Personification Life: EPIC (IC Thread XI) [CLOSED]

[Northwest Slobovia]

The sound of Maghrl hitting the floor behind her caught Amanda by surprise. Even though she was growing used to the essential oddness of being around other Residents, she flinched and jerked her head around to see what had happened. The purple Jedi seemed to unharmed, but she wondered how he got--

He glanced between the two, Drova and Myra. "First Force-Sensitive Mag met not from home dimension! Koovy koovy koovy!"

She looked over at the prince. Force sensitive, eh? She filed that away to mention to Sandy; his message said he'd been wondering about getting the fliers they had organized into some sort of larger force, now that he thought they had a core to build around. She returned to thinking about Drova. Perhaps this is why Demens wanted him: an exotic warrior, not a king. That made some sort of sense, to the extent she credited Demens with having any particular ideas in mind for the people he chose. Amanda tended to think of him as an old man at a flea market, picking up curious-looking tools in the hope that they'd be useful someday.

Amanda turned back to the table, but found that the distraction had cost her all the conversational threads. What had they been talking about? Oh, right: Nivea had been saying something.

"I have a feeling that the majority of the people from your dimension were probably far more advance than what my own people could possibly ever dream to imagine. But this crossbow is probably the best my people could've come up with besides something that used fire."

Amanda studied her weapon, but that told her little: it was just a crossbow, long since supplanted by the gun. Nivea was probably right that wasn't very useful to them. No, wait: not useful in straight-up, no-holds-barred fighting. She gently touched the Nevidian's forearm with her fingertips. "In terms of brute force, there are much better weapons; better than I carry, and I think even better than Thaddeus has."

"But not everything we'll have to do calls for brute force. Sandy's group left most of their equipment here, because they need to blend in where and when they went. There will doubtless be similar circumstances in the future."

[Saldinado]

Hearing her say that she didn't understand him, Henry deadpanned slightly and shook his head, softly sighing. It seemed that others weren't really in tuned with his own type of thinking. Perhaps it was a specialty of his that only himself knew what he was talking about. But hearing the change of topic, Henry looked up at her and listened to her speak. So it seemed that there was some special meaning to the question that she asked preciously.
Nodding in agreement he smiled faintly. "Well yes. Your first one will always be a special one." Was that a subtle hint for an innuendo? Or perhaps he was honest about the situation? Well that was up to interpretation. However before he or in fact anyone could really answer that, the sudden throwing of bodies around the room and the crashing on the floor completely took the young man off guard, causing him to let out a little scream and jump like a cat being scared by the crashing of a pot on the ground. His heart was racing and his breathing became a little more heavier as he turned to see the cause of the disruption. Seeing that it was one of the other residents, he chuckled slightly mainly at himself for being startled in such a manner and coughed awkwardly with a small pink hue creeping upon his cheeks from embarrassment for his actions in front of everyone and tried to play it off by looking at the cap that was flown off by the one in the chair who was also in such a chaotic state and landed near him.

Deciding that perhaps this could be a good time to play it off Henry walked over to pick up the hat from the ground and walked over to where the one name "Drova" was stationed and held out his hand, revealing to them their cap and shyly smiled at them, their face still flushed with a pink hue. "Um, excuse me, but I think that this is yours." He simply said now sounding more control of his voice yet his body said otherwise as it was still reacting to the previous events.

[The Arthurian Isles]

Eyes opened wide without blinking, almost manic with terror. His whole body started, arms suddenly thrashing around for support and head twisting to regain its orientation. He sat upright like a bolt and from his mouth came something of a cross between a scream and a roar. It was the first time he had ever heard himself emit such a sound and the shock brought him back under control. His fit ended and he sat in confused silence. The only movement was the heaving of his chest and the unceasing flickering of his eyes as they scanned wherever it was that he had appeared.

