![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
GRAVEYARD β¨
POPULATION: GHOST TOWN
You die - and then you wake up.
For a second, it feels as though you can't breathe, and then your head breaks the surface. You crawl out of a pool of blood and into a large, crystalline room. Moving images play across the crystal walls, and if you watch close enough, you'll realize that you're seeing the land of the living; a familiar space station with familiar faces. You can watch these images for as long as you'd like - there are several very large benches (as in, you have to climb them to sit on them) around the room for you to rest on while you do.
Regardless of how you died, it seems as though you're not quite gone completely. You're in one piece, at least. That's good news. However, your surroundings are not exactly what you remember.
When you exit the first room, a bleak, empty city sprawls out ahead of you.
The city itself is large. The framework of it seems to tower higher and higher than you can see, up into the black opal sky that shivers and curls every so often. A river entirely made of blood runs through the city, winding around buildings and ending at the crystal room. The most noticeable thing about the buildings themselves is the fact that thorny vines made of pure white steel dig into the walls and floor, cracking the foundations.
The residential building is worn down and old. It's two floors, and has a few small studio apartments built for one or two people to live in. The beds are extremely uncomfortable. It has a communal area downstairs, but the TV is broken, and the couches are torn apart. Sometimes, this building feels obscenely hot in temperature, and smells like rotten eggs.
The grocery store is your typical convenience store. There's a large selection of food in this area, but it all tastes the same - like chalk. On top of this, every so often there will be bloodstains on the walls, the floor, and the displays. They change in size and location, each time you enter the store.
The clothing store is thrifty in nature. All the clothes here are uncomfortable and scratchy, and don't fit quite right. While you're here, time feels... weird. Distorted, almost dreamy. As you're picking out clothes and trying them on (no money needed, just take what you want), you swear you can hear a gunshot in the distance.
Enjoy your time in this city, and remember...your story isn't quite over yet.
β¨ FULL NAVIGATION β¨
π Locations π IC Profiles π Statuses π Private Conversations π
π Audience Requests π Murder Proposals π Indulgence Reports π
no subject
[he dumps the cushions on the ground upstairs and retrieves one, removing it from its cover with the same kind of reluctant slowness]
Request: For the moment, as I waste my considerable skills on handcrafts, I would appreciate being regaled by talk of what it was like to be shot by one of the Galaxy's top of the line blaster rifles at close range. It would do a great deal to lift my spirits.
no subject
[kaz, for his part, sits on the bed, thoughtful.]
Okay, well, first of all, it hurt, a lot. More than any pain, emotional or physical, I've been forced to endure. It was almost nonsensically painful!
lol with that icon
Query: Have you been shot by a firearm before? Blaster, plasma, slug-thrower, or otherwise? It is important to have comparative data where available.
no subject
Put the strips up here, please!
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject