good place to start as she had been the one to create it.
Nick's apartment is eight feet wide, thirteen feet long, and thirteen feet high. The walls are made of brick painted the same blue as his eyes. Each brick is nine inches long, and three tall, and three wide. At the edges corners of walls, bricks poke out 2/3 of their length from either side, alternating.

Her voice rose when she heard Cer state that the airport had returned. It's working! We're doing it! "-ttle cryyy, YOU'LL COME BAACK WHEN MMM CAAALLL ME, NO NEED TO SAY/ GOODBYE!
The floor is made of vinyl, in apple green. Six inches from the back and side walls, there is a mattress. It is seven feet square, six inches tall, and has a turquoise fleece cover. There are smaller, pillow-like pads on the mattress, stacked one on top of the other in the far left corner. Each is two 3 inches high, and 3.5, 1.75, 0.875, and 0.4375 feet square respectively. The door is a standard door made of wood. It has two pull rings which function as doorknobs, one on each side of the door, as well as a deadbolt lock, in addition to two doorknobs at standard height. All of these fixtures are made of brass-

Fvaar smirked as she sang, causing her tone to brighten.
that, with the exception of the top knob on the outer door, has been coated with chartreuse enamel. The inner workings of the locks are exceptions to this rule as well.

There is a hollow in the right wall about two feet off the floor; it is one foot in width and two in height. It is not connected to any passageway. It holds a life-size statue of Nick on a pedestal, made by Tsanis out of sand.

There are myriad passageways within the walls themselves. Additionally, there are two entrances. The first is one foot square, and a short tunnel leads to a tiny bedchamber lined with-

Fvaar paused. This would be a smart time to take care with her wording, as she was wearing a blanket from that location.
- multiple blue and green blankets. The bedchamber is one foot tall and long, and six inches wide. This is located three feet off the ground in the center of the left wall; the entrance is two feet off the ground and a foot from the back wall.

The second is three inches off of the ground, also a foot square, and located on the right wall a foot from the front wall. There is a steep passage leading from it to a litter tray which magically self-cleans when not in use. The latter is eight feet off the ground and also in the center of the wall.
The ceiling is also brick and also holds passages. All of the passages are interconnected. Size varies slightly.


The girl jumped up and hugged the others tightly as she saw Cer playing with the fabric of, well existence.

What should I create?

Regina Specktor- "The Call"
Last edited by Fvaarniimar on Sun Mar 16, 2014 1:25 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Postby Cerillium » Sun Mar 16, 2014 1:36 pm

Swith and GT and everyone in the car is alive. And on a road. The highway. It leads to the Industrial District and to the Observatory. Bielefeld Observatory sits high atop Cerillium hill. It is open to the public but those interested in using the facilities for research must pay for time on the telescope. Run by Tech-Priests (moi), it also provides the city with accurate weather reports. Tours available on request.

Deep within the Observatory is a warren of tunnels and caves which house everything tech priests from all eras need. Steam punk, diesel punk, modern and beyond. There are tunnels which run under the city and lead to vital areas. The security systems are still in place and Drone proof.


Ren licked the pencil tip. Old habit. He was recreating the wheel at this point. But what next?

Cerillium Hill is a forested area that sits off the ocean. It has fields for planting what the Brotherhood needs. It has a small park where school children can play when they come for field trips. There's a garage and shipping dock. But the road (and inner tunnels) lead down the the Industrial District and the docks. These allow shipments to travel out into the ocean or along the river to the rail yards.


Ren slid the paper to the side and smiled at the green hill in the distance.

The ocean is vast and beautiful, like the brooding oceans back home. There are fishing vessels and yachts, private vessels and skiffs. There is a marina right off the Industrial District where people house their boats. And Sig has a boatyard there. A largish one. The priests provide the wood for free.





In the distance, but still unseen by naked eyes, the Opel settled onto a highway and gravity returned. The road seemed brand new and didn't seem to lead anywhere concrete yet. Trice blinked and looked at those around her.

"What the hell?"

Things were beginning to appear around them.
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There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

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Postby The BranRiech » Sun Mar 16, 2014 1:53 pm

"I . . . I just wrote down what the airport should look like . . ." Bran stammered wildly. Holy shit! They really did have the power of gods here, well, maybe. What if he wanted to change someone's appearance? The possibilities were endless! He chuckled. "So could I, like, change how someone looks?" He grinned, just adding some humor to the situation, maybe they could mess around with something too, after this was over? No, they had lives to get back to.