Steingrímur, who had arrived in so peaceful a slumber, had made quite the scene. He had thought for a moment that he might have fallen through the deck of the ship, into one of the cabins perhaps, but that fantasy was put to rest the moment his brain had had time to process its new surroundings. This place was no sea-going vessel; he was conscious of the firmness of the ground on which he rested and the sturdiness of the building around him. It reminded him of a hotel he had visited on one of his first journeys outside of Arthuria, to a tea plantation in Varisea. He was sitting on a parquet floor, it appeared, and the rest of the room was decked in light woods up to halfway when unadorned stone took its place. The similarities to his old memories were striking – uncanny, even.

Only once he had registered this environment did he notice a gentleman, dressed in some grey uniform which he had not seen before, crouching over him.

“After you sign your lease, we'll get you some coffee, ja?”

Steingrímur tilted his head in both bemusement and wonder, looking the man straight in the eyes and yet not fully acknowledging of him. His only thought was that if this is heaven, they ought to have tea. After a few seconds of blank staring, he turned to his other side. He saw a woman lying on the floor close by. She was damp. He did not seem to be any more surprised by this than he was of the man in the grey uniform. His reaction was the same – he simply stared for a few moments.

And then, without a word, Steingrímur pushed himself onto his feet and stood to his full height, his back straight and – to his immediate notice – free from any pain. He continued his survey of the room, looking up and down and all around until he had turned fully behind him and was now facing a great window streaming sunlight. This window, more than anything else, had an effect on Steingrímur. His mouth, which had hitherto been askew in a constant sign of confusion, closed tight. It curled up slightly on one side, the very smallest hint of a smile. Slowly and with a careful tread, Steingrímur moved towards it, taking care to step around the woman sleeping beneath the chandelier. Each step closer that he took, he raised his arm slightly until he was reaching out towards the world beyond. He stopped as his fingers touched the window pane, and stood there in blissful silence for a brief eternity.

The outdoors seemed to draw him, and he to take strength from it. It was as though he was seeing some long-lost love after years of separation. For the first time since he had woken his eyes seemed focused, their detached stare replaced with an intensity that enticed rather than repelled. It was a scene whose tranquillity belied a strange sadness within which could not be explained by Steingrímur but yet which permeated even happy moments like this one…

And then the smile vanished. His brows furrowed as if in anger and his arm snapped down to his side. He looked over his shoulder, not quite able to catch Volker’s eyes but addressing him directly with that deep, searching voice of his. The Arthurian accent lay heavy; somehow it was both biting and melodic.

“What is this place?”

He turned fully so that he was now facing Volker. Perhaps he intended a closer interrogation, but in spite of any intentions his expression seemed to change in a flash of realisation, as though an unwelcome memory had returned. The angry confusion fell away to be replaced by an almost desperate fear. He spoke again, not waiting for an answer to his previous question, and this time there was an urgency to his tone.

“Where is the rest of the crew?”

[Mincaldenteans]

Akagi Sakurako

Akagi, who had been eating to her heats content heard the music and didn't seem to mind. The food was amazing and was arguably, the best curry rice she had ever put in her mouth. She was slowly going into a daze from just eating, being unresponsive to her surroundings and becoming the prisoner of something as measly as food. Her daze was snapped when she had finished her meal which was, out of proportion to what a human usually eats. She started to look around, no longer hungry but also not full yet and thought about getting seconds. She had decided, and in mere seconds, she stood up and took her empty plate. She ran into the Ostrich she had met earlier and was nervous, "Oh um...sorry for earlier. I'm Sakurako Akagi pleased to meet you." She said bowing respectfully and awaiting his response.

Still among the residents in the dining room, but situated so as to not be in the way or glaringly in the middle of the room, Colonel Fluffy gestured with his left wingtip to the free seat at the table he had reserved for himself. "Quite understandable, my dear, not to fret. This is Cuisine," he gestured to the tall figure standing by Fluffy with his other wing, "Chef Extraordinaire. Please, have a seat, perhaps you can tell us a little about yourself? Where did you come from?"

Folding a large napkin under his collar, Fluffly settled onto the floor; no seat would be comfortable given his long legs as he'd tower over everyone and his meal. Instead, he bent his legs and settled on the floor, it wasn't too cold surprisingly and his head was high enough to be at conversational level. His wings were flexible enough that he could pick a slider off his plate and began pecking at it. The beetles were scrumptious; Fluffy added another question, "What did you do before you were plucked?"

[Chedastan]

Dining Room

Nivea had likewise been distracted momentarily too by Maghrl suddenly hitting the floor, and she was curious now about what him and the other Residents over there were doing. Her attention was quickly refocused though as Amanda then spoke to her and gently touched her forearm, she listened to Amanda intently as she explained to her that having brute force and a good weapon didn't necessarily mean anything depending on the circumstances.

The courier could certainly understand what the Lawyer was talking about, as it wasn't like they would be always heading into a fierce fight or be in a dire situation that needed some kind of ultimate weapon to save the day, every circumstance was special in its own way. And she could relate in a sense, as a lot of the courier jobs she had ever partaken in had something going for them that either complicated things, or alternatively just made them way more interesting than anything that would be otherwise considered normal to her. But still though, she felt it wouldn't hurt for her to at least have a weapon on her that was competent enough for her to wield if the situation called for it.

"I understand, Amanda. But I'm only concerned that what I have with me might not be entirely up the scratch to whatever it is we might face, if the circumstances call for such of course. I just don't want to risk becoming a burden because my equipment was merely out of place, if you get what I mean." She explained to Amanda, but then remembered that she herself was probably out of place already.

"But then again, who am I to say that? I'm a courier, not a soldier, I don't even know why that crossbow was even in my room! But then again it was in my room anyway, and I did come here after killing those two inquisitors after all." She then added, realizing that she probably couldn't really make any kind of judgement calls on even herself. Because could she even be sure of herself anymore? As she was almost certain a few days ago that she wouldn't have been able to bring herself to murder a fellow Nevidian, but here she was after she ended killing not one, but two of them!

She could only wonder now about how much more she'll be able to make herself do that she wouldn't had even thought possible for herself before. But was there even such a limit for her though? She was in a completely new world after all, having met tons of new and strange folk already, she was literally living out a fantasy epic at this point. So why should she ever sell herself out short?

[Cerillium]

LOBBY

Volker's smile unhitched at the corners as his eyes skimmed the paper slip hidden behind the desk's high counter. Here was the part of the job he most loathed. There wasn't any kind way to break bad news and he, a being fueled by the flickering emotions radiating off people, often found himself with an unwanted mouthful of the inner turmoil such tidings carried with them. He had no way of knowing the rules had been broken by Will.

"I'm truly sorry, Steingrímur, but your colleagues and the crew perished when the ship sank," Volker's brows knitted together in concern. "You were fated to die in that same storm. Instead, Mr Demens brought you here, to a dimension far removed from your own. You are considered one of his Chosen now."

The intercom crackled and a new voice echoed through the Building. "Attention, please. If you have not already gathered for the Residents' meeting, we will find you and drag you there. Chop, chop, people!"

"Damn." Volker felt it was hardly fair to Steingrímur. He would need time to process these changes, and the losses. Every man deserved a quiet moment in which to collect his thoughts after sad revelations. "We'll need to move upstairs. I'll bring your lease papers with me."

The door marked 'Chaos Quarters' swung open to reveal Rudolph once more. The German's Nazi uniform was gone. Attired in sleek and altogether modern uniform, he was nearly unrecognizable to Volker. "Don't ask," he advised his companion as he approached the desk. "See Will later."

Rudolph paused next to Steingrímur. "Come along with me, friend. You've had a rough time already. The meeting won't take long, and I could use a warm cup of tea myself."

Volker blinked as two more of Klaus' men materialized from the shadows. They, too, were clad in the same uniform. It left him wondering if he'd missed an interdepartmental memo. Wordlessly, they approached the soggy woman.

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

LOBBY
---------------------
Tsu awoken once she became a soggy mess. She groaned with displeasure at the fact she was wet. Using her blade, she helped herself onto her feet and placed a hand on her head. A Sense of Deja Vu washed over her...she felt like she's been here before on multiple occasions but couldn't put a finger on it. This apartment could use a fixing if there is random leaks of wet falling on their guests, whenever it came from.

