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Post by Edward on Dec 5, 2011 20:36:48 GMT -8
OOC: Sorry short post.
Eddies interest perked back up when the conversation again started. They were talking about him. She had a use for him and so they would keep him. This made him happy, though he wouldn't show it. She approached him and he had clashing emotions. He wished she might recognize him but he also had a sense of pride in his hiding abilities. His thoughts were cut short when she slapped his wrist and began tying a rope to his neck.
He was displeased, and he meant to make that known. So he went back into his limp state 'This slick twig can drag me' he thought. Eddie's body slumped to the floor but it didn't really go much further than that. He was tied to some cinder blocks. This was pretty effective, he wouldn't be able to run very far with this on. So he pulled the blocks so that he could still sit on the couch in his spot.
OOCPS:The "couch" that Eddie has been sitting on is actually tuvlan's mattress. Sorry for the confusion
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Post by "Tuvlan" on Dec 6, 2011 23:14:43 GMT -8
Playmate, Observer, Bunk Buddy The boy, curled in his corner on his mattress, staring for a moment at strange, small person who was sharing his bed with him. That made the boy's back hairs prickle up in indignation and rage, and much of his time staring at the newcomers was mostly spent at this small fellow. The other one was far quieter and the scent seemed more... familiar and trustworthy.
And then the master came with the thin stick of a man at her side. Immediate calm came over the boy as he relaxed with the covers over himself---the cats mewling and and rolling around over the mound that was the boy. His hands creeped from underneath the covers, his legs cross-legged as his long fingers managed to nestle between the ears of a long-bodied Maltese that happened to sit in front of him, letting his short nails rake through the hair to provide an adequate scratch.
At that moment, a noose was set and tied about the small thing's neck. And then everything was right in the world.
It was righteous comeuppance, his territory reclaimed.
By this point, the cat he had been scratching, had begun to roll under him, letting his fingers traverse over its body. The small one's tying was not necessarily a bad thing---looking up, the boy merely nodded towards Vespyr and Gilbert, as he recognized that this small one would either be doomed or perhaps put to a similar yolk as himself. In which case, the small one would be essentially brethren.
Another came came to stroke the side of its head against the boy's large knuckles, and another still came to chew on the tips of his fingers. It caused the one getting a bellyrub/scratch to suddenly shoot up, before it started rolling around with the biter. Those two would stop and look up at each other, as if having some immense discussion.
...This continued on, and the aggregate before him grew numerous, several others choosing to perch on top of him. The boy let the felines have their way, not moving an inch, just offering forward his hand to pet, stroke, and...
...The biting.
The boy did not mind it. He was used to far worse pains. And the cats around the master's hideout seemed to have a strong... affinity for blood. The Maltese in particular turned away from his conversation to take a bit, only to turn around to the tabby, as if to help offer in the shindig. More cats came in for the show and the cats tumbled about in front of him.
Hours passed.
By this time the boy's hand had grown too gnarled and numb to offer anything other than sustenance to his neighbors so he decided to "meditate" on the all-seeing "cat" on the wall.
Never won a staring contest. Instead, for losing, it proceeded to stare into his eye and into his soul. Not that this was different from how it was anyways, but the coolness it left in the boy's body perhaps was a reason that the aggregate slowly dispersed about him. That, and it was probably some awful time in the morning by this time.
It was time for sleep.
Watching the shared sentiment by the aggregate as most disappeared, the boy slowly and deliberately began to stretch himself out from his corner and into the full lengths of his mattress. ---Slowly enough to catch no one by surprise and to avoid hitting any of the young small ones that chose to stay behind and sleep in the boy's company. The quietness of the boy's smile slowly seeped itself into something almost considered peaceful.
...Before a charlie horse struck his left thigh and he recoiled silently, biting his lower lip as the spasm continued for another good thirty minutes. He grasped his hands around the knee, preventing it from letting it slide further until the aches went away and the blood went onto flowing normally throughout his body. The fizzy numbness in his right foot disappeared in the needle-pin feeling as blood returned at full strength.
