Realistic or Modern New Oasis: Thirteen Peaks

[Elenion Aura]

BAUK

CS Link

SCENE:

Begin Again

LOCATION:

Wilderness > Thirteen Peaks Rehabilitation Center

PARTICIPANTS:

Block C

BEGIN AGAIN

Bauk clapped hands over eyes. Don't look, don't look!

Bauk looked away. Felt wrong.

Room Me wasn't finished changing yet. He should give him space. But where was Bauk going to change?

"Bauk change. Where?" Bauk asked Bauk, hands still over eyes.

Bauk looked down at the clothes. Peeking between his fingers. Then he looked back at Room Me.

"Change now?" Bauk asked Bauk, unsure.

After Bauk was changed, Bauk stood in the hall. Shirt itched. Pants itched. But it was good. Change.

 

[Damafaud]

FRANCIS ELESTIEL

CS Link

SCENE:

Begin Again

LOCATION:

Thirteen Peaks Rehabilitation Center

PARTICIPANTS:

Bauk

Begin Again

Francis' jaw dropped to the floor and far more down. Oh. Em. Gee. This was a serious case of serious business! He hurriedly put on his pants and shirt. Somehow managing to put both backwards, it took some more fiddling before he emerged from his cells, eyes sparkling... to a changed Bauk.

Francis deflated. He missed the business opportunity. With heavy shoulder, he patted the dazed Bauk's shoulder with a pensive smile.

"Change here from now." Then, he added with a tragic, mournful indignance, "No... privacy!"

With a choked cry, Francis ran back to the main room. It was all over.

Tag: Elenion Aura

 

[Nobody Special]

SIN TESTA

CS Link

SCENE:

Begin Again

LOCATION:

Block C, Thirteen Peaks Rehabilitation Center

PARTICIPANTS:

Okata, Yelizaveta, Angeline

BEGIN AGAIN

Sin was quick to dash out of the facility’s library when a reason presented itself within earshot. He wasn’t necessarily itching to get his bindings removed (he was still able to read with them on, after all– so why rush taking them off?), but something about suddenly being alone in the same room as the woman who had just finished accusing him of sexual harassment, only to approach him with an extended hand–which he awkwardly shook – and then tell him about her relationship to prevent him from ‘falling in love’ made his legs move on their own.

He zipped back over to where he had begun, patiently offering his wrists to be unshackled with an innocent smile. Once the metal fixtures had been unlocked, the pale man treated himself to a nice stretch to let his muscles breathe after the long, stiff ride here. He took a moment to study his fellow inmates, giving them a warm grin if they were to catch him staring.

With the arrival of two new doctor-people, Sin found himself listening to orders disguised as lighthearted requests once again. This time, it was to find his room and change his clothes. Sin breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing that fresh clothing was to be provided. He hoped it was something more stylish than the bland garms he had been wearing! As modest as the mafioso was, there was still a certain level of quality he had grown used to– rags poorly disguised as clothes simply wouldn’t cut it much longer.

‘Trust exercise’ Quickly caught the pale man’s attention, prompting his everlasting smile to grow in length by just a few centimeters. It sounded interesting, and Sin loved interesting. He was so excited, in fact, that he had changed into his new uniform and found himself back in the common area in the blink of an eye.

Without a speck of caution, he approached the labcoats, treading closely into their personal bubbles without much thought. He found himself particularly close to the one who had given them their initial tour of the facility– Yeliz… something, or whatever her name was.

“Say, signore-” Although he was now addressing the man who had instructed them minutes earlier, he leaned in even closer into the aforementioned woman’s space, smiling brightly as ever.

“This ‘trust exercise’ you mentioned– what does it entail? Is it two truths and a lie? A trust fall– ooh, ooh! That would be so fun!” Without warning, Sin quickly slipped behind the woman, holding his arms out and beckoning her to fall backwards. “Come on! I’ll catch you, signorina!”