Nonetheless, Tsu had to find out where she was, She turned to Volker whom she didnt hear what he had said, she opened her mouth to speak and a thick German accent accompained a soft and peaceful voice. "Excuse me sir, but where am i? Last that i remember is that i was in my home playing a game...and then...boom, i'm here.." Tsu looked over her body, seeing she was still wet. Her armor didn't need to be washed by she got one for free. "And do you happen to have a towl? I don't think its very good management to have knocked-out people in your lobby...nor...wait...is this sea water...it smells like it."

Tsu walked up to the the desk and stared at Volker, she saw there was a other person just as confused as her and then, there was the voice over the coms, a residents meeting? But she wasn't even a Resident...yet..but she figured she might as well and attend...seeing how there threatening to drag people there. Tsu sighed to herself, what kind of mess was she about to get into, and what was this talk about lease papers?

[Northwest Slobovia]

"I understand, Amanda. But I'm only concerned that what I have with me might not be entirely up the scratch to whatever it is we might face, if the circumstances call for such of course. I just don't want to risk becoming a burden because my equipment was merely out of place, if you get what I mean." She explained to Amanda, but then remembered that she herself was probably out of place already.

"But then again, who am I to say that? I'm a courier, not a soldier, I don't even know why that crossbow was even in my room! But then again it was in my room anyway, and I did come here after killing those two inquisitors after all."

Amanda started to exclaim, "You kill--!" but she caught herself, closing her mouth swiftly. Nivea already explained that: a government slipping into tyrrany with the trappings of theocracy. She nodded with face tight. "Few governments govern well."

Switching gears, she addressed the courier's other concern. "I wouldn't be concerned about weapony", she assured Nivea, opening her jacket to show her holstered Walther. "My own gun is considered a perfectly adequate concealed weapon in my world, but there are many people here who have more advanced weapons. Maghrl has a sword made out of light. I can't even figure out how that might be possible. It's well beyond my world's science, yet it's an ancient weapon where he's from." Amanda shook her head: in truth, she didn't really understand the most advanced technology of her day.

She brightened. "But much of what we'll need to do doesn't require slugging it out on the battlefield. We'll need to learn more about the other side, for example. I'd like to help with that, even though I'll have to learn an entirely new skillset. But needs must, and I have own uses for those those sorts of talents." She briefly defocused as she thought of Ascalon, but returned her gaze to Nivea's face soon enough.

[Torrocca]

"Right, of course," Hectaros replied, hastily grasping and donning a simple brown shirt that was hung on a nearby wall. "I doubt they'd be in the best of spirits if we dared arrive late, eh?" He took the apartment door's key from his pocket and opened the door, stopping just outside the apartment. "Ah, I must apologize. We've spent more than enough time talking about myself," he said, holding the door open and waiting for Naomi to follow, "and curiosity has gotten the best of me; tell me, Naomi, of your story."

[Cerillium]

LOBBY

One of the black-uniformed Germans paused beside Tsu. "New, Ja?"

His companion nodded. "Replacement Tsu, alternate dimension maybe? She was the mid-morning for Leopold's team."

Made sense, at least to them.

"Okay, sign your lease, Tsu. We'll bring you upstairs with us, ja? Answer all your questions there. Or maybe you stop by your new apartment and change clothes. We'll wait for you in the hall."

Unlike Volker, they didn't know the circumstances leading up to her arrival at the Building. She may have been like most others - snatched a moment before her death. Or she may have simply been snatched to replace the Tsu that had returned to her own dimension not too long ago.

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

Lobby
---------------------------

Tsu blinked, there was other version of her that had arrived here at one point and most importantly what was this version of herself? Tsu sighed and did what was asked of her, She signed the lease for the paper. She looked at the Germans, this only brought more confusion upon her.

"..So other me existed here before...Is that why i feel Deja Vu? Is it like space or time is trying to force the memories of that Tsu upon me and they're just not snapping in place? But why me and not the other? Did she die?" Tsu had so many questions to ask but figured they'd be answered soon enough and went upstairs to find her way to the meeting, too bad unlike the previously mentioned version of herself, she had no idea where to go and waited at the top of the stairs, a bit confused where to go.

[Stormwrath]

Building

Time seemed to pass by as quickly as it did from her bed. The space-themed chandelier turned slowly at the delicate push of the wind, the pieces clanking like a chime. No one seemed to bother turning the lights on even as the afternoon grew ever dimmer. Macy hadn't moved a single joint all day—she just lay there with her arms and legs spread out. Gone was the usual cheery mood that she wore every day, glazed over by an impassive face. Her eyes were staring at the ceiling, but she wasn't memorizing the bumps and ridges on its surface, nor was she paying attention to the subtle motions of the tiny rocket, moon, and flying saucer.

Again and again she played the scenes on the Island on her HUD, going through everything that she had experienced—the leviathan, her abduction by magic tribesmen, the lifeless body of Tora stuffed in a body bag as her sister mourned over it, the panic that seized everyone as twilight was approaching. The more the footage kept playing, the more she felt guilty for herself. In all of these scenes, she couldn't do anything. No, she didn't do anything. The only role she seemed to play was the bystander, watching everyone else risk their lives for her sake.

Was Macy being a burden to Marcus, Gio, Nivea, Katya, Minerva, and the others? Had she developed a habit of getting herself in trouble in order to have someone else come and save her? Was she really this pitiful?

"May I have your attention please? Meeting. Dining room. Gravitate to this area and find a seat. Thank you."

Indifferent to the god-awful music that started playing on the intercom, Macy just took one glance at her bedside clock and slowly got up. Well, if it's that important then I should be going. She went over to her closet changed out of her pajamas into her hooded shirt and mini-shorts. For a change she decided to tie her hair in a neat ponytail.

The music continued to play as she made her way down to the Dining Room. It may not be best to question their choice of music, she supposed—after all, it technically was still the Holidays, right?

Most of the Residents were already there once she arrived, many of them in their own little conversations with each other. There were some of them that she knew of, and others that she really didn't, but they were here. As she was about to slip into a seat, she noticed that there was a certain cardboard Resident that had very volumnous hair—or you know, just oversimplified cutouts of hair, however the fuck that's supposed to work. Anyway, she figured that she'd take a seat next to it and strike up something to pass the time. "Ummm," she tried to ask politely to the two-dimensional figure, "you don't mind if I..."

The cardboard twisted its top third to face the robot. "Oh! Macy!" she greeted with a big smile across her face. "You've finally arrived."

She was left astonished. This wasn't just some random cutout of some random person here, it was her. A Paper Macy, so to speak. "You're... me?"

"Yes," Paper Macy bowed and got off her seat. "I was supposed to take your place at the meeting in case you aren't going to make it in time. But since you have already, my work here is done."

The real Macy was quick to refuse. "Nonononono, you can just stay here. That way you can also know of what's going to happen."

"Don't worry about it," she assured her. "I'm magic, so I'll know about everything eventually. Maybe, ummm... I'm not very sure how cutouts get information, but I'm sure it'll involve magic."

Macy finally conceded to her counterpart's answer. "Ummm, okay. I'll see you later then." Once the android took her seat, Paper Macy began to hop out of the room. Macy wished that she could continue to smile as her flat version was, though it is in the writer's opinion that perhaps the cutout was incapable of showing more rounded traits.

[Chedastan]

Dining Room

Nivea was just as startled as Amanda was when she nearly exclaimed at her over the Inquisitors she had killed, which ironically would've actually been the reasonable response that any normal person would make if they heard that. But Nivea nearly wanted to curse herself afterwards for making the assumption that everyone in the Building had the same attitude towards her troubled past as Marcus and Giovenith, she figured now she should've been more careful to reveal that information, or at least have added some more context after she mentioned what had happened. But of course she was still reluctant to look back and recall the gruesome details that had transpired on that fateful morning two days ago.