Finally, the boy was stretched out for sleep. His bed was an unavoidable mess with all the shed fur, but the boy's nose breathed in the air, unhindered---just a simple thing to clean up in tommorow's morning before the next night started all over again.
His eye closed...---
---As a new weight stepped with its small paws onto his mattress, depressing its side before it stepped onto his chest. The boy raised up his head slightly, though he knew who it was.
Fleesh stared back at him with his eye patch over his missing eye, his other glistening sharply at the boy's green.
There wasn't any need for word. The boy lowered down his head as he raised his right hand out to the side and over onto the cat's back, giving it one big, long affirming stroke, before letting his arm fall limply to the side.
It had been a long few days. His bunk mate lowered his small head onto the boy's chest and the two proceeded to sleep.
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PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vincent. on Dec 6, 2011 23:24:24 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]Back From The Dead[/shadow]
“I’m…”
He decided against it. Backing away from the tall boy named “Tuvlan”, Vincent reached up to straighten his tie but realized he wasn’t wearing one. As if disappointed, his hand sunk down to his pocket and retrieved his pack of cigarettes. For the next hour, he leaned against the far wall and anxiously chain smoked while he watched his sister shove her hands into “Unfettered”s open abdominal cavity.
. . . She was looking at him. She was looking at him.
Vincent’s heart skipped a beat when his eyes met hers; twin gazes locked on each other from across the room, the deep violet hues synchronizing flawlessly. After many a silent moment, the girl still had not moved, evidently frozen where she stood. Her face was a half-shadowed, unreadable visage that gave no assurance of recognition whatsoever, but regardless, Vincent straightened up and languidly paced toward her. Even as he grew near, there was no telling what sort of emotion could be derived from the cryptic stare she held him captive with—or perhaps, it was his that held her.
“…It’s me.”
Vague. Struggling for words, but smiling.
“…Your brother.”
Vespyr had not uttered a word or moved an inch, and her expression had not changed even as Vincent stood two feet from her.
“I found you.”
...
“My brother is dead.”
Her voice was hollow with apparent disbelief. Vincent could see now, behind the flicker of the firelight across her glassy eyes, something haunted deep within.
“No, I’m not. I’m here!”
A pang of despair struck him. He reached for her hand, and holding it tightly, pressed her cold fingers to the area just above his temple, where a small indent in the bone brought painful—but necessary—memories flooding back. Vespyr’s lithe fingers sprung gingerly to life, stroking the spot on his skull as a strange emotion washed over the features of her face.
“See? …Remember, when we were little… That man threw a book at my head—” “…And then I locked you in the closet so he couldn’t hurt you anymore,” she finished his sentence with the same hollow, almost monotone voice. There was a long pause, a moment of clarity. Vincent slowly brought the hand close to his mouth, and kissed gently the smooth, pale palm while tears fell down his cheeks.
“Oh my god, I can’t remember your name.” “…I’ve… forgotten yours as well.” “How many years has it been?” “I don’t know.”
It didn’t seem to matter. Through all the remorse of memories lost, Vincent smiled. Vespyr pulled her hand away and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her brother’s thin waist and resting her chin over his shoulder, tightly, as if she would never let go.
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Dec 6, 2011 23:25:35 GMT -8
Change of Heart
. . . 2 A.M. . . . Vespyr stopped in her tracks for a moment, realizing that she had been acting unintentionally and unusually… maternal. Her nose wrinkled slightly at the thought, a small chastisement to herself, but she found herself gazing at the number of individuals in the room with a feeling that seemed to make her self-criticism much less warranted. Her eyes fell first on Tuvlan—foolishly obedient, but sincerely loyal Tuvlan—who lay curled beneath the kitchen counter, bundled warmly within a burrow of blankets. Fleesh, who had grown a particular fondness for the boy, would have settled himself into the crook of the boy’s arm and slept peacefully alongside him. Vespyr had stopped questioning herself about why she let the boy stay here, let alone why she enjoyed his company. It was something that still managed to elude her altogether.