The One Eyed Bandit

 

[Elenion Aura]

BAUK

CS Link

SCENE:

Begin Again

LOCATION:

Wilderness > Thirteen Peaks Rehabilitation Center

PARTICIPANTS:

Block C

BEGIN AGAIN

Bauk followed Room Me. He wondered why did Room Me cry? Was he hurt? Bauk was not hurt. Cloth itched. But that wasn't so bad.

Chicken hands. Bauk had them. Mother taught him. He held his hands like a chicken's! So he didn't bump into anything while he walked. Didn't swing them. Didn't break. Didn't make a mess.

Bauk followed Room Me. Back where they came from. Back where they'd been. Bauk remembered learning to retrace his steps. Bauk never got lost except maybe one or two times.

"Changed!" Bauk exclaimed. It was loud. Bauk felt a little silly making such a loud noise. But mostly Bauk felt nothing.

Trust... Exercise? Bauk heard that that was what came next. Bauk knew the word 'trust'—he trusted Mother—and he knew the word 'exercise'—his tumbling through the forest was 'exercise', mother had said; good for Bauk—but Bauk did not know what the two words made when they were put together.

Bauk looked at the ones who had brought Bauk here. When Bauk didn't know what to do, Mother always told him to do two things: wait and watch.

Bauk waited.

Bauk watched.

 

[Haze-]

Melissa Grohl

CS Link

SCENE:

Begin Again

LOCATION:

Thirtheen Peaks Rehabilitation Center

PARTICIPANTS:

Howell, Prism

Begin Again

Spoiler: memory #2

She doesn't remember it fully. She doesn’t dream about it often, you see.

What she does remember is warped, twisted. A gentle lie. An awful truth. When they did mingle together and danced for her in her dreams, it didn’t feel right. It never did.

She remembers the hushed tolls of the wind-chimes in their garden, a path of blooms lined the frames of the greenhouse— hanging low, low enough for her to feel the trickle of them soft on her shoulder as she walked. The stems where rough, the ends were feathery, like endless plumes of a mock-magenta. Father was there ahead, she was following.

A blink, a lapse. A shimmer in time, the memory would shift.

She recalls a different hush, not from the chimes. Vivid, with a tangy taste of metal on her tongue. A flash of heat, lulling her over, shorting her senses sharp. It was red, a mock-red, gushing and flowing down from under her hairline. Pale strands would bundle up and become a thick, red stem, hover over her eyes. The path wept red. An ugly red.

It was the same greenhouse, but the walls were dark, they came closer— hugged her— and the ambling, distorted glass ceiling above bloodied with a red-blush— it dripped down, down, down, down… a long way down. Further down, flooding; until she couldn’t see her own feet, until she couldn’t see where they’d break on solid ground.

Another blink.

She was in Father’s lap now, the splash of vibrant magenta loomed above him, delicate petals gave way to the sun. Hands back, fingers interlocked and joined with the greenery, his eyes were off. Somewhere to the skies, somewhere beyond the clouds; he played with her hair. Off to the liquid, azure magic covering the sky, following the hums of birdsong with his true red eyes. Red as flame, gentle as the rain.

The shapes in the clouds looked funny that day, they would spend all day pointing and laughing at them until the skies grew hateful of them. Until those clouds turned a bloated grey and weep, wail their thunder at them, chase them into the mansion. Through puddles of fresh dew. Smiles and laughter.

She didn’t need to blink to remember the rest.

She sat slumped now. On a corner, with her back begging her off the wall of bodies. She listened, bowed over to where her knees ached and trembled, and felt the red roll across her face. She followed it. Down. All the way down to the sleek marbled path; between her legs; where it cesspooled along with someone else’s. Along with many else’s.

Along with the hellfire, along with the sulfur.

Bodies. Folded against each other; flattening on the walls, on the ceiling, the corners; they were pressed together in all places, everywhere— chest, hips, legs, elbow— locked and intertwined like grotesque puzzle pieces.

And she was there.

A whirlpool. A disgusting, endless spiral of mock-red agony.

She wasn’t a child anymore, father wasn’t here. This was hell. She was dead. She must’ve been dead.

Even now, she still felt the weight of the boot hammering on the back of her head. Over and over again.

She remembered swaying with the trembles that moved down her body. Racking her shape on every stomp, shivers coming shoulders-down like the whole of her body was trying to dance the shimmy on spiked shoes. Like it still hurt, even after it'd been long since another she'd dropped dead.

There was a stillness in the air then. A silence. A silence so deep and deafening that it’d settle in like the wind caught in the hollow throat of a dying, elder tree. It’d whirr, it’d whisper; she heard the man on top of her reach for something at his side, moving closer.

She felt him put the gun up to her head, she felt him angle it straight.

He squeezed. Even. Slow. Inch by the inch— like a countdown.

. . .

Three.

Two.

One.

. . .

And Amelie was gone.

But there was a light in the hellfire, beyond the mock-red of the flames— it wasn’t for her. Something else followed it. Something else came out alive. It crawled its way out.

This thing was brutal, vile; just like them.

---

She opened her eyes to a flash of cold sweat dampening the pillow she’d buried her face into. Still, not even a muscle flinched. She savored the feel, bitter as it was. Fist tightening and wrapping on the mattress, yet her body remained still as she trailed off. The body hung there, a puppet on air-strings. Empty. As empty as an old, left-over shoe. Hollow and lifeless.

The shadows came cascading from the corners of the room and lapped a few paces toward her, crawling, stretching; like an accusatory finger.

Was she ashamed of what she’d done? She wondered.

For the first time in a long, long decade— Melissa dropped the reigns, relaxed the shoulders. The puppet was off the strings, and it allowed itself a smile. A childish, thoughtless half-moon bloomed on her face, beaming straight at the puffy pillow.

“Du wirst so sterben, wie du gelebt hast…” — The woman murmured. Nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to grieve. What’s done is done. Even they knew better than to think otherwise.

It was such a petty thing to think about…

She shifted on the comfort, crease-folds moving like waves on the plain bedsheet. It was soft, homely— didn’t feel right.

Feeling. Yeah, she was feeling too much. That was probably it.

“Mmn…” — She had to stop.

Melissa focused on another feeling instead. That overcoming, mind-numbing disjoint moving through every bone and artery— every day, all day. It cleared the mind. Made the emotions quiet.

She shoved her face into the pillow, trying to push up. Untangling hands and fingers from weaves of pale hair, getting the pillow out of the snap of the crook of her arm, kicking up the heave in her lungs— all motions needed some time to come through after being inactive for a while. They had an awkward lag to them.

She’d get through it, her feet stumbled and found themselves on the floor. It was time to get changed. Trust exercise was up in a moment, she figured.

---

The heavy door slowly creaked open; it didn’t cross her mind how funny not having to hunch-back her way through a door would feel like.

She wasn't wearing her usual rags anymore, she felt fresh and airy wearing her new clothes. She couldn't help but stop and wonder when they would stop feeling so new. When it would feel like she'd never had a change of clothes in the first place.

A light, yet strained huff of air parted her lips as she narrowed her eyes at the lightshow in front of her. She took her time to adjust, gazing off at the blurred background figurines that danced and played before her eye— at least that’s what they looked to be doing. Her eyes just caught movement, like lights and shadows on a dirty glass panel.

There was another cast of shadow, one she recognized, right in front of her. A play of smushed rainbow under a blurry, grey cloud. He stood out like a sore thumb from all the others.

She turned; her hair swung with the motion, she gave Prism a light and easy smile. Would it be rude of her to bother one of them again? Not that she would ever hesitate to — “Jo...!” — Melissa waved at the empty space near Prism, the gesture missing him by a few feet. Her voice came in hoarse and weak, light on the ears — “What's going on…?” — A beat. Melissa silently squinted at the mess of scenery teasing her weary eyes — "Are they doing the trust exercise yet...? I can't really tell..."

Being nulled was starting to become more of a hindrance than she thought it’d ever be— even if she’d willingly given herself up to be nulled. Without her gift, her potential, those eyes of her wouldn’t come to see the light of day in a while. If ever.

BriiAngelic thebigfella