The courier breathed a sigh of relief though when it appeared that Amanda wasn't going to judge her for it, as if she had already understood why. Still though, she felt it was still necessary to explain to her what exactly happened so that she at least had some clear understanding and didn't get the wrong idea for her. She then eyed the holstered pistol that Amanda then showed her, and began to wondered briefly if a 'gun' was any different to a 'rifle.' Seeing how the 'gun' that Amanda shown to her could fit in a little holster, while a 'rifle' she saw previously had to be carried around, she figured it must be a size difference of sorts.

She then listened to Amanda some more as she explained that being on a battlefield wasn't what the Building was all about, which was a funny prospect already to Nivea as she doubted she'll be even able to tell what would even constitute as a battlefield to begin with, given that Nevidian Civilization wasn't known to have many, if any wars at all. But she could at least say for certain if she was in a riot or not, as those started happening more often in the three years or so in her city.

She then remembered that Amanda was still talking to her, which prompted her to refocused on her. "Oh okay, I think I get you now. As I can't imagine a place like this wouldn't have all sorts of things being worked on in the background to keep things going and from falling apart. That aspect would make a lot of sense, and I can see the roles needed too to keep this machine going. I'm hoping I'll be able to help with that too, in someway." She then said to Amanda, only thinking she managed to catch some of the important parts that she was trying to explain the courier.

She then felt more somber and sighed again. "About those two Inquisitors I murdered, I killed them because I knew without a doubt that they too would've killed me anyway for just the trouble of having to stop me. You see, I was delivering a package just two days ago, and I thought it was a perfectly reasonable and safe contract to accept, but for reasons I will never learn about, the Inquisition must've wanted whatever the package was really badly, and so they stopped me and--" She paused and started to vividly remembered the dead pair of eyes staring right back at her, and the blood pooling a crimson red on the cobblestone and around the man's neck. His white robes were stained and dirtied, and to think she had looked up to these radicals as angelic and humbled protectors when she was a child. Now here she was, a petty sinner, a murderous fiend, and a heretic to the Pantheon in the eyes of her people.

She's a witch! A thought hissed at her, The axe was too good for her, they've should've burned her like Ava! Have her burn like the wretch she forgotten! Her own troubled thoughts kept assaulting her, but she wasn't going to have it! Not today, not in front of people she just met! She'll have a cry about it later, but now wasn't the time, and she had some much here to be thankful for, and they have a meeting happening at any moment! She knew she needed to get her act together though, and remain competent and not a weeping wreck.

She then stood up calmly, and looked to Amanda. "Please forgive me, the memory is still fresh in my head, and I, uhm, can get lost in thought sometimes. And I Need more coffee! As I've discovered that it's really good stuff." She then tried to cheerfully say to Amanda before she briefly left to get what was maybe the eighth cup of coffee she has had so far today. She then quickly returned to the table and began to take some sips from her mug, she then looked to Amanda and wondered how blatant it was that she was very troubled by what happened. She felt very embarrassed now, she should've known better to revisit the past, she should've waited when she had a clearer head on her shoulders, maybe they'll be a time where she can actually talk about it? Instead of hiding from it like a poor liar of a child? She knew she was more matured then this surely, she was 25 after all! But then again she hadn't murdered anyone before, so she wasn't so sure as to how she should've been behaving.

[The Arthurian Isles]

Steingrímur said nothing. His face went blank. At the mention of some far-removed dimension his eyes briefly flickered back around the room before coming to rest in a vacant gaze straight ahead. Thoughts of the crew – those men with whom he had spent the last years of his former life – flashed in his memory. He bowed his head slightly, closing his eyes in a small moment of respect.

He was not a religious man, at least not by the traditional definitions of his dimension, but Steingrímur was certainly spiritual. It would be all too easy for him to see in his mind’s eye his comrades’ graves, to take one last, lingering look at their lives and then to return to a desolate world of his own feeling that all joy had been left behind on a bleak hillside. No. For him, the death of his friends was not truly their end; it was an incident in the life of ages, a freeing of their spirits from their old limitations and their escape towards a more glorious career. There they would go, and some angel by Steingrímur’s shoulder would point upwards from the grave and say ‘See how they rise’.

For love bridges death, or so he believed. Though death separated Steingrímur from his comrades, their work, their fortitude, their love was still his and with him in spirit. He could at least adventure onwards with hope and, in the strength of his old comrades who knew of darkness and shadow, fight the good fight of faith.

His heart’s cry was interrupted by a voice blaring out of the ether.

"Attention, please. If you have not already gathered for the Residents' meeting, we will find you and drag you there. Chop, chop, people!"

It brought Steingrímur back to the present; he found himself involuntarily searching all around him for the source of the announcement. This dimension was a strange one, and its novelty had so far brought more trepidation than it had excitement. Slowly, however, his wits were returning and Steingrímur began to resort to his usual self. He noticed for the first time – really noticed, that is – Volker, the look of concern on his face a welcome sign of empathy in a difficult time.

He was even conscious enough to take on board the arrival of another oddly-uniformed gentleman who addressed him with enough authority to finally yield a normal social response from the beleaguered Arthurian. The ‘shock of capture’ had been disorienting to him, compounded by his deep confusion about this new world. At such times he needed instruction, and Volker and Rudolph seemed all too happy to oblige. At the latter’s offer of tea and a meeting, Steingrímur untensed and relaxed into his usual posture, neither imposing nor vulnerable – like his gaze it was as though he were somehow divorced from the events around him. He glanced over to Volker, eyes meeting his directly.

“I am sorry. I fear the dismay of arriving here has made me a poor guest so far. Thank you for your help; I will make sure to return this document.” He took the lease, briefly skimming over its title. He then looked back up to Volker. “I have more questions, but I sense that this is not the time. I will return.”

Steingrímur turned to Rudolph, nodded his consent to carry on, and followed him to the dining room. Though he maintained a steady gait, his eyes were darting around like mad, absorbing all that he could of the place in even the brief walk to the dining room. He had a strange impression of it, as though this dimension did not obey the norms that had governed his own.

He would have to stay his inquisitiveness, though, for he was beckoned into the dining room, joining a motley crowd which surprised him far more than anything he had seen or heard so far. There were, sitting around these tables, sights he had never even dreamed of in his native land, all talking about topics beyond his meagre ken. Not knowing where to sit, Steingrímur instead chose to stand, melting into the edges of the room like some freshly-blossoming wallflower. He began to observe those whom he would soon be calling ‘comrades’.

[Northwest Slobovia]

"Please forgive me, the memory is still fresh in my head, and I, uhm, can get lost in thought sometimes. And I Need more coffee! As I've discovered that it's really good stuff." She then tried to cheerfully say to Amanda before she briefly left to get what was maybe the eighth cup of coffee she has had so far today. She then quickly returned to the table and began to take some sips from her mug, she then looked to Amanda and wondered how blatant it was that she was very troubled by what happened.

Very blatant, it would seem, for Amanda read her all-too-familiar expression easily. As Nivea returned, Amanda watched her with unusual understanding, both on her face and in her voice. "Flashbacks? You have flashbacks? You relive what happened and can't get it out of your mind? So do I, and it's been close to three years for me. It's all right if you do; I think it's normal."

[Cerillium]

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

The Personification Life: EPIC (IC Thread XI) is now closed!
Do not post here. I'm leaving it unlocked so we can retrieve formatted posts later.
Remember, this has all been but the prologue!

Please do not continue your current conversations.
All characters are gathered in the dining room at the start of this thread.
Volker filtered through to collect leases from Tsu and Steingrímur
and to give them their keys.
The intro post outlines the story changes.
Characters will have a chance to ask questions about it.
Please hold individual questions ("What's my job? or "What about the fighters")
since Minerva and Neste have clarified where to go for answers later
and that the Operations Branch is the next topic of discussion.

New IC:

Demens Chosen
Chapter One
https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=402652