Sighing quietly, she turned to the center of the room where the fire was only just beginning to dim. She paced over to a 3x3x3’ cardboard box by the wall that was filled with wood, and chose a piece to feed the flames with when her eyes fell upon the scrap of a boy Gilbert had tied to the cinderblocks. She meditated on her thoughts from earlier as she stared at the child, who she determined couldn’t be any older than eleven or twelve at most. While she held no sentimentality about children or sympathy for the little rat, she knew better than to treat him as she did most of the others; at least, at first. The boy was necessary for what she was planning, and she needed to make sure he trusted her enough to submit himself to what she would have him do later on. And so, pursing her lips for a moment’s decision, Vespyr turned the cardboard woodbox on its side, emptied it of its contents quietly, and carried it over to where the boy sat.
Standing over him with the box in her hand, Vespyr’s shadow would block the glow of the fire from warming his frail body. She set the box down beside him.
“This is your bed.”
Then she walked away, aloof in appearance but still in turmoil within. She exchanged a cold glance with Gilbert, whose stick-like frame was curled—no, compacted—up by the fire, the bony knees and elbows sticking out. His dark eyes were open for merely a second but closed, pretending to be asleep, as soon as they met hers. She brought him no blanket and no cardboard box to sleep in.
Standing in front of her door, she took a moment to survey the room once more before retiring. “Unfettered” and Marina were bedded warmly in their cots behind the kitchen counter. On the smooth surface of the counter itself were two lit candles. Just beyond were Tuvlan and Fleesh, seemingly deep in slumber. The noodly boy and his box. Gilbert. Satisfied, Vespyr entered her chamber and shut and locked the door quietly behind her.
Vincent, after they had ‘caught up’ with each other to a small degree, had fallen asleep, exhausted from the day’s events. He lay on her bed, sprawled comfortably over the black sheets and blankets with a beautifully placid expression on his face. Lit by the warm candlelight, he looked at peace. Vespyr couldn’t help but smile at the sight, a great pang of emotion swelling in her chest. This, she thought, was most likely the reason she had been acting out of her typical demeanor; at their early age before they had been lost to each other, she had always devoted herself to protecting and caring after him. The tendencies came flooding back with his return to her, and she was hardly willing to resist them.
The smile on her face, even, was unusual. The corners of her lips were calmly uplifted, showing no sharp teeth and none of the ever-present insidiousness that eternally characterized her grin. Even in her happier moments—if she smiled then at all, though she usually did not—there was a nefariousness that could not be driven from even her most casual smirk. But all of that was absent now, leaving behind only the girl’s honest smile: something untainted by the bitter passing of time, unsoiled by vehement hatred for the world she had been raised in, and unbegrudging of the painful deprivation, the unforgiveable theft of her only kin, her precious brother, her twin, the other half of her heart.
All the pieces were back in place.
Her shadow moved silently across the room. She comfortably slid into the seat behind her desk, despite the narrow space between the chair and “Teal”’s cot. Gazing down at him, her visage became a shade graver for him—but still calm, collected. She had hope.
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Post by Edward on Dec 7, 2011 19:07:05 GMT -8
Vespyr seemed off, this was not what he had imagined. Her cracks were showing. She seemed now more than ever a mortal. He almost didn't want to come back out at the thought of her being... he shudders at the thought of this, normal. Just like everybody else. This was the woman who had more than once put her gory displays up in his tunnels. Each and every one a tapestry of beauty beyond comprehension. Each one being only as permanent as the rate of decay would allow it, and each saying far more about this world than they could ever teach you in a school or a "loving home". Those plastic little bubbles filled with nitrous oxide. It sickened him, he just wanted to sleep. For her to be better. 'Why did she have to be like this?' He thought and silently despaired.
She brought him a lovely box and blanket. “This is your bed.” She knew him better than she would let on, he was sure of it. He crawled inside arching his shoulders and then his back before stretching his entire face and lying down. He had made his box into an indent. He looked like a fetus from above and a cat from the side. 'Why does she not show a sign ANY sign. I know she notices I know she recognizes the way I gape, the way I move. She could've sensed anyone back then. I know she sensed me too. Maybe it is because of the way she is now. Maybe she can't because she no longer remembers how to use her senses. She has been living sedate for too long to realize.' His mind would race on and on and he would remain expressionless. It was unsettling really. He began to drift into sleep, but before he would go he would have one last thought that would permeate and swirl through all his dreams, his plan of action would come to him most beautifully with all the time in the world to plan it. 'I have to bring back Vespyr' and with that he went unconscious and his eyes shut.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Dec 12, 2011 16:05:11 GMT -8
The Invited Eavesdropper "Teal's" dreams could not be called dreams... but rather slipping in and out of constant conciousness. It was better to dream than to to wake up with a bullet hole in his lung. His first reaction was to squirm---hence why he had to manually calm himself. Unfortunately, such mental concentration meant he would be awake for a little longer... and he would have to deal with the pain for that many more minutes. It was not, after all, as though he were blessed with a body like that of "Unfettered."
...
But he was unnaturally silent, as he... started listening in on something he possibly shouldn't ought to.
Bits and pieces, nothing concrete, his consciousness as well as his physical fatigue throwing him in and out.
Vincent. Vespyr. Twins. Immortal. Scene. Hitman. Public High School #42. The Students.
Bits...
---For a moment, as Vespyr looked down at his prone, frail body, there would be a rather... uncharacteristic, almost inaudible sigh as the boy passed again into unconsciousness...* * * * * * * * * * * * * "Teal" would open his eye. His body clock told him that it was morning, but it was still dark and...---
---If Vespyr was still in the same position and hadn't fallen asleep, he would give a startled, self-choked scream in surprise.
If she had fallen asleep where she was, he would wait until others began to stir. There was life in his hands, though when he tried to move his tongue to even try whispering... it hurt. His chest obviously hadn't fully closed in one night, but, aside from the god awful pain, "Teal" would wait until she would wake up.
---If Vespyr had moved to some other location, the boy would look around---before he realized how much in pain he was in. Then, he would relax in the cot, waiting until someone would come to check up on him.
No rest for the weary.
He needed to be made aware of the current situation. He needed to... get a piece of paper and pen.
He needed to...
...There would be a disgruntled groan from the man, as he fought the urge to sleep, sweat having long formed on his back. If he had a blanket, he'd roughly pull it over himself...
Not tired at all.Stir ...The body of "Unfettered," if approached... would twitch. But then it would remain quiet. However, his body seemed to be doing well, his rather moderate (by comparison) constitution saving him.
Marina, however, wouldn't move at all, save for the shallow rise and fall of her chest...Easily Contented Richard awoke in complete silence. Rather, he would look up, looking at the Twin who was asleep (if still asleep) and the one who was still standing guard. He would nod at their admirable diligence...
...Before starting back at page one of his magazine, hunkering over it to read it over again, a focused look on his face. The repetition did not bother him, The images were still as stimulating as they were before... which was questionable, considering the lack of change on Richard's face as he looked at the sensual images.
He was without orders and ready to wait, if need be. Still, he looked at the Twins, wondering if he should go inside and go to fetch them something.
If nothing happened by the next hour, Mr. Stock was rather determined to inquire on it himself.
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Dec 12, 2011 18:31:49 GMT -8
Altered Ending / The Unknown Depths (two songs, ohh. Fancy.)
Vespyr dreamed she was on a train.
It was a familiar scene; something that she had often replayed in her head over and over and over again in the years of her youth. However, that had been a long time ago and the scene had gradually faded from her memory, as did her original name and age and even, for a time, the very reason she was so haunted by the scene in the first place. The memory replayed went something like this:
She woke up with her head leaning against the window, which was fogged with her breath. The first thing she noticed was that she was alone. She didn’t remember falling asleep at all; she had been gazing through the clammy glass for what felt like hours, watching solemn clusters of tall trees manifest from the gloom and then disappear again as quickly as the train went by. Her brother had been sitting in the seat across from her, but he was nowhere to be seen. Unease settled in her chest immediately and she rose to her feet, clutching tightly the heavy, tattered dictionary that was her only possession. Her violet eyes desperately scanned her surroundings as she wandered aimlessly down the aisle, searching for her twin, catching sight of nothing but apathetic glances from absolute strangers. Her heart was beating uncomfortably. The train rumbled on the tracks and began to slow down in a jolting fashion, causing her to trip and lurch forward, almost falling into someone’s lap. She managed to catch herself but she felt tears welling in her eyes and a feeling of panic swelling in her throat. Down the aisle, someone laughed as she was gripped harshly by the arm and turned around to face an angry-looking man who demanded her ticket. She couldn’t find it. The train came to a stop and the doors opened, a blast of ice-cold air buffeting in with along with a spray of raindrops. The man who had hold of her arm walked toward the open door, pulling her with him out into the cold and wet. She shivered as the rain began to soak her pale hair, but within a moment she was rushing back toward the door, only to be greeted by the torrent of exiting passengers. When she had finally pushed her way through, the doors were closed. She could only watch with hopeless fear as the train ambled away and dissipated into the thick fog.
That had been her trauma over a decade ago. Like the trees and the train and all of her childhood memories, it drifted into a fog as time rolled on… but reappeared that night as Vespyr slept. But this time around, the dream was different. And it was brief.
She woke up with her head leaning against the window, which was fogged with her breath. Her head turned to where her brother had been sitting across from her, and she found that he was comfortably asleep in his seat. A sort of relief settled in her chest and then she woke up.
Vespyr was still seated at her desk, but her head was turned awkwardly and had fallen into the crook of her elbow. She opened her eyes and saw that “Teal” was awake. Slightly dazed, she lifted her head and peered down at him expressionlessly.
“Oh. Well good morning.”
. . .
There would be almost a full twelve hours of down-time for those in the building to recuperate before the day’s—or to be precise, the night’s—events would begin. Vespyr intended for the operations of this new outfit to take place on a nocturnal basis, of course. The only proper time to do anything of importance was at night, and the daylight hours were for resting.
But as soon as the sun had set, all sense of lethargy would be swept out like unwanted dust. The door to Vespyr’s chamber opened and she emerged wearing her usual uniform, officer’s cap and all. She strode over to the child-thing’s box firsthand, if he were still there, and loomed over it. She would tug on the rope to wake him up if he were sleeping. And if he wasnt, she would tug on the rope anyhow, wherever he was about the dark room. There was business to be attended to and the child was the key to the whole operation.
“Come.”
The commander would lead him out the door and into the garage below, which was by now full of shadows again as the winter night was ascending fast. She had with her a lantern, flashlight, and more rope. As they crossed the vast expanse of garage, they walked along the very back wall, where the shadows were the thickest.
“Watch your feet. Sharp things.”
At the other end of the garage was a small, square hole in the wall that led to another room; very small, about six-by-six feet in area. They had to duck to enter, but once inside the ceiling would rise far above them and open out to the night sky, though blocked by thick metal bars like those of a prison cell. The only notable thing about the room was what appeared to be a drainage grate near the wall. Vespyr knelt down and lifted the metal grate away, revealing a shaft that resembled an air vent but descended into nothing but murky darkness. Traces of blood flow, old and dried and crusted, dripped down and disappeared along with the light. A disconcerting stench wafted up from the depths: the reek of decomposition and decay.
Vespyr rose to her feet and handed the kid her flashlight after tying the extra rope around his thin waist.