"I didn't mean to, but I certainly won't complain." He smiled. "But, what about the others? If we write them back into existence, won't they simply be part of the RP, and not real, like us?"

Again, more overthinking, courtesy of Bran.

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Postby Mincaldenteans » Sun Mar 16, 2014 2:03 pm

Min tapped at the piece of paper with a pen he got from the front desk. The opportunity to create something was always exciting, but given a time crunch of impending doom didn't exactly coax his imagination. With his left fingers twirling the pen, and chewing upon his lower lip staring blankly at the paper, he found his 'reminder' and with it the inspiration. He began writing (the first few words made him cringe at how sloppy his penmanship had gotten):

Haven had been confined to a building that didn't seem fit with the nature and purpose of it. Dan had struggled long and hard to get the place more in line with nature, but concrete had little to do with trees, leaves, the soft feel of soil beneath one's feet. Instead it had everything to do with machines, industry, cold hard surfaces. Haven would only suffer as a consequence of forcing a mesh between the two. And so it would change, in this moment rare to any mortal with the power of creation, given this small moment to remake that which would have been... stuck. Haven would turn into a park; it wouldn't be huge, only slightly larger than the building it once was and took a respectable amount of space to be able to carry out its purpose. And with it Summer would bestow upon the park a portion of its own essence instead of complicated enchantments that was a poor imitation in comparison.

Haven was now a circular park with different trees that dotted the park and represented all that Summer held dear. Birch for renewal and youth, Rowan for protection and expression, Alder for passion, Willow for imagination and vision, Ash for wisdom, Apple for beauty & love, and Aspen for transformation and finally Yew for illusion and passage. Each tree had more meaning, but these were its core. A stream would run through, cutting the park in three uneven parts and bordered some trees on purpose. At the center was cut from the rest of the park, a circular moat that joined the rest by three small bridges; each base of these bridges had distinctive trees on each side. One with Hazel, one of Vine, and the last of Heather. At the center of this park stood one large, old Oak tree, the representation of strength and stability. Here, people would congregate and seek the aid they needed before moving off to one of the park sections. Furniture of soft pillows, couches and chairs were placed at the center with small tables to complete the facade.

Enchantments were still placed to separate the two vastly different worlds. While Summer had the power to make things happen in the park, it would not interfere with the world outside it, and only the Summer Queen (or beings more powerful) had the power to strip the enchantment. The magic of the Summer lands stopped at the border of the park; Dan's own powers as a Fae would still be at his call outside it, but the effects and magnification of his powers because of Summer would stop as soon as he left the park also. It was done, the park would look like a circular green dot from high above the city. On the ground it was a mélange of greens, oranges, browns and yellows.



Min wasn't done but he hoped it was enough that Haven would come to life, so to speak.
Last edited by Mincaldenteans on Sun Mar 16, 2014 8:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Tiltjuice » Sun Mar 16, 2014 3:00 pm

Mincaldenteans wrote:
Min tapped at the piece of paper with a pen he got from the front desk. The opportunity to create something was always exciting, but given a time crunch of impending doom didn't exactly coax his imagination. With his left fingers twirling the pen, and chewing upon his lower lip staring blankly at the paper, he found his 'reminder' and with it the inspiration. He began writing (the first few words made him cringe at how sloppy his penmanship had gotten):

Haven had been confined to a building that didn't seem fit with the nature and purpose of it. Dan had struggled long and hard to get the place more in line with nature, but concrete had little to do with trees, leaves, the soft feel of soil beneath one's feet. Instead it had everything to do with machines, industry, cold hard surfaces. Haven would only suffer as a consequence of forcing a mesh between the two. And so it would change, in this moment rare to any mortal with the power of creation, given this small moment to remake that which would have been... stuck. Haven would turn into a park; it wouldn't be huge, only slightly larger than the building it once was and took a respectable amount of space to be able to carry out its purpose. And with it Summer would bestow upon the park a portion of its own essence instead of complicated enchantments that was a poor imitation in comparison.

Haven was now a circular park with different trees that dotted the park and represented all that Summer held dear. Birch for renewal and youth, Rowan for protection and expression, Alder for passion, Willow for imagination and vision, Ash for wisdom, Apple for beauty & love, and Aspen for transformation and finally Yew for illusion and passage. Each tree had more meaning, but these were its core. A stream would run through, cutting the park in three uneven parts and bordered some trees on purpose. At the center was cut from the rest of the park, a circular moat that joined the rest by three small bridges; each base of these bridges had distinctive trees on each side. One with Hazel, one of Vine, and the last of Heather. At the center of this park stood one large, old Oak tree, the representation of strength and stability. Here, people would congregate and seek the aid they needed before moving off to one of the park sections. Furniture of soft pillows, couches and chairs were placed at the center with small tables to complete the facade.

