devotedtothecore | [ first gear ]

[You aren't where you just were a moment ago. You remember it very clearly: who you were talking to, or fighting with, or what book you were reading.

Now? It is bit like you blinked and never opened your eyes again. The world around you is dark and devoid of boundaries or shapes. Little swirls of light and after images dance in front of your straining eyes. Your ears cling to the comfort of the sound of your clothes and your breathing over the overwhelming nothing around you.

All you know is that you are standing and you are very, very alone right now.]

[ ...and in subsequent analysis of the efficiency of our apparatus engaged in tandem with three of the present conventional circuit designs (see: Tyophilus, 185; Centele, 189), it was found that while a significant improvement occured for the initial period of---

...

He reaches up to touch his eyes--- definitely open.

... touches the rest of his face. Tugs lightly at his own skin. His other hand stretches out around him--- for the cool wood of his chair, his old desk, the things that were around him just seconds ago. ]

What...?

[Your voice echoes in the darkness.]

[ ....definitely not in his apartment anymore.

Alright.

Stay calm. Think.

...kneels to the--- ground? He has to be standing on something-- and tries to carefully feel it out with a hand ]

[What is below is less hard than it should be, but solid and smooth. It continues out as far as your fingers can reach.]

[ well solid is reassuring at least, though it tells him little about what kind of place this is...

pats at his own clothing to check if it's all. There. Or at all the same. Keeping his ears strained for any other sounds in the meantime ]

[Everything seems to be as he remembered. Isn't it?

Around you, you hear the distant, muffled murmur of a heartbeat.]

[ And all too sparse for being so. Nothing but a simple shirt and his trousers, he'd hung up his jacket and kit by the door as always... not even a sidearm on him. Then again, it's doubtful whether whoever brought him here (and it had to be someone, didn't it?) would've let him keep it.

His mouth thins, grim, not that there's anyone to see it.

...

Stay calm. Stay calm. A slow inhaled breath, loud in his own ears. Just enough to blank out the sound of that heartbeat, for a moment.

Calling out, levelly: ] Is there anyone out there?

[His voice carries out, meeting nothing in the emptiness.]

Man or beast or otherkind, if you hear, show yourself.

[th-thump.

th-thump.

th-thump.]

....

[ closes his eyes and listens, trying to pinpoint any particular direction to that heartbeat. ]

[There is no direction to be found, nor origin.

But there is another sound, there in the dark. One more.

tick. tick. tick.]

[ ...well. That's something.

Nothing to do but walk towards the ticking sound 8[ with a kind of sweeping walk to feel out the ground in front of him every few paces

man it would be good to have shoes rn ]

Edited 2013-04-06 21:05 (UTC)

[Solid, soft. Smooth and sure.

—it happens in an instant. A sickening drop, a feeling of weightlessness that leaves your stomach in your throat and your arms flailing. Nothing where something should have been, where something had been only a moment ago, falling—

As if it never happened at all, you seem to blink. You're standing, foot still raised, about to take a step again.]

Edited 2013-04-06 21:21 (UTC)

Kh--!?

[ As if nothing ever happened and yet his pulse races and he drops immediately to the floor on all fours, breath catching, fingers digging into the ground ]

[The floor is there, solid, pliant. Reassuring.

When he raises his head, the dark is no longer completely dark. There's a table ahead, with two folded hands resting calmly upon it.]

---who are you?! Declare yourself!

[ ON HIS FEET ]

[The hands—the skeletal hands open to welcome him, disembodied finger bones floating in the air.]

Welcome, thief.

[ wwwwwait what

is this really not a dream. that chill down his spine could totally be something from a dream ]

--"thief"? I? ...you are mistaken.

[The hands spread open and lose their shape, reconnecting into hearts, wheels, connected stars . . .

They return faithfully to their original shape as they fold down to the table again, cupping something on the box-table's surface, moving again to reveal a thick stack of cards.]

Shall we see?

....

[ looking around him, trying to see the shadows of any kind of hidden mechanism in the darkness ]

If this is some game or prank...

[There is dark, and there is darkness, , and there are cards, floating in the air between bones . . . a stack of cards being cut and shuffled, and shuffled, and cut.]

Shall we see what has been taken?

[Bones drift apart, swirl around spread cards, tumbling over and around each as they're guided to the table. The Two of Joy, the Ten of Flames crossing the Ace of Empty. Each is laid quickly, deftly, with mechanical precision. The Six of Death.]

[ Eyes finding nothing else, move to watch the turning cards instead, marking their images.

This is important. Remember this.

swallowing, throat dry ]

What do you mean? I do not understand--!

[One card alone rises into the air, its back toward him. Bones assemble underneath it, joining back into fingers, into a hand holding it up.]

Your card, Thief. Yours . . .

Shall we see?

...

[ strides towards the table, reaching out to snatch at the floating fingers ]

[The card shows a knight, bearing a shield against an unseen adversary. The knight’s eyes show no fear.]

[ this image...

--no, more importantly-- gripping the card in one hand, the other reaches for the fingerbones themselves, carefully this time ]

[The bone is

the bone is

smooth and polished under his fingers. It comes away from the others easily, no resistance at all, as if he was doing no more than picking it out of the air.

Behind the one he holds in his hand, piece by piece, the bones begin to fall.]

[ ---lets go of the bone with a start, because that is too much like bone--

--and yet instinctively tries to grab the other falling bones out of the air ]

[His fingers close around one, but the others are falling, falling

and he is falling

and it is so dark

and there is bone, bone in his hand, bones of his hand—

but even thoughts are falling away now, falling into the dark.]

Have a pleasant dream, Thief.

[You dream that you sit up in the middle of the night, your room absolutely photorealistic. The shadows are deeper, the colors a little more washed out. As you look out the window, you see a figure missing arms walk through the empty, still courtyard with stiff, awkward steps. It vanishes to the south....]

[You have a dream about skipping stones over a lake with Michelangelo. You feel like you might become closer soon.]

[You have a dream about wrestling with Aerta. Strangely both of you are wearing feathered dresses. You feel like you might become closer soon.]

[ first gear ]

[Night 0]

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[Night 2]

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