“Down you go.”
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Post by Edward on Dec 13, 2011 19:10:29 GMT -8
Eddie was presented with the problem of a locked door. Only, it wasn't a door. It was a window, because he could see through it. But that part about how locked it is remains true. He wants to release the dove on the other side of the window. He wants this because he knows that what the dove does is more beautiful than a glass window. He would simply break the glass window if it weren't stained glass. He wants both the beauty of the dove and the window. The dove is now a crow, but all other properties of the dove remain the same. We should look around our surroundings . . . It’s a shopping center filled with disgusting beings leading sedentary lives. He doesn't want to kill them though. He knows that there is hope. While the stained glass window slowly converts these pigs into noble foxes he knows that the crow can do a much better job. He becomes frantic and tries to swallow his tongue. It doesn't work. He has no tongue. He must live with this or change these people. The foxes have been gutting the little piglets from time to time, which was refreshing, but not enough. He must have the crow, he MUST. He starts to send his fist flying toward the glass.
A quick yank on his neck and Eddie was sliding across the room in his box. Which was now his, he and that box had been through to much together for him to give it up now.
"Come" she says.
Eddie takes the box and loops his blanket through its cardboard handles. He pushes the ends of the blanket into the rope around his neck. The box is now secured to his back like a shell. He does all this while walking within the makeshift leashes length. Eddie's concern for Vespyr’s apathy towards her art was dimmed for now. There seemed to be a purpose in all this, maybe even a new message. It had been so long since he had received a message. His heart leapt at the thought of this. Sure enough she led them across a desolate and unkempt parking lot. Underground: where death gives birth to decay.
“ Watch your feet. Sharp things.” ‘Oh how I wish she would stop with these petty games.’ He tried to tell her with his eyes ’You know me!’ but he was certain that it just came across as concern.
Soon they came upon a grate. He could smell it, he could smell home and it was on the other side of this grate. Fully alert and ready to receive her gifts Eddie began to undo his shell from his neck. He could smell how old this creation was and he was certain she had not made one like it recently. However, this gave Eddie hope that Vespyr could still be saved. Maybe she had just forgotten how…
She came down to his level and opened up the door. After that she stood up and handed Eddie a nice new flashlight. A new longer rope was secured around his waist.
“Down you go.”
So Eddie as calmly as possible set down his box and carefully laid out his blanket and new flash light. ‘You three, wait here’ He thought this as loud as he could. He was really getting sick of people ignoring his thoughts.
He was trembling noticeably now as he climbed in holding himself over the ledge, holding himself up.
“thank you” He said aloud and he smiled and dropped into the darkness. Rope unraveling and trailing behind him.
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PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vincent. on Dec 14, 2011 10:20:31 GMT -8
[shadow=black,left,300]Gratitude[/shadow] Vincent awoke in the late afternoon feeling rejuvenated and optimistic. Full of void and undisturbed by dreams, it was seemingly the first time he had rested well in over a year. As he opened his eyes the events of yesterday flooded back to him along with bittersweet, conflicting emotions: he was elated to be reunited with his sister, but he still felt a disquieting concern for the man who had led him to her in the first place. He hadn’t even a chance to thank him, and now it would be... difficult to.
His bare feet touched down on the cold floor and he shivered, reaching for his jacket that had been neatly folded and placed at the foot of the bed. He slipped it on over his black tank top and went for the door, glancing again at the strange nuances of the room before he exited it. He shut the door behind him quietly and headed straight across the hall for the two cots that were positioned behind the kitchen counter. At a glance he appeared to be rather stoic but truthfully, quiet distress hung on his face and glimmered in his eyes as he approached “Unfettered”. Vincent stood beside the cot looking wayward; it felt uncomfortable to stare at the man, but he found himself doing it anyway.
“Unfettered” twitched. Vincent flinched.
