AL-2955 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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cradleproject2016-06-03 02:38 pm
al2955) wrote in cradleproject2016-06-03 02:38 pm
WEEK 0 - Awakening
| the pygmalion. . . ONLINE  CAPTAIN'S LOG: WEEK (0) |
friday - sunday (41) survivors  You awaken with stiff arms and legs — a pervading out-of-body feeling. You may briefly find it difficult to move your limbs, only able to stare lifelessly out of the blue tinted glass in front of your eyes. It's very cold. It's so cold that your heart seems to beat only every so often. Are your eyes even open yet? It would be so easy to slip back into a deep sleep, to let your frigid body rest a while longer. That probably isn't what you want to do, though. You want out of the claustrophobic pod you've found yourself in. If you wiggle your head enough, you can turn to see other pods much like yours — other people, all in identical utilitarian outfits, made complete with an emblem on the sleeve. No matter how much you whoop, or how much they holler, none of you can hear a single thing. Until a song begins to jangle loudly. As it reaches its chorus, the pods unlock, their latches lazily swinging up above you. You can't worm yourself out of the blankets you're wrapped in fast enough. As the song reaches its inevitable end, you're met with a deafening silence and an enveloping darkness — the dim lights above only serve to showcase the room's sleek and chrome walls and floors. If you get tired of the suffocating tension in this room, you may decide to venture outside — there's an entire building waiting to be explored. A building? For some reason that doesn't seem right. There's no exit, only a nonfunctional elevator. Everything is of polished design, yet it does not feel quite right — it's much too dead. Strangely, most rooms seem to contain an identical statue, one of two twins knelt and holding a jar, as if to pour its contents to the floor. It remains one of the few rustic design elements of the area. To make matters more eerie, there are doors — rooms, it seems like — with names on plaques. Your names. Trying to twist the valves open yield nothing, however — they're locked. It's all confusing, strange, nonsensical, and everyone is so loud. Perhaps if everyone would shut up — if only you could shut them up — you could— Silence. ENTER COMMAND_ |
no subject
[Marinette's more experienced at freeing people from kidnappers, if anyone has any experience being captured and brainwashed, it's her partner.]
[In any case, she's very slowly coming out of her Adrien stupor to discuss relevant things]
Yes, you're right... Whoever took us here really went through a lot of effort.... our names are on the doors, we were all specifically picked, and our things were taken....
But I don't know what they could possibly want from us. Do you?
[all Marinette can think of are horrific sci-fi scenarios that make no sense]
no subject
[a pause as she thinks that over. almost as curious as why she was brought was why they chose this wide range of people, different in almost every way.]
I wonder if there's some similarity between all of us that led to us being selected.
no subject
[An experiment? Her mind is wandering to unpleasant places] To... test something?
no subject
no subject
[honestly]
no subject
no subject
I'm, um, Marinette, by the way.
no subject
[giving her a small, polite curtsy.]
I look forward to working together to find a way out of this place.
no subject
[Gotta be polite and all that]
Yes! I'm sure if we work together, we'll get to the bottom of this right away.