Post by Fainis the Sadistic Pansexual on Apr 2, 2014 6:46:41 GMT -5
Heavy eyelids fluttered and a hoarse groan rang out as Oscar stirred. The big Scottish man rolled his aching head, surprised at the feeling of fabric encircling his skull. Last he remember, he had been in Ranger. Though his body was stiff and pained, the pilot and former M.A.M. member rolled over and pushed himself upright, noting that he was, in fact, in a bed. A rather large and comfortable bed. Although the call of sleep was strong in his pulsing head and weighted chest, he shook himself awake. Rest could wait until after he had found out what was happening and where he was. He ran a large palm over his forehead. His hand stopped over his brow. He blinked. He had completely split his scalp open what seemed like moments ago, yet he could feel no damage. Only a dull pain that could very well be from a migraine or sinus issue rather than skull trauma. The baffled pilot finished raked his fingers through his thin, ginger hair and breathed heavily.
What in God's name was happening?
Forcing himself to stand- he only stumbled once or twice as he rose, his legs still weak- Oscar surveyed the large, open room that he found himself. It was warm and carved and reminded him greatly on his childhood home on the loch. In essence, it was everything that he had ever wanted from a dwelling, but it was also something that he had never expected to really see. He was suspicious immediately. It was too good to be true. He was a military man. He lived in drab grays and greens, not heartfelt brown and cream.
Seeing that there was a large doorway underneath a highly decorated arch that seem to both welcome and bid goodbye to its guests, Oscar stalked across the room, footsteps punctuated by grunts of pain, and made to push it open. He struggled for a moment, surprised by the weight of the thing- it looked like wood, but its weight and the chill that it stung his fingertips with suggested that it was actually made of metal. How metal could so perfectly imitate the appearance of wood, he did not know, but he trusted his hands over his eyes. Still finding no success, Oscar cast away delicacy and leaned his big frame against the doorway. With a huff of exertion, he pressed against the door with all his strength, his bare heels- he had not bothered to look for his shoes- pushing hard against the floor.
Oscar stumbled forward suddenly, staggering from the bright warmth of the wooden room and into a massive hallway of pure cool gray. Only catching him on his hands and knees, Oscar sprung back up, a rush of adrenaline chasing away his weariness, and whirled around. The door had not swung open, it had lifted, rising straight up into the wall like a steel veil. With an electronic hum, it came down again, clicking gently into place like something straight from one of those old sci-fi shows that he had wasted time watching in college. Stepping hesitantly forward, Oscar placed a single hand of the door.
Responding to his touch like something alive, it ascended as if with a swell of air to the lungs.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" purred a low, edgeless voice that bubbled with unspoken enthusiasm and carried an accent that could not be placed. Oscar spun around to find himself face to face with a tall, thin man dressed in clean cut black, white, and red. Even his eyes seem to be pure black, having only the faintest of rings around the pupils while his skin was pale and seemed to glisten slightly. In sharp contrast, his hair was wild and untouched, a mass of chaos rested atop his trim figure, and he wore a vague smirk that told of things known to him and no one else. "Makes you wonder why they would bother hiding such brilliance beneath the humble mask of dead earth, hm? To make us more comfortable perhaps? Well, to make you more comfortable, I suppose. I think that I would be just fine seeing this place entirely for what it is."
"Who are yah?" demanded Oscar with more force than he had intended. His heart still sat close to his throat from the shock the stranger had given him.
"A friend," cooed the man. "That's all you need to know." He giggled suddenly. "That sounds awfully secretive now that I say it aloud, but all I mean is that I, like you, am... well, let's settle and say 'lost,' no need to be boastful... and am in the process of looking for some answers. And I reason that two lost fellows like us are more likely to find success together than individually. So what do you say? Shall we be lost together?"
"Ay, uh," stammered Oscar, taken back by the stranger's odd way of speaking and forwardness. He sighed. "Well, ay suppose so. As long as it gets me some answers. Ay just wanna know where the hell I am."
"Ah!" cried the stranger as he came to Oscar's side and placed an arm gingerly around his shoulder, hurrying him forward into a brisk walk. "So 'where' is your question then, eh? I'm asking the same thing myself, although about someone else. I'm looking for someone, you see, a very particular someone who I believe is here. It wasn't easy finding this place, so I must admit that I'm just as curious as to what exactly it is. I've been here only a short while, yet its showings already have proven to be miraculous. Why, I think I've got the shivers of discovery!"
"Er, alright," said Oscar slowly. He eyed the stranger carefully, but he seemed oblivious to his dubious stare. "So does this someone know that yer lookin' for them?"
"Oh, I'm afraid not." The man put on a contorted grin that spoke half of fret and half of amusement. "She might not even be all the happy to see me really."
"She?" Oscar grinned. Now there was something he could relate to at last. "Someone you were intimate with then?"
The stranger guffawed. "Oh my, no. I'm afraid we're simply not each other's type, although that certainly is a though. It would have been fairy inappropriate actually. I once worked under her, you see."
A raised brow. "Once?"
"Yes, she was..." He paused, twiddling his pointer and ring fingers as he thought. "Let us say... disposed from her position quite a while back and I was the one, to chose my vocabulary again here, elected to take her place. But now I find myself in about the same position, having been disposed of and all, and I wish to hold empathetic company, so here I am, seeking her out. If all goes well, we can be bitter old farts together and keep one another from dwelling too much on our respective failures. If not, well... it's nice to visit old friends anyway, so I suppose I can't lose. My favorite sort of game."
Oscar furrowed his brow. Old farts? The man did not look all that old, though he supposed that it could simply be a case of appearance belying reality. Brushing aside his confusion, he moved closer to the man and slapped a hand on his shoulder. "So," started Oscar as he took the opportunity to answer something that had been biting at his mind for a bit. "What can I call yah then? Dun wanna go too long without having a name to match to the face."
The stranger smiled. "You may call me Darwin."
(Just a bit of a special story I wanted to tell to celebrate coming out of my fiftieth match. Open house, so all are invited! I want this to be big and inclusive and generally as busy and messy and fun as possible.)
What in God's name was happening?
Forcing himself to stand- he only stumbled once or twice as he rose, his legs still weak- Oscar surveyed the large, open room that he found himself. It was warm and carved and reminded him greatly on his childhood home on the loch. In essence, it was everything that he had ever wanted from a dwelling, but it was also something that he had never expected to really see. He was suspicious immediately. It was too good to be true. He was a military man. He lived in drab grays and greens, not heartfelt brown and cream.
Seeing that there was a large doorway underneath a highly decorated arch that seem to both welcome and bid goodbye to its guests, Oscar stalked across the room, footsteps punctuated by grunts of pain, and made to push it open. He struggled for a moment, surprised by the weight of the thing- it looked like wood, but its weight and the chill that it stung his fingertips with suggested that it was actually made of metal. How metal could so perfectly imitate the appearance of wood, he did not know, but he trusted his hands over his eyes. Still finding no success, Oscar cast away delicacy and leaned his big frame against the doorway. With a huff of exertion, he pressed against the door with all his strength, his bare heels- he had not bothered to look for his shoes- pushing hard against the floor.
Oscar stumbled forward suddenly, staggering from the bright warmth of the wooden room and into a massive hallway of pure cool gray. Only catching him on his hands and knees, Oscar sprung back up, a rush of adrenaline chasing away his weariness, and whirled around. The door had not swung open, it had lifted, rising straight up into the wall like a steel veil. With an electronic hum, it came down again, clicking gently into place like something straight from one of those old sci-fi shows that he had wasted time watching in college. Stepping hesitantly forward, Oscar placed a single hand of the door.
Responding to his touch like something alive, it ascended as if with a swell of air to the lungs.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" purred a low, edgeless voice that bubbled with unspoken enthusiasm and carried an accent that could not be placed. Oscar spun around to find himself face to face with a tall, thin man dressed in clean cut black, white, and red. Even his eyes seem to be pure black, having only the faintest of rings around the pupils while his skin was pale and seemed to glisten slightly. In sharp contrast, his hair was wild and untouched, a mass of chaos rested atop his trim figure, and he wore a vague smirk that told of things known to him and no one else. "Makes you wonder why they would bother hiding such brilliance beneath the humble mask of dead earth, hm? To make us more comfortable perhaps? Well, to make you more comfortable, I suppose. I think that I would be just fine seeing this place entirely for what it is."
"Who are yah?" demanded Oscar with more force than he had intended. His heart still sat close to his throat from the shock the stranger had given him.
"A friend," cooed the man. "That's all you need to know." He giggled suddenly. "That sounds awfully secretive now that I say it aloud, but all I mean is that I, like you, am... well, let's settle and say 'lost,' no need to be boastful... and am in the process of looking for some answers. And I reason that two lost fellows like us are more likely to find success together than individually. So what do you say? Shall we be lost together?"
"Ay, uh," stammered Oscar, taken back by the stranger's odd way of speaking and forwardness. He sighed. "Well, ay suppose so. As long as it gets me some answers. Ay just wanna know where the hell I am."
"Ah!" cried the stranger as he came to Oscar's side and placed an arm gingerly around his shoulder, hurrying him forward into a brisk walk. "So 'where' is your question then, eh? I'm asking the same thing myself, although about someone else. I'm looking for someone, you see, a very particular someone who I believe is here. It wasn't easy finding this place, so I must admit that I'm just as curious as to what exactly it is. I've been here only a short while, yet its showings already have proven to be miraculous. Why, I think I've got the shivers of discovery!"
"Er, alright," said Oscar slowly. He eyed the stranger carefully, but he seemed oblivious to his dubious stare. "So does this someone know that yer lookin' for them?"
"Oh, I'm afraid not." The man put on a contorted grin that spoke half of fret and half of amusement. "She might not even be all the happy to see me really."
"She?" Oscar grinned. Now there was something he could relate to at last. "Someone you were intimate with then?"
The stranger guffawed. "Oh my, no. I'm afraid we're simply not each other's type, although that certainly is a though. It would have been fairy inappropriate actually. I once worked under her, you see."
A raised brow. "Once?"
"Yes, she was..." He paused, twiddling his pointer and ring fingers as he thought. "Let us say... disposed from her position quite a while back and I was the one, to chose my vocabulary again here, elected to take her place. But now I find myself in about the same position, having been disposed of and all, and I wish to hold empathetic company, so here I am, seeking her out. If all goes well, we can be bitter old farts together and keep one another from dwelling too much on our respective failures. If not, well... it's nice to visit old friends anyway, so I suppose I can't lose. My favorite sort of game."
Oscar furrowed his brow. Old farts? The man did not look all that old, though he supposed that it could simply be a case of appearance belying reality. Brushing aside his confusion, he moved closer to the man and slapped a hand on his shoulder. "So," started Oscar as he took the opportunity to answer something that had been biting at his mind for a bit. "What can I call yah then? Dun wanna go too long without having a name to match to the face."
The stranger smiled. "You may call me Darwin."
(Just a bit of a special story I wanted to tell to celebrate coming out of my fiftieth match. Open house, so all are invited! I want this to be big and inclusive and generally as busy and messy and fun as possible.)