After a few moments of silence that followed, he sat down slowly and hugged his knees, still peering with dull hope—and an odd sort of curiosity—that he man would wake up. Vincent wanted to thank him.
To Be Continued...
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Post by "Unfettered" on Jan 7, 2012 2:42:03 GMT -8
Handicap Accomodations There was no way that "Teal" would find himself laying in Vespyr's room for such a long period of time and doing nothing. It had taken a bit of "convincing" (bitching, mostly >.x) to convince her that he was well enough to start "walking" outside (he didn't take well to the slight, obviously). Evening came about, but being so fully rested, even if still in the beginning processes of recovery, the German would roll out after Vespyr in his own uniform, grumbling as he pushed himself after her.
Heavy doses of apathy surrounded "Teal," as he rolled about slowly, trying to make sure that he didn't bump into things. In fact, by the time he managed to follow directly after Vespyr, she had already barked her order at some... new, apparent cardboard turtle with Vespyr holding its collar, dragging it along after her. It looked adorable... so he immediately began to hate it. Nevermind that it was a small child that appeared to be barely of adolesence. But they were already on the way in another direction. One eye fluttering open and closed, the German slowly began to push himself, his eye still adjusting with great difficulty in the darkness. His scowl was immense as he huffed and puffed...
...But that was nothing compared to his reaction as he continued to follow the noises, and he BEGAN ROLL-FALLING DOWN SEVERAL FLIGHTS WORTH OF STAIRS.
---noticed at the last second that the sounds getting really cavernous, echoing in the downward... hall?
The German froze.
...Slowly looking down, listening very patiently to the shuffling going on below him, "Teal's" jaw slowly lowered itself as an incredulous look of the amount of steps that he had to go down.
Looking open at the door and the voices he was trailing after, his eye opened up completely as "Teal's" face contorted into that of absolute rage, seething..."...VESPYR..."* * * * * * * * * * * * * Cold sweat was pouring down his back, his teeth gritted, his eye... squinting into the darkness below. His wheelchair sat, wobbling at every step... rolling very carefully as his deathgrip on the handrail with both arms in a fierce hug slid step by stressful step. Sucking in his stomach, flexing his muscles, "Teal" would slowly manhandle his way step-by-step-by-step... until he was about halfway through.
Figuring that gravity would begin to work on his side, he loosened his shoulder, hugging the handrail with his left hand as he straightened his back---only to find that the weight of the wheelchair and himself was too much for the simple moment---the wheels jumped a step, building up a fatal (to the idea) amount of speed that destroyed the German's idea for a safe trip down the stairs---
---The wheelchair bucked from underneath him, throwing the man up in the air, and slamming his body onto the ground, in a mess, before the wheelchair landed on his prone body moments later.
He groaned.* * * * * * * * * * * * * "Teal" was a sweaty, sopping mess. Haggard, hunched over and breathing hard, the German slowly rolled towards where he last remembered hearing and seeing them head towards. His suit was unbuttoned slightly, revealing a bit of his contrasting frail, weak body that he contained within his SS-like suit. Bits of glass and metal crinkled underneath his wheels as he licked at the air, breathing hard... he bumped into the wall with his face.
Flinching back a few inches, the German's hands kept rigid over the wheels, still fresh with the memory of rolling all the way back down the stairs...
Just to find a hole in the wall.
...There was a moment of hesitation until he heard them."Gott. Fucking. Verdammit."In a huff, deciding for a moment on his actions... the German fell hard to the floor, scraping his chin, as his wheelchair rolled back a few feet behind him... without stopping. But the German wasn't paying attention, spitting dust out of his mouth, and began to crawl (with the LARGEST scowl on his face), through the small hole.
...And almost immediately regretting getting out of his wheelchair soon after. His cheeks bulged with the expanse of air in his mouth as he closed his mouth, his eye watering, as the German continued to crawl towards Vespyr... who was standing over a whole. Next to a familiar cardboard box."...Ich'm here," he finally snarled, a look of irritation coming over his face.
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