Enchantments were still placed to separate the two vastly different worlds. While Summer had the power to make things happen in the park, it would not interfere with the world outside it, and only the Summer Queen (or beings more powerful) had the power to strip the enchantment. The magic of the Summer lands stopped at the border of the park; Dan's own powers as a Fae would still be at his call outside it, but the effects and magnification of his powers because of Summer would stop as soon as he left the park also. It was done, the park would look like a circular green dot from high above the city. On the ground it was a mélange of greens, oranges, browns and yellows.



Min wasn't done but he hoped it was enough that Haven would come to life, so to speak.


And so it was. The natural paradise popped into existence in the middle of Downtown; though the park stood out all the more clearly as it was the lone place in existence amidst a field of blank nothingness. A single patch of green that magnified into other colors - and shades of colors - as one got closer.

Elsewhere, Tilt was also hard at work with a pen and paper of his own.

A long, narrow arch-covered T-junction led out to the open-air fish market. The smell of Malaysian food filled the air, and a few restaurant workers could be seen in their respective establishment places, climbing over and around the tanks with nets to scoop out fish or shellfish at the customers' desire. There were also other, more Western establishments on the other side of the passageway, such as Steve's Fish and Chips, as well as an authentic homemade gelato place run by an immigrant who'd married a local, tucked away further down the block. The sunlight hit the flagstoned pavement; it was a blend of cultures.

Trees lined the sidewalk in square planter boxes in front, with two-foot-high posts linked by heavy chains. Further out by the docks area, several medium-sized fishing boats rocked at their waterfront moorings.
Last edited by Tiltjuice on Sun Mar 16, 2014 4:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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New Aksarben
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Postby New Aksarben » Sun Mar 16, 2014 3:52 pm

Jake went back to the thinking bench and started writing, trying to focus on parts of the city not yet described by the others in detail. His mind settled on the agricultural district. The part of the city the most like home, but at the same time not.

The agricultural district has gently rolling hills,stretching on beyond the city proper for miles upon miles. It starts shortly after the forest south of the building and Lake Pearlelei, with the trees of the forest giving way to plowed fields and crops cresting the hills of the district.

Due to of being near the beginning of spring and end of winter, the fields are mostly barren. Some have already begun go be tilled and down, using the most modern methods available to the people of Bielefeld. In a few months the crops would be grown, golden and green and all the other colors of the things that could be cultivated in the European climate, from potatoes to corn, and from wheat to apples.

Every so often there were ranches, where domesticated animals roamed in comfortable enclosures and bedded down in stables during the winter and out in the fields when the weather was kinder. They were fed and watered well and there were rarely any cases of animal abuse brought up by environmentalist groups. Chickens clucked, cows mooed, and various other animals made various other noises as they lived out in the fields happily.

Roads criss-crossed the district, allowing foot and vehicle traffic around the area. Trucks, tractors, combines, and all other matter of farm machinery would be trundling along the roads, especially during planting and harvest seasons. The main, paved roads cut through the ag district on a curve, leading north towards the forest and outer city, and westwards towards the military installations just outside of the city of Bielefeld. Other paved roads would lead to little houses and clusters of buildings.

Those littlr clusters were the homes of farmers and their families. They would drive into the city for school and other things that they lacked out in the farmlands. Like the city dwellers they were a nice lot, and had the same comfort level with the odd things that tended to show up. Their houses were usually part of the land they farmed, reminiscent of rural America or rural anywhere.


Tucked away in In the agricultural district was a very peculiar sight. A farm owned by the FCA, a business from Aksarben that specialized in food production and was known for providing food for the colonies of Aksarben in particular. It had set up a branch in Bielefeld on the interest of expanding their business into completely new markets. That of another universe. They have yet to expand beyond Bielefeld, however. They produce a wide variety of foods, and also deal with the canning and packaging using technology from their own universe.

At least, that's the story told on the surface.

In reality, the Foods Conglomerate of Aksarben is indirectly an extension of the Aksarbenite government. Its a cover for a secret organization very few are privy to, even in the upper echelons of government. Only the highest even know that its existence is fact. And not just some silly rumors.

That organization is the Aksarben Containment Foundation. An alternate(speaking from the originals point of view) version of the SCP Foundation, the ACF was created following the capture of a few cities that held the remants of some SCP foundation facilities. Upon their discovery Aksarben absorbed the Foundation and created its own version with a slightly different mission: to use the benefits of the objects to advance humanity and Aksarben in particular.

The facilities entrance is secret one, contained within a shed within the FCA's property. It leads to moderate sized hidden facility underneath that contains some of the SCP objects, including some of the most dangerous ones, in an attempt to get them out of the universe to protect humanity and civilization. These facilities are officially storage for the FCA's products and production for certain kinds of foods, along with a cannery. While the storage part is correct, what they store is much more dangerous than any food could be. Unless you have an allergy of course.


Jacob scratchec his head. "Should be good, I'd think." He muttered, glancing outside to hopefully see the farms and other things of the ag district appearing, including the ACF. He scribbled down a few doodles and descriptions of that facility while he waited, wanting to make sure it was safe for now.
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Mincaldenteans
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Ex-Nation

Postby Mincaldenteans » Sun Mar 16, 2014 4:01 pm

Tiltjuice wrote:
And so it was. The natural paradise popped into existence in the middle of Downtown; though the park stood out all the more clearly as it was the lone place in existence amidst a field of blank nothingness. A single patch of green that magnified into other colors - and shades of colors - as one got closer.

Elsewhere, Tilt was also hard at work with a pen and paper of his own.

A long, narrow arch-covered T-junction led out to the open-air fish market. The smell of Malaysian food filled the air, and a few restaurant workers could be seen in their respective establishment places, climbing over and around the tanks with nets to scoop out fish or shellfish at the customers' desire. There were also other, more Western establishments on the other side of the passageway, such as Steve's Fish and Chips, as well as an authentic homemade gelato place run by an immigrant who'd married a local, tucked away further down the block.


Min walked over to Tilt and sat by the guy, "I think I've scrambled my brain a bit rushing for Haven. I saw the airport, that's something! I'm hesitant to see if Haven came to be, kind of like not wanting to be disappointed at the edge of nonexistence, y'know?," he said with a smirk and shook his head to deter his fears and worries from taking over. "What'cha writing on? Need any help?"

Tilt responded by silently, showing Min the paragraph that he had worked on. Tilting his own head, he read quickly and perked an eyebrow, remembering the Malaysian food he had picked up when they were there. Mind if I...?" Min trailed off to which Tilt simply nodded and Min took the paper to add a few more details, all of it could be sorted out later, but Min would try to transition it as best he could:

A hobbled dock of varied retails, cultures and ethnicity; the Fish Market was a confluence of all that and more. Portions of the Fish Market reminded Min of the Fishmerman's Wharf in San Francisco, stretching and mingling with influences of Hong Kong and Singapore wet markets and food courts. There was also an equal mix of smells; the sea, the fresh catches of the day, and the many foods that permeated in the air, fat with the promise of a culinary delight to their eager patrons. The food courts themselves were an odd mix, and while most served seafood in keeping to their location, there were quite a few that offered something else, like the hanging pieces of roasted pork, duck and chicken. Or the outlet that served only fresh breads and coffee. There was even a few souvenir shops that dotted the area and a small, and a quaint museum that documented the Fish Market's proud history, the museum could be reached by ferry; a nominal fee covered the quick hop and entry fee to the museum. The Fish Market wasn't busy at this time of hour, but given an celebration, the area could be packed tighter than a can of sardines.
Last edited by Mincaldenteans on Mon Mar 17, 2014 11:52 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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Cerillium
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Founded: Oct 27, 2012
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Postby Cerillium » Sun Mar 16, 2014 4:16 pm

Trice rubbed her sleeve on the Opel's side window. Their collective body heat had caused condensation to form on the glass. "I don't understand. There was a wall, and then there was nothing but then there was something. It's as if someone hit a reset button."

The Opel's door cracked open and she stepped outside. It was a Twilight Zone moment: no wind, no sound, just empty nothingness with dots of reality thrown in. It was creepy but beautiful. She bent down to peer back into the car. "What's the last thing any of you remember about the town? I mean, other than sights streaking by? G-Man, you were on your lonesome. Did you visit anyplace or were you going to visit someplace?"

The airport in the distance seemed like something Bran would create. It had an Ace Combat feel to it, yet was unique from it. "Do you suppose the others are out there doing this?" It had never crossed her mind that anything had happened to them. They were probably floating around in nothing just like her group had. But still, how? She thought she'd have to somehow log in to a computer and access a web site. Yet here things were. Written somehow? Fashioned with thought?
Last edited by Cerillium on Sun Mar 16, 2014 4:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

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